What Else Do You Have to Do?

where did everybody go?

2008-06-26T17:46:00.000-04:00

An Update: I am bored

2008-05-06T19:47:00.005-04:00

i could not be more bored and ready to get out of this place if i tried. my brain is done for the day and there is still a half an hour left.

i can find no relief. none.

i bought some shoes online: i do not have money

i looked online for local music shows: nothing i'm super psyched for.

i read about an incest case: not hot. maybe if they were less ugly?

i called some dying people: i do this daily for work so it was not thrilling.

i wandered around the office trying to look busy: i didn't look very busy.

i am hungry: i have no food.

my graduate student boyfriend spent the day laying in the park. so jealous.

someone is whistling in a not-a-song-just-making-noise way in some nearby cubicle and its driving me batty: seriously. batty.

Some Updates from NYC

2008-04-18T15:27:00.002-04:00

It's a beautiful day in New York--someone said it's 81 degrees! It was hard to tear myself away from my lunch break, which was spent sitting on the Hudson River looking at yachts and the Statue of Liberty, sort of reading a magazine but really listening to the French tourists next to me and trying not to spill balsamic vinegar dressing on my newly dry-cleaned pants.

The pope is here. As Juliet pointed out, it's surprising that so many people in New York care about this. True, he has his own town/prinicpality, and true, there are lots of Catholics in New York. But, just like when I'm surprised at how many people wear ashes on Ash Wednesday, I forget these things.

Tomorrow I am traveling to Oceanside, Long Island, to go to a Passover seder at a good friend's parents' home. They are Orthodox--like I can't even call my friend on the walk from the station to his house because he can't pick up the phone (and I have to walk from his house because no one is allowed to drive). They are also rich. Because I went to a Godless university and have a father who likes to talk about how he thinks polytheism (I almost wrote polygamy) is the way to go, I tend to assume that people would only be really religious because they are struggling. I'm interested to see how it works. Where does the money stop and the faith begin? Or are they so mixed up with each other that it's not even worth asking?

I am working at a corporation for the first time in my life. Temporarily. There is a lingo to learn here, even in philanthropy. It is completely unavoidable and consists of words and phrases such as:
-moving forward
-reach out
-wordsmith
-language
-partners
To use these words in context: "Before we can move forward, I'd like Erica to reach out to our partners at the Met and ask them to wordsmith the language in their program description." I hear each of these words daily, without fail.

In other news, to echo a post of Sarah's back in the CWT days, corporations give you a lot of free shit. Like a lot.

I have been working on a post about how I am scared of teenagers for a while now, but instead I decided to ramble on about nothing. I need to leave this office immediately and start the weekend. I also need a tan.

PS, if you are looking for a good date, go see Shine a Light at an IMAX theater. It rocks.

apparently people who have the right to free speech should be content with just "having" it and not try to excercise it.

2008-04-10T04:07:00.002-04:00

like we want to have our cake and it too? or does the new york times just think that if you live in a capitalist society your purchases come with fine print that then says, ok you can have this commodity on the cheap but in return, you give up any right to challenge the government of the country that produced said commodity.

and oh! the poor olympics. their suffering is so SO much worse than that of Tibetans. I mean, priorities people!

"Millions of people around the world are critical of China for its control of Tibet and Xinjiang as well as its identification with the tribal murders in Darfur. But should the Olympics pay the price for widespread governmental aggression and diplomatic failures? Should people who enjoy free speech put on their sneakers from China, their T-shirts and jeans from China, their ball caps from China, their sunglasses from China, in order to disrupt a runner carrying a torch through a free city?"
-http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/10/sports/othersports/10vecsey.html?_r=1&ref=othersports&oref=slogin

Happy Halloween!

2007-10-31T17:18:00.000-04:00

OH, my ovaries.

2007-10-24T18:08:00.000-04:00

After many years of lesbian domesticity, I recently joined the ranks of the boygirl sex world. While I'd previously dated boys (ok fine, boy singular but he was so overwhelming I'd like to think I've been with many) its been many years since getting my period signaled a flood of relief throughout my being that I would not have to put my pro-choice politics to work. While I'd always been aware of how lucky I was in that respect, it's only now that I've come to understand just how lucky I was. Not only is straight sex is way more expensive than gay sex, it demands way more preparation and upkeep. It's really truly ridiculous.

Since I'm relatively new to the world of contraceptives, I thought I'd throw in my two cents. Cause I mean, what else do I have to do? It is commonly understood that the available forms of contraceptives out there are a pitiful offering. Even under a gay rock, I shared in the common rage and frustration. How many times have you heard some poor dear lament, "How the hell is it possible that in the year 2007, with all the medical and technological feats that have been made, we are really no further to ever getting decent birth control?! Why are they working endlessly on creating never-ending erections and getting horses to give birth to cloned sheep, and not putting a little more thought into something that we really fucking need!? Why is it so expensive? Why is the responsibility and the expense all on the woman? Why do all the options suck? Why is it ok for my health insurance to not cover this? How come its legal for pharmacists to not sell me my prescription on personal grounds? Why do I have to put my hormones, my emotional health, my weight, my physical health and my few hard earned dollars on the line? How is it possible that the same government that is steadily dismantling Roe v. Wade is also making it harder for me to protect myself from ever needing to make use of the law? What on earth!!!!!?"

I don't know the answers to most of those questions and I want to change it. But in the meantime, I want to make sure that I can change it, instead of changing diapers. Not including the rhythm method and plain old prayer, we're looking at 6 options:

1) condoms
2) pill
3) patch
4) shot
5) ring
6) iud

Since condoms are really annoying when you're only sleeping with one person, that's off the list, so really it's 5 options. First off, the pill. Many people are quite content with the hormonal route and to them I say "goddamn i am jealous." But having learned the hard way with a brief but crappy flirtation with ortho-tricyclin, hormonal methods of birth control are not for everyone. Nevertheless, my problem with the pill goes beyond the emotional effects: it requires a level of daily responsibility that I am certainly not incapable of, but would rather not have to deal with. Remembering to take it each day at the right time? That's just annoying and causes a very low grade but constant level of vigilance and stress. I'm not having it. Plus, raise your hand if your partner has ever chipped in for your prescription co-pay. yeah.

The patch and the shot are more attractive in the daily upkeep department. But like the pill, they both work by making major alterations to your estrogen levels. If I could protect myself from pregnancy without gaining 30 pounds, getting countless y.i.'s, and sacrificing a certain level of emotional and mental stability, oh how I would. Many people can. Since I can't, that scratches off the patch and shot.

Leaving me with only 2 options: the ring or the iud. I prudently opted for the more temporary, less invasive and more technologically advanced option of the nuva ring. Since it too works by releasing hormones, I was initially quite anti-ring, but my doctor promised me that it was such a localized small dose that there was no way I'd be emotionally affected. A few weeks later, I'm waiting for a meeting with a psychiatrist to figure out why I've completely lost my mind. I assumed it was a separate chemical issue. But I'm looking online to find out if I'm the only one on the ring who has had her period for almost an entire month nonstop and lo and behold, a message board with dozens of women saying "WTF!? My doctor said it wouldn't affect my emotions, but why am i spiraling off into voids of anger and depression at random?" and I'm reading this and thinking, "um, hello lily! perhaps its time to cancel the psychiatric appointment?' So I scrapped both the ring and the psychiatrist, and slowly emerged from my hole of sadness. a few weeks later I am sane, but protectionless.

Which left me with one final option: the iud. So I did it. I feel so retro! I feel so sore! But I'm crossing my fingers that just this once protection could be easy and reliable. is that so much to ask? i think not. It certainly does not answer the questions of finance and inequality: 500 uninsured dollars paid entirely from my nonexistent salary. And while it promises 5 years of total ease, it was still one of the more painful procedures I've had done in my life. Still, I am hopeful. While it got a bad rap somewhere in the 80's, the negative rumors have been fairly unfounded and every doctor and article I've consulted has agreed that it is the most effective option out there and the simplest to use. So we shall see.

I suppose it's a bit odd that I've now shared the trials and tribulations of my uterus with a bunch of total strangers, but i feel like this is an issue that is often grappled with but rarely questioned. It's not enough to sit around with your lady friends saying, dude, this sucks. yeah, it does. yeah.

Because DUDE: this more than sucks. What on earth? I know I'm clearly on a very extreme end of the hormonal-sensitivity spectrum, but I wanted to offer my experiences because I'm pissed off and its not just pms. It's the whole goddamn system. Something has to change. What are we going to do about it?

If these phones could talk

2007-10-13T11:41:00.001-04:00

I got rid of my text messaging when I was living in Portland last fall. A variety of factors led to the decision: zero social life, zero money, several ex-boyfriends, etc.

Back in New York, I heard from friends on a daily basis about how much they hated having to call me. How much easier it would be if I just had texting.

It was only once I started dating someone that I finally caved and picked up (flipped open) my phone and called Verizon to sign up for a modest monthly texting plan. My friends saw right through me, but they texted anyway.

It felt good to be back. My motorolla tried to fill in the words before I finished typing and I had to be careful to correct it. I'd want to type "good" and the phone would just assume "home." I'd dial 43, it would give me "if," and I'd select "he" instead. It took time, but it eventually adjusted.

I'm no longer seeing the guy, but I'm now used to texting. My phone has kept track of the transition. It has returned to banking on it being "home" rather than "good." I'll go for "on," and it will give me "no." I recently tried to say "my" and, I swear to god, it made the leap to "oy." That pretty much says it all.

What I Tell Myself to Feel Better

2007-10-03T13:47:00.000-04:00

I have recently begun my third experiment with online dating. I guess it’s what I do in the fall. Fall 2005 was match.com, Fall 2006 was jdate, and now I’m 10 days into nerve. So far, no luck.

Even in the year 2007, when it sometimes seems rare to hear of an adult couple who got together after college without the aid of the internet (You met at work? Really? At a party? Wow…), the consensus about online dating still seems to be that it’s an easy way out. It’s for people who don’t have game. Those of us who, for whatever reason, have trouble communicating to people we find attractive or interesting (or, ideally, both) that we’d like to see them again. The internet allows us to skip all of the strategizing and innuendo and eye-batting. If I contact you through a dating site, it’s not because I’m just being nice or I think you might be able to get me a job or because I just need a social crutch at a party where I don’t know anyone. I’m contacting you because I might want to date you, period.

No doubt there is some truth to that perception of the internet dater, but things are changing. Single people who have no trouble meeting other single people at bars and parties have joined the online dating community (in New York, at least). I have a number of outgoing friends—male and female—who’ve given it the old college try. When they first told me I was surprised. Aren’t these my friends who have a gift for meeting strangers, who are energized rather than drained by putting themselves in new situations and making themselves available to new people? Why would they resort to using a dating site?

The answer is that although it may be easy for them to get a date offline, that doesn’t mean it’s easy to get a date that they want to see more than once or twice. Meeting someone you really, really like is hard and rare, and the internet is becoming just another real physical place where you could meet someone new or bump into someone you already know. (Anyone who’s tried online dating recently will tell you that they’ve recoiled from their computer screens coming across the profiles of exes, family friends, or coworkers in the same way that they would avert their eyes or suddenly change direction when seeing someone unexpected on the subway or the street.)

The internet may still be an easier way to “put yourself out there”—a phrase so often used by friends in relationships when they’re asked (or not asked) for dating advice—but it does not change who you are. Speaking very generally, those who are bold and flirtatious at parties are bold and flirtatious online too—they’ll contact a lot of people, write long emails full of question marks and exclamation points, and welcome that moment when the connection is made and the phone numbers are exchanged. Likewise, those who are shy and reserved at parties are shy and reserved online. They wait to be contacted, and when they are they hesitate to share too much too fast. The prospect of talking on the phone or meeting in person is terrifying and put off as long as possible. And those of us who are friendly enough and enjoy being social but have lazy or pessimistic tendencies and are good at making excuses don’t really change once we go online, either. We can write a good profile and a witty email, but maintaining our virtual dating lives can end up taking a lower place on our priority lists. Whether that’s because of unrealistic expectations or insecurity or cynicism or what is a whole other blog posting.

So the good news is that the stigma attached to meeting someone great on the internet is fading away. My friends who are in relationships that were conceived online will kick themselves for telling everyone they met on the PATH train, because maintaining the lie takes so much unnecessary energy. The bad news is that it turns out there really isn’t any way to make meeting a great person easy. At this point in life, we are who we are, on- or offline. For most people, what you get out of the search represents only a fraction of what you put into it, and often the real pay-off comes simply by getting lucky.

Product Update

2007-09-26T10:10:00.001-04:00

Doritos now sells a 2 in 1. 2 flavors, 1 bag. Can't seem to decide between tacho nacho and cool ranch? They now come together. Have you ever heard of such a thing?!

I will continue to blog about chips until somebody else posts. Please. I've lost Friendster. I can't lose this.

well...

2007-08-17T14:21:00.000-04:00

it seems like we all have a lot else to do.

Doritos Follow-Up

2007-06-09T10:13:00.000-04:00

looks like somebody over at the av club (who may or may not be paid to be funny/younger than us) is blogging about doritos

http://www.avclub.com/content/tolerability/jun-05-2007

is it pathetic that i feel validated? yes. yes it is.

selling out

2007-04-26T19:50:00.000-04:00

i read today about clif bars. clif bars were named after the father of the inventor, gary. gary had the opportunity to sell the company to quaker oats for 120 million dollars, eight years after it was started. gary almost signed the papers (pen in hand!) and then walked out of the meeting. he decided not to become a super millionaire like paris hilton or donald trump or other admirable millionaires, but to keep the company and struggle through all the good and the bad.*

*according to the san francisco Guardian.

i think i would have signed the papers and now i feel bad.

Strange Tastes

2007-04-08T17:07:00.000-04:00

Stopped in at the general store on 6th and Sterling this afternoon. On my way to the Vitamin Water, I spotted Wild White Nacho Doritos and Blazin' Buffalo n' Ranch Doritos. What happened to Cool Ranch?! Is being this out of touch with American snack food a sign of adulthood? Why there was a time when I knew exactly what was going on in the world of Pringles, Baked Lays, and most certainly, Doritos. Perhaps I should do some serious taste-testing reseach in anticipation of BBQ season at Prospect Park.

Dear friends, I am the recipient of both a doughnut and a quesadilla maker and am now the author of a posting on the state of Doritos. You would think I had some sort of eating disorder. I don't. And even if I did, I probably wouldn't announce it on this blog. Maybe on my other blog, but not on this one. Ok, one more thing: Cup of Noodles now offers a Salsa Picante Beef flavor. Wow!

Another REAL Craigslist Posting

2007-03-27T22:24:00.000-04:00

Addociate Editor/Writer
Reply to: edread@weeklyreader.comDate: 2007-03-27, 4:29PM EDT Weekly Reader Corporation, one of the country's leading publishers of classroom periodicals and educational materials seeks an assistant editor (wait, i thought it was for an addociate position) for its secondary-level literary team in producing two classroom periodicals - READ and WRITING.(what if I'm more interested in READING and WRITE?) Responsibilities include supporting the editorial and design team in planning, writing and editing the periodicals, including teacher's guides. The ideal candidate must be well-organized, detail oriented, tech savvy and be able to work quickly under pressure. He or she must also be a creative thinker, superb writer, researcher and team player. Must be familiary with teen interests and culture. (Check) Excellent entry-level position into field of educational publishing. Must have a degree in journalism/English/education or related fields. Position is available on-site only, in our offices in Chappaqua, N.Y. We offer an attractive salary and full benefits package.

The Sterling Youth

2007-03-25T12:18:00.000-04:00

As I was walking home last night I passed by three Park Slope teenage girls. They were laughing about something. Once we had crossed paths, I overheard what they were talking about: Accordian Hero. Like what if they made another guitar hero video game but it was for accordians. I laughed too. I thought it was a funny idea. Also funny were the accordian sounds they were making. Definitely drunker than I was. Ahhh the youth. They'll be here in no time.

Really? Really? Really?

2007-03-24T14:49:00.001-04:00

GAP's Boyfriend Trousers.

This posting actually appears on Craigslist

2007-03-24T14:48:00.001-04:00

Williamsburg Author Seeks Hipster Intern

Juliet is Famous

2007-03-09T13:13:00.000-05:00

Vince Carter Hires On-Court Assistant

EAST RUTHERFORD, NJ—New Jersey Nets shooting guard Vince Carter announced Wednesday that he had hired an on-court assistant to handle all...

Yes, this would be my second Britney-themed post

2007-03-08T18:07:00.000-05:00

And yes, I do feel like a loser.

Nevertheless, I have to admit that I’ve been thinking about her a lot recently. By now, everyone’s seen the shaved head, the photos of her violently attacking paparazzi with an umbrella, the much gossiped-and-no-doubt-still-unconfirmed story of how she lost her shit in the mental ward, wrote 666 all over her bald head, ran around screaming that she was the antichrist, and then attempted to hang herself with her bed sheet. The general blog consensus is a mix of ‘oh poor brit!’ and “yeah THERE’s a shocker’. But I don’t mean I’ve been thinking of in a gawking gossiping kind of way. I mean, I’m suddenly sympathizing with her, I’m worried about her, I’m proud of her, and in a weird way, I’m jealous of her. (I’ll get to the jealousy later.)

As I write this it’s becoming instantly clear that I’m obviously projecting and that really this is all about me. but whatever. The point is, until she started unraveling, I really didn’t think about Britney, or care about her at all. I mean, sure I’d read little gossip clips about her, but with very minimal interest. And let me tell you, it doesn’t really take much to get me interested in crazy young famous people. The reason is that she just wasn’t real at all. Much like the Olson twins, she was so untouched by reality in her weird weird life that it was kind of hard to care. Like caring about the plight of a muppet. It’s fun to watch Oscar the Grouch be grouchy, but you don’t really care to learn what put him in such a bad mood, you know? But watching her destroy herself, she suddenly makes perfect sense to me:

She’s born into this crazy high pressure family, loves attention and pushes her self to succeed at a young age to the point where her whole identity and sense of self is based on everyone else approval. And then she starts hearing the negative feedback. At first she tries to appease the displeased, but it keeps just getting worse until she can’t take it anymore (this would be circa her first marriage, when she starts getting that ‘I’ve been up all night drinking champagne” gray flabby look about her face) so she finds a nobody (Kevin) and marries him as a kind of opt-out. Because she’d theoretically be going towards something (a family) instead of running away from something (her failure in the eyes of American media), even though ultimately all she wants to do is disappear. But America doesn’t buy it and revels in her absurdity. She says goodbye to her music fans, gets preggers (yet another opt out – this time escaping the body image judgment) and eats Twinkies to her hearts delight. She’s almost sort of kind of happy. Then she has the baby and the media makes fun of her more. So she instantly gets pregnant again to avoid the media wrath and again, she’s taunted.

As Jayden is born, her untalented husband makes a fool out of herself, and she’s barely even getting negative attention anymore let alone the adoration and lust that has sustained her self esteem for the past 2 decades. She gives one last ditch attempt at gaining back her media-fed dignity, by divorcing Kevin, losing a ton of weight really quick, and befriending a Hollywood starlet (Paris, although that’s not a really apt title for her). She gets some positive feedback but not enough, and she realizes that a piddling little “woah, check out Britney!” here and there isn’t worth the inner pain she’s created. She can’t sustain it. But she’s tried the opt-out clause and it didn’t work, so she does the only thing she can do to gain immunity: she gives up all responsibility and has a total breakdown and loses her shit. People can make fun of her, but they’re not really judging her because as a crazy mess, she’s un-judge-able. She’s just a sad story with a sad ending that we can pity and then forget.

Sorry, that was longer than intended.

So here’s the point: I get her. I’m so relieved that she lost her mind, that she didn’t just shut off her emotions and turn into a nightmarish automaton like Paris. She may be an absolute mess, but she’s a real mess, and that’s commendable. And the jealousy, I mean whatever – who doesn’t want a get out of jail free card? Maybe I’m alone here, but I hate being an adult, I hate the pressure that I put on myself, I hate trying to succeed, trying to find meaning and ultimately just feeling like I’ve failed. Most likely I will never let myself go completely, because its no vacation either, and its REALLY hard to pull yourself out of once you’re in (mostly because its hard to later change your mind and try to convince everyone else that you’re actually capable of sanity and success). But goddamn I want to. And maybe that makes me crazy. I’m pretty sure it does. Crazy enough for immunity though? Not so much.

Blogging about Blogs

2006-12-14T18:57:00.000-05:00

So blogging is huge. Maybe not all the time at this particular site (shared ownership=lessened culpability of not posting), but huge enough that UCB extension is offering classes on culture and technology of blogging.
Would you pay $625 for a one-day seminar on blogging fundamentals? Would the people who could afford to pay 625 on a blogging workshop rather than learn online even be the people that eventually blog? Blogging seems to take committment and dedication and time and curiousity. A certain scrappiness and self-starter quality in the person that drives them to post for all to see. There is no quick fix to being a blog master. Blog masters were born to be blog masters, in my opinion. Some people live and breathe their blogs. Like the guy they wrote an article about in the NY Times who has to keep up-to-date on all business related to TV News while going to college and if he doesn't post every half-hour or so, people call him on his cell phone. Or those Project Runway bloggers who have become best friends with all the former contestants. They found an opening and capitalized. Bloggers link and write and create worlds---if we were all so noble. I don't think you can buy that quality. at least not in a day.
Maybe if I knew more about blogs I could get Sarah's picture off the side bar and replace it with a photoshop'd version of all of us together. But then I'd have to learn more about photoshop.

It's the Commercial Season

2006-12-07T08:47:00.000-05:00

Last night, when I should have been studying for my finals, I was watching TV. What else is new.

A commercial came on for Glade Trio candles and the pitch was that "ordinary scented candles can sometimes look too much alike" and the viewers are shown a depressed, frazzled-looking woman sitting at a table with three white candles. Then, flash to her home featuring the Glade Trio candles with three different colors of candle, and all the world's a dream. WHAT? Do they think that having too many white candles is a problem for people; that our holidays will be ruined or somehow tarnished if our candles look too much alike? What is wrong with simply portraying the Glade Trio candles as good-smelling, value-oriented holiday candles? I may have bought them then, but I certainly won't now. I refuse to buy into the message that the reason I need these candles is because my life has been so depressing because of my all-white candles.

This got me thinking about another old commercial. Remember the commercials for Pert Plus conditioning shampoo from the late 1980s? I was in elementary school, but I remember being fully convinced that Pert Plus was a brilliant idea-- combining shampoo and conditioner in the SAME BOTTLE! I mean, for me, it didn't matter that we had two bottles in the bathtub. But, the commercial portrayed adults at the gym or spa and what a pain in the ass it was to have to carry two whole bottles of hair products in your gym bag. I tried to imagine myself as an adult spending time at the spa and thought, yep, Pert Plus is right--I would be just as unhappy as these folks in the commercial if I had to carry both shampoo and conditioner with me. Good thing when I am a grown up I won't have to do that. (*Note: My thinking was errant in two fundamental ways: first, my hair needs a separate conditioner and second, I rarely go to the gym/spa.)

I've come a long way since the 1980s, but apparently the advertising agencies have not. They are still trying to trick me into thinking that normal things like hair conditioner and white candles are what are holding me back. I won't be fooled this time.

This Is Maturity

2006-11-24T11:57:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving eve found me at my parents' house (about a 45 minute drive west from where I grew up), in the room where I sleep when I go there, rummaging through this trunk of clothes my mom doesn't wear very often in search of a tshirt to wear to bed. I did find this thermal-type thing which did the job, but only after I found a video tape called "Great Sex After 40." There were at least two more tapes on the same topic, but I obviously recoiled from the trunk like you do when you touch something that's too hot or when you find a cockroach under the sink, so I don't have too many more details. I was a little horrified for a few minutes, but not as much as I would have thought I'd be. In fact, it's kind of nice to know that they have a sex life (or at least have had one at some point over the past 25 years--they've been over 40 my whole life), and that they've needed to seek outside assistance to improve it, not unlike some of us who struggle with dating and look to our friends and the internet for help. After a few glasses of wine at Thanksgiving dinner, I told my older brother about what I'd found, and he had a similar reaction--part of him wanted to go barf up his butternut squash soup, but part of him said "Huh, good for them." I decided to spare my younger brother at least until he moves out of the house.

True Change Comes From Within: Life Lessons from Britney Spears on Election Day

2006-11-07T17:26:00.000-05:00

I know that it's election day and I should be sending out shocking news about the various propositions and candidates that the democratic party told me to vote for on my answering machine, and leaving all that is trivial for another day, but I'm sorry, I can't let this one go by.

I saw the headline just now on my office computer and inadvertently exclaimed very loudly "BRITNEY SPEARS FILES FOR DIVORCE? OH MY GOD!" which was so SO not the first impression I was going for with my new legal director in the office next to mine, whose laughter subsequently echoed through our hallowed halls.

but JESUS. Its like, I'd given up all hope. Britney was just so far gone I didn't think she could ever come back. But now, like Marlina on Days of Lives, she has risen again! Change can happen! ANOTHER WORLD IS POSSIBLE!! I'm now RUNNING, not walking, to my polling station and taking charge of my life, looking at the man in the mirror, just like Britney did. ENOUGH is ENOUGH!

URGENT: How do I get someone to vote tomorrow?

2006-11-06T12:24:00.000-05:00

While law school has ironically kept me from being as active in the "get out the vote" movement as I would like to be, I have taken it upon myself to call every person on my cell phone list who is eligible to vote and if I have doubts about their motivation to vote (If you have not received a call, it's because I know you would never miss a chance to vote).

I just got off the phone with my cousin who is an Iraq vet. He told me he will probably not vote.

1st Excuse: He's not registered.
My answer: Doesn't matter. Minnesota has same-day registration.

2nd Excuse: He doesn't know where to go to vote:
My answer: I anticipated this, so I looked it up for him and I mapquested it. It is exactly .2 miles from his house. I gave him the address.

3rd Excuse: He doesn't know who to vote for and doesn't know who the candidates are.

This one I found a little harder to answer. First, I find it strange he doesn't know ANYTHING about the candidates because of the bombardment of ads all over the TV. Second, when my call is to just make sure he exercises his right to vote, is it appropriate to plug my candidates and tell him the RNC is evil? Third, is it dirty to remind him he fought for people's freedom and the fundamental right of voting (think Iraqi fingers dipped in ink) and that he might be a hypocrite to not exercise his own right to vote?

He is still not sure if he will vote. We are supposed to have another phone conference later this afternoon and it will be my last chance to convince him to vote tomorrow. Please post your thoughts on tactics to persuade him that he MUST vote, even if he's not sure who the best candidate is.

The Fool's Gold-en Rule

2006-10-26T18:54:00.000-04:00

As most of you know, I am in my third and final year of law school. It has, for the most part, been a rich and stimulating experience with (mostly) smart and respectable people. Sometimes things happen, though, that make me embarassed to be part of this profession and afraid for the future of law and lawyerdom.

In several of my classes throughout these three years, professors have taken time to instruct us how to not be assholes when we become attorneys. Examples include:

"If someone shows up 5 minutes late to a deposition, you don't need to report it to the judge, reschedule, and charge your opponent for costs. We've all been 5 minutes late."
"When negotiating with prosecutors, don't accuse them of personally detesting the Constitution. They are just doing their jobs and most of them are perfectly lovely people. "
In drafting interrogatories, don't use unnecessarily obtuse language or complex sentence structure. Think of interrogatories YOU have to answer and how you would like them to be worded. "

To me, these all seems to be variations of "treat others the way you would like to be treated" a/k/a The Golden Rule. Didn't we learn this in pre-school? Or at HOME as toddlers? Sure, a friendly reminder will do now and again, but I find it sad that law professors know they need to devote substantial time to reminding professional students and soon-to-be officers of the courts of this country to treat each other with basic human decency and respect.

I realize that this post may invite a plethora of lawyer jokes, but remember who our administrator is. The lawerly-inclined on this forum would never make jokes about your chosen profession. We learned the Golden Rule at about the same time we learned to brush our teeth, despite what my law school professors would have you think.

a thermos and nalgene crowd

2006-10-20T00:52:00.000-04:00

I arrived at a potluck this week with two liter bottles of soda and yellow plastic cups. Coke and Sprite. I considered purchasing diet (that would've been my choice) but figured more people like regular. I wasn't the only one to bring soda to this gathering of documentary students. But the other person purchased Moxie (a local cola) and rasberry ginger ale. Not a single person drank my offering. And it's not like there was beer or anything. I left with both bottles unopened. I just took a couple of swigs from the neon green bottle and thought I'd write to all of you. Do you not drink soda? Am I living in the past? Do your social groups drink it? I'm just curious.

How did you spend your Thursday nights in 1990?

2006-10-18T17:20:00.000-04:00

This is it, folks. Finally. If you don't already know, I am thrilled to be the first to tell you that the 1st season of 90210 is being released on DVD on November 7th, 2006. We have waited years and years. I cannot account for the timing but for that Aaron Spelling no longer around (RIP) to object to its release due to his embarassment that his dear Tori played the ditzy virgin. But, it matters not.

What counts is that just in time for the season in which no person in their right mind would go outside for more than 5 minutes because of sub-zero temperatures and massive snow drifts, we have some old friends to catch up with. I have already pre-ordered my copy and I encourage you do the same.

Also, if I don't return phonecalls between November 7th and 2007, you'll understand why. Dylan McKay and I will be cuddled up by the fire, reliving those Thursday nights from so many years ago.

Cheap Bastard Mixology

2006-09-29T19:25:00.000-04:00

I came home the other night after a long day and my new roommate was on the couch drinking a 40 of Old E, which is my brand of choice. I had a lovely trader joes salad that i was going to eat so i opted for wine instead. but then sitting there waiting for America's Next Top Model to come on, i was like 'damn. that looks good. i want that instead."
and he said, "you could have both?"
and i said "together?"
and he said "yeah. you should drink them both at the same time."
and i said "i will if you will"
and he said "ok" (thinking that i was not serious and that it wasn't physically possible)
but oh, OH was he wrong. I grabbed two straws and and a 40 (ok, really it was a 24oz, but whatever) and the dare was ON.

we were shocked. SHOCKED i tell you.
somehow it was the best of both worlds. i'm a cheap bastard these days so it was crappy wine, and i dare say the combination improved both of them.

so RUN, dont walk, to your local corner store and live it up!

ANTM

2006-09-20T23:33:00.000-04:00

Just so we're clear, I can count the number of episodes of America's Next Top Model that I've ever seen on one hand. Tonight I saw maybe the last 20 minutes of the season premiere and am hoping someone else here saw it too. When the judges were critiquing the very striking Anchal, were they for real in deferring to the comments of Nigel Barker because "we're both Indian"? His bio on the website says he was born in London and educated in the English countryside, and mentions that "his background...brings a unique sensitivity to the relationships he forms with his subjects," but that's all. If you were Anchal, would you be offended at Nigel's giving you modeling advice from a fellow Indian's perspective, seeing as how he is a) a man and b) white? I know there are some ANTM experts in the crowd so please come forward!

It's not just that I lost, it's that she won.

2006-09-17T20:32:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I received an official rejection from a clerkship that I had allowed myself to really, really want. I already knew that I was not going to be chosen, as the window for a positive outcome had passed, but the rejection letter was the final nail, as it were. This clerkship was a long shot, and I perhaps should not have raised my hopes, but once I was chosen for an interview, I started to think, "maybe, just maybe, I can get this." Naturally, I am disappointed.

Worse, though, than being rejected, is that I have firsthand knowledge (via eavesdropping) that a person I truly detest was choses for one of these coveted clerkships. She is the kind of person that is a "close aquaintance" -- I have shared pitchers of beer with her in a small group. Yet, everytime I see her, she obviously and purposely ignores me. She is the sort of girl I disliked and distrusted in high school, and apparently whose high-school-like personality outlasts the Danceline trophies.

While the sting of rejection has already begun to fade, I am left with a bad taste in my mouth. I am not so concerned with bad things happening to good people. I think that is inevitable. What I find so infuriating is when good things happen to bad people -- more specifically, I do not understand how smart people in respectable positions can be tricked into thinking that snide, stupid, immature, and unkind people are the best choice for a job/clerkship/relationship. I have seen several instances of this phenomenon throughout the years, but this time it has really hit home.

Call me petty or jealous. Maybe that's part of it. But, it's also something more than that. It's a fundamental disappointment that even the brightest and most respectable people can be fooled into choosing bad people for good things.

Of course, one boy in my high school "Theory of Knowledge" class said that bad things only happen to bad people. Maybe I am bad for not sending best wishes to my secret nemesis. But I didn't think that kid in high school was right back then and I don't think he's right now. Bad things happen to good people. And more often than I like, good things happen to bad people.

A question re: Fancy Jeans...

2006-09-06T07:51:00.000-04:00

So I've had this pair of Citizens jeans for maybe a year and a half. I love them, they are perfect for any occasion... which is good because they're also the any pair I like. Anyway, I bought them on ebay for something like $80, retail value, maybe $140... they developed a hole in the crotch, I sent them off to aforementioned jean-fixers in New York... and I just learned that I'll be $65 to fix them. $53 for repair, $12 for shipping. This is an irksome figure for a few reasons: a) that's a lot of money and almost as much as I paid for them. b) It only cost me $5.20 to send them to New York.
So, the question is whether I, a) pay $65 and get them back. b) try to find another pair on ebay, risking not finding as good a pair and then, do I pay the $12 to get the old ones back, even though they're unwearable... or do I let them go? This may not be a problem boys understand, but I'm hoping the ladies will...
Also note, I am a student again and living on loans....

Thank you.

Size Does Matter

2006-08-30T10:50:00.000-04:00

I can't imagine what life would be like if I hadn't gone to Wesleyan, and I consider it the best decision I have ever made (with the possible exception of putting an end to my days of blowdrying my hair and choosing the cello over the violin in third grade). But I've always loved Wesleyan for the friends I made there, and thought that I could take or leave most other aspects of it. Now that I am beginning grad school at an enormous university, I love Wesleyan even more because of its size. I really can't remember ever being completely confused as to how to get information, or waiting on a line for more than 15 minutes that wasn't for food or for cheap beer at frats before it was outlawed, or reading through a list of events and not being sure which ones applied to me. I took for granted how easy it was to get answers to questions and how comforting to look around at your fellow students and feel like everyone was there for similar reasons and could probably relate in some way to your individual experience of the college. I'm 25 now and have been perfectly capable so far of navigating the NYU wilderness, but can you imagine being 18 and coming to a college that is like a city within a city? I think everyone who contributes to this blog went to a small school too, but maybe you have a better imagination than I do.

Buying Fancy Jeans

2006-08-24T13:04:00.000-04:00

Remember when jeans cost like $30 and shirts were like 15? Yeah me too. Those were the days. Especially since my mom was paying for everything anyway. It seemed like just when I was beginning to take over financial responsibility for my wardrobe, clothing prices started going insane. But at that point, ‘insane’ was like $65-80 for a pair of jeans. Those were splurge prices. Now they’re a good deal. And then a couple years ago, the $100-200 jean wave began. At first it seemed so outrageous and beyond comprehension that I assumed it was just a trend and everyone would come to their senses, or if it continued it would really only affect the very wealthy or the very shallow. But now, most people don't bat an eyelash!

Ok fine, I’ll stop the bullshit. I’m sitting here trying to contextualize and intellectualize why its ok that I just spent over $150 on a pair of jeans but there’s really no way around it. I did it. I totally gave into expensive jeans. I may pair them with my Mossimo pleather heals from Target and an H&M sales rack shirt but they are still really just a lot. Plus: its not like i'm running with a fancy crowd. I work at a nonprofit in a land of hippies. None of my friends would give a crap if I stopped wearing pants altogether. brands like rock and republic or joes jeans don’t make their hearts go a twitter. In fact, I’m hoping we can keep this little purchase just between you and me, because honestly, I’m going to lose a lot of credibility with the majority of my social group if word gets out that I succumbed to the almighty power of magazine and celebrity-approved attire for the price of a plane ticket to NY.

But I can’t hide who I am. The truth is, I read celebrity blogs every day and then when i'm really bored, i read the news. but in that order, not the other way around. I have a general idea of whats going on, but i can't wax poetic on the state of Lebanon today like i can about Lindsay or Nicole. I’m not incapable – there was a time when I was all about the information and the politicking. And its not like I have no soul - I work for an amazing legal aid place doing awesome things and I hope to someday change the world. I guess it’s just that deep down, when I picture changing the world, I’m Katherine Hepburn meets Angelina Jolie meets Cameron Diaz.

But going back to the jeans, I want to be clear: I am not looking for forgiveness or pity. You know why? Because holy crap I love these jeans! they're the best jeans i've ever owned! I want to wear them everywhere all the time. and you know what? I will! which means, if you break it down, that i'll really only be spending like 25 cents a day on my jeans. which is a damn good price! because I get dressed in the morning and I go through the rigmarole of looking into my closet for other pants to wear but the truth is, as far as I’m concerned, there are no other pants for me. I’m a one-pant kind of girl and I guess I’m ready to stop playing the field and really take stock of my needs and my desires and settle down with a pair that will treat me right, and make me feel good about myself, and flatter me, and make me smile. We’re going to have a beautiful life together.

Watching TV in bed

2006-08-18T01:55:00.000-04:00

As some of you might know, I just moved into a new apartment. I'm in a new city, I know 3 people in town and I'm living by myself. So many things are new these days and I'm kind of in a personal test of how I want to live. I've noticed some things about myself-- I apparently don't eat or shower when I'm at home with no chance of interpersonal contact... I do drink coffee, which usually leads to eating since coffee on an empty stomach makes it hurt. I also have delighted in watching TV in bed. I never thought of myself as this kind of person, but literally the first thing I did when left to my own devices was purchase a television. And then I set it up in my bedroom (not, I think, it's ultimate resting place, but....) and proceeded to watch 6 episodes of "Weeds" while lolling in bed. Tonight I am on my second episode of "24" from the comfort of bed... I think this is the ultimate luxury of the early 21st century and the realization of a lifelong dream. Obviously I was never allowed to have a TV in my room when I lived at home... so when purchasing a computer one of the major draws was being able to watch movies in bed. So here it is, internet, I am someone who needs a TV and goddamnit, I want to lie in bed and be entertained. Is that so wrong? No, I just like it so very much and it makes me feel young and American and free. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Isn't Gatsby Great?!?

2006-08-13T12:49:00.000-04:00

By: Kristina and Sarah. Drafted in Minneapolis on August 12, 2006.

Last week we attended the world premiere stage adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's pinnacle novel, The Great Gatsby, at the new Guthrie-- arguably the Twin Cities' most beloved theater. The play reminded us of our shared intimate relationship with the work. However, as the play progressed, we realized that although each of us consider it one of our favorite books, we didn't remember the story. We were stuck on motif, symbolism, and metaphor. Although we could anticipate and recite "key passages" in our minds, we didn't know what would happen next in the plot.

Our familiarity with the literary devices in The Greaty Gatsby was born in our 11th grade English class. Our teacher, Ms. Sexton, considered it the Great American Novel. We graduated from high school with the understanding that no one should be allowed to graduate high school without having studied the book--and in turn, obviously, loved it.

Once we left F. Scott's home state for our respective coastal collegiate enterprises, we were surprised to learn how many "smart" people have never read The Great Gatsby. For our friends, Last Stand at the Alamo, The Biography of Bruce Springsteen, and Starbucks: A Corporate History seemed to to have been graduation requirements.

Did you read The Great Gatsby? Did you love it? Do you consider it The Great American Novel and F. Scott the 20th century's Shakespeare? If not, what do you think is so good?

Maybe this is a little callous...

2006-08-11T03:28:00.000-04:00

But looking at what has been confiscated at airports recently... it makes me once again glad, that no matter how good aveda smells, I opt for the Suave impersonations of designer shampoo. Um, can anyone say "midterm elections."

25 going on 15... and 45.

2006-08-03T19:49:00.000-04:00

When did this happen? In May after discovering that my mother had been contemplating plastic surgery, I meditated, both in my head and out loud to some WEDYHTD contributors, about how foreign the phenomenon of aging was to me. I didn’t understand it, I am young and changes in my face and body still feel like part of growth into, who I’ll ultimately be, as opposed to a decline from who I was.
Later in the month, I turned 25 and I welcomed the flip of the calendar. Twenty five felt right, it was maturation without turning “old.” Obviously 25 isn’t old, Mid-twenties was solidly upon me and I felt fine about it.
I spent a good deal of time traveling with my 15 yr old sister in June and July and while, granted, she looks older than 15, somehow this lead people we met to think I was much younger than 25. This frustrated me. I think because I equate age with progress. So much has happened since I was fifteen, there is a world of difference between the summer after freshman year in high school and… now. I’ve lived halfway across the country from where I grew up for seven years. I’ve traveled to five continents since I was fifteen, I’ve developed talents and vices and a sense of self and confidence and direction and... I'm about to start PROFESSIONAL SCHOOL for christ's sake… being mistaken for younger than I am seems to somehow diminish the importance of what has transpired since that age.
At the same time, my sister at some point decided on this trip that calling me “old” was really the way get my goat. And while my goat wasn’t actually got (hopefully wit is something she’ll develop in college,) what stuck was that she grouped me with “adults.” Whether they’re 25 or 45 or 72, adults don’t like to be called old.
And since I’ve returned I’ve been feeling rather old. It’s not just visiting the babies of friends, or the babies of 17yr olds I’ve known since they were born… but it’s accidentally buying facial cleanser for “maturing skin” and then realizing maybe it’s not such a bad idea. It’s realizing I’d better grow my hair out now, because I don’t have too long until it’ll be tacky. It’s seeing where the wrinkles will be and looking at pictures of friends and seeing their age, not that they just don’t look like kids anymore, but they look older than they did when they stopped looking like kids. It’s worrying about something like cholesterol, a diet and lifestyle change that doesn’t have to do with vanity but with evading a stroke? This is old people stuff.
But this, I think, is the nature of the age. And it needs its own term, At twenty five, car insurance premiums go down. And at twenty-six, health insurance premiums go up. We’re in this strange limbo where we’re seeing the beginnings of wrinkles while worrying about the recurrence of pimples.

More Thoughts on Digestion

2006-08-02T14:48:00.000-04:00

Unless the free samples are out, I generally try to steer clear of Whole Foods. It not just their prices, it the desire they inspire. I’m not someone who generally treats their body all that well – the fact that I pretty much live on sugarfree coffeemate is testament to this – but the danger of Whole Foods is that they make it look so good and fancy and lovely that I walk in there and in the course of 3 minutes I’ve decided to completely turn my life around, eat only organic meats and vegetables, remove all wheat, dairy, gluten, sugar, preservative, etc. from my diet, start using the keeper and buy only chemical free cleaning products. Its trouble.

Last night I was feeling sad and bored so I got in the car and went to Yogurt Park and got a huge container of sugar free frozen yogurt and ate it in record time. I contemplated going back for more, but somehow that seemed too embarrassing. So I actually decided to go to the frozen yogurt store in the next town. I know, I have problem. I’m well aware. But on my way, as I was thinking, ‘Oy, I love this frozen yogurt but it sure makes me feel like crap sometimes’, I passed a whole foods, set back from the street in a tree lined parking lot, glowing warmly with recycled lightbulbs no doubt, hippies swarming.
And I thought, ‘No lily. No. you are poor and you cannot afford to walk in there.’ But I was still sad and bored and had nothing to do, so I parked and went in.
I walked out an hour later having spent literally $100 on a single bag of groceries, but I have a really good excuse this time: vitamins.

Not just any vitamins – no no – food-based vitamins.

I went to the vitamin isle with a question about enzymes. Because my coworker told me that apparently there’s no point in taking lots of multi-vitamins because unless you take special enzymes along with it, you don’t break them down and just poo them out unabsorbed and I wanted to know if that was true.

“Bingo”, said the vitamin guy (really, he did), “but in addition, it’s really important what vitamins you take, because unless you take food-based vitamins, your body has a really hard time digesting any of it.”

“Oh”, I said, “So then its probably not so good that I take Walgreen’s brand vitamins, huh.”

And he laughed and said, “I have a funny story for you:

Recently there was a story in the news about a sewage plan that was on the verge of flooding and totally clogged. What they found upon investigation, was that there were literally thousands and thousands of multivitamins clogging up the place. Whole vitamins. That had passed through the city’s citizens WHOLE and then passed through the treatment plant WHOLE and eventually had collected and clogged up the final stage of the treatment system. Which is both gross and alarming. Basically an entire city full of people were spending like $50 a bottle on Centrum silver and whatnot and just pooing them out without making a dent in them. We’ve been literally shitting away our money! And I just bought a new bottle a couple weeks ago!

But whatever, I’m a sucker so I bought the fancy vitamins as well as the fancy enzymes to help break them down.
Also some milk thistle and some frozen wheat grass and a bottle of kombucha tea, in case anyone was wondering what the hell ended up being $100.

Today, just to make sure I wasn’t completely swindled, I googled it. And its true!

The morals here are plentiful:

Never ever go into whole foods when you’re feeling sad.
Throw out your crappy multivitamins and switch to food-based vitamins immediately.
Buy some digestive enzymes while you’re at it.

Also: Kombucha, while incredibly good for you, tastes HORRIBLE. Just so you know.

The end.

Screwed and the City

2006-05-31T10:51:00.000-04:00

Now that my finals are over, I have ample time to indulge in TV re-runs. This is a good thing. Usually. Last night, on the WB, was the final episode of one of my staples, Sex and the City. I am admittedly addicted to this show and own all seasons (except season 5, which sucked) on DVD. I am aware that the final episode is 41+ minutes long and as such, the WB would be cutting major chunks of the show for network broadcast.

Let me tell you: the WB slaughtered the final episode and robbed newcomers to Sex and the City fanaticism of how truly great the last episode was. As I watched, I kept thinking, those poor viewers without HBO or DVD access to the final episode are missing so many of the really important parts of the finale!

Among the moments that WB edited out:

- Carrie losing and finding her "Carrie" necklace, a major metaphor for losing herself and re-finding herself.
-Carrie's long, lonesome walk through Paris, including being hit on the head by a little boy and stepping in dog shit.
-Miranda bathing Steve's Alzheimer-stricken mother.
-Magda telling Miranda "what you did, that is love. You love."
- Carrie's last monologue about different kinds of relationships -- including scenes of Samantha and Smith back to the banging, Miranda and family at home in Brooklyn, and Charlotte and Harry walking the dogs.
-Mr. Big calling Carrie to tell him the house in Napa is on the market.
-The cell phone displaying Mr. Big's real name, John.

These are crucial moments in what I consider a crucial show. You may think it is creepy that I am so familiar with these scenes that I am able to recognize their ommission and quote lines from them. However, I see this as fulfilling a duty to the deprived, WB-watching, Sex and the City-liking (if the loved it, they'd have the DVDs) public. If just one person that has only seen the WB version of the Sex and the City finale reads this entry and is convinced that the REAL finale is worth renting, my work is done.

Shame on you, WB. Shame. Shame. That is no way to reward viewers who have jumped on the syndicated Sex and the City bandwagon.

Year of the Cock

2006-04-26T16:02:00.000-04:00

The great thing about turning 25 this year (folks, can I hear it?) is that there are lots of retrospectives on what happened 25 years ago. I guess this also happened when I turned 20, 15, 10 and so forth... but this is now.
Some things that if you're turning 25 in 2006, you're the same age as:

* AIDS
* Frequent Flier Miles (http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/26/business/26leonhardt.html)
* Wheel of Fortune
* THE WESLEYAN SPIRITS (all-male acapella for those outside of the community)

And some people (careful, this is a little depressing):

* Elijah Wood
* Justin Timberlake
* Paris Hilton
* Josh Groban
* Julia Stiles
* Jessica Alba
* Jamie-Lynn Sigler
* Anna Kournikova
* Natalie Portman
* Ben Kweller
* Chad Michael Murray
* Rachel Bilson
* Beyonce Knowles
* Jonathan Taylor Thomas
* Alexis Bledel
* Nicole Richie
* Serena Williams
* Dominique Moceanu
* Ivanka Trump
* Britney Spears
* Sienna Miller

A Lovely Thing That Happened Today

2006-04-20T23:10:00.000-04:00

Last night I went with my dad to the Philharmonic to see a performance of the Shostakovich Violin Concerto and Tenth Symphony, with Maxim Vengerov on violin and Mstislav Rostropovich conducting. Rostropovich is better known as one of the great cellists of the twentieth century, and a close friend of Shostakovich as well as other important composers. He didn't start conducting until a lot later in his career. He's turning 79 this year. Watching him conduct last night was really great. After the Symphony, he went into the orchestra section by section to kiss the principal players and he seemed to absolutely adore the musicians and audience as much as we loved him.

Anyway, today I had 45 minutes to kill before my orchestra rehearsal, so I bought some sushi to go and sat next to my cello on a wall outside Juilliard, which is right around the corner from Lincoln Center and up the block from the church where we practice. I was very into my book and didn't really notice anyone approaching me, but then all of a sudden I looked up and there he was, Mr. Rostropovich himself, his face about a foot away from mine. This is what he said to me: "Good appetite!" All I could think of in reply was to ask him if he would like some pieces of sushi. He laughed and shook my hand and waddled away and I just stared after him before realizing what had just happened and looking around for someone who had witnessed the interaction and could appreciate how cool it was.

Of course now I'm thinking of all the things I could have said to him. I mean, I had just seen him conduct a concert that I raved about at work this morning. I had just read an interview with him in the Times. I play the same instrument as him and was on my way to a rehearsal of very music that is basically impossible for me to play, that I'm sure he'd have been familiar with. What if he thinks I didn't know who he was? What kind of cellist could I be if I didn't? I have decided that the recognition was there in my voice and in the hand shake and the offer to share my dinner.

Update

2006-04-20T16:22:00.000-04:00

Ok, I've been hard at work.

Done= Go to Whitney Biennial, See Munch Exhibit at MoMA, Eat Grimaldi's, See Ave Q (which I couldn't put before because it might give away to Erica that it was to be her birthday present)

Revised to-do:

Go to Bohemian Beer Garden
Go to Bulgarian Disco
Go to the Cloisters
Go to the Frying Pan
Go to Coney Island
Go to Grimaldi's (again)

Overheard in the Elevator

2006-03-29T15:07:00.000-05:00

Six men and I are riding up, they're getting out at 24. I get out at 19.
Man 1: There's a lot of Jed Bartlett stuff at the Smithsonian. A surprising amount, it takes up a whole wall.
Man 2: You don't say.
Man 1: Yep, best President we ever had, that Bartlett. Jed Bartlett and Bill Clinton.

Closing Time...

2006-03-24T17:21:00.000-05:00

So while most WEDYHTDers know this, I'm leaving New York in a little under two months. So this morning I was brain-storming on things I wanted to do/make sure I did again before leaving. The things should be quintessentially New York. But I could only come up with five.

They are:
Go to Whitney Biennial
See Munch Exhibit at MoMA
Go to Bohemian Beer Garden
Go to Bulgarian Disco
Eat Grimaldi's

Any help/anybody want to come?

This Modern Life

2006-03-21T15:39:00.000-05:00

There's this commercial for some kind of fiber supplement that captures my predicament precisely. In it, a woman wakes up to her alarm and starts eating a carrot, then we see her gnawing on broccoli while driving the kids to school and eating a bran muffin while working out. The tagline of the commercial is something like, "if you get all of your daily fiber from what you eat, how do you have time for anything else."
And isn't this the modern dilemma? At least I feel overwhelmed by it sometimes, the number of things we're "supposed" (and many that we want) to do-- eat enough fiber, get enough iron, eat plenty of vegetables, exercise, give money to charity, work late, spend time with friends, see family.... the list goes on and on and it seems practically impossible to do all of it. Like the fiber example-- a typical orange, considered a pretty high fiber food, has 3g of fiber. And we're shooting for at least 25 a day! Which means just staying on top of your FIBER intake could be a freaking full time job. Meanwhile, there are restaurants we have to try while we're supposed to cook at home. Take advantage of every opportunity WHILE building good credit? Gym memberships that eat into the disposable income we could we using to feed the homeless.... ergh! Does anyone else get frustrated by this or am I just abnormally guilt-ridden?

the tiger look

2006-03-10T13:50:00.001-05:00

I just came from the salon where I spent over $100 for a cut and color. My glasses were off during the process and, since I am nearly blind without them, I couldn't really see what was going on. However, before starting to paint my head, I did tell the woman that I am not in to the streaky look and that I prefer an all-over medium blonde. At the end of what has turned out to be an ordeal, I put my glasses back on to find that my head is streaked in black and white. The woman is all excited about the "low lights" and I tell her it is "great."

What gives? I am not afraid to speak in a class of 100 law students or afraid of giving oral arguments in front of judges--yet, when I have the chance to speak up about my utter disgust with my hair color that reminds be of a bengal tiger, I just grin (grimace) and run away.

Now that I am at work, I have called the salon and will be getting it fixed tomorrow. It was much easier to call and complain knowing I was in the safety of my own office. Why am I afraid of the hairdresser? She's the one that screwed up! She should be afraid of me! (in 18 short months I could sue) . Is this a quirk I have of being intimidated by the salon people or is it evidence that I have some more growing up to do? I may never know, but until tomorrow, you can just call me Le Tigre.

When you sell your soul, apparently they come back to collect.

2006-03-08T12:15:00.000-05:00

So as the community may or may not know, I work at a large law firm in New York. Coming from a background of a lot of lawyers, but no firm lawyers, I started here kind of expected it to be the seat of all evil... and found for the most part, it's just people, just working. Most people who work here aren't attorneys, they're just folks trying to support themselves and their families. The attornies aren't evil, most of them are actually quite nice and they're just working also. It just so happens that what they're working on at best doesn't interest me and at worst conflicts somewhat with my morals, instilled in me by aforementioned non-firm lawyers.
In September I worked on a project for a pharmaceutical company client, some research into cholesterol-lowering drugs, or statins, and what form they took. The goal of this research was to try to argue that the company wasn't avoiding allowing a generic to be made (and therfore losing a lot of profit) by switching it from a capsule to tablet, but making it more like the other similar drugs on the market. Whatever. I typed up a little email memo about my research and send it off to the attorney. I made jokes about how terrible it was to work for the people trying to keep drugs that people need prohibitively expensive, but jokes in similar ways to ones I make about children losing their arms mining the diamonds for our client in a kind of but-my-hands-are-tied way...
Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago when I get a phone call from my Dr., following up on some routine blood work/check-up. He wants me to come in, I have extremely high cholesterol. He's be testing my blood and liver and everything else since then and finally yesterday put me on a statin to bring down the cholesterol. I went to get the prescription filled for this drug that likely I'll have to take for the rest of my life to control my cholesterol... and it's a $50 copay. Because there is no generic. And, at some, level this is my own fault. Fuck.

What are the odds?

2006-03-06T10:44:00.000-05:00

Every time I fly to Minnesota from, well, anywhere, I kind of expect to recognize someone on my flight. This feeling isn't as strong anymore as I know what seems like fewer and fewer people in my hometown. As further evidence, this past weekend on the way to our local Target, my mom asked if I expected to run into someone I knew at Target... um, who would that be?
However, the past two times I've flown (aside from Israel, which is an outlier) I've either seen or been SEATED NEXT TO someone I know. Once was just in the airport, the other was on a flight back to NY from Oakland in January. What are the odds? Well, I did a few calculations:
In 2005 100 Million people pass through the NY airports, JFK, Newark, Laguardia.
I have 122 Friendsters. Say I also know the parents and on average one sibling of a quarter of them... there's another 91.5 people. Then theres the people I would recognize, I know but don't "know" and so am not connected to via online social networking at all. Say, an equal number to friendsters and familes- another 213.5 people. And then the people who aren't on Friendster. Let's optimistically say I know 600 people. Or would recognize them. This means that everyone I know is .0006% of the people who pass through the NY airports, and that's assuming they ALL flew in and out of NY and I was at the airport (all 3) all day every day to see them. Kind of astonishing to recognize anyone at all, actually. Food for thought. Next topic will be: After beating incredible odds like these... why do I still try to avoid saying hello? Discuss.

The newest development...

2006-02-25T14:38:00.000-05:00

Ok, I know the WEDYHTD community is divided over Lance Armstrong. Heroic/national/athletic icon to some, sleezebag doper to others, tomayto, tomahto... but what about this:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/4749716.stm

So Sheryl and Lance break up and all of the sudden she's being treated for breast cancer? I realize this is all speculation, but they broke up THREE weeks ago... we're supposed to believe he didn't know about the cancer? He ditched his wife who nursed him though his own cancer recovery for Sheryl, then hit the road when the going got tough with her. Either Lance and his heart are pure but have the worst timing EVER... or he is the worst person EVER. We can all decide for ourselves...
PS. I think we need weekly updates on TomKitten since lords knows, I can't keep up.

a shot at greatness

2006-02-24T12:03:00.000-05:00

While perusing one of my favorite celebrity blogs this morning over a cup of coffee, i saw this:

"VH1 & ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY ARE HITTING THE ROAD LOOKING FOR

POP CULTURE TRIVIA FANS TO COMPETE IN THE

WORLD SERIES OF POP CULTURE!"

And it occured to me, for once in my life, I actually could be equipped to compete in a world series! I mean, yeah, ok - its no Torino. But jeez, anyone who saw the ladies freestyle skating last night might concede that "greatness" isn't all that great. (cause dude, that girl so should not have won! did anyone else notice that she repeated the floaty-fish-arm-spin into single-arm-in-the-air-spin sequence 3 times!? it was like a skating version of a kylie minogue song. but i digress)

Anyways, maybe i'm just looking for an avenue to vent about ridiculous sucess of the fucking girls who ruled my middle school, but i think i could do this! i read like 3-8 celeb blogs a day, a fact which i never thought of as something to be proud of, let alone something to share with anyone, but for reals yo, i could DO this. i need teammates. who's with me?

ADDENDUM: I was so busy watching skating last night that i missed seeing becky get booted from American Idol. and yet, my dreams of greatness have not waned. the road to pop culture beckons....

Free Money

2006-02-24T11:48:00.000-05:00

I spoke to my brother Kevin on the phone for a while last night, and told him about this major fundraiser we’re planning at work and how I’m very anxious about it because it’s only nine days away and we’ve filled about a third of the seats in what is not even that big a hall in the first place. We haven’t had a problem getting donations, though. The money is pouring in. It’s just that no one seems to want to get anything back for it. In general in my work here, I’ve found that it’s a lot easier to get people to give money than to attend an event. The easiest way to bring in cash seems to be holding raffles—that way, people can send in their checks from afar without actually having to make time in their schedules to go to a concert or a dinner or whatever, feel good about themselves for supporting a great cause, and have a shot at maybe, just maybe, winning a Chivas Regal gift set or a NordicTrak machine or someone else’s frequent flier miles.

Kevin compared it to his reaction to the homeless people on the streets of San Francisco who try to sell you their newspapers for a dollar. He usually gives them a buck but tells them to keep the paper because he can’t even be bothered with going out of his way to the trash can to throw it out.

It’s probably a raising-a-family-in-the-city thing. The people who would most enjoy the benefit concert that we’re planning are parents who bring their musically-inclined kids. But those are the same people who think they are too busy to come out on a Monday night. So instead they send in a check and their good wishes and go about their daily routine of feeding the kids and making sure they do their homework and get a good night’s sleep.

I’ve given more money than I thought I would this year to various organizations and I’ve almost always received something in return: tote bags and iPod holders from WNYC (and maybe a laptop if by chance I win the special Apple drawing!), a concert at Madison Square Garden (and a glimpse of Bill Clinton) for Katrina victims, a performance of Beethoven’s 9th for earthquake victims, all I could drink at the Brooklyn Brewery for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Next weekend I'm going to a concert that will somehow benefit both New Orleans and Tibet. I like doing fun things for a good cause and when I don’t have time for that anymore because I’m responsible for other living beings, I’ll miss it.

More and more I feel little incentive to strive towards grown-up goals like having a family and investing money and buying a home. I just did my taxes and they were so easy, on account of owning nothing of value and being responsible for no one but myself.

wasn't born yesterday

2006-02-23T14:51:00.000-05:00

does anyone else remember a time when a snack-sized container of almonds didn't cost eight bucks. what is going on here? am i the only one who has noticed that the price of almonds (and cashews!) is out of control. are you embarrassed that i've posted this on our blog? have i jeopardized our legitimacy?

Loud and Clear, Big Guy

2006-02-15T16:49:00.000-05:00

I am beginning to believe in a higher power. It wasn't the trip to Israel this month that did it, although the moment on shabbat looking out over the dome of the rock and the church of the holy sepulchre with the sound of the call to prayer drifting over the old city in stereo from mosques did make it seem like all of these people might know something I don't. But what turned me was the feeling lately that someone, somewhere was beginning to think I was feeling too cocky and I needed to be brought down a notch. Or, at an even more basic level-- that somebody has been paying attention. Examples from my recent existence:
In Israel I got in a yelling argument with someone on our trip, which let loose a self-righteous flood of rage that culminated in my bringing up the fact that he had spent the second day of the trip vomiting on the bus due to a vodka-drinking contest with a Russian the night before. Man, was I self-righteous. I spent most of the next day vomiting.
Also in Israel, I spoke with Juliet about how I felt like I really needed to experience heartbreak before I settle down with one person forever. Meanwhile, I spoke confidently about my relationship. I came home and within 24 hours had been dumped.
This fall, I had started to feel cocky about law school, like maybe at some level I was better than some schools. Or that I'd be considered a stronger candidate than the numbers suggest. And then those schools started to reject, wait-list and defer me.
There are other examples that don't come to mind right now, of me saying or thinking things only to be squarely contradicted by what seem like pointed changes in reality. Like someone is trying to tell me something.
The journal I'm using now I started on Valentine's Day 2004 and every page was filled ending last night, Valentine's Day 2006. I did a little personal retrospective on these past two years and more and more things seemed to be getting tied up, coming full circle; its all happening very cleanly. Not that breakups and arguments and rejection are clean, but it's falling into place like someone is planning this.
On the last day of the Israel trip, the dreamboat guide had us all write out postcards that he will mail to us, to send ourselves a little message about what we want ourselves to remember that we'd learned, realized or changes we intended to make. My postcard was about the realization that after being completely removed from everyday life for 10 days, I realized that my life is more than the sum of its components. After spending so much mental energy on relationships, jobs and law school, it was both freeing and terrifying to think about my life as being more than all of those things put together. And then I came home and a lot of those things shifted.
This whole weird, hard time brings a lot of maxims to mind-- be careful what you wish for, what goes around comes around, don't get too comfortable. It's weird. I don't know what's going on... but I'm putting it on the internet to say:
OK, I HEAR YOU.
Now if I could only figure out what they're trying to say...
I hope this doesn't mean I'm losing my mind.

Floofy dresses, Prosthetic Boobs, Opera Singing Cabbies, and the Oakland PD, or "How I spent my Saturday Night"

2006-02-14T16:42:00.000-05:00

So pretty much nothing about Saturday made any kind of sense. I started the day with Jessie in the sunny suburbs of the South Bay trying on ridiculous pink floofy bridesmaids dresses (my sister's getting married). From there we tootled to Julia's. We were starving but the bagels were off limits - what can you do? It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and it was 5 o'clock somewhere so we drove through the city loking for a cafe in which to drink bloodymary's. You would think that wouldn't be so hard, but hours later we were still driving, with no bloodymary's in sight. We decided to pull out all the stops and go to the Cliff House, which is a swanky staple of the San Francisco tourist scene. But its ma$$ive white columns made us keep driving to Louie's, which looked quaint but in fact was just totally bizzare. First of all, no bloodymarys. Then the waitress yelled at us for wanting to switch to an empty table away from the door. When i asked for a refill of diet coke, she told me that she had given me regular, so was i sure that i wanted diet this time? There was some sort of nasty plastic thing floating in Julia's water. nothing really went right. Since we had never really fulfilled the bloody mary craving, we decided to get swanked up and paint the town red.

After many stops for black slinky things we arrived in "Balboa Park" which i guess technically is part of the city but pretty much felt like another country to us. Jessie's friend was having a party which we thought was a "Vamps and Vixens" party, but in fact was a "Vamps and Vampires" party. quite different in fact. Her friend is a fabulous drag queen and many of the other people there were also very much in drag and lace and leather and prosthetic boobs. We meant to just stay for a drink and return to civilization but many french martini's later we were still there. A woman in a leather jumpsuit with a boat of a cadillac drove us to BART. which we missed. we got on a bus. i dont know what bus it was, but i think it was the wrong one. it was empty though and we didn't have to pay. Julia decided to get off. later she regretted her haste, as it was not the correct stop. Jessie and I got off too, somewhere, nowhere near her house, so we got in a cab. i was actually a van. with a woman driver who was so fabulously nice and who turned off the meter when i jumped out to get us pizza, which again i didn't have to pay for.

I loved this cab so much that i decided i couldn't leave it, i wanted my own bed, which was across the bridge in Oakland. but i was drunk and what is money to a drunk girl? So she took me. She was an opera singer and her favorite opera, Amal and the Night Visitors, was one that my mother took me to see every single year at chistmas. So she sang me arias and we ate pizza and talked and talked and then i was home. I put it on the credit card (which was a smarter move than i knew then) went inside and ate some more pizza.

Suddenly i heard gun shots. and i looked out the window and saw 3 or 4 guys running like crazy down the street. So i got out the phone book and called the cops. Which is something i feel like i do a lot for some reason, so it didn't feel that crazy. they said they'd send a car out. i said cool. so i finished my pizza and went to bed.

This morning, as i was dawdling and making myself late to work again, the phone rang. I normally don't answer my house phone but i did and it was the Cab Driver from saturday night, calling to tell me that she had filled out a crime report with the Oakland PD and they going to contact me and she was so glad i paid with a credit card because otherwise she'd never be able to find me again. and i was like, "oh my GOD - the gunshots!" and she said, "Yeah! I got away just in time!".... It turns out that when i went inside my house that night and she was pausing to do the paperwork for my ride, a bunch of guys started running at her shooting. she peeled away just in time and the bullets missed her and just hit the side of the van. She drove off for a couple of blocks until she called the cops but they were already on their way. So now i'm sitting here waiting for the cops to call and connect the dots.
crazy friggin night.

Did someone ask about the weather?

2006-02-14T01:22:00.000-05:00

So as the nation turned its attention to record snowfall in the northeast this weekend, us Southern Californians quietly enjoyed an 85 degree weekend. I did my LA duty by spending Saturday in an indoor mall shopping for swimwear, but Sunday I broke out of the mold and took a hike in the San Gabriel foothills. This is my 8th winter in LA and still that kind of unseasonable bliss doesn’t cease to amaze me. NYC looks romantic and fun as commuters cross country ski to work on the cover of the LA Times, but then again, I got myself a tan, so I’m feeling pretty good about my city’s level of romance. I admire those of you living your lives amidst the harsh elements in places that have real weather, but I never knew anything so nice as year round sunshine. I guess after a childhood in Seattle I deserve this, right? Next up I’ll probably find my dream job in North Dakota or something to make up for this charmed period of my life. Until then, I have a very comfy futon if anyone needs an escape from February’s reality.

Some Women

2006-02-13T23:48:00.000-05:00

Nothing like a record-breaking snowstorm to separate the Vain and Superficial from the Just Plain Silly. I mean, really. If you look out the window before you get dressed in the morning, or in the event that you don't have a window or your window looks out on a brick wall you watch the local news or listen to the radio, you should have the sense not to wear your pointy-heeled boots to work. Otherwise you end up like a woman I saw coming out of the 72nd street station looking stumped because the only surface not covered in snow and ice was the grate with holes in it that would swallow up those long and skinny little heels. As Sarah suggested, "she's probably still standing there."

No news is good news...and some news can be really bad news

2006-01-26T12:11:00.000-05:00

So, yesterday I received the news that I didn't get into Stanford Law School. Now, while this news wasn't particularly surprising (I mean, it's like saying I didn't get into Harvard Law School, which is something I know I would be saying if I had even applied there), it still carried the inevitable sting of rejection and the requisite sinking stomach feeling. For, this news means that one of three possibilities of staying around here and living with my fiance during law school has been eliminated...and that our charmed life in our cute apartment is not to last.

I'm not sure why I expected that the whole process would be easily boxed up, wrapped, and tied with a big bow...but somewhere inside of me, I thought that's what would happen. That the decision would be easy, that Colin and I would find ourselves working our asses off somewhere on the Stanford campus next year, convening for a Subway sandwich somewhere in between for dinner... I had all of these fantasies, and with one letter, it's all disappeared. As my mom said, at least the school didn't string me along for a few months. At least, I know it isn't even a possibility early in this game of rejections and acceptances (I hope).

This whole process feels fairly new to me...probably because it sort of is. When I applied to college, I applied early to Georgetown and was accepted. Because it wasn't binding, and because I wasn't 100% sure that's where I wanted to go, I applied to some choice SUPER selective schools and waited until April. But there was never the pressure, never the wondering if I would get in somewhere because I already had. And so while everyone else was sweating April for college decisions, I was helping to plan the senior prom. The same thing happened with my first job after college: I sent in a letter to a Wesleyan alum at a DC firm in February, and by the end of March, I had a job. It's all been easy so far. So, I guess it was bound to get more difficult at some point.

Let's face it: it would have been much better to receive an acceptance before receiving a rejection. Even better would have been an acceptance from Stanford. I have to admit that I shed a few tears, at first because I was disappointed and could already feel how hard it would be to leave Colin...and then because it was 8:30 pm, Colin said he would be home early to hang out and talk, and he wasn't there yet--and to add insult to injury, he was doing his research at the university that had JUST FUCKING REJECTED ME. And in these situations, I've come to depend on him...to talk me out of the tears and reassure me, to stroke my already flatter-than-life hair, to kiss my head, to adjust his body on our uncomfortable and cheap IKEA couch so that at least one of us can be comfortable. And he wasn't. And I realized that this was what the next three years may hold. And it made me cry a little more.

New Years Resolutions: better late than never.

2006-01-24T12:50:00.000-05:00

As I strolled into work this morning, 45 minutes late (as usual), trying to nonchalantly cover the food stain I neglected to notice this morning when putting on my lamo pastel office-wear sweater that I bought because it was on sale even though it wasn't the color I wanted, I realized that I need to make some changes. It's still January, so I can still make resolutions right? I'm putting them here so as to make them more official and I think you guys should too. If you want.

1. Get to work on time and stop deciding to clean the house 10 minutes after I'm supposed to leave it.
2. Be more stylish - only buy office clothes that I wouldn't feel lame going to happy hour in.
3. Never buy things just because they're on sale
4. Don't avoid starting political conversations just because I assume that everyone around me shares my point of view. They don't.
5. Drink at least 3 Nalgenes of water a day
6. Be more present. When I start to panic about dumb shit in the future, force myself to stop and let go.
7. Make lunch and bring it to work
8. Take vitamins + flax seed oil every morning
9. Wean myself off of Equal and sugar-free popsicles.
10. Know when to shut the fuck up. Especially when drunk.
11. No whiskey. Ever.
12. Stop crying during minor conflicts, arguments, or conversations about money.
13. Write at least a couple songs this year and be less nervous about singing them in front of people.
14. Start exercising again.
15. Stop flushing O.B. wrappers down the toilet.
16. Be more stringent about the use of apostrophes and the difference between "its" and "it's" when typing.
17. Spend more time alone
18. Go to more museums, talks, and concerts. Always worth the money.
19. Reinstate Frugal Month.
20. For every hour I spend reading celebrity gossip, I must read at least one real news story.

Upfront

2006-01-20T09:59:00.000-05:00

Took a cab to work. Who said it - I said it. I was running really late and when my boss is out of town he just waits for an opportunity to say, "You're taking advantage." So I hailed a mini-van cab on 7th and hopped to the second row. I'm about to go on a birthright trip to Israel and hear that the cool people sit in the back of the bus. I'm doing a lot of prep this week.

My cab driver, Jack Rubin, seemed confused. "Most people sit right here," he said pointing to the seat behind him. I didn't tell Jack that I had chosen the second row because it gave me more sleeping space though perhaps I should have because as we turned onto Flatbush he offered me his copy of the New York Post. I get sick if I read in a moving vehicle, but sweetly accepted.

At my final destination, he asked if I wanted the receipt. I said sure even though I had no use for it. "At least somebody's getting reimbursed," he said. Precisely. I didn't want him to suspect that I was spoiling myself. I'd be concerned if he thought I was being excessive.

Stopped in at Starbucks. The man in line in front of me requested that he not get the croissant he had been given. The barista explained that he had actually put 2 in the bag. But the customer had a particular butter croissant in mind and pointed. The same barista then ordered me a triple grande latte when I had just paid for a double tall. I didn't say anything. It seemed he liked treating.

Mayans into Theatres Near You this Spring

2006-01-14T15:29:00.000-05:00

My dad used to make a living cutting trailers for movies. He was responsible for the coming attraction to Mel Gibson's 1995 film Braveheart. Now here was potential for a great coming attraction. There would be bagpipes,greenery, battle, kilts, kissing, more battle. And then, the music could stop, and in would drop a killer line: THEY CAN TAKE OUT LIVES. BUT THEY'LL NEVER TAKE...OUR FREEDOM. It just seemed too easy. But that was ten years go.

Let me be clear. I don't have my Masters in anything. But it seems to me that trailers have come to rely too heavily on well-established formulas. Those of us who "don't want to miss the trailers" know the ad approaches all too well. For example, there's the "Until Now" method, which goes something like this: Mel Gibson had it all. He was handsome. Australian. He was winning Oscars. It seemed like he had the world in the palm of his hand - halt music - UNTIL NOW- more music go go go. Perhaps the only thing more cliche than these trailers are my jokes about them.

I'd like to call your attention if I may (my apologies for sounding so formal-I am merely misplacing the academic energy that could go toward a masters degree if i had ANY IDEA WHAT I WANTED TO STUDY!!!!), to the "teaser" trailer for Mel Gibson's new movie Apocalyptico. http://movies.yahoo.com/shop?d=hv&cf=trailer&id=1809249345&intl=us

Instead of a narrator, it uses "cards" or words. Early on we see this Will Durant quote: "A great civilization is not conquered from without - fade out - until it has destroyed itself from within" followed by images of howling, blood thirsty Indians who turn out to be Mayan. The entire movie is in Mayan. This leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Indigenous people had colonialism coming to them? Even if the Spanish arrived only once this particular civilization had largely dispersed, it seems like a strange statement coming from a philosopher/scholar. And certainly not a theory that could be applied throughout history.

I asked my dad about it and he said that he suspects Mel Gibson is trying to imply that America is currently destroying itself from within. That our culture is on the decline morally. The trailer further misleads the American people when it posts this on the screen: "From the Academy Award winning director of Braveheart and The Passion of the Christ." He didn't win an award for the Passion let alone a nomination!

Suddenly THEY MAY TAKE OUR LIVES BUT THEY'LL NEVER TAKE OUR FREEDOM sounds like something Bush would say. Looking back at the titles of his movies, it occurs to me that maybe Mel has been working for the man all along. Lethal Weapon,The Patriot, Bird on a Wire, Maverick. Of course this could all just be a "Conspiracy Theory" because he was
also in a movie called "Air America."

4 Years of Liberal Arts Education: $150,000. An Uncanny Ability to Bullshit: Priceless.

2006-01-10T16:51:00.000-05:00

Like probably several others on this blog, I went to an expensive liberal arts university (the very same one in fact!). With a big stress on the words "liberal" and "arts". Not so much "university". Or so I thought.

I spent the first couple of years halfheartedly trying to fulfill the few requirements there were. To this end I took and managed to pass both physics and astronomy. I am eternally proud of this fact. But that's where the facts end and the bullshit begins: I was an American Studies major, the most liberal major of them all. (To my credit, I think I was possibly the only Amst major who chose the department because I truly honestly was interested in the subject and methodology, and not just because of the flexible attitude they had towards credits. Although damn, that helped a lot) and I created my own major which was nice then, and continues to be nice now because it takes quite a bit of time trying to explain what a concentration in Nationalism & Transnationalism is exactly, so if I'm ever in an awkward social situation with nothing to say, I can always play that one up. But I digress....

Annnnnnyways, I finally have a job that makes me really pretty happy. (Word to the wise: I've discovered that most people don't actually like you when you're happy. My popularity at potlucks has plummeted since my depression began to wane...) and a lot of what I do at my job is write and edit grant reports and letters and briefs and stuff.

And I realized all of a sudden that, contrary to what I always thought, I actually owe any success I have to my liberal arts education! Even though I wasn't sure how those film and lit classes were going to ever help me, I'm starting to think that maybe in some strange way, they will. It turns out, the art of talking things up is surprisingly valuable! Which is awesome, because that's pretty much the only thing I know how to do at this point. So there you go. A public service announcement to anyone who is as lost as I have been:

Do not lose hope; become a grantwriter.

unacceptable

2006-01-05T12:24:00.000-05:00

I am at work and my co-worker is currently listening to the radio. Now, this is something I normally don't mind. In fact, even in college and living with roommates, I was always the one that wanted to study with music on and if it was something I didn't care about, with TV. I like background noise.

But I do NOT like today's background noise. My co-worker is listening to the history of douche on the radio and now they are taking calls from women to hear their experiences with douche-ing. Am I right that this is wholly unacceptable to listen to at work? I mean, I'm all for inappropriate conversation and dirty, intimate details and I love Adam Corolla. It's not really the conversation that bothers me. It's the fact that I don't want to listen to this WITH my co-worker while I am trying to finish a personal injury settlement. The pros and cons of douche (I was taught there are only cons and douche-ing is really really bad) is bar talk best reserved for best girlfriends and effeminate boys, NOT pre-lunch, radio-listening at work.

A little NPR never killed anyone. I will now deal with the situation as passive aggressively as possible by tuning to an internet radio station that is turned up just loud enough to make having both stations on impracticable. And if the co-worker doesn't like it, she can go douche herself.

As fate would have it...

2005-12-25T14:39:00.000-05:00

I received Sea Monkeys this morning as a gift. These days they are GUARANTEED to live for two years. I told the giver, my uncle, that I really wasn't prepared to make that kind of committment... but it does make it a more serious kind of gift for a significant other. Two years is like giving someone a cat. Or at least a gerbil. Chrismakkah gerbil?

STRIKE!

2005-12-23T10:49:00.000-05:00

This is my only proof that I walked to/from work 3 times. I love extreme circumstance (so long as no one is in danger) and so severe weather, blackouts and transit strikes are right up my alley... but this got old. Luckily, it's a good excuse for the sparsity of Chrismakkah presents I'll be doling out this weekend. I felt once again very distant from most people I spoke to about the strike while it was going on, there seemed to be so much anger and frustration and it was solely aimed at the union. I'm sure it's my pinko upbringing, but I was always taught never to cross a picket line, regardless of what the union is or what they're requesting-- a strike is a huge, costly, dangerous, difficult thing that folks don't arrive at lightly, so you have to assume whatever they're asking for it worth a whole lot to them. Maybe I also feel torn between the sense of purpose I felt while cresting the Brooklyn Bridge on the second morning, accompanied by thousands of New Yorkers and Billy Bragg singing "There is power in the union" on my ipod and the fact that I was trudging all that way to a job that provides no such sense of purpose and probably more undermines things I believe are important. Looks like I need my own labor negotiations.

MTA War Stories

2005-12-20T09:44:00.000-05:00

Well, it happened. The subway is on strike. I know that several of you blog from New York and I am interested in harrowing and humorous tales of how you're getting around.

I'm in Minneapolis and when the buses here went on strike a couple of years ago, the only thing that changed for me was that I had to drive this really tedious and annoying co-workerto work every day. And my most harrowing transportation experience recently is having to scrape off my windshield every morning in -20 windchills.

Anyway, let's hear your stories as I don't believe Katie Couric's experiences really sum up those of the average New Yorker. And while you're at it, let's hear your plans for getting the trains moving again. I'll be there in 9 days and I don't have money for cabs.

Guilty Gifts

2005-12-14T14:13:00.000-05:00

Christmas and Chanukah (same day this year, isn't that chrazy?) are fast upon us, and I am panicked.
This is the first holiday season in a very long time that I have been dating someone. His birthday also happens to be the 28th. We have only been dating 2.5 months, which means that normally, I might make a mix cd and be done with it, but now I have to get 2 presents, and they have to be good. If I gave him a mix for his birthday, and then something good or more expensive for Chanukah, it would seem like I care more about Jews than him. If I get him one combined present, he could think that I don't see the separate values of the holidays, and plus, I would hate myself.
Compound this with my ex telling me he has already gotten me a gift and asking me if I had gotten him one (is this normal? do I have to get him one?) and you have me looking at the ceiling for clues.

This is why I have decided to get everyone seamonkeys. How can you go wrong? What should I get the boyfriend other than seamonkeys? More seamonkeys! It is perfect!

Maybe blocks of wood? We don't have enough of those in the city....

Please help me, I am guessing someone here will have a better idea than sawdust. (Though sawdust does smell really good!)

Holidazzle

2005-12-07T11:20:00.000-05:00

So apparently Bush is totally booked for the next 3 weeks or so. I wonder when he'll observe Kwanzaa.
Also, speaking of religious pluralism, I read an article this morning about Hindus wanting New York to make Diwali another Alternate Side Parking Suspended day- so the normal rules of "no Parking on Tuesdays" don't apply on those days. Bloomberg vetoed the bill to make Diwali one of those days, unfortunately it seems the NYC DOT has gotten themselves into a little bit of a pickle since there are already something like 45 of these days including "Solemnity of Ascension" and "Shemini Atzereth" (observed at the end of Sukkot, marked by a service in memory of the dead and a special prayer for rain.) The city argued that the other holidays represent a large number of people and are holidays that prohibit driving (so folks can't move their cars,) which I guess makes sense except in cases like "Lincoln's Birthday" and "Lincoln's Birthday (observed)." The cars are moved to allow street cleaning and so this was another point raised, if parking weren't enforced in Diwali, the streets would be dirty... but what about the one-two punch of the 7th and 8th days of Passover immediately followed by Holy Thursday and Good Friday!?!? The streets will be filthy in late April, book your vacations now.

Funny 'Cause Its True?

2005-12-05T15:05:00.000-05:00

Saturday night, mostly because it was cold there were no options of parties of people we knew, we went to a party locally of someone we didn't know. (We being myself, Erica, Rob and our two friends visiting from Boston.) I thought they had kind of an odd aesthetic sense-- the living room ceiling was covered with those nets of christmas lights (excuse, holiday lights. Um, I don't think they were kwanzaa lights, though) and those little styrofoam model airplanes that you might get as a prize in a cereal box or buy as some kind of souvenir from a flight-related tourist destination-- kitty hawk and cape canaveral come to mind. After being there for awhile, someone mentioned that this was a "Pearl Harbor" party.
Excuse me...? All of the sudden the Kamikaze shots made sense.
Granted I think I have a pretty liberal interpretation of whats funny. And I generally appreciate inappropriate humor. And I didn't think it was "offensive." Just really weird. I mean, I guess I understand we're all supposed to be over Pearl Harbor. Not even very many people alive today were alive or concious of what was going on at the time- but where is the line? At what point is it ok for an attack that claimed 2,390 lives to become the theme for a party for a bunch of twenty-somethings in Brooklyn. So if September 11th was the Pearl Harbor of our generation, will there be September 11th parties in 60 years? Should we start having them now so even when we're old and senile, our grandkids will think we were really cool and cutting edge? Is anything sacred or does enough time pass and allow anything and everything into the public domain, allowing us to do with the symbols what we want? I don't think anyone would suggest a Holocaust party. Or a Tsunami party. Hurricane Katrina? How about a party themed "massacre" and everyone could come dressed in the theme of their favorite massive loss of life. These ideas seems totally abhorrant, but why is one ok and the other isn't? Are we being ironic when we drink wine and eat chips with a tragic theme? Is it ok because no one who was impacted by the event was going to show up to the party (I assume the organizers didn't invite any grandparents...)?
The thing about liking inappropriate humor is that I understand that it's hypocritical for me to draw this line. I hosted a "cowboys and indians" party sophomore year, Freshman year we played a drinking game called "Beer Hunter" (a russian roulette of drinking based on the film about Vietnam) I think jokes about stereotypes are funny and while it's "ironic" because it's not what I believe and I don't condone people who believe those things... they are reflective of real problems and issues real people face.
But something about this rubbed me in a weird way.

iPod: Protection from Myself

2005-12-02T16:00:00.000-05:00

After 15 months together--most of which were blissfully happy--it's over between me and my iPod. On a bus back to New York over Thanksgiving weekend, songs kept skipping, and so I restarted it only to discover that all 2500+ songs were gone. When I try to plug it in to Sarah's computer, I am told that "The system cannot read the inserted disc" or something devastating like that. My reaction has been surprisingly mature. It's been a week now and life has been okay. I'm getting a lot more reading done on the subway, and walking down the street I do feel more a part of the world.

The trouble, as I found out yesterday, is the bus. My work takes me to various places that make it necessary to ride the M86 back and forth across town. I can't read on the bus for fear of vomiting, so this had been prime iPod time. I'd look out the window and lip-synch to myself, ignoring the people around me. But now I have nothing to do on the bus. Yesterday I found myself reverting to an old habit that I associate with the summer of 2003, when I first moved here: I stare at people. I like to look at what people are wearing, what they're reading, what they're writing, etc. Obviously the people who are most fun to watch are the ones who are a little bit crazy--the ones who draw fellow passengers in sketchpads, the ones who have facial tics, the ones who pray, and so forth. Yesterday I happened to be across a woman in fur and a ton of makeup who was talking to herself, so naturally I stared. It didn't take too long before we made eye contact and I got freaked out and concentrated hard for the rest of the ride on not looking at her. One day I'm going to stare at the wrong person and get my ass kicked. Or mugged.

So that's why I need a new iPod (or to wait the five hours it will take to get it serviced at the Apple store in SoHo): too keep my mind busy enough that I don't have to stare at people and therefore put myself in danger.

Or, I guess I could start using one of my three portable CD players again. But that just feels so backwards now.

11215 Dialect

2005-12-01T16:31:00.000-05:00

This morning, at the intersection of Union Street and 5th Avenue, I jumped the gun. Although there wasn't a walk signal, the path looked clear. The woman in her late 20's next to me seemed to think so too. We both started walking, then looked both ways, realized there was in fact oncoming traffic, and said at the same exact time, "Maybe not."

Maybe not. Is this just what people say in that situation? I doubt that most would find it necessary to talk to themselves/impress the strangers around them with their take on what has just gone down. If I were a linguist, I might trace "maybe not" back to the same language group as "I feel like."

More questions. Is it possible that our using the same words at the same time indicates some sort of shared lifestyle? And given the fact that I found this incident to be worthy of a blog posting, is it a lifestyle that could use a little spicing up?

It's Christmas, for Christ's sake.

2005-11-30T11:27:00.000-05:00

About a week ago, the Christmas decorations appeared in the lobby of my office building. Someone, somewhere really went overboard. Every flat surface hosts little scenes of golden deer frolicking in fake golden snow, there is a giant christmas tree that blocks the path to the turnstiles and all surfaces that can't quite accomodate a golden deer have swags of greenery on them. There are also about 6 different decorating themes going on there... but I really don't care. It's Christmas. The theme is Christmas. Fine.
Monday I noticed a new set of decorations in the corner of the cafeteria. Here we have a Christmas tree, a menorah and, apparently, a Kwanzaa table. I didn't see the Kwanzaa table up close until I inspected today, but could only assume thats what it was-- when you see a folding table draped in kente cloth, it can only mean Kwanzaa. When I looked more closely this morning, the Kwanzaa table also holds a Kwanzaa candle holder, wooden bowel of fruits and vegetables and dried corn. (You can read more about this at the official Kwanzaa website, http://www.officialkwanzaawebsite.org/symbols.html)
Ok, so this is the point: In theory I totally support and value a pluralistic society. I mean, there is no caveat to this. I just don't find this all necessary. Menorahs and Christmas Trees are not the same things, one is an instrument of a religious holiday, the other is a decorative symbol associated with a religious holiday. Christmas and Hannukah aren't the same thing- and the there's Kwanzaa, which isn't the same thing at all since it's not a religious holiday... but it is an important development from the black power movement. It's just this kind of lame newish need to give everyone something roughly equivalent to Christmas. Instead of giving jews and african-americans some throw away symbol, why not chill on the Hannukah bit and teach gentiles about Rosh Hashanah? Or don't make it seem like Kwanzaa is the black people's Christmas... teach everyone what its about and why its important that it exists.

On a seperate note, I read in the paper today that tomorrow buses in New York and various other cities across the country will be honoring Rosa Parks by reserving a seat at the front of the bus in her memory. Now THATS a cool tradition.

RENT

2005-11-26T14:20:00.000-05:00

Ok, it got mediocre reviews from the professional critics. But check out the reviews of fans of RENT. A+ all the way around. I've seen it twice already and have some observations:

First, the Minneapolis Star Tribune movie critic needs to quit watching movies and take a look around: he seems to think that poverty, AIDS, and materialism were only problems of the 1990s. While the East Village has perked up and new drugs for HIV have curbed the tragedies of the late 1980s, to say that the movie is "too little, too late" is like saying "Hair" shouldn't have been made a movie because the Hippies were done by 1979 (when the movie came out) or that "Sound of Music" shouldn't have been made a movie because the Nazis weren't in Austria anymore. Newsflash, buddy: people still have AIDs, people still die, people are still poor, and people still sell out.

Second, the emotional climax(es) at the end are just as, or even more, powerful than on stage because they feel more real. It looks like a real hospital, real ice chips, real lesions. I have to say, I cried harder in the movie than in the play. Maybe because at the end of the movie, Angel doesn't come out to bow and dance around.

Third, Jesse Martin deserves an Oscar for his portrayal of Tom Collins. The acting was simply superb, especially since he didn't have dialogue to rely on to portray his pain at the end. It's a lot harder to convey a broken heart while you are singing but his voice together with the emotiveness of his face and body were brilliant. I wish I were a member of the Acadamy.

Finally, yes, there were a few scenes that struggled to translate from the little Broadway stage to the silver screen. The one that comes to mind is Roger up on a mountain in New Mexico/L.A. It looked sort of like a Monster Ballads video combined with a Biblical epic. Also, Maureen and Joanne's engagement party was sort of random. I mean, "Take me or leave me" is a great song, but I think it would have played out better on the streets of New York than in a hotel reception. However, these are minor stylistic points that do not detract from the film as a whole.

I love RENT, I have always loved RENT, and I will always love RENT and I can't wait to see it again.

What did others think?

I'm a sitter...

2005-11-15T17:37:00.000-05:00

There are two kinds of women when it come to peeing, the sitters and the hoverers. I am one of the former. I've never been much for being afraid of germs and while I wash my hands and even occasionally Purell, I've always subscribed much more to the "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" theory of dealing with the world. Yeah, I try not to, but I know that many times my hands go from a grimey subway pole to applying lip balm. I mean, really. Whatever. Anyway, I'm not trying to legislate peoples' bathroom behaviors BUT... what is it about movie theaters that makes hoverers piss all over the toilet seats? This occurs far more frequently in movie theaters than anywhere, and I've peed in some dramatic locales. Or, at least, "rustic." What I don't like is these hoverers imposing their peeing preferences on me. The only reason the toilet seat would be contaminated-- is because they peed on it. So in order to maintain my own indentity as a sitter, I am forced to wipe away a stranger's pee and sit. Which is so much grosser than that jerk just sitting in the first place.
When we first started learning about AIDS in 3rd grade or so, they had this cartoon poster that said, "Hey! Guess What? You Can't Get AIDS From..." and then there were 9 or so drawings of activities. Like, "giving someone a hug."
But more relevantly, "Using a Public Toilet." So really this all comes back to the need for HIV/AIDS education in this country-- so that every bozo at Loews knows that not only can you not get AIDS by using a public toilet, but you can't get cooties either. So sit down. Or, at least, don't pee all over the seat.

West Wing

2005-11-06T20:36:00.000-05:00

I'm watching the first episode of West Wing that I've ever seen. It's the live, limited-commercial-interruption debate between the contenders. I'm not sure why I've never watched West Wing. I love politics and elections and I love to hate some presidents. The debate is great! It's exciting and on-point and I find myself wondering how many Americans are getting a read education right now. Finally learning what CAFTA is? For the first time understanding what universal health care really means? Thinking about policy issues they've never had time for before? I wonder how many more people are watching this debate than watched the presidential debates in 2004. I'd be interested in finding some stats on that after the show. In any case, I vote for Jimmy Smits. Viva la democracia.

The Way I See It vs. Flavorology

2005-10-27T12:36:00.000-04:00

Have you all read about how Starbucks is coming under attack from some conservative groups who feel that the quotes printed on the cups are bad for America? According to the Seattle Times, it was the Armistad Maupin quote that stirred up the most controversy: "My only regret about being gay is that I repressed it for too long. I surrendered my youth to the people I feared when I could have been out there loving someone. Don't make that mistake yourself. Life's too damn short."

Perhaps as an attempt to show Starbucks how it's done, Dunkin' Donuts has started to decorate their less environmentally sound (not nearly as liberal) cups with reading material. The new DD campaign is called "Flavorology." This morning the side of my cup read, "What does your coffee say about you? If you LOVE caramel...you remain smooth even when things are sticky. Your MYSTIC match: Marshmellow & Blueberry."

Hey. I like caramel! Well then, it's settled. I just need to find a hottie who likes marshmellow and/or blueberry flavored coffee. I predict that this will be much easier than coming out of the closet. Now if only Dunkin' Donuts coffee had enough caffeine to actually wake me up.

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002455480_starbucks29m.html

Very, Very Strange

2005-10-25T23:07:00.000-04:00

http://abcnews.go.com/Primetime/story?id=1231684&page=1&CMP=OTC-RSSFeeds0312

Stolen Joke

2005-10-25T17:10:00.000-04:00

Ok, I took this find from Fletcher but it's really funny. I mean, more funny if you make the person really ugly and cumbersome and then they have to dance. I do wish there were more outrageous clothes, though. Once again, thank you GAP.

joking about rights

2005-10-20T15:58:00.000-04:00

Today we all had a good laugh at my law firm. In court, the judge asked one of my lawyers if he would like to explain his client's rights to the client or if the lawyer would prefer that the judge explain the client's rights.

My lawyer had let his mind drift for a moment, which, of course we all do during even during quite important moments, and responded: "No, your honor, that won't be necessary." The judge looked at him quizically, said "Uh, well someone has to so I guess I will" and proceeded to explain to the client what his rights are.

Since at least a few of us are employed by law firms, we know that lawyers often take themselves way too seriously. Sometimes it's good to have a good chuckle over telling the judge that the client doesn't need his rights. It's no Boston Legal or Night Court, but still, it's funny and brightened my otherwise dull Thursday afternoon.

Jews on Wheels

2005-10-20T15:45:00.000-04:00

Possible responses to the question "Are you Jewish?" when posed to people who pass by the Chabad Lubavitch Sukkah Mobile on the corner of 86th and 3rd:

"It's complicated."
"Do you want me to be?"
"No, but my boyfriend is."
"Half."
"No, I'm Puerto Rican." (I actually heard someone say that.)

And my personal favorite:

"Yeah, why, are you?"

Anybody have any other suggestions?

Cry me a River

2005-10-14T17:04:00.000-04:00

There was an article in the NYT Thursday Styles yesterday which I suggest everyone read before they make you have to pay for it. It's about women crying on the job, especially when they're just starting out. It's great, mostly I think because I learned that women actually are more physiologically prone to cry when frustrated than men. This makes sense and also makes me feel a whole lot less crazy. Thinking back to my old job and the mean men there always gives me the shivers but I sometimes remember the time I cried in front of the meanest one (I cried in private on multiple occasions) and what a loser I felt like. Nice to know at least I'm not alone and not atypical. Best tip? Don't run to the bathroom to cry... better tip? Don't work with meanies.

Anonymity: Friendster in the Physical World

2005-10-11T16:56:00.000-04:00

Weekend before last I went to a party, the host of which is so far removed from me it hardly worth describing (I'll try-- a friend of my friend's roommate). I headed for the bathroom and saw this very pretty and distictive-looking black girl I immediately recognized from the subway. I couldn't place when or where, but I knew I'd seen her. I was, luckily, enough beers into the night to start doing things for their story-value. So I walked by, stopped and told her I recognized her from the train. She looked at me, paused, and admitted she recognized me, too. Then she said, "You must live around me, you got off at Franklin." Some small talk ensued, mostly about how I don't actually live there, hey look we have the same shoes, mine are from DSW, yours too? And I went to the bathroom. And then I had time to think-- how incredible! I walk around all of the time looking at people and always kind of assuming they're not looking at me. Frankly it's not totally shocking she recognized me-- since probably any white girl getting off at Franklin is more noticeable than even the most striking black girl-- but still. There is this feeling of anonymity in New York that can be total horseshit. If you walk down 7th Avenue in Park Slope picking your nose, this will trump any kind of brilliant comments you made in Anthropology of African Americans in the minds of a frightening number of Wesleyan alums.
But it's always kind of eerie, being told that someone saw you somewhere when you were totally unaware. Anyway, this little parable fits nicely within the Friendster situation-- learning that randies look at me as I look at randies is kind of reassuring/makes one feel less crazy or like some kind of gossip/information whore. But PLEASE this should only go one way. Ridiculous as it may be and possibly impossible, I'll say it clearly, I WANT TO SEE WHO LOOKS AT ME AND NO WAY IN HELL DO I WANT OTHERS TO SEE WHO I LOOK AT. If we could work something similar out in the physical world (like if no one could see you when inappropriately ogling someone's deformity) that would be great, too.

Now, why did you have to go and do that?

2005-10-10T21:08:00.000-04:00

I think most if not all of us are members of the esteemed community of Friendster.com. And, I think I represent the opinions of most when I write that part of the greatness that is Friendster is the anonymity. You can, quite literally, stalk people...or at least, you could.

Now, there is a new feature whereby you can see who has looked at your Friendster home page. I am soliticiting thoughts about this new feature. In theory, it sounded great... I believe I may have even participated in conversations where the possibility of this feature was discussed, and everyone generally thought it was brilliant. But, now that it has come true, I feel weird. I mean, all anonymity is gone, and if you are in the habit of kind of stalking someone to see if he/she is still in a relationship, or has moved, or has posted a new picture, or has a new job... Now, you are exposed. And it's embarrassing.

Or is it? Or I am just angry that my anonymous stalking days are over?

Thoughts?

Scientologists are Sluts

2005-10-05T16:46:00.000-04:00

For those who are interested (and let's be honest, most of us are), it is being reported that TomKat is pregnant...

...thus confirming that Scientology differs from Catholicism in yet one more way.

Ten Years Ago Today...

2005-10-03T15:56:00.000-04:00

Ten years ago today the OJ Simpson verdict was announced. I guess I could go on about the verdict, whats happened since and some diatribe about race and... but I won't. What strikes me most, is that the OJ Simpson verdict was announced TEN YEARS AGO. This past weekend was full of people from the past, real kind of retrospective on the lifetime that these first 24 years has been building. Ten years ago I was sitting in Honors World Studies, Ms. Lindstrom's class. I was a freshman in high school.
This weekend I went to the Brooklyn Museum, a bar and a party with some people who were in that class. Most of them I hadn't seen since they graduated in 1998. We had never really been friends, more acquaintances. When my contact-friend called on Saturday night and said she was at the museum with them, they wanted to see me, the fourteen-year-old that lives in my heart was surprised. I was rememberable? I don't remember when I was like then. I have no idea. As we were hanging out, I realized that they weren't especially funny. Or, at least, not funny in the ways I have come to expect from my friends. Was I funny when I was 16? Am I funny now? When did that happen? If you're reunited with someone you had a crush on when you were 16, or who had a crush on you... what is supposed to happen? How can you not find yourself wanting to ask, "why did you like me?" "or I like you?" Why did I have crushes on people? Because they seemed different or cool or because I was bored? I don't remember how I was, but I remember being angry and confused a lot. Or being really, really sure of things I now think are stupid and irrelevent and not representative of the person I am or I want to.
The high school theme continued through the weekend when I went to a friend's birthday barbecue. On the way, I ran into a friend from Wesleyan who had moved to the neighborhood. She asked where I was going and I started to respond when I remembered that she and the birthday boy had gone to high school together. I told her it was his birthday. She said, "oh, I used to have such a crush on him... when he'd draw in Spanish class instead of pay attention." Walking to his house I thought more about high school and how as far away as it feels, seeing people from that era can bring a lot of weird feeling back. Like you can smell it all again or something. But, for me, it smells better the second time. At the birthday party his friend from college told me I should carry the candle-in-a-muffin out to him, since I was his oldest friend there. We were campers together when we were sixteen. Part of what I think I do value about that friendship is that while I may not remember what I was like when I was sixteen, our friendship proves there was enough good then to attract good people.
OJ Simpson makes me feel old. Which makes me feel young because I know 24 is not old. But ten years ago, OJ was acquited. Until September 11, OJ Simpson was our JFK assasination. It was a touchstone of popular culture, it was a "where were you" moment. We are alive, we were aware, we were what would become the people we are now, we were learning about the Reformation (maybe just my class) and it blows my mind that it was ten years ago.

happy 30th jonny

2005-09-30T18:50:00.000-04:00

gee whiz, i sure am glad i got to see jonny moseley and several other skiers/snowboarders ski jump in san francisco. i got to see snow! hot snowboarders! skip out on work! stop for frozen yogurt! i topped off the un-characteristically warm day with a trip to american apparel to buy a t-shirt because i was sweating through my sweater, watching people in full out snow-gear hurdle down the street.

ok. so it was kind of great. and weird.

http://www.mercurynews.com/mld/mercurynews/news/12776417.htm

Mutts

2005-09-30T13:27:00.000-04:00

On Tuesday I was walking to the subway with the conductor of one of the kids' orchestras that I work for. We got to talking about dogs. That morning she had met an adorable three-month-old puppy who had been rescued from Hurricane Katrina, and she was considering adopting it. Not only was it well-tempered, cute, and a host of other desirable dog qualities, but she has a soft spot in her heart for mutts, especially since she considers herself one. "I have every type of blood running through my veins," she said, "and I'm convinced it's the reason why I am in better health than anyone I know." I'm pretty sure that for dogs, mutts are known to be healthier than pure-breds, but didn't know that applied to people too, although I guess it kind of makes sense in a way. (Or maybe not--because people of different races are all of the same species?? Scientists? Julia? Help me out here.)

I am not a mutt. I am white, white, white and of European descent through and through. But I am the product of an interfaith marriage. Wouldn't it be nice if being a religious mutt came with similar perks that mixed-species dogs enjoy? A stronger spiritual immune system, if you will: less susceptible to crises of faith, better equipped to communicate with God (or whatever/whoever), less likely to kill yourself and/or other people in the name of that whatever/whoever, more likely to live a longer and healthier life. Unfortunately for me and a lot of other people, I don't think that's the case--the reason I personally don't suffer from crises of faith is more likely just because I don't have a lot of it in the first place.

Being a religious mutt is not really that big a deal, at least not in New York and not at my college, one of Princeton Review's Top Godless Universities. At worst, it's confusing; at best, you learn more about different traditions and get a lot of presents in December.

NPR

2005-09-29T15:09:00.000-04:00

So I am listening to John Edwards talk on NPR about some initiative he's starting for poor kids in North Carolina... and I am wondering- did he always sound so southern? During the election, I remember, well, not thinking he could be confused with Mayor Quimby... but he sounds REALLY southern right now? Is this to gain authenticity with his NC contingent or was he faking through the election? Did he go to newscaster speech therapy?
That all being said, he is saying some really great stuff and right now I feel a lot more excited about him now than I did a year ago (except for sexual excitement, of course)... among which is that the average net worth of a black family is $6000, a latino family $8000, and a white family $80,000.

sick/work

2005-09-28T15:06:00.000-04:00

I am getting sick, along with a good 50% of the folks in my office and it's lame. It’s really not much of a problem, sore throat, tired, no energy to speak of. I am unfortunately not sick enough to not come to work and I'm just sick enough to not be able to focus. And, also unfortunately, it's a busy week, the boss is in town and there are meetings galore and plenty of work to be done. But I just ain't feeling it. Best yet, people here are nice and good hearted and care for each others’ well being so I could very well leave at any point and go home and sleep (as I did yesterday at 3:00pm) but for some reason, I’m still here. AND, to add insult to injury, our email doesn't work. The internet works. I can browse all day and night, but not one single work related email can be sent or received. And thus, I feel useless. Who can work without email? Surely not me. Days like this beg for me to get in my car, drive my ass home and quit wasting time sitting in this chair pretending to work. Yet somehow my deeply engrained Protestant work ethic prevents me from doing so. Of course, my Protestant work ethic doesn't prevent me from not doing any work while at work, it just prevents me from admitting to myself that I’m really not working so I should just leave. What's up with that? As my dad says, they don’t call it work for nothing.

Niceness surely does not cut it.

2005-09-27T15:47:00.000-04:00

i have long maintained that "niceness" is not, in and of itself, a redeeming quality. if that's all someone is, they're probably boring and therefore, the niceness doesn't count because it's worse to be boring than it is good to be nice. Here is a partial list of redeeming qualities:

1) funny.
2) smart.
3) sassy.
4) quick with a light.
5) good memory
6) fun.
7) mean to boring people.
8) cynical.
9) drinker.
10) informed.
11) thinks big.
12) makes fun of hipsters and hippies.
13) makes inappropriate jokes.
14) appreciates inappropriate jokes.

If you are all these things AND are nice, then ok. But it depends on who you're nice to (see #7).

Today

2005-09-26T17:09:00.000-04:00

Today I said "nice doesn't cut it!" about a coworker.
Today I ate cake for breakfast.
Today I read a very long article about Conan O'brien.
Today I brought my new gold purse to work that I got at the street fair yesterday for $3.
Today I am going to a sake tasting. I don't like sake or my date.
Today was the first day without Annie (my best friend and supervisor here who is now only coming in once a week) and it was hard.
Today I ate lunch alone in the lunchroom because I couldn't find my 3 other friends at the company.
Today after lunch I ended up being really busy with work and the new designer, so I couldn't write a million emails like I thought I would be able to.
Today I am wearing a long black velvet skirt that makes me feel very Jewish.

How are you doing today?

new job. nothing like new shoes.

2005-09-22T14:22:00.000-04:00

i know what to do with new shoes. you put them on and parade around town. but i don't really know what to do with this new job. this is the first *real* office job i have ever had. when i taught kindergarten, there was always something to do or some vomit to clean up. as a legal aid-er, i was alone in a cornfield and no one knew when i spent hours on end googling and smoking. but now i'm in a real office with a real cubicle and i'm not sure what the rules are.

if i don't have a project i'm working on, do i need to tell the lawyer that or is that bugging him? it's only my third day so i'm still trying to feel out the pace of this place. but i feel like it's wrong to blog for 20 bucks an hour when i would do it for free and that, at this rate, i ought to do something more productive or helpful like help some people adopt a guatemalan kid. do you think a blog could adopt a child? or a puppy? or a chia pet? i've gone too far. please advise on what to do when there's nothing to do in a cubicle.

2005-09-21T16:32:00.000-04:00

In my ongoing efforts to fulfill my New Year’s Resolutions, I met my Primary Care Physician on Friday afternoon. I got what I needed from him: a few referrals from someone with Board Certifications. But by the time I actually shook hands with the good doctor, I was so thoroughly unimpressed by the first 90 minutes of my visit to his office that I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d turned out to be not a doctor at all but a bartender, a plumber, an accountant, or the star of a new reality TV show. My lack of confidence came from the two medical assistants who spent almost an hour with me before I met their boss. At every step—measuring my height and weight, administering a pulmonary function test and EKG, asking me all the standard history questions—I felt that everything would go more smoothly and accurately if I were the one running the show. I glanced at their notes at one point and couldn’t help judging their misspelling of certain key words in my medical history (a relatively interesting story, if I do say so myself, that didn’t seem to impress them). I thought they were kidding when they told me to collect a urine sample and leave it on the tub in the bathroom, next to someone else’s pee. Both specimens were still there when I left an hour later.

The doctor, while a little rough around the edges, appeared to know what he was talking about, which is all that matters. But I got to thinking about the entry-level jobs that we’ve all had. Those foot-in-the-door-I-didn’t-need-to-go-to-college-for-this positions where you are below the lowest rung on the ladder and have so little power that it’s not even worth discussing: maybe they are actually more important than we think. Maybe how we perform isn’t just important in terms of doing the dirty boring work that no one else wants to do, but matters in shaping how people regard the organization. The receptionist was pissed at me from the minute I walked in the door because I was late (even though I called ahead), the assistants were dumb…so it doesn’t matter how great the doctor was—I probably won’t go back.

And so, receptionists, paralegals, session assistants, cashiers, take heart! We do matter. At least to each other.

What would Buffett do?

2005-09-21T14:34:00.000-04:00

Erica and I saw Jimmy Buffet live last night. I mean, we didn't go for him, we went to the "From the Big Apple to the Big Easy" benefit concert at Madison Square Garden and he was there. The concert in total was part bizarre, part fun, part exhausting and part something else. The something else may have to do with the fact that the crowd was virtually entirely white, far as the eye could see. The whitest mass I believe I have ever seena assembled in New York City. I think we can blame this on Buffett.
The concert began with a lot of performers and groups singing one or two songs, then later being brought out for a little more of a complete set, sometimes to sing with each other and provide golden and unique memories. As well as a lot of cell-phone pictures.
Jimmy Buffett came out, the crowd went wild. Like, seriously apeshit. He starts playing. And keeps playing and playing and playing. All in all, he probably did 8-10 songs which was about double what anyone else played. It seemed like everyone in the crowd knew all of the words, it was echoing off the walls in that special concert-way it does when people are singing along. I had never heard any of these songs before. And what's more, I didn't like them. They were all about sailing and drinking and sitting around on islands. This kind of surprised me, since those are things I like, so why wouldn't I like songs about them? Because they are cheesey and boring, at least thats what I came up with. But the crowd didn't think so.... no the crowd was going crazy. The crowd put their two hands on top of their heads to make a "fin" and sang along "fin to the left, fin to the right" like it was a fucking Raffi record. We were stunned and there was something more than a little creepy about it. Not only have I been ignorant of this Jimmy Buffett sub-culture, but somehow Jimmy can control the crowd, dictate their actions and it didn't seem too far off that if you piss Jimmy off, he's sic a bunch of Long Islanders making hand-fins on you.
Basically, I had no idea Jimmy Buffett was so popular. Did you?

And Bill Clinton was there. That was cool.

I am not a Buddhist. Please stop breaking my stuff.

2005-09-19T11:43:00.000-04:00

Maybe I should not have as many ties to my possessions and material objects.
Maybe I would be a better person if I divested myself of all of my belongings.
Maybe these past few days are a subtle hint from the powers that be that there are more important things to think about than my "things."

Still, I wish people would stop breaking my stuff.

After an extremely harrowing journey to Ikea Elizabeth two weeks ago, on the BUS, and after a failed delivery and several angry phonecalls with the home delivery service last week, I finally had my new coffee table assembled and done in my living room. This coffee table more money than I had planned on spending on what is basically just a low, flat surface, but I justified the purchase to myself saying that it was good wood (ha!) and it perfectly matched my dresser, right down to the hardware on the drawer pulls, so it would last a while as a set.

So Friday night rolls around, and the coffee table has been shining in all its glory for 5 whole days. I run into a group of Wesleyan boys on the street and invite them to my house (a mistake I will not be making anymore). They show up drunk and rowdy. They are angry about the government. They are angry about the price of beer. They are angry about the tv shows we are watching (Curb Your Enthusiasm and Weeds). In his anger, one particularly belligerent individual repeatedly slams his bottle of beer on my Brand New Coffee Table. I wince with every hit.
As I am cleaning up later that night, I notice several semi-circular indentations where he inflicted his rage on my new pine surface. I feel angry and depressed and completely regret ever having made out with him 6 years ago. I briefly wonder if I am like the wife in American Beauty when she is more worried about spilling a drink on the couch than having good sex and question my priorities. Then I remember the hell that was Ikea and get angry again.

Today, I walk into work bright and early and check on my plants in the windowsill to see if they are dry from their weekend alone. Someone has shoved them right up against the glass and broken one of the flowerpots. No note, no check to reimburse me for the fancy pot I bought myself to make office life slightly more bearable, nothing. And no one is admitting any knowledge. I was thinking about mailing the whole Science server and telling them that I am mad, but I am guessing that would be one of those "frivolous abuses of the system" we keep getting scolded for. No scolding for frivolous abuses of my plants, though.

It is a hard, frustrating life for us non-Buddhists.

blast from the past

2005-09-16T13:23:00.000-04:00

last friday night, i had a vivid dream about an old boyfriend. very old. as in, the last time we had a real conversation was 7 years ago. Both the relationship and this recent dream were very intense and i knew i needed to talk to him.

so, the next day, instead of spending the day reading about criminal procedure, i spent the day googling this old boyfriend. now, this was no easy task. the bloke is (was) a hippie and didn't believe in organized ANYTHING so he wasn't very easy to find. my search led me to ohio, illinois and finally washington state where i located his mother.

long story short, it turns out that my dream was not in vain. it had a reason. the old boyfriend is very sick. he almost died last week. so now what? i don't KNOW him anymore. but i did. i certainly don't LOVE him anymore. but i did. it's so strange to me how people come in and out of our lives. and i am feeling now that maybe people don't ever really leave our lives. if i can dream that i have to talk to a person i haven't even thought of in so long in the same week that this person almost died, doesn't that indicate some sort of subconscious connection? something in me knew that the energy was out of whack and had to be *fixed*.

don't get me wrong. i am not new age. i am not very spiritual. i am not psychic (at least not like patricia arquette on the hit show "medium.") but all this has got me thinking about how to deal with people that i used to know, but don't know anymore. as we get older, we'll have to think about these things more often. the more people we meet, the more people we have the potential to lose touch with and no longer know. so then, what happens when something happens to them?

all of a sudden, when life and death are on the line, regrets about what was said and what was left unsaid rise to the surface. is near-death a warning to reconnect with people we used to know? a second chance to at least make things right and acknowledge the place the person had in our lives? what about fame? if you woke up one morning and saw an old friend or lover on the today show, wouldn't you want to call them up and reconnect? i know i would.

and not be morbid, but as we get old(er), what about when you hear that an old friend or lover has died? flowers? attend the funeral? reach out to the family? wear a rubber bracelet in memory? ignore the situation all-together as you might if you read the obituary of a stranger?

what do we do with people that are strangers but used to not be strangers? this is the first time i have been confronted with such a situation. for now, i've written a letter and blogged. what about next time? can i count on bizarre dreams to alert me to things happening to people i used to know? should i make sure i don't *lose touch* with people i might want to follow up with later?

i think i'd like a device that functioned so that i could keep track of people who have mattered to me at all times but without having to actually maintain contact with the person. i envision something like a blackberry where i could type in a name and find out their contact info, occupation, love status, and general health status. i realize this would be creepy. but so was my dream. maybe i should join the CIA.

bosses know when you're talking shit

2005-09-15T17:49:00.000-04:00

Today, my boyfriend left earlier than me to go to work which meant that instead of watching ESPN sports news in the morning, the channel was changed to ... MTV -- apparently my favorite network. (During commercials I watched a little Saved by the Bell, though). Anyway, they had some little bit involving a delusional cartoon boss saying "of course I work as hard as my employees. Even though I leave earlier and take more vacation."

This is the story of my work experience. My boss is mean and awkward and not very well educated. She always goes home at 3 or 4 to walk her dog. She likes to say things like "alls I know is" with a long sssss. How she got about 20 nursing degrees and a MPH is a mystery to alls of us here. She also has had weird incidents involving her dog, like getting pawed at by her puppy and going to the ER with a scratched cornea. The latest involves her riding her bike (with her huge accident-prone dog on a leash beside her) without a helmet on. The result of this great idea was discovered by a few MRI and CT scans to be internal bleeding on both sides of her head and an extended leave because of dizziness and head trauma. We all would be a little more sympathetic if she were at all a kind person. Anyway, you would think I would be happy that she is out for about a month except she was right in the middle of supposedly getting me a fairly important raise that now will probably not happen before I quit.

And of course, the one time she comes in ever (today at 2:30), she catches me writing a very long rant about "my manager" on gmail. How do they know when to come behind you and read things about themselves?
shit. it's the mysterious power of bosses.

How I spend my days

2005-09-15T13:46:00.000-04:00

Today, I have been completely focused on one project. I have been reading about it all morning and talking about it at lunch, much to the dismay of my sensitive co-workers.

Today, it's all about Spinochordodes tellinii, or the hairworm. This parasite that lives in grasshoppers and eats their body from the inside out while still allowing the grasshopper enough functionality to stay alive and eat and build more muscles and organs that the parasite can then eat. When the parasite is big enough, it then CONTROLS THE MIND of the grasshopper and causes it to jump into water, thereby committing suicide, at which point the worm, which is now THREE INCHES LONG comes out of the still-drowning grasshopper and lives the rest of its peaceful life in water.

As a science editor, I have the authority to tell you that most animals, parasites, and viruses are completely disgusting.

If you are into this sort of thing, you can watch a video of it doing it's horrible thing here. You can click to get it in English if you are not one of the 756 people on this blog who speaks French.

Confession Time...

2005-09-08T21:06:00.000-04:00

Bracelets are courtesy of a recent Bat Mitzvah named Naomi. They indicate opposition to Ovarian cancer.

Livestrong or Die: How I learned to Stop Worrying and Oppose Bad Stuff

2005-09-01T12:57:00.000-04:00

I'd like to draw your attention to the phenomenon of the rubber bracelet. I know this may strike close to home as some of you [Bay Area, I'm looking at you] have been known to wear the bracelets and/or sleep with those who wear the bracelets. I've assembled a little timeline of my relationship with the bracelet, hopefully by indentifying some patterns, I won't feel so haunted by them:
2004: Lance Armstrong introduces the LiveStrong bracelet. It is rubber, bright yellow, costs $1 and supports cancer research. Sales are unexpectedly strong, they sell out and soon people are paying upwards of $50 for a resold bracelet on ebay. This has become a fashion trend and because of the premium on resold bracelets, many bracelets are now detached from any kind of cancer research funding. Would those ebayers donate $50 to the LiveStrong Foundation? No, but they will pay $50 to look like they donated $1.
August 2004: I get into an argument with a bartender who is wearing a yellow Livestrong bracelet. I am a little drunk and tell him I don't think we should be idolizing a man who runs out on his wife after she stood by him through testicular cancer to tour europe with Sheryl Crow. The bartender does not agree, is angered and overcharges me. I have since been told that my chronology is a little off... I have also since been been told by multiple media outlets that Lance has been doping, I wonder what the bartender would have said about that.
November 2004: At Thanksgiving dinner, I notice my boyfriend's 17 year old sister is wearing a handful of rubber bracelets, as is his 12 yr old brother. I ask them about them and apparently they indicate opposition to cancer (Lance's but also specifically breast) and AIDS. Also support of Hollister, an offshoot of Abercrombie and Fitch, where she worked.
* * * *
Early August 2005: On a trip to Boston, Erica notices a bunch of rubber bracelets sold at Urban Outfitters. She asks the cashier about the ten pack of bracelets inscribed with phrases like, "Shit Faced." She is told that these are not in fact bracelets modeled after the Livestrong bracelets, but instead bands to be put around a beer bottle in order to tell whose is whose. We call bullshit on that.
Mid-August 2005: We all discover that orange rubber bracelets means you want to stay in Gaza.
Late August: I am riding the subway and all of the sudden notice how it seems most everyone in the car is wearing some kind of bracelet. Most of them say "Grenada," "Trinidad" or "Puerto Rico," one women next to me has a white one that says "one." I get to work and google it, learning that apparently on that very subway that morning I was sitting next to a woman who opposed world poverty. I think Bono is involved with this effort, although we already know he opposes poverty.
September 1, 2005: In a little internet research for this blog, I discover all of the options for what you can buy a bracelet to say. I also discover sites like: http://www.customsiliconebracelets.com/ where you can make them say whatever you want (or buy, premade ones) which then you can resell. And so... I am open to suggestions. Let's print some up and tell the world we also don't like bad things.

Ugly Naked Guy

2005-08-31T12:38:00.000-04:00

The apartment building that sits on the east side of Third Avenue between 87th and 88th streets is huge. I count 33 floors from my office window across the street. Most of the windows have the blinds drawn during the day, but there are a few that stay open and give us the pleasure of witnessing certain parts of the daily routines of the inhabitants. There's a woman somewhere between floors 15 and 20 who always hangs out the window to shake out a red rug. There's a guy on the 4th floor, the only floor with balconies, who likes to sit outside and work on his laptop. There's a lady on 9 or 10 who puts on either blue or red workout shorts, a sports bra, and a sweatband to do a solid 30 minutes on the elliptical machine that sits right in front of the window next to a huge fan. Her dedication to her exercise doesn't appear to be paying off, as my officemates never fail to point out. And then there is the naked guy. He's fat. He's hairy. He has several tattoos. And man, does he love being naked. He leans out the window and smokes cigarettes naked. He leans out the window and talks on his cell phone naked. He'd probably leave his apartment to get a soy energy drink at the Wildgreen cafe underneath his building naked if he could. His belly is a perfect sphere that rests on the window sill. Until yesterday the extend of his nudity wasn't exactly certain. He could presumably have been wearing a thong or low-riding boxer-briefs. But now I and my coworkers--two middle-aged women and a strapping young man--know better. Sadly, this was the most exciting thing that happened in my day.