Fine Distraction

Bits and Pieces

2008-02-03T08:41:00.000-08:00

Well, here it is, Super Bowl Sunday again. Last year was exciting, because it was two teams I like and therefore could be happy with the outcome. This year, I couldn't care less. Yawn. But then, I don't actually care much about pro football anyway. I don't even "watch it for the commercials." I view the SB as a social event.

This year, though, I am recovering from some horrid bug which, for convenience' sake, I will call the Flu. One day of total dizziniess and movement-induced nausea, followed by a day of wobbly weakness with a bit of dizzy and a sore-ish throat, and today still wobbly, and very, very tired.

No respiratory symptoms, no digestive symptoms, but otherwise the general malaise that flu brings. So what was that? Perhaps the vaunted flu vaccine (which I got--I live in a dorm; I'm not stupid) made it less severe after all. Which is good--combining the last few days with respiratory symptoms would have been miserable.

In any case, no Super Bowl party for me this year. I should be sorry to miss it, but I feel yucky enough that I don't care. Plus I have work that has to get done before tomorrow, so I will be doing that.

Flu has been making the rounds of the dorm (as well as campus) and it puts me in mind of the 1918 flu epidemic. What a nightmare--as if the world hadn't suffered enough the previous four years. If I remember right, more people died of the flu than had died in the war...and that's saying something. L. M. Montgomery lost her best friend to the flu that year, and it devastated her.

As bad as things seem sometimes, history shows that there have always been times that were worse. It's really *not* "the end of the world."

The Shot Heard 'Round the World

2007-07-04T18:32:00.000-07:00

I've spent the day watching The Revolution miniseries on the History Channel. It was a fantastic way to mark the Fourth, especially since I did the fireworks/outdoor concert of patriotic music thing over the weekend.

One of the things the miniseries brought home to me was how important the quirks of individuals are to the decisions made in times of great historical importance. The officers' personalities, their past histories, and their relationships with those around them had everything to do with whether they made good tactical choices or not. Same goes for the politicians.

It makes me wonder what choices we are making now will have the most impact, for good or ill, on the future. What will the History Channel of a hundred years from now be talking about?

I also wondered about my own ancestors who, I believe, were here during the Revolutionary period. Given that they were in Connecticut and Pennsylvania (I think), they likely never owned slaves, but I wonder if they were Loyalists or Patriots? Patriots, likely, since they stayed where they were after the war, and most of the Loyalists left. But still--I wonder if they were fired with the nobility of the cause, or were they in the 50 percent who wanted to be left alone?

For real? Seriously?

2007-06-28T13:57:00.000-07:00

Two items in the last couple of days:

1. Bob Evans died, may he rest in peace. But was I the only person who didn't know Bob Evans was a real person? I thought he was pretend, like Betty Crocker. His obituary:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070621/ap_on_bi_ge/obit_evans

2. This gentleman is expected to be elected the FIRST MALE PTA PRESIDENT in America on Friday:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070627/ap_on_re_us/mr_pta

For real? Seriously? The first, ever? One hundred ten years. Of course, there have probably been quite a few men who were involved in PTA, just not presidents. But still. I thought we'd evolved enough to be long past this. It's like when we had the first black "best actor/actress" Oscar wins, or the first female evening news anchor. It took us this long?

About time.

Honorable Mentions

2007-06-20T13:54:00.000-07:00

So many things have caught my blogging-eye in the last few days and I've just been overwhelmed with them. Thus, accomplishing no writing. So I am going to note a few, just to pass on the word.

--20th anniversary of "Mr. Gorbachev, TEAR DOWN THIS WALL!"

--40th anniversary of both Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and Aretha Franklin's version of "Respect".

--40th anniversary of the Supreme Court verdict that gave us the Miranda Warning

--25th anniversary of the Falklands War

--Tiananmen Square massacre anniversary

--Aung San Suu Kyi's birthday

There's just a lot of stuff going on!

Deadliest Catch

2007-06-13T16:08:00.000-07:00

One of my all-time favorite television shows is Deadliest Catch on the Discovery Channel. It's a popular show, and I'm trying to figure out why it inspires such loyalty.

1. It is full of thrills that are absolutely genuine. No artifice about what these men are doing: serious, dangerous work in extreme conditions. It is, per capita, the deadliest job in the world.

2. The activity of crab fishing on the Bering Sea is real work. This is no Survivor, where contestants compete for a prize. This is the fishermen's livelihood. This is what they do to put food on the table (and, in a good season, extra money in the bank--stored up for next season, which could very well be a dud).

3. Its documentary style: the audience watches the men go through good and bad times. There is no need for the "second take" (if they do them, one would never know), because there are so many interesting things happening.

4. I don't know if other audience members feel this way, but I feel like I get to know the men and their crews, and I have a stake in how well they do. I have favorite captains and favorite crew members. I laugh at their pranks and cry in their moments of disaster and deep feeling (one boat rescued a man from the sea and the captain--who had been unable to rescue another man a few years earlier--came down and hugged the rescuee. Both men--tough, rough-looking guys--were crying and barely articulate: "You saved my life, man. You saved my life." "We got you. We got you." I just bawled).

5. There's something addictive about the show. I could watch it for hours on end, even episodes I've seen before. It's great.

All of the above reasons are likely common to the whole audience. For me personally, I think the risks involved, and the overt masculinity of the program offer a nice contrast to my own life, which involves the care and direction of 200 college women and is fraught with emotional drama, but not much physical risk. I'm certainly okay with that, but I think the contrast draws me to the show.

The show's website:

http://dsc.discovery.com/fansites/deadliestcatch/
deadliestcatch.html

The Wikipedia website, which links to individual boats (with merchandise! How frickin' awesome is that? Gotta love capitalistic synergy):

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deadliest_Catch

Me vs. Stairmaster, Round One

2007-06-07T16:10:00.000-07:00

Well.

I've been out of my exercise habit for the last couple months, but I'm back on track. I'm learning to work out at the gym as well as walk outside (my preference), because the reality is that 6 months out of the year here in the great Hoosier Heartland it's just too miserable to exercise for any length of time outside. At least for someone who is extreme-temperature-intolerant like I am. (I can do rain or snow if properly attired, but too hot or too cold are just not to be borne.)

So. Me and the gym. I am blessed to have free access to a fantastic university gym with all manner of equipment for both cardiovascular and weight-building needs. There are time limits on all the cardio machines, though, and I need to walk about an hour a day to reach my own fitness goals. There's a third-floor walking deck which overlooks the basketball and soccer courts, and has windows lining almost all of it. This is fantastic for walking, and very comfortable, but I would often get bored after 15 minutes and want to quit.

Enter technology. I got a new cell phone recently and it came with little headphones--there's an FM radio receiver inside! And it uses very little battery, so I can listen to an hour of NPR while I walk the indoor deck. Brilliant!

So I did the hour. Round about 40 minutes I decided to get brave and use one of the Stairmasters in a corner of the deck (they have strategically placed cardio machines at the four "corners" of the oblong track).

Oh. My. Lord. Thought I was going to die! I've always hated climbing stairs, but the Stairmaster is Evil.

(I learned recently that walking actually strengthens the side muscles in your thighs, but does very little for the quads and the back thigh muscles, whatever they're called. That's why I decided to have a go at the Stairmaster.)

First I was like, Okay, 10 minutes. Then after about 5 I was like, ARE YOU SERIOUS?!? I was pouring with sweat. Yeah. Guess I was burning calories after all. I thought I was going to have to quit after seven, but decided that come hell or high water (or fainting from exhaustion) I was DARN well going to do 10 minutes. And I did.

And then I walked for ten more minutes around the track. Take that, Stairmaster.

Millenials in the Workplace

2007-06-06T08:07:00.000-07:00

Hello out there to all my fans in Blogland (in other words, Mom and Ben). The summer is now upon us, and I have a little more time than I did the last few months.

I heard a segment on NPR this morning about millenials (18- to 25-year-olds) in the workplace. The link:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=10758121

It talked about their need for feedback and how, as a generation, they have been closely monitored and "guided" by their parents, so supervisors in the workplace need to provide these things for them. It also had advice for millenials: see your life as a "project" (like at work): show your independence by getting an apartment (instead of living with your parents) and find a mentor at work (not your supervisor) who can guide you.

I knew this about millenials; I finally learned through hard experience. I've been working with and supervising college students for several years now, and have been baffled and frustrated by this need for what I saw as "hand-holding" and "having everything done for them", not realizing that the happy flip side is hard work and loyalty if the millenials are given what they need.

I am from Generation X, which, as a group, was independent-minded and spent a lot of time thinking for itself and rebelling against the Baby Boomer values of the 1980s (in broad terms, we thought our parents sold out: they talked big in their youth about Changing The World and then when the 1980s hit it was All About The Benjamins, with little time for their kids). Of course, Baby Boomers (BBs) perceived Xers as "whiny", which, to a certain extent, we were. But that doesn't mean that we were wrong.

In any case, what this BB/Xer cultural clash wrought was a generation of people with an independent, do-it-my-own-way, make-do-with-what-I-can-get (because the BBs weren't letting anything--jobs, government, money out of their vise-like grip), why-bother-too-hard mentality. This can be perceived as "lazy" or "whiny" by BBs, but really, we have more in common with the 1960s now than they do. And what do they expect?

God love the millenials, though. Like any generation, they have a good and bad side. The good side: the aforementioned loyalty and hard work, as well as a belief that they can, indeed, change the world. If anyone can, they probably can. The bad side? They aren't that good at thinking for themselves (they need constant approval), they are joined at the hip to their parents (students I work with often talk to their parents several times a day; I talked to mine probably once a week in college), and they need everything spelled out for them. I used to perceive it as individual weakness until I figured out it's a generational trait; it's not their fault. Here's my theory:

BBs kind of screwed up with Gen X (thus we rebelled against their 80s materialism and career obsessions and got all 90s grunge), so then they tried again with our younger siblings and made them into perfect little children who are a Credit Toward Their Parents. These poor youngsters can't do anything without being monitored and encouraged by their BB mommy and daddy (the ever-hovering "helicopter parents").

It's totally unfair to them. BBs make fun of "Father Knows Best," but please: these kids are more compliant than the ones on 1950s TV. And their BB parents made them that way.

What to do? Well, I certainly can't do anything about changing an entire cultural setup that's been in the works for 20 years. But what I can do is be more charitable toward millenials, and try to foster a little independence and free-thinking in them. They're good kids, and if they can cut loose from their parents, who knows what they might accomplish?

Coffee and a Hamburger Sandwich

2007-03-18T15:54:00.000-07:00

Okay. I finally switched this blog over to Google (Ben, this is why I wasn't blogging--I didn't feel like hassling. But I did it.)

Speaking of Ben, this is a shout-out that he will understand: yesterday I got a big cup of coffee (from Starbucks, where else?) and a single hamburger (no cheese, everything no mayonnaise no onion) from Wendy's. Yum-yum-yum. Then I recalled that I was eating a "coffee and a hamburger sandwich", which was a staple meal for Paul Drake, Perry Mason's private eye. Perry was always eating steaks and drinking cocktails with Della Street (could there be a more fabulous female? Doubtful.), but Paul was stuck with his coffee and "hamburger sandwich". (Since when did people not eat hamburgers in a "sandwich"?).

Whenever I end up eating these two foods together, I think of the summer I spent watching the old Perry Mason TV series in the morning, and a later summer that I read nearly all the books. I had a "Della Street" dress and "Della Street" shoes. A couple of years ago I got the book I Dreamed I Married Perry Mason, whose main character reminded me so much of (great-) Aunt Marylin. Aunt M. was the Vice President of the Raymond Burr Society, and she left a black-and-white glossy publicity photo of Burr (not, sadly, in character) that hangs on my wall.

You know the song, with its dramatic opening. Wikipedia says it's called Park Avenue Beat" by Fred Steiner. And apparently it just came out on DVD last summer--hurrah! Must run over to Amazon...

This Is A Post for You, Far Away

2007-02-11T11:35:00.000-08:00

This post is for my brother "Joe Hardy", who checks my blog faithfully every day, and I haven't written anything for six weeks. I love you!

I spent all day yesterday with my grandma. I stopped and bought her a pecan roll (which she LOVES) on the way to her house. We hung out and watched TV and talked, and ate lunch and cookies and chocolates she had bought early for Valentine's Day, and talked about a trip I might take to the Southwest this spring, and looked up visitor websites on the internet, and watched Forensic Files (we always watch sports or crime shows--one of our favorites is Cops) and just generally had a good time.

I needed it. Not only have I not been able to spend quality time with her for a long time, but it's been a rough week with my work. This time of year is always difficult, and I've been waiting for the shoe to drop. Drop this week it did with a vengeance. (As I told Joe, "These people are STRAIGHT TRIPPIN'!")

Not that I'm surprised. But it wears one down. For this reason, I am going to take a lovely Sunday Afternoon Nap.

"This is a song for you
Far away
So far away
This is a song for you
Far away from me."

Take a Bite Out of the Big Apple

2007-01-04T21:53:00.000-08:00

I'm in New York City on vacation, and loving it! I've only been here once, also in January, about ten years ago. I wasn't that impressed then; I remember calling it a "bigger, dirtier Chicago." And although I don't expect to leave here a New Yorker, I'm liking it a whole lot better.

I'm staying with friends in a much nicer neighborhood, for one thing. And my time is much more leisured (last time was a class trip). I'm also quite a bit different from who I was back then.

Museums, walking tours, eating, and people-watching. And, of course, shopping. I still want to go see that Stoppard play...hurrah! (doing a small, gleeful dance).

Now if only I could stumble upon a taping of Law and Order...

This other Eden, demi-paradise

2006-12-14T13:08:00.000-08:00

How English am I? Well, my Dutch/German/French/Scottish/Irish ancestors might all have something to say about it, but the English in me seems to have won out:

You are 82% English.

You are either native and stupid, or you are foreign and knowledgeable.

"And did those feet
In ancient times,
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
In England's pleasant pastures seen?"

Well, no, but it's a cracking good tune.

How English are you?
Create a Quiz

Not bad for a Yank.

The Nativity Story

2006-12-01T16:52:00.000-08:00

The Nativity Story sounds like it will be a good movie. Here is a link to a Yahoo! story:

http://movies.yahoo.com/mv/news/ap/20061128/
116475630000.html

And here is the IMDb link:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0762121/

Dependable? or Predictable?

2006-11-30T20:46:00.000-08:00

I'm a fan of CSI: Miami, even though it can be hokey and David Caruso can be wooden. But somehow, the hokey-ness (a word?) and wooden delivery of cheesy one-liners is comfortingly predictable. And I find him strangely sexy, even though he's kind of weird-looking.

I never look at YouTube, but I found this link on a blog, and it's too hilarious to pass up:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_sarYH0z948

Enjoy!

The Spy Who Came In From The Cold

2006-11-30T20:16:00.000-08:00

What is with all the poisoned Russians lately? Can some of my Brit-friends comment further, since all that radioactivity seems to be in your neck of the woods?

I'm feeling so Cold War Revisited. We're already having an 80s fashion revival (which I totally dig, with a few reservations, even though I'm not much participating beyond a striped cardigan and some big hoop earrings--though I do have some electric blue mascara). Is it in the wind?

I mean, poisoning anti-Putin dissidents (in London, no less) seems a little extreme, even when the dissident in question is a former spy. But then, when was the KGB (hello, Putin, ex-KGB) ever particularly reasonable?

But you know--we're having a lot of weird Cold War era-echoes happening these days. A lot of things remind me of the era: McCarthy-esque paranoia in various places, serious militarism, curtailing of civil liberties, general anxiety--not to mention shallower cultural revivals such as fashion, music, and movies. We're also suffering the consequences of decisions made during the Cold War (hello, Iraq? Afghanistan? Practically every rogue state and every nation who's merely annoying us?). Maybe the Russians are feeling the drama, too, but are filtering the meaning through their own peculiarly Russian viewpoint and acting accordingly. Bizarrely. Or maybe it's just a Putin thing.

I wonder what Gorby would say to all this.

What Kind of Reader Am I?

2006-11-28T21:17:00.000-08:00

There is an Anthony Newly/Leslie Bricusse song from Stop the World, I Want to Get Off called "What Kind of Fool Am I?". The title popped into my head when I saw this quiz. Note that I am very close to being a Book Snob as well. No surprise, since my answer to the Cliff's Notes question was "Those things are crap." I did, however, use SparkNotes once when I had 24 hours in which to read (for the first time) and do an hour-long presentation--complete with PowerPoint--on Siddhartha (by that time I was actually teaching, so my student days were behind me).

That was the day I discovered a frightening talent for BS. I'd be a brilliant politician, if only I had the stomach for it.

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Literate Good Citizen You read to inform or entertain yourself, but you're not nerdy about it. You've read most major classics (in school) and you have a favorite genre or two.
Dedicated Reader
Book Snob
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Fad Reader
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

An Open Invitation

2006-11-28T21:13:00.000-08:00

"The merciful love of God, who invites us to return and is ready to forgive, knows no limits of time or place."

--Pope John Paul II

In Honor of My Oldest Brother

2006-11-22T19:32:00.000-08:00

Because I think he has started writing for The Onion:

Spaniards Vow To Once Again Decimate Population Of New World

Ha!

Armistice Day

2006-11-11T13:06:00.000-08:00

I don't have time to write all I would like to about November 11, but I would like to mark the day nonetheless. It is Veterans' Day in the US, but because I am such a World War I buff I always think of it as Armistice Day. I think all veterans should be honored and remembered. But on this day, I think particularly of all those who fought, suffered, and died (or survived, forever scarred) by that epic war.

The Great War brought the world into the modern era, and it set the stage for even bigger horror a heart-sickening twenty years later. Americans, particularly, don't grasp the relevance of World War I, but its importance really can't be over-estimated.

Spare a thought today for those who fought and died "over there", and for those for whom "over there" was home.

Come on Down!

2006-10-31T14:24:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm back at last after a great vacation and a crazy work week. This week is also crazy, but I couldn't let this news item pass without comment:

Bob Barker, host of The Price Is Right, is retiring in June:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20061031/
ap_en_tv/tv_bob_barker_retires

I remember many happy childhood hours watching the show. My favorite quote from the article:

He said he'd take on a movie role if the right one came along, but filmmakers, take note: "I refuse to do nude scenes. These Hollywood producers want to capitalize on my obvious sexuality, but I don't want to be just another beautiful body."

HA!

We love you, Bob. Remember: Help control the pet population. Have your pets spayed or neutered.

Les vacances

2006-10-14T06:34:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to give you all a heads-up that I'm going on vacation, and may not blog for a week. Then again, I might.

I hope this week treats you well.

Spree in NYC

2006-10-10T19:46:00.000-07:00

Well. I have a vacation coming up soon and had made some plans to cover the whole of it. But I received an unexpected invitation to go to New York City, and I'm considering going for part of my week off.

I've only been to NYC once, so planning a spur-of-the-moment visit there is a bit daunting. I do have friends and relatives there who can give me recommendations. Of course there is always shopping (!).

One cool thing is that my favorite playwright, Tom Stoppard, has three plays opening in the next few months. It's his trilogy, The Coast of Utopia. I read in Vogue that the cast includes Brian F. O'Byrne (so compelling!), Billy Crudup, Jennifer Ehle (Elizabeth Bennet in the BBC Pride and Prejudice, among other things), Josh Hamilton, and Ethan Hawke. The first play, Voyage, opens October 17, with Shipwreck and Salvage to follow between now and March. According to the magazine, there will be several Saturdays where one can see all three plays together.

For a Stoppard fan, this is out-and-out heaven. Arcadia blew me away when I saw it in Chicago, and I've been in love with the man ever since.

Friends, shopping, and Stoppard--I don't need anything else.

Tender is the Heart

2006-10-08T21:16:00.000-07:00

I heard a homily recently where the priest was talking about casting off those things that hinder us from being in right relationship with God. He was expanding on Mark chapter 9, where Jesus talks about cutting off those body parts that cause us to sin.

He began by saying that, indeed, Jesus was not speaking literally, but that we had to clear out those things in our lives that get in the way of hearing God's voice. Then he said something that stuck with me: We jettison those things, because ridding ourselves of them releases us from the "trap of selfishness" that keeps us imprisoned and unhappy. What an excellent metaphor! Indeed, selfishness is a trap we put ourselves into, thinking we are in control, but it quickly turns on us to make us miserable, or worse yet, hard-hearted.

A few days later, I came upon this quote from Pope John Paul II:

Some think that following Christ means infringing on our own humanity, lessening its value. Nothing could be more false! Indeed...in saying "yes" to Christ, you say "yes" to all your noblest ideals....Certainly, choosing Jesus involves renouncing sin, but sin is not a fulfillment of human nature; it is an impoverishment of it! God did not make us for evil, but for goodness, truth, and beauty, that is for him, our Creator and Father. As St. Augustine writes: "You have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you."

All sin, at its root, is selfish, because sin is merely saying "yes" to one's self and "no" to God. In the early stages of sin, this seems comfortable, and preferable. But as JPII says, sin is an impoverishment of human nature. We are meant for so much better.

The priest finished his homily by asking God to free all of us from the trap of selfishness, so we can experience his greatest gift to us: love of God, love of neighbor, and right love of self.

Amen.

Bits and pieces

2006-10-06T21:04:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a crazy week in the non-blog-world. Last weekend I went out on Friday with friends to hear a blues band (it was good!), then Saturday I went with another group of friends to hear an Irish band at our local "Irish pub". Yes, there was Irish dancing on tabletops, as well as sing-alongs, various jokes, and some serious food (boxty, woo-hoo!). When you're super-hungry, the Irish can deliver.

My week's work has kept me busy, and I've been up late at night. I'm working tonight, then my brother is visiting from out of town--I'm very excited!

This week also included the feast day of St. Francis of Assissi, who is one of my all-time favorite saints. Somehow, I just get happy thinking of him, even though he was pretty radical: utter destitution doesn't sound too cheerful and heartwarming. One of my friends said about him, "His calling isn't for everyone, but it does make you think." Certainly, a man who could be happy when 100% dependent (literally) on God, and whose life inspires others to spiritual joy, is someone worth paying attention to.

Right now I am trying to decide if, indeed, I need some chocolate, or if I can go without. I'm trying to cut back on my coffee addiction, but I find myself trying to fill the craving with other things. Chocolate is not really the best option: still has caffeine, and way more calories. On the plus side, it's chocolate. Hmmm.

Ah. I just proofread this and realized I went from St. Francis to my caffeine addiction with no segue. (Embarrassed hiding of head.)

Men and Sports

2006-09-26T11:59:00.000-07:00

I've been pondering a mystery that many women, at one time or another, have pondered:

What is it with men and sports?

Example: Last week I met a guy I'll call--since I don't use real names on this blog--"HB" (short for "Hot Businessman").

[Digression: most of my girlfriends and I give every guy we meet little names that we use instead of their real names: "The Irishman", "The Cop", "Soccer Guy". They only get their real names used if they reach boyfriend status. Is this a universal among women? Maybe this post should be called "Women and Nicknames."]

In any case, HB and I were chatting it up. After a few minutes we settled on college football as a mutually discussable topic. Not only did this work well, but as our opinions about the field differed (ah, there's always conversation to be had about what REALLY should constitute national championship status, as well as who's overrated, etc.) , there was opportunity for a) sparks to fly, and b) conversation to continue.

Why is sports (nearly) a universal among men? I know a lot of women who like sports "okay", and a few who are rabid fans, but even men who aren't big fans seem to have a grasp on a wide variety of sports, as if it were a natural gift.

Maybe it's part of male socialization--it's expected that you know sports, at least enough to converse with. They also seem to grasp sports in a different way--in a very statistical, technical way. My pre-adolescent brothers could give me breakdowns of games won or lost before they were born. I have a college football and a national baseball team that I follow, but even though I've been watching those sports for years, I still don't understand all the rules or penalties, and I know very few statistics (last time the Cubs won the World Series? 1908.).

I guess I watch sports for the human drama and for following my teams, whom I love (the Cubs tested me sorely this year, though). I like to watch the game of baseball no matter who is playing--I know many find it boring, but to me baseball is relaxing, graceful, intellectual, and strategic. It's the game of a long thinker. I've heard men wax eloquent about baseball in particular (think George Will) but not so much about other sports, so i'm still left wondering: what makes them love sports so much, and love them the way they do (as opposed to the way I do)?

It's like Churchill on the Soviet Union: "It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma."

24 Hour Party People

2006-09-24T22:01:00.000-07:00

On principle, I'm not what you'd call a supporter of big business, though I do most of my shopping at Target. I patronize the locally owned grocery chain, however, and try to avoid corporate synergy and marketing as much as I can without getting silly about it.

But I have to be honest: I love Starbucks. More than I ought.

I realize that they are marketing an "experience", that they are trying to appeal to the middle-class-social-climbing-snob in me, that it is a BoBo (bohemian bourgeois) paradise. People say their coffee is over-priced (yeah, kind of) and doesn't taste good (I disagree: Sumatra and Gold Coast and Sidamo are nectar of the gods. Verona is, however, a brew of Satan.).

But Starbucks is also an oasis of sanity in a mad world. Their greedy corporate reach adds several joys to my life:

1. Because it is a corporation, the coffee quality is always the same. I know exactly what I'm getting. If I'm bothering to buy coffee while I'm out and about, I don't want to wonder if it's going to be good enough to justify the cost, and I want to know exactly what it's going to taste like. Starbucks delivers on this.

2. Because they are so large and well-known, they've reached into markets whose highest quality joe previous to Starbucks was the instant machine at Burger King. I am not a coffee snob (I generally drink Folger's at home), but I cannot drink it below a certain standard. If I wanted brown hot water, I'd drink tea. (Actually, I like tea, too, but not when I'm expecting coffee.)

3. People are so addicted to Starbucks that now there is a market for 24-hour locations. TWENTY-FOUR HOURS! This is brilliant. There is one not a mile from where I live.

I just got back late at night from a trip where my only coffee opportunity for 3 hours was a 24-hour Starbucks in the middle of nowhere. I was so tired I barely made it there, but was wide-awake the rest of the trip.

Of course, 24-hour caffeine availability does have its drawbacks. Like trying to get to sleep tonight.

Better Late than Never?

2006-09-19T23:26:00.000-07:00

This story of sibilings reunited after 65 years (!) made me cry:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/14896842/?GT1=8506

Ours Not To Reason Why

2006-09-18T21:22:00.000-07:00

My mother sent me the most astonishing link today. It's a sound recording (on an Edison wax cylinder) of a man who was at the Charge of the Light Brigade, playing the bugle call from that charge, on a bugle that was also used at the Battle of Waterloo.

Just the idea of this is arresting, but hearing him speak and hearing the bugle is incredibly moving:

http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/10204

Occasionally one comes across those moments where there is a great leap backward in time, with only one or two degrees of separation. My great-grandmother (whom my mother vividly remembers) was alive when that recording was made, and the man who made it was performing on a bugle from at least 1815.

It puts me in mind of recordings of the last castrato singer (eerie, to say the least):

http://www.amazon.com/Moreschi-Last-Castrato-Alessandro/dp/B000000WYS

or the last few remaining veterans of the Great War (which is a subject of endless fascination for me, and more immediate in my imagination than many events within my living memory), or that (possibly) 250-year-old tortoise who died earlier this year:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adwaitya

Two hundred and fifty years! A creature that was alive before the Revolutionary War! Unbelievable!

What is it that makes us want to literally touch the past? When I visited the British Museum I was able to walk right up to the Rosetta Stone. Sneaking a glance around to see if there were any guards, I reached out and touched it. I touched the ancient Rosetta Stone, key to the Egyptian hieroglyphics. I remembered learning about it in eight grade history...and there it was. (Apparently it's under glass now, after a late 1990s restoration. Bummer.)

A fragment of what might or might not be a quotation is bumping around my brain--I feel like it's Shakespeare, but am coming up with nothing. It's a banal quote alone, but I can't find it anywhere: "The past is present."

Here is a quote about the past that suits my mood (from Bartleby.com):

"The past is only the present become invisible and mute; and because it is invisible and mute, its memoried glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious. We are tomorrow’s past."

Mary Webb (1881–1927), British author. Precious Bane, foreword (1924).

I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General

2006-09-18T00:39:00.000-07:00

Wow. Sometimes life (read: my job) gets in the way of my blog. What's that all about? Where are my priorities? :-)

Anyway, brief entry today, just to keep my hand in: a dear friend of mine (let us call her Lulu) just sent me a CD of Gilbert and Sullivan selections. My G&S knowledge is not more than the average over-educated person would have, but I know I always enjoy them, and it was a very clever thing for Lulu to do.

G&S are rather like P.G. Wodehouse, I think: fun for word-lovers, and quite funny. I've only ever seen one production: a high-school (! very ambitious for this particular school--I was impressed by the fact that they even tried, though not particularly impressed with the quality) production of Pirates of Penzance. Penzance has my favorite G&S song, which I chose for the title of my blog today. You can find the lyrics here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Major_General

"For my military knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury,
Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century;
But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General. "

Not Just Another Pretty Face

2006-09-14T20:01:00.000-07:00

Well, if my three-year-old nephew won't marry me, there's always George Clooney.

Apart from the obvious reasons for which nearly all women love George, I love that he's got a serious mind (as well as a great sense of humor, a double-entendre voice, beautiful eyes, can rival Cary Grant in charm, and is the walking epitome of "masculine")...

Back to the serious mind.

Today I saw him and his father, Nick Clooney (another handsome charmer with beautiful eyes and excellent voice) being interviewed by the BBC. Apart from the fact that it was extremely distracting to have both of them sitting there (my friend Sara recently saw Ocean's Eleven for the first time and said, "It's just not right to have so many fine men in one movie"--shout out to Matt Damon and Don Cheadle!), I thought it was really excellent how they were working on this ongoing and un-dealt-with issue. The genocide in Darfur first came to my attention two years ago, and this is the second time that George Clooney has used what he calls his "celebrity credit card" to focus media attention on an issue that needs it.

Sometimes it's annoying to have celebrities talk about politics and "issues", because many of those celebrities are so fatuous. Apart from the fact that I'm pretty biased in favor of George, though, I like it in him. For one thing, he's up front about using his fame to focus on things that matter. For another thing, he's classy about it: he usually doesn't dog other people specifically, and when he does, it's really funny. He actually seems to think about the issues he talks about. He tries to argue reasonably and get people to pay attention to serious questions that are not easily compressed into sound bites.

I watched George's recent "political" movies, Good Night, and Good Luck, and Syriana, and loved both. Funnily enough, I'm not generally on George's side of the political spectrum. But I respect him when he talks about politics, because he's talking about issues, not people. I also respect his father, who is a journalist. Both men give the impression of thinking before speaking. That's something that doesn't happen all that often these days--especially in politics.

George Clooney on Darfur (if you want the video, click the button above the article):

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/5347660.stm

The Children's Hour

2006-09-13T22:10:00.000-07:00

I saw my three-year-old nephew not too long ago. After showing me how he can almost spell his little sister's name (he got it all but the silent "e" on the end, and though I tried to explain the concept of "silent e", he just looked at me like "Crazy grownup!" and kept repeating: "Eh-eh-eh. E says Eh." at me, like I'd gone mad. Bloody educational toys.), he showed me his 50 States puzzle, and showed me states where various family members lived, etc. I could tell he'd gone over this with Mom several times.

He is such a dear baby. I used to watch him once a week for nearly a year, and I really bonded with him then. He is "my" baby, of all the nieces and nephews (all of whom are, of course, Perfect Children). But I moved away a little over a year ago, and now I don't get to see him often. Every time I see him he's taller, he talks more clearly (he's already so articulate, it's astonishing), and he's more self-assured. Three-year-old logic is a fearsome and wondrous thing.

Case in point: After we'd journeyed through the U.S. by puzzle, I turned to him. "What do you think about you and me getting married sometime?"

Deadly serious, he looks at me, then squints his eyes and shakes his head. "No," he says. Pause. "I want to be a fireman."

I tried not to burst out laughing. "Well, you can be a fireman and still be married."

By this time he's started playing with the puzzle and is clearly only tolerating my nonsense. "No, I can't get married. I want to be a fireman."

"But lots of firemen are married."

He looks at me, shakes his head at his pitiable aunt, and says, "No, I want to be a FIREMAN." (Like I didn't hear the word clearly the first time.) At my look of confusion, he says, "I want to blow out fires. I'm going to be a fireman."

["Blow out fires"--is that like blowing out birthday candles? Or maybe he hasn't ever heard the phrase "put out fires."]

"Oh," I said. "Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know."

"Okay," he said, going on with his play.

It's all so clear, isn't it?

Psychic Friends Network

2006-09-05T12:44:00.000-07:00

I saw an interesting "odd news" article today. A man at Trinity College, Cambridge, did a study to see if people had "telephone telepathy", where you think about someone and then they call you:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20060905/
od_uk_nm/oukoe_uk_britain_telepathy

His results are less than perfect (surprise, surprise), but they are interesting. I'm not sure how it works, but I've definitely experienced this before.

I also (very frequently) know what people are going to say before they say it, both in real life and in film and TV. How it usually works is that I sense a particular word is coming, and then it does. Sometimes, of course, this can be attributed to context, but oftentimes the word is two sentences away and there's no way I'd know otherwise.

The other thing that happens to me most often is that I will have a song in my head and then turn on the radio and that song is playing. If they were popular, constantly-played songs, I'd attribute the explanation to the fact that they're just around a lot. However, I don't listen to pop radio very much, and I rarely know the current hits. Sometimes I wonder if I have a radio receiver in my head.

Perhaps the word phenomenon can be attributed to emotional intelligence coupled with high verbal skills--I sense what's coming just like a chess player can plan several moves ahead. With the radio thing, my extremely unscientific conclusion is that some people's brains sometimes tune into radio waves and that's where the song comes from.

It does make me wonder what else is going on in my brain that I don't know about.

The Music Fact Rap is Fun to Sing

2006-09-04T11:20:00.000-07:00

I am very pleased with myself: my first attempt at posting something other than text or a link is successful! (See below the comments.)

This quiz was okay--it had quite a few good bands, but not all the ones I would want. However, I think that the results are fairly accurate. I didn't realize quite how much I like R&B and hip-hop, because I'm also a big jazz, bluegrass, and NPR listener. NPR and hip-hop? Seemingly a weird combination.

However, I think that all of the types of music I like to listen to (with the exception of pop, really, and 90s alternative, which is sort of an aberration that works because a) it's mostly acoustic, and b) it was when I was in college, and one's college music has long staying power) have one thing in common: soul. Jazz, hip-hop, R&B, and (dare I say it?) bluegrass all have soul. I also like very old-school blues: that Bessie Smith, scratchy-record, twangy guitar, 1930s Mississipi delta sound--the kind of songs with a repetitive tune and three stanzas, the first two of which are the same. You know the kind. I could listen to those for hours.

(Of course I loved O Brother Where Art Thou, for the music, as well as George Clooney.)

I'm always open to learning more about music. I love classical and movie soundtracks and some musicals (particularly Stephen Sondheim), but I have a strange avant-garde/eccentric streak, too: John Adams and Philip Glass and weird dissonant things, folk music from faraway places in Africa and Scandinavia and places along the Silk Road. When music is genuine instead of cynically (is that the word I want?) designed to sell, I can connect with it. Particularly with instrumental music (whether classical, electronica, or whatever) I close my eyes and feel it wash over me, and I almost physically feel like I am swimming in it.

Your Taste in Music:

80's Pop: High Influence
90's R&B: High Influence
Old School Hip Hop: High Influence
90's Alternative: Medium Influence
90's Pop: Medium Influence

How's Your Taste in Music?

Crocodile Hunter: Rest In Peace

2006-09-03T22:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I was trying to decide what to post today, when I swung over to Yahoo!. There I see a headline that says that Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, was killed by a stingray while filming a marine documentary:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20060904/
people_nm/australia_irwin_dc

I've always thought the man was quite mad to run around with dangerous animals like he does, but I guess I figured he had some sort of immunity. Which is totally illogical, of course.

I'm sad. The Croc Hunter drove me sort of crazy, but he was a cultural icon. My youngest siblings are going to be sad about this.

Crikey.

Back from the War

2006-09-02T12:42:00.000-07:00

Well. It's been about two weeks since I last posted, which is far more time than I ever intended to let pass. The good news is, things are starting to settle a bit, so I should be back in the swing of things.

I've been re-reading the Little House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I like to revisit books I read as a child, especially in times of stress. They take me to a calmer place mentally, into a world much safer and simpler than my own, both in reading and in remembering.

However, many children's books have quite a bit of interest for adults, beyond just retreating to childhood. Beverly Cleary's Ramona series has a whole layer of wry humor that is invisible to the eye of an eight-year-old. In the Little House books, small clues about culture and the adult world are tucked here and there like little treats, waiting to be discovered.

For instance:

In Little House in the Big Woods: " '[Laura's Uncle] George is wild, since he came back from the war,' Pa had said, shaking his head as if he were sorry, but it couldn't be helped. Uncle George had run away to be a drummer boy in the army, when he was fourteen years old." (p. 137)

"The war" was the Civil War. By "wild", of course, Pa could simply mean that George did as he pleased and didn't care what others thought. But George still wears his blue uniform coat (with brass buttons) and frequently blows his bugle--strange behavior several years after the war is over. Might Uncle George have suffered post-traumatic stress disorder? A drummer boy would see battle action just like a regular soldier, and a fourteen-year-old boy fresh off the farm probably would not have all the coping skills he'd need to deal with what he saw.

In Little House on the Prairie: The family contracts malaria, and are cared for by a black doctor. "Then the doctor came. And he was the black man [Laura had seen in her delirium]. Laura had never seen a black man before and she could not take her eyes off Dr. Tan. He was so very black. She would have been afraid of him if she had not liked him so much....Dr. Tan was a doctor with the Indians." (p. 191-192)

According to the Little House on the Prairie website (http://www.littlehouseontheprairie.com/web/facts1.htm), Dr. George Tann was a real person who is buried nearby (the webpage has a picture of his headstone). This website has more on Dr. Tann: http://webpages.marshall.edu/~irby1/laura/tann.html .

Also, of course, throughout the early books in the series, there are many run-ins with the Indians living nearby, discussions of politics related to land ownership, and instances of financial hardship. Reading the books now, I am curious to know more about Laura's real life, as opposed to the fictionalized version.

For the series is fictionalized, edited, and cleaned up (which, of course, makes it a better and more comprehensible story for children). If you read On the Way Home, Laura's diary of their move from Minnesota to Missouri, you get a grittier, less polished, adult account. I like this particular voice of Laura's, and want to read more. I haven't done any searching yet, so I don't know what's out there, but feel free to reply with suggestions, if you have any.

Also (hanging my head in cybernetic shame) I can't figure out how to make a link to a website instead of copying and pasting the whole thing, so if you know how, please let me know.

This Is Why We Do It, Baby

2006-08-16T21:22:00.000-07:00

Well. A few days ago I was ruminating on (is that the right preposition? should I use "over"? does "ruminating" even take a preposition? sigh...) my work "personality" and what that might mean for my future. Today I've had two people come to me and remind me (all unknowing) why I do the work I do.

This was good. My job goes in cycles, and some seasons are much more intense than others. A coworker puts it this way: "My work gives me a lot of free time. I just can't predict with much accuracy when it will be." This is one of the reasons I like my job. This is also a reason my job is difficult. Lately I've also been thinking about all the failures and unpleasant aspects of my job, and needed a reminder about why my work is good, useful, meaningful, etc. I just couldn't muster it myself.

Today a woman came to me and went on for twenty minutes about how one conversation we had months ago has changed her whole perspective. Later I had a long conversation with someone who's going through some hard times. I'd spent some time trying to work with this person before, but eventually decided that I wasn't helpful. But now, I guess, I must have helped after all, because we seem to have made a connection.

I really needed this, because the intense periods of my work require total commitment, or the job is impossible. These two people were answers to prayer. I am generally cautious about calling things "answers to prayer", but I've been praying for days that I would be reminded, somehow, of why I got into this and what I like about it. I think I've got it now.

Thank God.

Temporary Insanity

2006-08-14T20:37:00.000-07:00

Friends of my blog: I haven't abandoned it. It's just been a crazy week around here. The next week will be crazy, too, and then things will settle out, and I'll be more regular about writing. I will try to do some posting this week, though.

I'll be back shortly!

What Color is My Parachute?

2006-08-05T21:23:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about a job change. Not because I'm dissatisfied with my current job; far from it. I like it a lot, and am looking forward to another year here. But in looking beyond this next year, I don't know if I'll want to stay a third year, and if I do, it will certainly be my last, barring some major change.

I've been trying to figure out what I might want to do after this work, but everything I've thought of so far doesn't sound like a good long-term plan. Then I got to thinking tonight: Maybe, when it comes to work, I'm not a long-term plan kind of girl.

I've actually known this for a while. But, looking back, I see that my job tolerance generally has a three-year arc.

Year 1: The job I've chosen is complex, requiring not only many different administrative and communication skills, but lots of work with people. (This is true of every job I've had since I graduated college.) The learning curve is steep; I'm super-busy the first year, and everyone who knows me is amazed that anyone could be happy in such a demanding job. Also, friends tell me that they think I will learn a lot, which I do.

Year 2: I feel good. I know the work, I have plans for improvements, I sail through with ease. Coasting, really. Still happy in the work.

Year 3: I am bored. It has become old hat, no longer a challenge--and my job performance starts to slip. It's too easy and it's stale, and I start looking for something else.

The last two jobs I had, I stayed a little longer than three years (the one for financial reasons and the other because I knew I was going to grad school shortly and it was pointless to start something new). But somewhere between the second and third year, restlessness set in.

It's sad, really. From age 9 to about 20 my whole life was consumed with the idea of becoming an actress. I read countless books, analyzed films and plays, majored in theatre, and did as many roles as I could. That was my lifelong dream--until I realized, somewhere in my junior year of college, that I didn't want to pay the dues required to even possibly make it as an actress. I wanted a steady paycheck and a house and a bourgeois life. Then I hit on the happy idea of becoming a professor. My interests were wide-ranging, though, and I thought I might be interested in being an English or history professor rather than theatre. Indecisive to the last, I finally ended up getting a Master's in English, and teaching college for three years...only to get fed up with the politics and narrowness of academia. In short, I was too bored to stick with it; thank God I wasn't halfway through a PhD program before I figured it out.

Cut to the present. My current job is much more bohemian than bourgeois, and while it has the same general characteristics as my other work, it's not anything I ever saw myself doing. The problem is, I know it has a shelf life. I'll either burn out or wear out, whichever happens first. And what then?

Tonight was one of those existential dramas where I thought, "Am I a pathetic, shallow person, with no fixity of purpose? How can I possibly get bored after only three years in one job? And why can't I figure out work I could settle into, for the long term?"

I have this discussion with myself on a regular basis. Once in a while I'm in a good mood, and I say, "Well, that's just the sort of person you are: a job-hopper. Get used to it. And it doesn't mean you're shallow or inconstant; it just means you have a wide range of interests and you can't be tied down to any one thing for too long."

It's hard to accept that painful truth. Painful, because in all other areas of my life, I am a committer. (Yes, I realize that' s probably not a word.) I am committed to family, to friends (most of whom I've been extremely close to for years), to ideals, and to interests (reading, writing, fashion, and the arts have been part of my identity since childhood). I'm always adding new things, but the old ones stay.

I don't know how to be a bohemian, a fly-by-night, a rolling stone that gathers no moss. I see it as a character flaw--which it doesn't necessarily have to be. Maybe it signals underused creativity. Maybe my short attention span can be put to good use.

Or maybe it doesn't have some deeper meaning. Maybe it's just the way I am, and I should get used to it.

In Praise of the Gin and Tonic

2006-08-03T22:22:00.000-07:00

Ah, the gin and tonic! My favorite drink. I'm what might be termed a "light" drinker, as opposed to a non-drinker, but I'm hardly an alcohol connoisseur. I like a glass of wine, but I never drink more than two, and I generally have only a few drinks a month. And yet I love this festive mix of serious hard alcohol, tonic water, and (absolutely necessary) limes.

I also add lime juice to mine, because the first one I ever had was made that way. I've tried to find out if that makes it a different drink, but no dice. However, I can drink it without the lime juice, so I guess that counts.

For me, I like minimal gin and maximum tonic; a gin headache is no joke, and I HATE the boozy taste of a 1:1 ratio. Cheap date: I only drink one. Still, I'm picky: I like Tanqueray gin and Schweppes tonic water. I could go with other gin, but the quality of the tonic makes a big difference, and woe to him who tries to give me DIET tonic. Ugh.

Being the over-punctuator that I am, I always want to write it with hyphens: gin-and-tonic. I don't know if that's correct in any capacity. But I have a hard time saying "G-and-T", not because I have a problem with other people saying it, but because I feel too precious and cutesy when it comes out of my mouth: "Let's have drinky-poos! Make mine a g-and-t." Or else the phrase assumes a casual familiarity with alcohol that I simply do not have, as if to say "I've drunk so many cocktails in my time that I can't even be bothered to use the whole name; too damn much effort. Mix me one, will you darling?"

Gin and tonic is, of course, quintessentially a summer drink, though I'll drink it in any season. It brings to mind sitting on a porch or in a lawn chair. But most of all it makes me think of the 1920s: Jeeves and Wooster, The Great Gatsby, cricket games or lawn tennis or croquet, with women in white summer dresses and men in linen suits and everyone wearing hats.

That's a lot of connotation for one drink to carry. But I never tasted a gin-and-tonic that wasn't up to it.

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous

2006-07-30T21:10:00.000-07:00

This weekend I started watching a movie I've wanted to see for a long time: Smiley's People, with Alec Guinness. Guinness is one of my favorite actors, and I enjoy him in everything I've ever seen him in. He just sinks into a role. He's the sort of actor who, if you aren't watching something for the sake of him in it, you never notice who he is. But he's brilliant.

I like Michael Kitchen for the same reason. A few years ago I caught him on Foyle's War and thought, "This guy is unbelievable! Who is he?" Come to find out I'd seen him in half a dozen things, including a show where he had a leading role (a thinly veiled Prince Charles character in To Play the King) but I never noticed him. He's brilliant, too.

Then we have Footballers' Wives, a truly ridiculous, over-the-top British soap opera. The show is WRONG WRONG WRONG, and yet, so tasty! Yum! I love it. Principally, I love Tanya Turner, the main character, who, over four seasons, works her way through three husbands, boatloads of money, and large amounts of nicotine, alcohol, and other recreational substances. Zoe Lucker plays her with great intensity, and somehow (how?!) manages to make her sympathetic. I don't know how she does it, but I'm in awe, and I would never, ever not notice Zoe Lucker in anything.

From Alec Guinness, the master of subtle, to Michael Kitchen, who can make one corner-of-mouth twitch or an "em" mean more than a whole speech, to Zoe Lucker, who can toss off the most ridiculous soap opera lines and behavior and make it seem real AND human. Really good actors, all of them.

Everybody Dance

2006-07-25T21:34:00.000-07:00

Today I saw part of The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. I'd seen it once before. It happens to be my favorite one of their movies, which is odd, considering it's not one of their better-known ones. Don't get me wrong: what's not to love about Swing Time and Top Hat? But the Castle story actually has a plot (!), and a script (!!), and the romance between Fred and Ginger actually seems real (!!!).

I didn't know much more about the Castles than their name and the fact that they were dancers, before I saw this movie. But if the movie is correct (a big "if", that), they seem to have been the first mass-market celebrity endorsers. Products as various as chocolates, hats, and face cream bore their names. I find this fascinating--I'd no idea the madness (Thomas Kinkade furniture gallery?) had started so early on. And they introduced all kinds of dances (the Fox Trot!) and started the ballroom dance phenomenon that gripped America for decades.

Not to spoil the movie (consider this your spoiler) but Vernon dies in a plane crash at the end. It's very sad--partially because he'd survived war and was home at last, and partially because the couple seemed so much in love. They show the plane crash, which seems awfully realistic for the time period; I was surprised. The ending is a bit hokey, but the whole movie is so sweet that it doesn't matter. I was still crying over poor Ginger Rogers hearing the news by the time it ended.

After their first dance audition, their manager says, "Who would pay to see a man dance with his wife?" All day long the lyric from "Chicago (That Toddlin' Town)" has been in my head. Apparently it was written by Fred Fischer (or is it Frank Reyes?) in 1922: "I saw a man, he danced with his wife". I wonder, now, if that could mean the Castles? They went on a nationwide tour, apparently, just prior to World War I. (The song refers to Billy Sunday, too).

If anyone knows the answer to this, please comment and let me know. I'm terribly curious.

The Last Time I Saw Paris

2006-07-22T22:49:00.000-07:00

I can't resist it any more: Like millions of other people, I have to blog about Paris Hilton. Why is she so fascinating? I think it's because she's so horrible. Like a vulgarity train wreck.

Sigh. I've actually long felt pity for this woman. By the time she was eighteen (if not before), she'd seen and done (in every sense of the word) it all. She doesn't seem to have any interests besides amusing herself. What does she have to live for? (See this article in the Washington Monthly for a wider view of people like Paris: http://www.washingtonmonthly.com/features/2004/0401.wallace-wells.html ).

It's like the line from Evita: "A shame you did it all at twenty-six; there are no mysteries now. Nothing can thrill you, no one fulfill you." Very, very sad. She did it all at eighteen, and in public, too.

Despite my pity, however, I find her awful beyond belief. Fake hair color and (formerly) length, fake tan, fake eye color, fake everything. She does not, however, have fake breasts, and I respect that. However, as a sharp friend pointed out, if that's the only respect-worthy thing about her...

Darling Paris outdid herself this week, though (I know, I know--what could outdo the sex video? Or sparking the ubiquitous "That's hot."? Or the former engagement to a man with the same name? But I digress.) Here is her latest:

In a quote from the London Sunday Times: "There's nobody in the world like me. I think every decade has an iconic blonde - like Marilyn Monroe or Princess Diana - and right now, I'm that icon."

Later in the interview she says, "Nobody seems to get that how I am on The Simple Life is a character....I play dumb like Jessica Simpson plays dumb. But we know exactly what we're doing. We're smart blondes."

Erm. Paris, honey, I know you're a "smart blonde" (except, wait, it's fake...or is "blonde" really a state of mind? But then why would she need the qualifier "smart"?), but have you considered that Britney Spears was your type of "iconic blonde" in the first half of the decade? And now she's procreating with K-Fed. Where will you be in five years?

Though I'm not a Diana fan, it cannot be denied that she was a style icon who held enormous sway with millions across the world for much longer than a decade. I am a Marilyn fan, and the idea of Paris comparing herself to MM is ludicrous. I think a more apt comparison would be to Jayne Mansfield (no offense to her gorgeous and talented daughter, Mariska Hargitay, of whom I'm also a fan).

Paris, darling, get a life and do something. I know you have no talent, but if you really are a "smart blonde", you'll stop acting like a dumb one.

But then, who would pay attention to her?

Baby Boomers Go Bust

2006-07-18T19:56:00.000-07:00

So I've been reading Balsamic Dreams: A Short But Self-Important History of the Baby Boomer Generation, by Joe Queenan. I can only take Queenan's brand of sarcastic humor in small doses, but he does have a way with words, and he does have a point. Sometimes.

"Let's get one thing clear about the sixties: It was not a simpler, more innocent time. It was a nightmare. Everyone hated one another. Everyone was shooting at one another. Civil war was in the air. The food was abysmal. There were race riots in almost every major city. Drugs ravaged the underclass. People got lynched. The only good thing about the sixties was the music and the fact that it wasn't the seventies....I wouldn't live through the sixties again if you paid me. Which is pretty amazing, because Baby Boomers will do just about anything if you pay them." (p. 30)

"Baby Boomers have made a systematic attempt to geld the English language through a poisonous mixture of cant, jargon, blather, piffle, balderdash, and mush. Their primary siege engine has been a virulent brand of euphemism....For example, when Baby Boomers use the term 'centered' to describe a child, it can mean anything from 'has scads of grade-A munis in his trust fund' to 'takes less drugs than his peers.' When the term 'high maintenance' is used to describe a woman, it can mean anything from 'sensitive' to 'high-strung' to 'coke-snorting bitch.' And the term 'vulnerable' can mean anything from 'probably gay' to 'read way too much Sylvia Plath in college." (p. 86)

From silken Samarcand to cedared Lebanon

2006-07-17T21:53:00.000-07:00

I was going to write about some books I've been reading, but I decided to write this blog entry about something that is making me sad right now: the destructive attacks in the Middle East, particularly those in Beirut and Haifa. Whatever one's view on Middle East politics at a given moment, one must acknowledge that real people are suffering. Civilians whose lives are as important to them as mine is to me, are suffering. And whenever a beautiful city (like Beirut or Haifa) has havoc wreaked upon it, the world at large loses. People in the West have strong, often sentimental associations with cities such as New York, London, Berlin, Madrid, and Paris. Beirut used to bask in the title of "The Paris of the Middle East." What if Paris were the city receiving rocket attacks?

It's easy, in the West, to dismiss the current exchange of fire as something that seems like the natural state of the Middle East: fighting happens there a lot, and has been happening, and seems like it always will happen. But each particular conflict is not always as simplistic (everybody vs. Israel, Israel vs. everybody) as it seems. There are often subtle differences with each local situation, and lots of innocent people get caught up in fighting that they'd be happy to avoid. I think we owe the people affected by the fighting the dignity of at least temporarily seeing them as individuals, and not some mass grouping of "good guys" or "bad guys", or even just "those guys".

Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Main_Page) has a good introduction (complete with current info) on both Beirut and Haifa; a quick Yahoo! search gave me gorgeous pictures of both cities.

Some quotations I found:

"You have your Lebanon and its dilemma. I have my Lebanon and its beauty. Your Lebanon is an arena for men from the West and men from the East. My Lebanon is a flock of birds fluttering in the early morning as shepherds lead their sheep into the meadow and rising in the evening as farmers return from their fields and vineyards. You have your Lebanon and its people. I have my Lebanon and its people. "

Kahlil Gibran, “You Have Your Lebanon and I Have My Lebanon,” Mirrors of the Soul, trans. Joseph Sheban, pp. 30–31 (1965).

"Its origins are ancient but it burgeons with brash modernity, and it lounges upon its delectable shore, halfway between the Israelis and the Syrians, in a posture that no such city, at such a latitude, in such a moment of history, has any reasonable excuse for assuming."

Jan Morris, On Beirut, Among the Cities Oxford 85

"There is Israel, for us at least. What no other generation had, we have. We have Israel in spite of all the dangers, the threats and the wars, we have Israel. We can go to Jerusalem. Generations and generations could not and we can."

Elie Wiesel (b. 1928), Romanian–born U.S. writer. Interview in Writers at Work, Eighth Series, ed. George Plimpton (1988).

It's all Greek to me

2006-07-13T20:29:00.000-07:00

Today I read Friends, Lovers, Chocolate by Alexander McCall Smith, in its entirety. The first volume of that series (The Sunday Philosophy Club) I found rather tedious, in that the main character is constantly agonizing over moral questions (she's a moral philosopher, and apparently this renders her perpetually vulnerable to the question of "ought"). I nearly didn't continue with the series, but this second volume put to rest my fear of boredom. Isabel Dalhousie does indeed continue to worry about moral questions, but with much more verve and less abstraction. I also found the plot more interesting.

I did like this quote, very much:

"The sentiment sounded trite, but then didn't most good sentiments sound trite? It was hard to make goodness--and good people--sound interesting. Yet the good were worthy of note, of course, because they battled and that battle was a great story, whereas the evil were evil because of moral laziness, or weakness, and that was ultimately a dull and uninteresting affair."

I've long wondered why (especially in fiction) good people were rendered so boring(ly). In some cases, of course, the author simply doesn't understand the internal complexity of goodness. In other cases, though, I suspect it's sheer laziness. It's easy to make a wicked person "interesting", because the conflict is obvious and external: who might they harm next? what might they do? But often the good are only fighting their own weaker natures.

A good character can fight an external battle and hold interest, though, such as Atticus Finch. (An easy example--but can I think of another? This bears more thought.)

The other quote of the day is from The Greeks, by H.D.F. Kitto. (Not nearly finished with that, as it takes much more concentration to get through.) Kitto was English, a classics scholar, and writing in the 1950s; thus the tone and context for the quote. He is discussing the clarity of the ancient Greek language:

"It is the nature of the Greek language to be exact, subtle and clear. The imprecision and lack of immediate perspicuity into which English occasionally deviates and from which German occasionally emerges, is quite foreign to Greek."

"From which German occasionally emerges." HA! I am reminded of the Sherlock Holmes adventure, "A Scandal in Bohemia." Holmes receives a message from a potential client, but he notes its syntactical peculiarities to Watson:

"Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence--'This account of you we have from all quarters received.' A Frenchman or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs."

In reproducing these quotes, I mean no disrespect to the German language; I don't know it at all. But I find it amusing that speakers of English (a notoriously difficult language for non-native speakers) could be so dismissive of a language not all that different from their own.

Of course, Englishmen are not all free from blame, in Kitto's eyes. The footnote to the above quote reads:

"When I say 'English' I do not mean the English of administrators, politicians, and important people who write letters to The Times. Imprecision would be the chief quality of this language, but for its weary pomposity and its childish delight in foolish metaphors."

Ouch.

It never rains but it pours

2006-07-11T18:30:00.000-07:00

Apologies to all those who tried to comment before and couldn’t because they weren’t “registered users.” I didn’t realize that was the default setting on the blog, and I haven’t tweaked the settings much yet. You should be able to comment now, though. (I’m still very new to all this; sorry about that.)

I had anticipated being able to blog during my weekend away visiting friends, but that did not happen. Today was spent running around doing errands (in the massive rain), so my blog will probably be short (still trying to dry out).

Books I’m currently reading:

Orient Express by Graham Greene (see prior post; almost finished)
The Woman Who Mapped Labrador: The Life and Expedition Diary of Mina Hubbard by Roberta Buchanan, Anne Hart, and Bryan Greene
The Beatles by Bob Spitz
The Greeks by H.D.F. Kitto

On the list of what to read next:

Gaudy Night by Dorothy L. Sayers (a re-read)
Friends, Lovers, Chocolate by Alexander McCall Smith (I am a new and passionate AMS fan)
Balsamic Dreams: A Short But Self-important History of the Baby Boomer Generation by Joe Queenan
Riding the Iron Rooster: By Train Through China by Paul Theroux

Movies I’m about to see:

The Devil Wears Prada
Out of Africa

What are you reading? Or watching?

Green(e) River

2006-07-06T21:34:00.000-07:00

I’ve had a book by Graham Greene, Orient Express (1932), sitting on my shelf for a long time. I’ve never read anything by Greene, but see him mentioned everywhere, and knew I needed to remedy my ignorance. Overcoming my habitual laziness toward starting a new writer, I finally delved into the book yesterday. I was quite surprised, in three ways.

The first surprise was Greene’s treatment of a Jewish character as a human being who was aware of the societal prejudice against him, who hated it (yet his self-image was affected by it), and who hated being affected by it. Sadly, I have become resigned to reading casual offensive remarks about Jewish people in the novels of the period, and this level of sensitivity was quite pleasing and unexpected.

The second surprise was the frank, though not prurient, discussion of sex. In the first third of the book, Greene mentions or discusses at length prostitution, pedophilia, lesbian desire, and various permutations (some comic) of heterosexual lust and affection. Sounds tawdry, but Greene manages not to come across that way. I think it’s because he grounds the talk of sex in context of character. Greene does not seem like he’s setting out to titillate his readers with sex-talk, but rather to develop character or move the plot along. Greene is honest about the emotions the characters are experiencing in relation to sex. Perhaps my modern eyes are jaded (or curiously innocent, depending on your point of view), but Greene seems matter-of-fact and realistic about sex. Sex is part of life, and that’s that.

Emotional honesty, as I alluded to a few sentences ago, was the third surprise. There were several times that I had to put the book down and mentally catch my breath—his emotional arrows had hit home. While not being deliberately brutal, Greene seems to have no scruples about laying bare the deepest human vulnerabilities. The only thing I’ve read recently that is so unflinchingly emotionally honest is Alexander McCall Smith’s Heavenly Date and Other Flirtations (odd comparison, but there it is).

Of course, this is the only Graham Greene book I’ve ever read, and I’m only halfway through. His oeuvre is large and ranges wide, I know, so perhaps I’m way off the mark. But still, for a first dip in the Greene river, it’s impressive. I’ll be coming back for more.

To sleep, perchance to dream

2006-07-05T20:32:00.000-07:00

Sleep: I am one of those people who needs eight hours per night to be happy, preferably the same eight hours every night. Being a night owl, I usually go to bed between 1am and 3am, and get up somewhere between 10 and 11 (whenever possible; I have the sort of job that allows me this schedule, though I do occasionally have earlier meetings). Most days this is sufficient...but some days, I feel like sleeping all day.

Like today. I had seven hours of sleep. But in between all of my work and activities I took an hour nap in the early afternoon, another hour's nap in the early evening, and then lay on the couch to watch television for an hour and half because I didn't have the energy to do anything else. I literally dragged myself off the couch to come write this blog (I've promised myself to write in the blog daily, come what may, which means that some of the entries will be less profound than others. This one fits the "less profound" category. Although I'm not sure if I'll actually end up writing anything profound, sigh.). But it's nowhere close to bedtime, and if I go to bed this early, will I be able to sleep? How much will it disrupt my normal sleep pattern?

Dreams: Speaking of disrupting my normal sleep pattern...I've fallen into a weird dreaming pattern. At least once a week, and often more, I wake up at 6 or 7am. I know I need to go back to sleep, so I do. But I will often be dreaming right before then, and so I write the dream down. I have written down the most hilarious statements, and once in a while, the dream even makes sense. The one I had last night was political and dramatic, and could certainly be a useful fictional scene.

Macbeth may have murdered sleep, but I need to go find the "sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care." I don't seem to have the energy for anything else.

Bit by bit, putting it together

2006-07-04T21:30:00.000-07:00

I'm attempting to become an organized, disciplined person. I am actually more organized than disciplined, although I'm not very strong on either. People often confuse the two. Organization means that you can find what you need within a short period of time, and that your stuff does not overwhelm you. Discipline goes deeper; it has to do with keeping your word, to yourself and to other people. It means doing what you need to do, with intention, and being efficient enough at it to have time left over to do what you want to do.

Procrastination has always been an addiction of mine I couldn't seem to shake. I need to shake it, though. It's high time. I have long wanted to be punctual, organized, efficient, self-disciplined...but not at the expense of freedom, creativity, and relaxation. I think, though, that there must be a higher plane (so to speak) where they can coexist and reinforce each other. Still thinking about that, and certainly still working on it.

Writing in this blog is a small step toward self-discipline. I often tell people I'm a good writer, but a lazy one. Too lazy to actually do anything with my writing, up till now, and I feel guilty about this. I feel like I have squandered time, opportunity, and a talent I've been given. I need to do better.

I like the confessional anonymity of blogging. I can make a public declaration (that no one is reading, but it's out there) without having to reveal too much. Of course, some people reveal everything, which is quite foolhardy (not to mention boring). But I get the appeal.

Well-begun is half done

2006-07-03T15:44:00.000-07:00

Time to get with the 21st century on this blog thing. Apart from the fatuous "this is my first entry, oh my!" it's hard to know what to say in the first post, since it seems to be an all-or-nothing thing. One can say everything possible ("Here is the exhaustive story of my romantic misadventures, plus pictures of my family, all my pets, and my third-grade teacher!"), and overwhelm any readers that might happen along (by "readers," of course, I mean readers besides the three friends one forces to read one's new blog ). Or one can take the high road and say nothing.

Or, one can say a lot about nothing. Like I just did.