Read It and Weep |
|
|
|
Monday, August 26, 2002
The Big List of Things I Could Honestly Say I Am "Interested in" or "Intrigued by" a work in progress The Arts Latin America soccer gay culture pop culture religion spirituality language mapmaking men women (in a different way) origami seasonal-affective disorder civil rights human rights demographics human failings cultishness utter catastrophe country-rock/altcountry time: perception, measurement, denial and evasion of the passage of Texas comedy improvisation ritual public service categorization graphic design festivities/celebration dialogue among strangers novelty in general India, Hindi, and Hinduism Pico Iyer Joan Didion Lorrie Moore Michael Nava's Henry Rios books insanity New York City persons who have a "favorite animal" and how they chose it transportation Europe vs. America Will Turkey be accepted into the European Union? How "European" is it? human migration the works of David Foster Wallace the Stations of the Cross aging mobility, esp. social eloquence the backlash against political correctness, which at the outset was really just supposed to be the introduction of less-offensive terminology into sociological discourse, right? Britpop bells taboos (sex! nudity! sex! asking people to think! sex!) fate why some people like reggae and why it drives me up the wall diplomacy/politeness self-discipline and where mine went the color brown California: the popular myth, the contentiousness of its regions, its Central Valley, why I keep coming back, where else I could possibly live, stuff like that porn and why I have no interest in it how vanilla I really am self-disclosure shoe-gazing, navel-gazing, solipsism, me-ing, and all the rest love, lovers, loving knowing when to stop why brands matter deserts/water dark, dark eyes "I don't know, what do you want to do?" my future my career my voice how incredibly hard it must be to sit down and write a novel, and whether I'll ever summon up the focus to try waiting/anticipation people who don't really give a shit and appear quite happy with their lives beliefs (non-religious) how to make my life more interesting for when I'm older and would like to have outrageous stories to tell (and how to limit the things I try to those that will allow me to grow old enough to look back at fondly) youth, of course nudity, baby extroversion, a.k.a. How the Other Three-Quarters Live people who claim that their biological sexes doesn't match their gender identities and how they rectify that the amalgamation of LGB and T, seeing as they're very different things psychology (as an alloy) Jacob Vargas what my life would be like if I had the conviction that I am pretty damn lucky and I could be a lot more self-assured (not to mention compassionate toward others who aren't so fortunate) community service biking my parents balancing independence and community-orientation dancing disease irreversible injury (amputation, blindness, etc.) the gaps in my memory this list my affection for lists hair class in America, and why we say it doesn't exist names empty spaces feedback Tuesday, August 20, 2002
Hi, Gene! My office is set up such that my personal area has three walls, one of which is three feet short of the ceiling (in order to allow more light in from a shared bay window). The fourth side is half closed with a waist-high counter. While it is fairly private, noise carries easily and anybody walking by has a full view of the interior area. I was clipping my nails in my office, and a couple of my coworkers commented that they disliked the sound and urged me to go to the bathroom to do it in private. I didn't really understand their argument about it being a personal and private action, but I complied with their wishes. What struck me as odd about it was that as I walked in this morning, one of the complainers (I'll call her Prudence) had been flossing in her office, fully visible to anyone in the hallway. I pointed out that I found that distasteful as well. "But you can't hear it," she countered. True, but it's unpleasant to watch and in my mind it conjures up the image of flecks of spittle being flung about. Yuck. I seized this opportunity to discuss the fact that I had observed a certain handshake-happy senior officer (not in the vicinity) in the act of pointedly not washing his hands after using the restroom. What, I asked, would be the best, most tactful way to avoid his outstretched paw in the future? I received no concrete response, but another coworker (let's say Luna) opined that bringing such a topic up was an equally icky move. "Don't share that," called out Prudence, "ignorance is bliss!" "No!" I responded. "Ignorance is dangerous! Silence equals death!" It's a matter of public health, right? The upshot, for those of you who are concerned about such things, is that Prudence and I mutually apologized (sealed with a hug)...although I guess she's not writing about it on her blog. Oh, me. Monday, August 19, 2002
Origami I went to the Oakland Museum Sunday to check out the Ruth Asawa art exhibit. Although I'm not normally a big fan of sculpture, I was really impressed by her work: twisted wire that resembled desert brambles while merging stars and circles; crocheted wire that reminded me of pottery, curtains, and intestines all at once; a multitude of face masks painted in arbitrary skin colors. All amazing. What's more, the exhibit included a section illustrating how she was actually the matriarch of a large and diversely artistic family: it included a section showcasing her daughter's intricate and beautiful origami, her grandson's paintings, her husband's personalized envelopes...and a framed newspaper article featuring by a large photo of a halfpipe wave. The story detailed how a family of five had been at the beach when their little girl had been sucked in by the undertow; as they tried (one by one) to retrieve her, they were eventually all getting pulled under. Ruth Asawa's son, who had been surfing nearby, managed to save them all with his board. I know the question What is Art? has been asked many times and in many contexts, but this was one of those cases when it struck me particularly hard. Her son hadn't created anything tangible like his relatives had, but a memento of his act of preserving life was hanging in a gallery alongside their creations. It made me a little dizzy to think about. Thursday, August 15, 2002
This Week in History 25 years ago, Elvis died. 20 years ago, TMBG formed. How did the world get along in the intervening five years? Ponderous. OK, I need lunch. Tuesday, August 13, 2002
I Cannot Promise This Will Make Sense I've been spending a goodly amount of time staring off into space recently. I'm sure it's good for me. It's a very relaxing activity. I guess one could argue that it's not so good when I'm at work, as it would cut into my productivity. (At which point I'd probably laugh.) Yeah, apart from when I'm crossing the street, I can't say it's any real danger. Sure, people may assume I'm thinking deeply about something, when in reality my mind is really blank, but then I'm used to people thinking I'm deeper than I actually am. OK, maybe I'm marvelling at some random quirk of language, but that's only on occasion. For example, I love verbs. I love idiomatic expressions and the bizarre verb-forms they use. I dwelt for a minute this morning on all the meanings of the word used. There's the past tense of to use, of course. And the adjective But there's also to be used to, as used (hee!) in the previous paragraph, which means "to be accustomed to," which really doesn't have a direct relation to to using something, not to mention that used is pronounced [just], instead of [ju:zd]* like the past participle. Then, of course, there's the wild kooky phrase used to be, which translates to "once was but no longer is" and is even more aberrant because it's a verb phrase with no infinitive form! (Which is probably related to its being tense-specific, but come on....) Then there's to utilize, which is one of a whole slew of ugly backformation verbs (which are made by lopping off the end of a noun and result in a completely redundant word) that plague our language. Unfortunately, I'm somewhat inconsistent in my approach, seeing as I routinely change "utilize" to "use," but I confess I have suggested "administrate" when we all know "administer" would do. Hey, "to administrate" was in the dictionary! I thought that made it acceptable! (Short answer: nope.) Oh, and another fun verb is "to eke." Coming soon: Cultural Right #2: The Right to List Your Comrades' Faults. *If you don't understand, you need a short course in the International Phonetic Alphabet. Or you need to not care, which is probably the easier option. Sing-Along Time! (These are just parodic lyrics; I stand by my commitment to never introduce poetry to this site.) There is this thing I have to write E-I-E-I-R! For gov-ern-men-tal o-ver-sight E-I-E-I-R! With an Environmental Impact here And a Mitigation Measure there Here a Notice of Preparation There a Reasonable Alternative Everywhere a Significant Irreversible Environmental Change Which Would Be Involved in the Proposed Project Should It Be Implemented! Oh, my job is such de-light! E-I-E-I-R! Monday, August 12, 2002
Photo Ops I Have Recently Missed -A Port-A-Potty centered on a 10'x10' platform, floating in the middle of Lake Merritt -The view from the Piedmont School and Park, which reinforces that money does indeed bring happiness -Nancy Pelosi, Congresswoman! -Ozomatli, the band I really like that plays music of genres I otherwise do not much care for -Opening day of the Berkeley Arts Festival, with approximately nobody in attendance (ouch) Thursday, August 08, 2002
Raccoons Raccoons! In my backyard! Raccoons! Scampering around Oakland's streets! Raccoons! Roadkill in Berkeley! I've seen a lot of them lately. It's just...new to me. Monday, August 05, 2002
Zzzzzzzzzzzzz I slept a lot this weekend. I also went to the Santa Clara County Fair to see Ozomatli and marvel at the human spectacle of thousands of people gravitating to a free event featuring fried/frosted foods, shaky carnival rides, livestock, crap-for-sale*, and patriotic performance pieces. If you ever get your hands on David Foster Wallace's A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again, the essay "Getting Away from Already Being Pretty Much Away from It All" has a great description of the Illinois State Fair that applies to most every fair I've been to and is humbling in its illumination of the many different worlds America encompasses (and that I perpetually forget exist). *Somehow I couldn't bring myself to spend the $1 required to obtain a green teddy bear with "MINNEASOTA" stitched across the back. Friday, August 02, 2002
Than You've Ever Been I was out to lunch with some coworkers today; as we're heading back to the office, the new guy (aka the Geo-Temp, aka the Red-Headed Stepchild*) hits me up for a little conversation, and I hear a sentiment that's become familiar, but rarely so bluntly quotable: "You're from Modesto? I have a friend from Modesto. Maybe you know him...oh, except he's a few years younger than you. He's 24." I admitted the truth, and threw in (proudly?) that I am the youngest in the office. He didn't seem too surprised, but you never know. Now, being 24 is something I'm still getting used to, and being mistaken for much older than I am is something I should definitely already be used to ("It's the beard," another coworker offered helpfully), but I wonder if I'll ever catch up to my perceived age and look as I should...or will this continue until I look Old before my time? I pretend to not be concerned about my appearance, but...ugh. I've always had an odd fascination with memoirs and nostalgia; the scenes in TV and movies where the Old Person pulls out pictures of him- or herself as a sexy and vivacious twentysomthing as the grandkids (or whatever surrogates for youth are at hand) gape at the Marked Difference between Then and Now always get to me. It really makes me want to go out and get as many pictures of now-me taken as possible, to capture my youth in preparation for the Era of Fond Memories. In a less superficial vein, similar yearnings stir me toward quitting my job and doing something more adventurous, more outdoor/hardier/youth-rewarding. I know that I'll be able to work in an office at any point in my life and that there are some opportunities that fade with time. I'm just so used to earning and spending at my current level that it's hard to own up to the possibility that what I end up doing instead may pay less. I don't know if I have the discipline to adjust my budget.** My longview dictates that I never want to go into credit debt. That's a heady consideration. There are also insurance and other seemingly-piddling issues that I can't seem to get around. Caution squashes all. What gives? Am I too old inside? Where are my prunes? *I honestly love that phrase and want to shower the coiner with much unabashed affection. Call me, you bastard! **Hell, I can't even set aside the time to track whether I'm following anything that could be considered a budget. Thursday, August 01, 2002
Pretty Hate Machine! Feast your eyes on the latest addition to my daily blog ritual: Girls Are Pretty--the blog for the sociopathic horoscope-zombie in all of us! Part of the reason it so tickles my fancy is that the author's name reminds me of a charming incident from back in the day.... I was volunteering at the Boys and Girls Club with my friend Emily (who is small and jumpy--not exactly a seductress, for the record). One day, this wizened old woman who was always around (but whose purpose there was never entirely clear) came up to her and screeched, "Hey, Pretty Girl! I see all the boys watchin' you! Struttin' your stuff around! Yeah, they like it! Pretty Girl!" Needless to say, Emily was completely creeped out and it didn't help that the woman referred to her as "Pretty Girl" for the remainder of our time there. Happy Did I Really Live in South Carolina for a Whole Year? Day! |
