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Monday, December 15, 2003
Pretty It finally happened: I love Bologna. They* put Christmas lights up all over the city two weeks ago--and I mean all over. There's hardly a street without decorations here, and walking around at night in the cold with the soft glow of the lights bouncing off the architecture (many narrow streets and portici,** and pretty much everything in Bologna is some variation of red or orange) and pine boughs arching over the streets and festively-strung trees in the major piazze. It's a lot quieter outside now than it was before...probably because of the cold, which is honestly the strongest I've ever lived in. (And I still don't have a good winter coat, because I'm lazy and hate clothes-shopping.) A lot of people say that Bologna is different from the other major Italian cities in that, instead of having well-known landmarks, it's sort of a general mood that permeates the city. But the main thing is, I've found I'm happier just walking around here now. *Who? I don't know. The local Bureau of Making Things Festively Italian, I guess. **(After Venice, it's the second-best-preserved city-center in Italy.) Wednesday, December 03, 2003
Not Enough Time I have a midterm tomorrow in International Monetary Theory. (It's worse than it sounds.) In one sense, this is probably the hardest class I've ever taken, but it doesn't keep me from wasting time when I should be studying. Maybe I've gotten a little cocky since I managed to overcome my frustration* and I have a strong sense of how the basic ideas work. I just want to get a B--I just want to pass. I don't think it'll be horribly hard to pass, and that must be why I'm not studying right now. * This is actually an amusing anecdote in itself: I wasn't the only student struggling with the material--a group of my classmates went to the academic affairs dean to complain about the professor and petition that he not be asked back due to the miserable time** we're having. The leader of this group then sent a message about this meeting to the class email list--which included the professor. Oops. ** It was really weird at first. He assigns readings from one textbook, then takes his lectures (which he teaches at a Ph.D level, using economic methods we haven't studied, and making frequent mistakes) from another textbook and gave us homework based on outside readings. Things have kind of fallen into place, but only now that I've been studying and I see that some of what he lectured on was covered in readings he assigned three or four weeks later. Thursday, November 20, 2003
Italy! Different! Fun facts: -When Americans say we are going to meet at a bar, we mean inside.* -When Italians say they are going to meet at a bar, they mean outside.** -Clarifying this ahead of time prevents silly misunderstandings like waiting for the better part of an hour to meet somebody who is literally ten feet away, give or take a wall. * Reason being, whoever arrives first can get out of the cold and can order something while waiting for companion(s). ** "It might be difficult to find each other in there! What if it's big and crowded?" Tuesday, November 18, 2003
Big Fish! Big Fish! Grad school is hard. I get frustrated. International Monetary Theory hurts to think about. And my Italian is bad. Tuesday, November 11, 2003
American Bandwidth I'm happy to report that my roommate Gisela, who is a big computing know-it-all, has turned me on to Suprnova, a file-sharing system (legality? what?) that puts the Kazaa family to shame, which means I've been able to keep up on all my favorite American shows. Well, at least The Simpsons is here. All the other shows I like have weird HBO-y schedules (or have been cancelled recently--bitches!), so the "new fall schedule" ain't really happening for me. And I tried to check out other stuff. I downloaded Will & Grace because it used to be good (it was! it was!), and what did I get? James Earl Jones mincing around under orders from "Just Jack" McFarland. I downloaded something called Tru Calling because I heard it was hilariously bad...but it turns out it was just bad. Really, really bad. So on the one hand, I'm happy to have access to un-dubbed American TV...but on the other hand, so much of it just sucks. Monday, November 10, 2003
Mmmmm...Snack Every once in a while, something comes along that makes you question whether there is an upper limit for the concentration of funny. This is most definitely one of those things. Thursday, October 30, 2003
I Want to Be Zorro ...for Halloween. I don't really know why. Well, besides the facts that he looks pretty cool (and he's a magical mythopoetic figure in Mexamerican history, lookin' out for the little guy). I just can't find the right kind of hat. Or a whip.* Italians sort of play along with the whole Halloween thing, putting up decorations in most shops (from caffes to copisterias), but it's hard to find a costume superstore. Or just a costume store, seeing as it's pretty hard to find ANY kind of superstore around here. Except Ikea...mmmmm. Maybe I should go there. Anyway, the school's having a party tomorrow night, and we (200 strong) have invited the foreign students' association (1000 strong) at the main university to share a place that holds 600 people. Yeah, that'll be fun. And given our love of partying, the fact that the holiday lands on a Friday this year is gonna be crazy. *I've been told that a sword would be more accurate, but I want a whip, dammit! Sunday, October 19, 2003
Hold Your Peace I almost got into a bar fight last night. A large group of us were at the Scuderia, a ridiculously big bar with a hilariously awful cover band, celebrating my classmate Allison's birthday. I was chatting with an acquaintance (X) who introduced me to a friend of his (Y) who is in town for the weekend. Y was bragging about how he'd taken X to a strip club the night before, which...well, X is married with a small child. Maybe it's cool with everyone involved, I don't know. Jokingly, I flicked him on the forehead and reprimanded his for his bad influence. We went on talking about whatever else. About ten minutes later, Y suddenly turned to me and said, "Don't you touch me again." "What?" "You touch me again and I'll beat you to a bloody pulp." "Really? You know, I'm bigger than you." Y is a good six to eight inches shorter than me. Probably wasn't the best thing to say, but I'd had a couple of beers. "Come on. Let's go outside. I'll beat you to a bloody pulp." He was smiling, but serious. I reflected. I turned to X and asked, "Just how drunk is he?" "On a scale of 1 to 10...I'd say about a 3." X was amused. I wasn't. Y repeated his threat again, but hadn't yet put up his dukes. The thing is, I was severely tempted to just pop him one right there, break his nose, let him have it. I've never been in a fistfight, but it sounds exhilarating. Still, I guess in the end I'm a fairly mature person: I just turned and walked away. Oh, I also spent most of the day in Venice. That was nice. Sunday, October 12, 2003
Yes, There Is Something Very Wrong with That Went to a club last night. Link. It was pretty cool: a massive old warehouse, with four big rooms featuring different music/lighting/enviro atmospheres. And since it was the opening night for the 2003-04 season (everything--even nightclubs--closes for the summer here; it sucks), the cover was pay-what-you-wish...which everyone knows means €1. Dario--my conveniently-Italian roommate--and I arrived at 11:30 pm. Dead. A few dozen people (which in this space was nothing) were milling about, but the music hadn't even been turned on or the lights lowered. We decided to go find a bar down the street (as a general rule in Italy, there is always a bar down the street) and hang out there until the club got hoppin'. It was a nice bar: well-lit, convivial. Young people, mostly; a good male/female mix. There was even a waiter to lead us to our table. (When we sat down, he put kids' junior-jumble placemats in front of us--you know the kind, with a crossword and connect-the-dots and find-the-differences-between-these-pictures...cute.) The group at the next table over were playing Jenga. We ordered our beers and started chatting. And then I looked up at the TV screens. Hentai. Now, I've never seen hentai before, and I wouldn't even know the word if it hadn't been for a brief mention on a friend's website (you know who you are), but I'd heard it described in that "oh, those Japanese" way, and I thought it sounded pretty silly. Animated porn, featuring bosomy women with monsters and...well, monster accessories. And the requisite ick. It wasn't until Dario caught my attention ("Mike. Mike. HEY.") that I snapped out of it. "You should see some of the faces you're making." (My jaw had literally dropped, it seems.) "What the fuck is this? Why is no one else freaking out?" "I don't know. I've never seen anything like this before either." He started to laugh. I should mention that both the screens in my line of sight were behind him, which was completely unfair. "What the--OH my GOD." (You don't want to know.) "Maybe you should just stop looking." "But..." "You know, as long as everyone in here is over 18, it's legal." (Dario is, by the way, a lawyer.) "But... But..." At that moment, the waiter came by to offer us free shots (of something) followed with a grape. He was more impressed that I was from California ("My grandmother, she lives in L.A.!") than anything else I had to say. Every day, another mindbender. Oh, yay. Thursday, September 25, 2003
Sunday, September 21, 2003
DSL! DSL! I have DSL at home! Wireless! It's like...it's like...being in America again! I never ever have to leave my bedroom for anything! ...Uh-oh. Friday, September 12, 2003
September 12 It's been exactly a year since I handed in my resignation. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and many people counselled me to find another job before dumping the secure one I had. Every once in a while, though, I just have to go with my gut. I wasn't even particularly thinking about graduate school at the time, and I certainly wasn't clear on what course of study to follow. It's astounding, really, to think about the lucky concatenation of events that led me to where I am today...studying international relations...in Italy. Is this the best possible outcome for me?* I can't honestly say, but I like what I've done with me. *This, I think, is what people mean when they refer to economics as the "dismal science": the conviction that anything but the most absolutely profitable option is somehow inferior. Saturday, August 23, 2003
TARcon 4 I am an Internet TV geek. It is a long, slow process of realization, but at the point one finds oneself on the train to New York to watch a television show's season finale with a bunch of complete strangers in hopes of mingling with some of the show's stars--well, that's an undeniable fact. And that's where I found myself on Thursday. The Amazing Race is not your average reality show. Contestants don't sit in a house all day or struggle to cook rice or jockey to marry one another; they run and fly and dive (and drive) and think. Over the course of 13 legs, they have to find their way around the world--in a given episode, they'll have to get from, say, Amsterdam to Bombay, load hay bales on an elephant, and navigate a crowded marketplace with any help they can get. They are eliminated not because their competitors have found any petty fault with them, but because their own luck and skill put them in last place on a particular leg. Better still, it involves teamwork: you're on the run with someone close to you (a friend or family member) and communication is paramount. This is a very good show. Consequently, its ratings have been permanently in the toilet--at least in the U.S. (Apparently, it has a very strong following in Asia.) But there is a devoted core of American fans linked through the ether who have held a big party in Manhattan at the end of each season. They were surprised (and overjoyed) the first time to discover that many of the racers showed up. (Apparently, CBS had no interest in holding a celebration of its own. Their loss.) Having heard the descriptions from previous years' parties, being only three hours away by train, and knowing there's a good chance that this fourth season could be its last, I knew I had to go. And I went. My schedule was somewhat thwarted by Amtrak: the train to NYC was over an hour late, which gave me under an hour to spent with some AmeriCorps friends I'd arranged to have a happy hour with. (But it was great to see them: Matt and Neene, you are patient and you rock.) Then the party got started...admission by prepurchase only, so no last-minute wanderers-in. It was intense. The episode itself was a crowd-pleaser, but an hour passes quickly. I have to admit that I spent well over another hour fighting to overcome my initial wallflowery inclinations, but it wasn't until around 11 that the racers started pouring in, and all of them--winners and losers, the on-screen pleasant and unpleasant--were given a hero's welcome. Oddly enough, I found that I wasn't able to make small talk with more than a few of the other fans and instead got swallowed up in conversation with the contestants. They were incredibly welcoming and very...physically affectionate. (I'll be curious to see how the pictures turned out.) Drunk and happy, yes. It was agonizing to get on the train again at 3 am. Some evil part of my mind insisted that I had to be back in D.C. for the last day of classes (which, as it turned out, really wasn't necessary). Even before I'd arrived, I wished I were still in New York. But parties always end, and this one was no exception. I guess it's appropriate that the culmination of my geekhood occurred just days before I give up all access to American television. It's probably a good thing...I need to spend more time outdoors. Monday, August 18, 2003
Foot + Ball Yesterday about two dozen of us played soccer in the Ellipse (a big grassy area between the Washington Monument and the White House). I thought that was pretty cool, especially after one of my teammates (a Palestinian) commented that there are quite a number of countries where it would be inconceivable for the public to use land a block away from the executive mansion for recreation. Kind of sore today. And tired. But a good tired. Tuesday, August 12, 2003
'Bucked-Up Coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee. Coffee coffee coffee. My life in a nutshell. Huh? Wha? I'm not a coffee drinker. In fact, when a classmate spilled her coffee all over the floor near me last week, I had to get up and move because the fumes were making me woozy. (True!) But my resistance has been weakening. Yesterday on the Metro, I picked up the Washington Post and read through an entire essay* about how stressful it is to buy coffee at Starbucks because of allegiances to certain locations, the question of queues and motion, and the bewildering array of options on the menu. It was insipid, cliché, and five years too late, just as you'd expect. Later on, to recover from the midterm (midterms already!) I took that morning, I decided to go see Dirty Pretty Things.** The main character was fond of chewing on leaves (I assumed they were coca) to help him stay awake throughout his two jobs as a cabdriver and hotel concierge. Hmmm. I haven't been up to par lately: a lot of studying, less-than-optimal nutrition, and choppy sleep. So today in class (at the ripe hour of 8 am), I found myself feeling unquestionably droopy. I turned to my roommate at the break and said--for the first time in my life--"I need coffee." Her eyes sparkled. After being instructed in the differences between caffè latte and café au lait (foam, I guess), and a few more minutes of deliberation, I chose a mocha and headed back to class. It turns out everything I've heard is true: my head began to buzz pleasantly, my attention focused, my hand began to quiver as I quickly tapped my fingers (quietly, of course) and my bladder began working overtime. It was a rush! I'd tried to explain to one of my incredulous classmates ("Never? Oh, come on.") that I generally try to avoid things I can sense are addictive, and now...well, I want more. It's true, then. Graduate school changes people. I didn't expect it could happen so speedily. Yipe! *Yeah, when exactly did "the news" transmogrify from articles to essays? ** It's good. I recommend it. Your average finicky moviegoer might scoff at Audrey Tautou playing a Turkish Muslim despite her French accent. And the ending might be considered predictable or simplistic, but I liked it. The only part I found amusing was that the conversation (of immigrants from around the world in London) was about how much of a dream it would be to go to New York. OK, since you're talking about the difference in the standard of living: Calcutta to New York? Sure. London to New York? Not so much. Monday, August 11, 2003
I So I wrote a whole long thing about being an introvert and being suddenly reminded of it after a long time--since I'm now surrounded by unfamiliar faces and stuck in an intense situation with a lot of people in a small area--and how I know it'll take time for me to be at ease enough to make small talk with everyone (which is fine because I'm more given to standing back and absorbing information before I participate) and how it's a little weird sitting quietly among people chattering away during class breaks and also how some people seemed to instantaneously form cliques the first few days and how I'm ready to move on from D.C. already...but the stupid computers in this lab have a tendency to delete things when one hits "send" or "post" or "save" or "do not delete." Sigh. All in all, I miss my friends. This starting-over process isn't fun. Tuesday, August 05, 2003
Roses and Kittens and Air Travel... My passport finally got delivered to the school, so I actually am free to leave the country as planned! Stupid USPS tried to divert my mail to Modesto before I specified and then apparently had a complete malfunction for a week or so. So happy. So not-in-limbo. Friday, August 01, 2003
...And then I went to the school's happy hour, drank a lot of free wine, met a nice Indo-Chilean girl named Maya, and we scoped out the cute-guy quotient on campus. The consensus: not much to look at. Oh, well. Good times. Washington fucking scares me. I don't mean it in the normal way: the people here don't really affect me much either way--so far, they seem like people anywhere. It's the city itself that gives me the creeps. It's gray and hot and wet and gray (first time, the buildings; second time, the sky) and loud. And OK, one thing about the people bugs me, but it's obviously related to the socioeducational circle I'm in: everyone dresses nice. I'm wearing shorts today (because, like I said before, it's hot. and wet.) and the minute I walked into the school I was very aware of it. People here wear khakis and dress shirts to class. Loafers. Vests. Granted, it's air conditioned in all the buildings, which minimizes the hot-n-sticky time to the few moments spent outdoors, but people! please! Think about personal comfort! I'm pretty relieved that I chose to spend my first year away from here. I'm also somewhat ashamed to say that, for the first time in my life, I'm feeling homesick. Pretty damn hard. California is really nice. I don't really know anyone here. I'm not sure if I'm going to do anything fun this weekend. (Except whining--that's pretty damn fun.) I think I may just be a couch jockey. I WANT MY PASSPORT! Oh, but my preofessors are fun. 'N cool. Yeah. Monday, July 28, 2003
Two Days! I'm leaving! In two days! To become a grad student! Me! Acting like an adult, sort of! It's scary! It's unbelievable! It's simple and complex! What do I focus on? Where's my passport? Why? Who? What? Aauuugghhh! Wednesday, July 23, 2003
$3,750! I sold my car! Sure, it was for less than I originally hoped, but it turned out to be more than I feared. And at least it's over. A guy emailed me yesterday saying he was interested. I arranged to meet him today to look it over. We gave it a quick once-over, he announced his price, we haggled it a bit, he said he had cash on hand if he could take it away immediately...I went for it. I'm largely relieved. I was really worried it wouldn't get sold and I'd be scrambling to get rid of it, but now it's taken care of; the flip side is a kind of sadness: it was originally my grandmother's and I was getting attached to it. Hard to see it go. Hits home the reality of how soon I'm leaving. Which makes me worry a little bit more about the fact that my passport is in limbo in the mail somewhere between Washington and here. Eek! Thursday, July 17, 2003
The Life of Brian This morning I called a friend from high school who is doing a law internship in Mumbai. He was in a cab (on the way to a date!), making the otherwise-scratchy connection profoundly inaudible; still it was pretty clear that in the past two months he'd picked up a noticeably Indian accent. I giggled inwardly at the thought of seeing this whiter-than-white boy earnestly retroflexing his alveolars* and asked him about it. He responded that the people there have a hard time understanding American accent and he had to learn to accommodate them. Something about the English Empire and language colonialism comes to mind, but I haven't the heart to explore it. *Trust me, I'm a linguist. Wednesday, July 16, 2003
No, Really Jerry Springer is deciding to enter the race for a Senate seat in Ohio. [bleep], [bleep], [bleep]. Saturday, July 12, 2003
Blogger doesn't seem to like showing a lowercase i with a grave accent (`), choosing instead to render it as ì. Perché parlano cosi? I picked up one of those multimedia teach-yourself-Italian kits at the library last week and have been dutifully going through a lesson every day, learning about pleasantries, transportation, food, telling time, and the like. It's set up in a rather clever way--first, listen to some natural dialogues, then go back and listen again while following along with a written translation (to see how much was understood the first time), learn some basic grammar, complete a few exercises, practice engaging in dialogue, and listen to the prerecorded dialogues again. What I like about it is that everything isn't overenunciated for the listener--one has to listen to (and get used to) the language as it is actually spoken. The downside of this is that...well, a lot of the voices are really annoying. The men sound overly sad when discussing when the train will arrive or what is included with a double room at the hotel. The women have a weird nasal-metallic tint to their speech that makes it sound like they couldn't possibly be more bored when asking what you'd like to drink or introducing their relatives. (The exception is the slightly older woman who sounds as if speaking is terribly painful.) Only Giovanni, the narrator, can be trusted to speak pleasantly. I've grown kind of nervous, wondering whether Italy is truly populated with people who sound like nails on a chalkboard, or whether the Just Listen 'n Learn people are choosing these hideous voices purposefully, in order to astound me with how well I'll be able to communicate when I get there. Tuesday, July 08, 2003
Monday, July 07, 2003
Blah Pack and sort. Pack and sort. Pack and sort. Try a Pilates class. Go to a bar with friends. (Play darts. Play pinball.) Go biking. Lie in bed. Learn Italian. Arrange get-togethers. Throw out randomly-acquired crap. Pack and sort. Pack and sort. Move things out of the hallway to accommodate landlord's sudden interest in showing the place off to potential tenants. Go out for ice cream. Rent videos. Pack and sort. See a movie. Advertise car. Water plants. Make soup in saucepan. Skip lunch. Send important documents cross-country at the last minute. Consider buying new luggage. Look at bank balance. Reapply for loans. Attempt eight things at once. Finish nothing. Admit to self that nothing has actually been packed, just sorted. Stop. Sit down. Read for a while. Consider going to supermarket. Consider doing laundry. Check email. Consider writing to friends. Stare at the clock. Talk on phone. Go to library. Go to church. Pack and sort. Brush teeth. Consider flossing. Use mouthwash. Fall asleep. Wake up thirsty. Pack and sort. Monday, June 16, 2003
Angry! At first, I thought it was a joke: we just had an election less than a year ago! Davis did well! Sure, he's not universally loved, but we've had a lot worse (and quite recently). Why would there be a recall? Nevertheless, there it is on the evening news: 700,000 of the 900,000 signatures required for a recall initiative have been collected. If they reach their goal, the initiative will be on the ballot this fall, in a special election sure to have low turnout and likely to draw voters as conservative as the people behind the recall effort. Who's behind it? Bush's campaign coordinator for California. The president himself is one of the driving forces in this travesty, and I can't help but think about the sick and insidious game of politics--Bush having been the governor of Texas just as Gov. Davis brought to light the fact that Texan companies were screwing over the California energy market. This stinks. Not only that the Republicans are conspiring to take out a major Democratic figure in time for the 2004 election, not only that it shows they have no respect for democracy if it doesn't produce the results they want, but most saliently that the same people who are all for cutting taxes and reducing government spending want to waste a sizeable portion of the state's money to basically hold an election that will at the least change nothing from last year's election and alternately upend our state's government in the middle of a term. What the hell? I'm too angry to feel coherent. www.stoptherecall.com www.stoptherecall.com www.stoptherecall.com Tuesday, June 03, 2003
There's a Kind of Hush... Everything in my life has gotten pretty quiet as of late. I've helped two roommates move out over the past month, and with just two of us left (and my remaining roommate a workaholic) the house is very quiet during the day. Quiet and big. And warm. More like a movie set than a living area, really. I've gotten my transportation and housing for this fall pretty well worked out, too, so I've over fretting about that. One of my classmates was kind enough to let me share a rather expensive sublet in DC in order to keep costs down. STA Travel was savvy enough to get me a cheap flight from DC to Rome, and I was adventurous enough to find a discounted train ticket from Rome to Bologna. Even my everpresent (if exaggerated) money woes seem to have lessened recently...I've made what I do have work for me, and have decided not to sweat the prospects of what I don't have. Even the looming shadow of a fine for my first-ever speeding citation (really not much of a story: I was approaching Lafayette from a rural road and wasn't slowing down at the rate the speed limit was changing from 55 to 45 to 35) doesn't faze me. My biggest concern right now, really, is cleaning up my living space, throwing out a lot of crap, and figuring out what to pack, what to store, and what to sell. But I have nearly two months to deal with all that. I'm glad I'm not just sitting around (which I find incredibly easy to do), but going out and doing things I enjoy. I went orienteering on Sunday, and though my legs are all scratched up and I was dead tired afterward, it was great. I'm going to camp in Yosemite and hike Half Dome next week. I've been touring the East Bay Open Studios and have been considered for a modeling job for a sculptor. I'm reading and--after a long period of neglect--keeping in touch with friends again. Life is good. Quiet, but good. Saturday, May 24, 2003
Friday, May 23, 2003
En Fin I admit I spent a lot of time agonizing over whether I could really pass up Georgetown and all the opportunities it presents. Well, that's overwith. Thursday, May 22, 2003
Ten-Word Reviews of the Movies I've Seen This Week Cidade de Deus (City of God) - Brazil's slums are really awful. Become a journalist and escape! Rivers and Tides - Andy Goldsworthy is amazingly dedicated to making nature art. Zzzzz. The Shape of Things - Some people are bad. Some are victims. Who's Gretchen Mol? Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Like Stuff, and...Stuff Sometimes it seems odd to me that I can go days and even weeks at a time without posting anything here. There is something worth writing about every day, but I can't get myself to sit down and write it out. The reason is simple, and embarrassing: I am a slow writer. The grammar snob in me has to make sure that everything is technically correct--and even so, I make mistakes--without any relevance to whether there is any substance to what I write. The reason for that is that I'm a slow thinker. No, I'm not being modest. It's taken me a few minutes already to get this far, and I'm attempting to type this about as stream-of-consciousness as I possibly can. (Side note: I am a poor typist too. I have tried many times to get through one of those computerized Teach Yourself Typing programs so I don't have to stare at the keyboard while I'm typing. Unfortunately, my hands start to cramp up from the repetitive exercises every single time.) (Side note to that side note: I have further come to realize that I have a general aversion to computers. I can't think when I'm staring at a screen. Either I zone out and start clicking randomly at other things or my head starts to hurt. Maybe it's the poor ergonomics of my home setup. Maybe I just want to save my vision. Regardless, the obvious answer is that I should sit down with pen and paper and write things that way, then type it up. The only problem with that is that I can never seem to get my thoughts down in order and the paper soon becomes a mess as I draw arrows moving Section B ahead of Section A, or inserting New Idea C into whatever's already on the page. so I type it all up to have a clean copy, then mark that up with new ideas, do it all over again, repeat the process, etc. I go through a lot of paper that way. I feel bad about it. End of note.) Obviously--and with thanks to Anne Lamott, who made it so obvious--the answer to not being able to write easily is...to write more! (More often, that is.) Her advice is excellent: just let it all come out! Shitty first drafts! Whatever you think, you write. It's only if the text will be published (or is written to impress someone) that it needs revising, and even then, one has to start somewhere. (See how I did that? I went from "you" to "one" in those last two sentences, and I'm not caring!) Great. Wonderful. This is something I've known for a while. I'm still not writing, though, and it's not for lack of time. Oh, no no. The key is discipline, and that's something I'm finding entirely missing from my life. It's amazing I'm even paying my bills regularly. I don't think I'm the kind of person who can handle routine responsibilities well (the absent-minded professor type, yes?). Which reminds me of way back when I had a job, and my boss would say gently--for I was his favorite--that I needed to multitask more. Well, I can't. I admit it. I really need to work on that. As it is, I just get fixated on one thing, and it's hard to put that down until it's done. I guess I just don't like things open-ended. Weird, considering I'm kind of a capricious person--I expect the world to accommodate my disorderedness, but can't really deal with the randomness of the world. No, that's not it. I like the randomness of the world. I am bored by routine. I need novelty. But I don't alway know where to find it...and now I'm getting off track. It seems like what I enjoy about the world--its unpredictability in some respects--isn't what I like in myself. That's still not it, but I think I'm getting closer. When I write, I don't know where I'm going to end up. One of the biggest problems I've had throughout my writing life is in how to write a conclusion--or, first, how to come to a conclusion. I tend to leave things hanging, because I don't like to be repetitive. But at the same time, I really struggle to find something new to say to tie together all that has come before. I feel that too often I end up making things sounds falsely portentous. Or I've had trouble focusing on one idea and all the disparate elements of what I've written add up to a labyrinth of gesture and very little argument. And let's not talk about my powers of argument. They could use some help, too. But I will keep on writing. It helps me to know more about myself, and that's all I truly care about. Next: Less navel-gazing! (We--I--hope!) Wednesday, May 07, 2003
Mktg Being hard up for cash and in search of something new, I went to a focus group last week. The topic was energy drinks, or rather, an energy drink. Despite my almost total lack of interest in or experience with anything more caffeinated than tea, [Company] had seen fit to let me have a go at it. (I was surprised to find out that, not being a coffee drinker, I was not alone in my group of eight 18-to-30-year-old peers.) The session took place in a windowless room with the requisite mirrored wall and microphones on the table and ceiling. Our effusive host laid down a general outline of the evening's agenda started us out asking which drinks already on the market we were familiar with. The general consensus was that [Product] was the best-known. How did we drink it? Mixed with vodka, mostly. (Not its intended use, but the innovative drive of America's youth cannot be underestimated!) I was the only one who had heard of [Other Product], which caught Effusive Host's attention--it turned out that [Other Product Spinoff] was to be our main topic for the night. [Spinoff] is apparently a revolutionary idea in the world of energy drinks: a get-up-in-the-morning-and-go option meant to combine the attributes of orange juice and coffee. With carbonation. Yeah, I know: yuck. We were first asked to appraise a design for the can. My fellow groupies immediately won my heart by sniffing that it gave the impression of its contents being totally artificial (and it looked rather like a box of detergent, one pointed out). We went on to compare other can designs--always referred to as "ideas" by Effusive Host--then discuss a short block of text ("[Spinoff] has the goodness of guaraná and maltodextrin!") that EH claimed was not ad copy. The word "ignite" figured multiple times in the mystery text, and "fire" seemed to be the theme of the can designs. This will be important later. EH presented a number of different colors for the drink itself (from Day-Glo yellow to persimmon orange), and further ideas for package designs. I have to admit the clear plastic can was pretty cool, but the silver bottle ("it looks like...hair mousse!") and tallboy just elicited snickers. After much buildup, we were presented with four samples. Somehow I thought they'd already decided on the composition of the product, but...no. The first was, um, pungent--I could smell it from six feet away. Oh, yeah. Not a good sign. Tasted horrible. Horrible. I imagine the first sample was presented in order to make all the others seem much nicer by comparison. And they did. One tasted like Sunny Delight (ordinarily not pleasant, but in context quite refreshing), one tasted like Orangina, and I found the last sample intermediate, although some others in the group likened it to [Parent Product], the logo of which was featured prominently and rather uglily on all package designs. I have to admit that after tasting the latter samples, I wasn't quite so opposed to the product idea as I thought I'd be. It didn't have the nasty caffeinated taste I'd expected, and was rather refreshing. Still, I wouldn't give up orange juice (healthier and cheaper) that easily. The most telling moment came when we were asked to rate alternate names for [Spinoff]. Some were clever, some were silly...and then there was "Urgent Orange." A couple of my groupmates laughed--OK, I initially laughed too--and said it was so ridiculous that if they saw it in the market, they just might try it. Any negative comments? "Yeah," I said. "It borders on offensive." EH's blank stare told me all I needed to know about why I was glad I didn't go into marketing. It's not exactly esoteric knowledge that Agent Orange is a defoliant used in Vietnam and now linked to various diseases; a product that puns (poorly) on it and incorporates a sense of "burning" in its ad campaign would be in bad taste. Monday, May 05, 2003
Cinque di Maggio So I decided on Hopkins, which in common parlance means 'Italy.' I then wrestled with myself for a few days after, just to get all the insecurity out. I think it's just about gone. Feels good. Have started picking up bits of Italian; am amused to find the odd pairing of Germania 'Germany' with tedesco 'German.' I guess it's about as reasonable as our 'Holland/Dutch' conflation. I've also figured out that arrivederci is based on rivedere 'to see again.' It's kind of cute. In other news, one of my roommates moved out on Friday, taking with her the cable and DSL (and a small piece of my heart). I am adjusting fairly well to my new, technologically-backward life. It's for the best, I guess. More time to clean...and exercise...and read...and go out and do stuff...and stuff... Thursday, April 24, 2003
Interdisciplinary Studies One of the few things I remember from high-school physics is the concept of work. Work is the product of force and displacement; that is, it represents how much effort one puts into something and how far it goes. "The catch is," my teacher said, "that it measures displacement, not distance: all that matters is how far the object gets from its initial position." In other words, one can carry a piano down a flight of stairs and then back up, but if the piano is put back in exactly the same position afterward, no work was done. Which brings me to my Big Decision. I've been all over the map: nearly convinced that one school is perfect for me, then sucked back in by the other's allures. Established a complete course of study at one, then seen the other throw a wrench in the works. Decided that studying abroad is frivolous and counterproductive, then figured that I deserve the leeway to be young and free-spirited. Bobbled economics, ethics, politics, law, and language as the "important" aspect. Considered the campuses (though I know they shouldn't matter) at length. Been rational, been moody. Industrious and indifferent. Administration or atmosphere? Emotion or ambition? It all comes down to...I still don't know. Right where I was before. My father sent me a cryptic email yeserday about a financial aid offer that he received and mailed to me (which I should receive today). I've tried calling and can't get in touch. If it's just loans, then no matter. If it's scholarship--well well well! Time is running out. Nothing like pressure to make a difficult decision more so. Monday, April 21, 2003
Spring Is Here! Summer's Coming! Some people look for the first robin. Others anticipate the big cheesy movies. I saw the Lake Merritt gondola! Friday, April 18, 2003
Monday, April 14, 2003
The Incomplete Non-description of My Quick Trip to D.C. Last Week I was recently accepted to two international relations (IR) programs for this fall: the School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS) of The Johns Hopkins University* and the Master of Science in Foreign Service (MSFS) at Georgetown University. Both great schools, both great programs, both located in beautiful Washington, D.C. (Well, sort of: on a whim, I applied for the SAIS-Bologna program, which would put me in Italy for a year, then to D.C. For God's own reasons, the school is letting me do it.) Seems like a pretty easy decision: international adveturism in one of the world's favorite tourist detinations, or two years stuck in Oxbridge-on-the-Potomac? Yeah, I thought so, too. Nevertheless, in a fit of practicality, I decided to attend their open houses--conveniently scheduled for last Wednesday and Thursday...and damned if they didn't both provide horrendously well-orchestrated presentations. I walked out of Georgetown thinking I'd be a fool not to go there: the program is more intimate, there aren't so many economics requirements, they actually have a certificate program in refugee and humanitarian emergencies (!), and the people were just plain friendlier. But...Italy. It's tough. There's so much to weigh. SAIS has language programs; MSFS actively discourages language-study during the program. MSFS has a campus with a gym and lawns and a library and stuff; SAIS is six blocks from the White House and two blocks from practically everything else in D.C. Georgetown makes no bones about being a religious institution, but Johns Hopkins has a reputation for pockets of shocking conservatism. SAIS is graduate-only; MSFS students cross paths with undergrads fairly often. The MSFS program enrolls 80 students per year; SAIS has around 300--but fewer than half of those will be in Bologna with me. SAIS students took me out to dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant; MSFS students took me out to a gay dance club. Both are in the top five--perhaps even top three--IR programs in the nation. Both have massive alumni networks around the world. It would cost me the same to go to either. I cannot go wrong. It is, I have decided, basically a personality test. Maybe it will come down to the pitches they offered. SAIS said, "We are the best. You cannot go wrong here"; the MSFS program said, "We are not perfect for everyone, but we are very good at what we do. Make the choice that is right for you." Hmmm... *Yes, it is officially "The Johns Hopkins University." How definite of them. Saturday, April 12, 2003
Further Proof That Worlds Far Outside Your Own Exist Under Your Nose Found this by accident. The Web is a rockin' thing. (Check out: Black Tarry Stool > Top Ten > Top 10 (+2) Responses to Enduring a Colonoscopy) Friday, April 11, 2003
Karma? No, really, it's funny: I was on my way to Washington (the D. of C.) and had a layover in Salt Lake. A thirtyish couple (who didn't appear to have much flying experience) sat next to me. We ordered and received drinks. And... The lady set her Coke down at the edge of her tray--next to me--and began to fall asleep, knocking the cup over in my direction. Luckily, I deflected the majority of it with my own tray before I set about discreetly wiping the rest of it from my discman and jeans. (She apologized profusely once she figured out where the mess came from.) Moments later, the gentleman managed to slosh the remains of his soda across my shirt as he passed his (not quite empty) cup to the flight attendant. (He apologized still more profusely.) I think I took it all in good stride. No unkind words. No threats. No glaring. I rule. Tuesday, April 08, 2003
Yipe! It was rush hour at In 'N Out. J & I had just finished an ambitious rock climbing session and were tired but pleased with ourselves. We sat down by the window to stare out at the parking lot and recharge. I got up to refill my lemonade. Navigating through the crowded eating area, my body turning one way and my attention another, I inadvertently flung a few drops at another patron. (The cup had been empty, but not dry.) He glowered at me as I offered a feeble "sorry" and--by way of explanation--pantomimed accidentally flicking my wrist while managing to enunciate nothing more than "splish." He said nothing. Embarrassed, I continued on to the soda fountain. Coming back, I saw his eyes still trained on me. "Did you do that on purpose?" he growled, seemingly ready to jump up out of his seat. A woman sitting at another table behind him assured him that I had not, while dabbing at his neck with her napkin. I mustered another "sorry," grateful for her intercession, surprised he hadn't taken care of it himself, and incredulous at his accusation. He continued to stare at me as I returned to my seat, facing away. As I silently ate my burger, I fully expected 16 ounces of soda to bombard me from behind; I was oddly unrelieved when it never materialized. I get frazzled easily by unexpected confrontation. I (like most people) don't like causing conflict and I tend to wonder how much is truly my fault when I get pulled into it. With this guy, however, I figure he must have already been upset about something. One doesn't just get so angry about such little things, right? ...Or maybe one can, but what does that say about a person's emotional life? Has he been shat upon all his life and been unable to relate calmly to the slightest challenge? Or is he just a bastard, rage running unchecked? What did he do afterward--did he calm down immediately, dissociative-style? Did he cool down later, on his buddy's advice? Did he hold onto that anger at someone else's expense and misfortune? What happens to the person who (unlike me) chooses not to go into deferential mode in order to defuse the situation? How often do our unnoticed interactions with others turn into unpleasant interactions for others down the line? Is this what we mean by "the human condition"? ...And why am I so entranced by this silly thing when I'm taking off in 15 hours to hit D.C. and decide the course of my life for the next two years and beyond? Wednesday, April 02, 2003
Financial Phobia Finally, something on the empty, dust-filled plains of the Internet that I can relate to! Why, just look at these excerpts! "Financial Phobia is a psycho-social syndrome which causes individuals to avoid cognitive engagement with the management of their personal finances. Sufferers experience negative emotions of anxiety, guilt, boredom, or feelings of lack of control when dealing with money matters, resulting in lack of vigilance – and in the worst cases complete avoidance – in this area. [...] "However, while Financialphobes may share many of the symptoms of other forms of phobia, evidence from the in-depth interviews suggests that in general they are well adjusted individuals who cope well in other psychological and social aspects of their lives – for example interpersonal relationships or careers. [...] "Financialphobes are highly intelligent people who are high achievers in other domains of their lives, such as careers and family lives. They do not display characteristics of the stereotypes associated with feckless or incompetent individuals. There is no evidence that they are spendthrifts or impulsive – if anything they understand well the importance of sound management of their finances, but have become entwined in a psychological syndrome which makes it near to impossible for them to deal with their personal finances." Then there's some crap about teaching people to plan for the future and confront their bank statements and blah blah blah oh please just kill me now.* *The author requests that you sheathe your weapons and allow him carry on with his melodrama. Monday, March 31, 2003
Heh Heh. Huh? Y'all remeber how incredulous I was that the war was being discussed seriously on MTV a couple of weeks back? It now appears that coverage is absolutely everywhere. (OK, well, almost.) Friday, March 28, 2003
Forbidden Fruit with Pickles and Mustard* I was standing outside a greasy spoon early this afternoon, awaiting the arrival of my order--a quarter-pound burger and a vanilla milkshake--when it struck me that it's Lent, it's Friday, and I was planning on abstaining from meat today. I'll admit I don't go to Mass much these days, and I'm not quick to defend the Church's actions and statements, but I do observe certain traditions. I can't help it. (For the curious: I don't put stock in the concept of "Catholic guilt." My definition of sin is probably not too orthodox, and I don't subscribe to any sort of self-flagellation. I like a challenge: I wonder what it's like to want something, and I guess I experiment with discipline and willpower a little this way.) I picked up my order and thought back to a time in rural South Carolina where a vegetarian friend was served a salad covered in bacon bits. He looked at it for a second, then began eating. "The pig is already dead," he explained. "There's no reason for me to waste this." His reason wasn't religion, I recalled: it was conservation. I walked away, burger in bag, sipping on the milkshake. I suppose it's odd in a way that I decided to make this sacrifice based on a belief I'm not sure I actually hold, but I think in some small way it makes me stronger. People of sound mind have willingly endured a lot more for more mysterious reasons. Anyhow, all I'm sure of right now is that the midnight my clock strikes midnight, I'm grabbing that damn thing out of the fridge and chowing down. *I was going to try to meditate on the fact that no one really knows what the fruit of knowledge of good and evil was (we've mythologized it into an apple, but it could just as well have been a pomegranate), and on the feminist response to the blame pinned on Eve for introducing sin, but I can only work with one unsurety at a time right now. Balance Phone message: I was not offered the temporary research position that I thought I had in the bag. Email message: I've been accepted to Georgetown. On a whim (of course), I booked tickets to hit Washington for both the G-town and SAIS Open Houses, conveniently scheduled for consecutive days. It also means I get back the day before the FSWE. Hooray! Thursday, March 27, 2003
...And Some Things Are Really, Really Funny The LiveJournal of Kim Jong Il: Korean! Dictator! Humor! Randomosity I contributed this to this site because I, like other un- and underemployed people these days, am seeing a lot of ludicrous job postings out there. (I also crossed out a phrase in a contract for tutoring services I just filled out. Look at me! Fighting the power!) Ah, well...This afternoon I have an interview for a temporary research position with a nonprofit advocacy agency, so wish me luck! Last week I went to see one of my favorite authors for the first time, and the first thing I found myself thinking was Damn, he's old. I was conscious of the fact that he'd used the same photo on his books' dust jackets for ten years, but he looked wizened, beaky, and menacing...at least in profile. Then he came up to the podium and began speaking and I understood all over again what it was that captivated me about him: at the same time worldly-wise and self-deprecating, he makes people at home with his insights and astonishments. I almost asked a question, but time was short. I didn't want to stand in line to talk to him while he signed my book (it's awkward towering over someone you admire), but I was stuck--he was seated in front of the Italian dictionaries, which I had been hoping to look at. So I waited for him to get up and go. Yeah, I know. I went to see View from the Top the other day, and while I thought it was cute (and I give props to anything that features Mark Ruffalo and Candice Bergen), I have something to say to Miramax: Chocolat was bad enough (all those unnecessary award noms aside), but once you've stooped to featuring Christina Applegate in a major role, you might want to rethink the direction of your brand image. Monday, March 24, 2003
The Academy Awards: That Shit Is Fucked Up Come on, people! The crowd booed Michael Moore but cheered for Roman Polanski! The hell? Thursday, March 20, 2003
Bad News, Good News (I mean honestly: do you want to hear about the world at large or about me? ...Oh...well, bye then.) On the negative side, I've been rejected (via very efficiently-worded letters) by Princeton* and Tufts in quick succession. On the positive side, I had a great interview with a tutoring service yeserday morning and was called in for an interview next week for a temporary research job with a nonprofit that advocates for afterschool programs. Whee! Also, Johns Hopkins sent me an Evite for their open house next month. An Evite! Hilarious! (And yet, functional.) *Luckily, a friend was rejected by the same program, so we were able to bitch about the phrase "the department has recommended that you not be admitted for the forthcoming year." Ouch! Wednesday, March 19, 2003
How to Spend My Time I've gone and registered for the Foreign Service Written Examination, to be taken in a little over three weeks. Theoretically, it would be good if I were to study for it, even though (for my purposes) it's mainly a practice run. Then again, since I'm not so sure I'll get the Pickering fellowship (grad school paid for, plus assistance entering the Foreign Service), maybe I should get the ball rolling now. (Supposedly, it takes about two years from taking the FSWE to entering the Service.) Of course, I have to take time also to study for my econ class, to apply for my backup scholarships, to get all fit-like, to (continue to) send out resumes, and to figure out what I'm doing with myself this summer if the getting-a-job thing doesn't pan out. Maybe I should study Italian... On a positive note, I interviewed this morning to become a high-school/SAT tutor. $25 an hour seems like a lot, but only if you manage to string any work-hours together. Hmmm. Monday, March 17, 2003
So I Was Thinking... Seeing as I have a lot of time of my hands, a lot of friends and relatives with money to spare, a great affinity for biking, and a bizarre drive to do things For the Good of Society...maybe I'll register for the AIDS/LifeCycle. Sunday, March 16, 2003
Spotlight on: Laurel Wellman I've been a fan of her writing for many years, and I hope some day to be so pithy. Consider this bit from her column last Wednesday: [A]s the New York Times summarized the situation: "If war comes, it could end in anything from quick victory followed by democratic change to chaos and terror worldwide." Well, that's OK, then. I get all claustrophobic when the future seems too predictable. Thursday, March 13, 2003
Further Proof That Time Speeds Up Just When You're Getting Your Bearings (a.k.a. Welcome to Adulthood!) Well, it appears that today is the first anniversary of the inception of this journal.* I am so, so sorry. *(Sure, it took me many months to figure out the distinction between a blog and a journal, but I did it!) "Hit the Bottle?" "I'll Pass." I feel like I should have expanded more on my entry yesterday, but here's something a little less boring: I was flipping around on TV the other day and I landed on some "news" show on MSNBC where some commentator was frothing about "wasteful spending." The only "example" he mentioned was that the federal government (through whatever program) gave UC Davis $250K for viticulture/enology studies--meaning students drink WINE on the taxpayer dollar! My eyes practically rolled right out of my head. (Speaking of cable news upstarts, I'd like to give my eternal gratitude to whomever it was at The Onion who dreamed up the headline "Fox News Reporter Asks The Questions Others Are Too Smart To Ask.") Wednesday, March 12, 2003
America the Interested? A lot has happened in the past month. I received my first acceptance to grad school.* I went hiking and happened to meet a middle-aged man, naked from the ankles up, coming the other way. I went to Southern California to visit friends and found myself accused of a hit-and-run for scratching someone's parked car (hey, I looked and I didn't see the mark) and parking 100 feet away. I sent resumes out for administrative positions at realty and investment corporations just to give myself the satisfaction of sending resumes out. (I have yet to hear anything from anyone.)** I have discovered the joy of (and capability for) burning friends' CDs and have copied a couple of dozen over the past two weeks. I am in what appears to be a bona fide relationship, and I'm not clawing at the walls.*** I went wine-touring in Sonoma and managed to escape after buying only chocolates. What I think about most, though, is that everywhere I turn, there is serious talk about The War. On The Daily Show this week, Jon Stewart earnestly interviewed the head of the Council on Foreign Relations. I flipped over to MTV today--MTV!--for some mindless entertainment and they were showing a question-and-answer session with Tony Blair.**** I'm thinking that maybe America is actually interested in what's going on around the world. Huh? *Yesterday! Via email! To study in Italy! The only drawback is that no financial aid was offered. (Here's to the hope that my scholarships come through.) **At least I have more time to read Man's Search for Meaning during the day and lie in bed at night thinking about what it means. ***Hell, we went orienteering together last weekend and--somehow--won our course. ****Don't worry, though: the kids were expectedly discourteous. Tuesday, February 11, 2003
In-ert-i-a I'm finding it tough to get myself together and send out resumes. It's not like I have an endless supply of cash or that I particularly like sitting around at home all day, but I really don't seem to have much energy. I'm kind of dreading the thought of having to get myself up and go all the way to Berkeley this evening just because there's a free yoga class being offered. If I have the right motivation (someone watching me), I can do just about anything--two days ago I hiked all the way up and down Mt. Diablo, thankyouverymuch--but that directly conflicts with my pretension to independence. I don't need somebody to tell me what to do, unless I do need somebody...but then I have to tell that person to tell me what to do. Right now I'm looking at a pile of clean laundry sitting on my bed. The thing is, I want to do my taxes (which would take all of half an hour), but I want to do them while sitting on my bed, which I can't do until my bed is clear. And I could put the pile of clothes on the extra-long twin mattress sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor, which (the mattress) serves as a reminder that I need to take five minutes and write up an ad for craigslist to sell the thing. Except if I sit down at the computer and try to do that, I get distracted by looking at a job-search website. Or a forum about the Academy Award nominations.* Or something equally time-wasting. So I guess the best thing to do would be to get up, step away from the computer, look at my list o' Things to Do, and get set to doing them. Well, maybe tomorrow. *which were announced this morning. You didn't know? Well, three films account for half of all the acting nominations, which is either a remarkable concentration of talent (definitely true for one) or really aggressive campaigning (true for another, although I am fond of the parties involved). As always, the only nominations of any real importance are in the writing categories; the introduction of an animated features category unfortunately pits one spellbinding specimen alongside a whole ton of filler. This year's Big Fun Fact: two rappers were nominated in very different categories. Thursday, January 30, 2003
Monday, January 27, 2003
Quick Update The applications are done. I'm dating again. (How did that happen?) I still don't have a job. My family is nuts. I've tried bikram yoga (almost-passing-out ain't fun, kids). Online forums are stealing my soul. I've cleaned my room. (It's dirty again!) I convinced a theoretically-depressed friend that she is in fact happy with her life...and now she's just puzzled. Pumpkin and lentils have figured prominently in my diet. I am about to do my taxes. Thursday, January 09, 2003
The California Quarter The 20 semi-finalists for the official California Quarter have been selected and, accoring to the State Librarian (of course we have one; who do you think shows the Board of Equalization where the tax code is shelved?), the Governor wants our input! Us! The people of California! OK, the people of California and anyone else who happens to navigate over to www.ca.gov. What are the big themes? The usual: gold, miners (well, panners, to be accurate), poppies, redwoods, the Golden Gate Bridge (in the lead with 10 depictions), agriculture, Athena, missions, Yosemite, grizzly bears, and...Hollywood. Um, no. I may find it a little weird to shoulder in depictions of biotech and aerospace. I may not be a big fan of the design that looks like Microsoft clip-art. And I may be repulsed by the inclusion of ugly-ass fonts. But under no circumstances am I going to back the rolling film strip. It's not just a cliche.* It's an affront. I don't want my home to be known as The Tacky State, or The Exploitative State, or The State That's Responsible for Giving the Rest of the World the Idea That Everyone Here Is Rich and Shallow (Except the Black People, Who Are Loud and Bad). Hollywood is synonymous in the public mind with falsehood and artistic compromise and cynicism and objectification. Unfortunately, it just might be seen as apt: what better symbol to put on legal tender than that of the industry that appeals to the bottom line (and the lowest common denominator), with nothing so much as pure profit in mind. California is a large and diverse state; we amuse ourselves with trivia about the state's economy being larger than that of all but four of the world's nations.** Entertainment is an important part of the economy, and should not in itself be dismissable as unworthy of pride. But let's give America something a little less obvious: How many people know that California is the largest state in terms of agricultural production? Why not present a thing of beauty, or of intelligence? Why mar our representation with something so crass and problematic? To my fellow natives and residents of the Golden State: Say no to Hollywood! Vote for any other design, but please leave the film out of it. Vote early and vote often! And tell your friends! Together, we can ensure that this unimportant non-issue becomes something we can all bitch about. Peace. *(And an incorrect one at that: the movie industry doesn't even operate out of Hollywood anymore.) **Those would be the rest of the US, Japan, Germany, and the UK. We've recently surpassed Italy and France. You Take the Good, You Take the Bad... The grad apps process is still going strong, but at least it's looking up: I located my missing reference and he sent all the letters to me (on time!), which was my biggest concern. Apart from finishing the essays for the remaining schools, the biggest challenge left is locating someone to evaluate my Spanish language abilities (stupid Georgetown, not taking applicants at their word). All well. Oh, except for one little thing: on the one application I sent off last week, I made a teensy mistake. I was driving down to Fremont last night listening to NPR and suddenly it hit me: Did I actually refer to "Attorney General Donald Rumsfeld?" *&$%*#$!@*#!! Well, I'm sure they'll let it slide...it's just a public affairs program, anyway. And I didn't really want to go to Princeton. Who really wants to have all their financial need covered by the university? Not me! On a slightly less miserable note, the online personal thing has actually yielded a couple of promising starts. One is a self-described dork whom I found to be an excellent conversationalist...and who has family ties to Modesto. Scary, but not too scary. In his manner of speaking, he actually reminds me a lot of my friend Nathan, who is now safely ensconced in Boston--but apart from that, he's someone I wouldn't mind getting to know a little better.The other is a Cuban (!) artist (!!) who sounds as though he likes spending a lot of time outdoors. A good sign. Haven't met him yet, but I'm looking forward to meeting over coffee* next week. Otherwise, I'm back to my old habits. Getting back into shape (again), watching TV, reading crap on the Internet, looking for something to go out and see. I wonder what I'll do with the rest of my time after the apps are due next week. Oh, right...fellowships. *Yes, yes, I don't drink it. That hasn't changed. It's figurative coffee. Wednesday, January 01, 2003
And the "Lamest Personal Ad Response Ever" Award Goes to... Hi you came up as ideal match. are you interested? |