In an effort to own my inner dork, I offer this story:
From 8th grade through 12th grade, I annually attended the Colorado Mathematical Olympiad. Math geeks from all over the state showed up to sit in a room for 4 hours and attempt to answer 6 ridiculously hard math problems. They were so hard that if you managed to get even one right, or you showed your work and they thought you were on the right track to an answer, it was possible that you could swing an honorable mention in the awards ceremony.
I admit that going to the Math Olympiad is dorky. But how's this for dorkier? In all the years I attended, I never even came close to being able to answer any of the questions. I would play at answering them, but really, I didn't know what the hell I was doing. So my senior year, after brief attempts to work out answers to the questions, I decided instead to while away the rest of the test time constructing poems about how hard the math problems were, and why.
Happily, this labor of artistic love was recognized and rewarded by the Olympiad judges when they awarded me the 1997 prize for best literary achievement on the math test.
And just to show how little these die-hard math geeks value artistic vision and inspiration, while the winners of the math test received really nice graphing calculators and scholarships, I won a cheapo pen and a notepad of paper. No wonder the expression is starving artists, not starving mathematicians.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
A Public Service Announcement
I hope I'm not the only one who didn't already know this, but apparently starting this year, Daylight Savings Time is going to be about a month longer. It seems that two years ago, Congress passed a law (a measure? a decree? a something.) that says we'll be springing ahead on the second Sunday of March and springing back the first Sunday in November, instead of springing in April and falling in October.
I am very excited about this, as it means it'll be getting lighter sooner and staying light longer. I don't understand why Congress didn't do this years ago, and as long as we're on it, I don't understand why we ever go off Daylight savings at all. What is the point of ever being in a period of time that should rightfully be called Daylight wastings?
But this springing forward thing is not all fun and games and light and joy, I'll have you know. According to the IT people at my new job's headquarters, this could be the Y2K problem of 2007--except, you know, that maybe this time it won't just be a bunch of hype about computers exploding because they can't deal with rolling over from 99 to 00. The IT people are worried, and I would say rightfully so, because computer programs are set to spring and fall automatically in April and October, not March and November!
They are especially fearful of the havoc that will be wrought by the Calendar function in Microsoft Outlook. There is apparently a distinct possibility that if people aren't careful, for those three weeks everyone in America could be showing up for all of their previously scheduled appointments and conference calls an hour late. Or early. Or something. This could destroy our economy. It is not to be taken lightly. You must be prepared. Make sure to double check the time of your appointments. Or better yet, start writing them down. On paper. With a pen. It's crazy, but it just might save us all.
I am very excited about this, as it means it'll be getting lighter sooner and staying light longer. I don't understand why Congress didn't do this years ago, and as long as we're on it, I don't understand why we ever go off Daylight savings at all. What is the point of ever being in a period of time that should rightfully be called Daylight wastings?
But this springing forward thing is not all fun and games and light and joy, I'll have you know. According to the IT people at my new job's headquarters, this could be the Y2K problem of 2007--except, you know, that maybe this time it won't just be a bunch of hype about computers exploding because they can't deal with rolling over from 99 to 00. The IT people are worried, and I would say rightfully so, because computer programs are set to spring and fall automatically in April and October, not March and November!
They are especially fearful of the havoc that will be wrought by the Calendar function in Microsoft Outlook. There is apparently a distinct possibility that if people aren't careful, for those three weeks everyone in America could be showing up for all of their previously scheduled appointments and conference calls an hour late. Or early. Or something. This could destroy our economy. It is not to be taken lightly. You must be prepared. Make sure to double check the time of your appointments. Or better yet, start writing them down. On paper. With a pen. It's crazy, but it just might save us all.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Weirdest. Valentine's Day. Ever.
Have no fear kids. Despite the rough start my Valentine's Day got off to (damn blond girls and their damn flower-sending boyfriends), as always, it turned out to be a great day.
So what exactly did I get up to that made my Valentine's Day so great?
I went to a MASS PILLOWFIGHT.
Yeah, you read that right. Josh and his friends Jessica, Dina and Emily and I went to a mass pillowfight in downtown San Francisco last night, with at least 500 other people. As I drank coffee and waited for my friends in the hour leading up to the fight, I watched as hipsters bearing pillows streamed into the Financial District--and investment bankers wearing suits eyed them with fear and moved quickly away.
And rightfully so, because at 6:00 on the nose, the take-no-prisoners pillowfighting began in earnest. Everywhere you looked, people were swinging pillows. Some wore costumes. Some wore helmets. Some wore their pajamas. One guy with Braveheart-style facepaint let out a large growl everytime he tried to hit me with his pillow.
Cheers of delight went out as one-by-one, pillows exploded and released their feathers into the night air, for it was surely the closest San Francisco will ever get to anything that looks like a blizzard.
The fight went on for more than hour. We, however, did not last that long. After 30 minutes of whacking people with pillows, we were tired, dizzy and in need of food. So you know what's almost as awesome as having a pillow fight in public? Leaving the pillow fight and trying to look like a group of respectable adults while covered in feathers and toting pillows around under your arms. I've gotta say: it kind of undermines any attempts you make to be perceived as mature.
Oh, and one last thing. My parents know I love Valentine's Day, and they support my love for the holiday. My parents have also always been known for the wierd and random things they like to send me in the mail. (Does anyone else remember the dancing Snoopy doll wearing the sorcerer's outfit?) These two things came together perfectly this year, when the UPS man delivered an enormous box to me from my parents. I opened it to find that they had sent me a 3 and a half foot long stuffed dog, with "I love you this much!" embroidered on his side.
So what exactly did I get up to that made my Valentine's Day so great?
I went to a MASS PILLOWFIGHT.
Yeah, you read that right. Josh and his friends Jessica, Dina and Emily and I went to a mass pillowfight in downtown San Francisco last night, with at least 500 other people. As I drank coffee and waited for my friends in the hour leading up to the fight, I watched as hipsters bearing pillows streamed into the Financial District--and investment bankers wearing suits eyed them with fear and moved quickly away.
And rightfully so, because at 6:00 on the nose, the take-no-prisoners pillowfighting began in earnest. Everywhere you looked, people were swinging pillows. Some wore costumes. Some wore helmets. Some wore their pajamas. One guy with Braveheart-style facepaint let out a large growl everytime he tried to hit me with his pillow.
Cheers of delight went out as one-by-one, pillows exploded and released their feathers into the night air, for it was surely the closest San Francisco will ever get to anything that looks like a blizzard.
The fight went on for more than hour. We, however, did not last that long. After 30 minutes of whacking people with pillows, we were tired, dizzy and in need of food. So you know what's almost as awesome as having a pillow fight in public? Leaving the pillow fight and trying to look like a group of respectable adults while covered in feathers and toting pillows around under your arms. I've gotta say: it kind of undermines any attempts you make to be perceived as mature.So we trudged through the Financial District to Chinatown, in search of Chinese food from the brightest, most fluorescent and tacky-looking restaurant we could find. Once there, we ordered salt and pepper squid (yum) and something called "bean sprouts with salty fish." Now, you know you've ordered well when they waitress feels the need to say "Are you sure? Do you even know what salty fish is?" Apparently she didn't think the white kids could take it, but after a moment of uncertainty, we went ahead with the salty fish, and lived to tell the tale. (It was actually very good. And, not so surprisngly, rather salty.)
We rounded out the night with gelato (from a store that had at least 15 different flavors of chocolate gelato. That's my kind of store). Overall, it was a pretty good night. In fact, the only thing I can think of that would have made it better would have been a mass nap before the pillow fight. We were, after all, already carrying pillows.
Oh, and one last thing. My parents know I love Valentine's Day, and they support my love for the holiday. My parents have also always been known for the wierd and random things they like to send me in the mail. (Does anyone else remember the dancing Snoopy doll wearing the sorcerer's outfit?) These two things came together perfectly this year, when the UPS man delivered an enormous box to me from my parents. I opened it to find that they had sent me a 3 and a half foot long stuffed dog, with "I love you this much!" embroidered on his side.
If the only Valentine you're gonna get is going to be from your parents, then at least it should be a really good one. Good work, mom and dad!
The pictures of the pillowfight are courtesy of Scott Beale/Laughing Squid.
Also, here's a link to the little blurb in the Chronicle about the pillowfight.
That's Disgusting
What was the first thing I read on MSNBC this morning?
This article about how a pregnancy counseling center asked students to share a piece of chewed gum to demonstrate how STDs are spread.
Dude--don't they know that they might have just given an entire sex-ed class mono?
This article about how a pregnancy counseling center asked students to share a piece of chewed gum to demonstrate how STDs are spread.
Dude--don't they know that they might have just given an entire sex-ed class mono?
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
My Valentine's Day Post
Normally, I love Valentine's Day. But I'm just generally kind of grumpy this week and not yet in the mood to love Valentine's Day (26 years of being single and without a Valentine other than your parents will eventually wear you down), so you'll have to forgive my lack of enthusiasm about a holiday so steadfastly focused (whether it needs to be or not) on romantic love. It's early still, though, so I'm hoping I'll warm up to it.
Here's what I've got: my friend Sophie sent me the link to a blog called Post Secret, which has a bunch of postcards people have sent in about Valentine's Day. Some of them are funny. Some of them are sad. Most of them I could totally relate to, so I'm sharing it with you.
Here's what I've got: my friend Sophie sent me the link to a blog called Post Secret, which has a bunch of postcards people have sent in about Valentine's Day. Some of them are funny. Some of them are sad. Most of them I could totally relate to, so I'm sharing it with you.
Monday, February 12, 2007
New Job
Today was my first day at my new, long-term temp gig. (It's keeping me relatively gainfully employed until the end of May.) I'm not going to name names, but I'm helping a large health-oriented non-profit plan a big fundraising event. Here are a few observations about my new place of employment.
1) Because this is a health-oriented organization, there is a chart on one wall where people are supposed to keep track of how much exercise they get. Does the person who fills their line of the chart first get a prize? I haven't discovered yet. If they do, and they allow temps to play, I'm gonna kick some serious butt.
2) Again, because this is a health-oriented organization, there are signs up everywhere about healthy snack choices you can make, ways to beat fatigue without turning to caffeine, and positive ways to deal with stress. I find this a little odd. Whose job was it, I wonder, to find these signs and post them? Do they switch them up, or have these same signs been up for years?
3) In an effort to promote health and wellness amongst the staff, someone keeps a supply of healthy snacks on hand, like fresh fruit and air-popped popcorn. This may be the only office job I ever have where I don't end up worrying that I'll gain weight from all the candy, donuts and birthday cake. A dollar says that when these people have breakfast meetings, someone brings in whole-grain cereal and low-fat milk, not muffins and croissants.
4) Of the staff of 15 people or so, ALL of them are women. I know that there is a disproportionately high number of women who end up in the non-profit field, but I still find this a bit strange. Not a single guy? In any position?
5) Of the women on staff, about half are older women who are clearly married (or partnered up) with kids. And then the other half are all hot, skinny, blond girls. And then one angry-looking hipster girl with an asymetrical haircut and hot pink "highlights." I can't help but wonder how she feels about working in an office of Barbie dolls, because I personally find it a bit disconcerting. They all seem nice but a little too peppy for me. (I wonder if they did Team in Training?) And I can't tell any of them apart. Oh, and they're bringing up all sorts of feelings of inadequacy in me. I suspect that working around a million skinny hot blond chicks will do that to you.
So that's Day 1. Will I unravel the mysteries of the office? Who has a secret stash of M & Ms? What's the prize for getting the most exercise, and how many people on staff are lying about it? And most importantly, where are they hiding all the men and normal-looking brunettes and red-heads?
1) Because this is a health-oriented organization, there is a chart on one wall where people are supposed to keep track of how much exercise they get. Does the person who fills their line of the chart first get a prize? I haven't discovered yet. If they do, and they allow temps to play, I'm gonna kick some serious butt.
2) Again, because this is a health-oriented organization, there are signs up everywhere about healthy snack choices you can make, ways to beat fatigue without turning to caffeine, and positive ways to deal with stress. I find this a little odd. Whose job was it, I wonder, to find these signs and post them? Do they switch them up, or have these same signs been up for years?
3) In an effort to promote health and wellness amongst the staff, someone keeps a supply of healthy snacks on hand, like fresh fruit and air-popped popcorn. This may be the only office job I ever have where I don't end up worrying that I'll gain weight from all the candy, donuts and birthday cake. A dollar says that when these people have breakfast meetings, someone brings in whole-grain cereal and low-fat milk, not muffins and croissants.
4) Of the staff of 15 people or so, ALL of them are women. I know that there is a disproportionately high number of women who end up in the non-profit field, but I still find this a bit strange. Not a single guy? In any position?
5) Of the women on staff, about half are older women who are clearly married (or partnered up) with kids. And then the other half are all hot, skinny, blond girls. And then one angry-looking hipster girl with an asymetrical haircut and hot pink "highlights." I can't help but wonder how she feels about working in an office of Barbie dolls, because I personally find it a bit disconcerting. They all seem nice but a little too peppy for me. (I wonder if they did Team in Training?) And I can't tell any of them apart. Oh, and they're bringing up all sorts of feelings of inadequacy in me. I suspect that working around a million skinny hot blond chicks will do that to you.
So that's Day 1. Will I unravel the mysteries of the office? Who has a secret stash of M & Ms? What's the prize for getting the most exercise, and how many people on staff are lying about it? And most importantly, where are they hiding all the men and normal-looking brunettes and red-heads?
Sunday, February 11, 2007
So Cute
I normally don't post blogs about things I think are cute. But my mom just sent me this picture of our puppies, and they're way, way too adorable not to want to show off.
This is Casey, Sammy and Rudy (who's turning 17 in April--I can't imagine what kind of party will top last year!)
This is Casey, Sammy and Rudy (who's turning 17 in April--I can't imagine what kind of party will top last year!)
Thursday, February 08, 2007
For men: some guidelines for being a good lead
I have been taking tango classes fairly regulary for several months now. And from those several months' experience, I have a few observations:
Gentlemen: I understand that having to lead kind of sucks. Ultimately, you are responsible for whether or not we look like crap on the dance floor, and I am really just following along. I can see that there's some pressure in constantly having to figure out what we're going to do next.
But here's the thing. If I were to compare the thousands of years of oppression and second-class citizen status that women have suffered to you having to decide what we're doing on the dance floor, it's obvious who got the worse end of the deal.
So suck it up and learn how to lead already. Take a cue from our president and be a "decider." Your hand is strategically located on my back so you can push me around a little bit, and let me know what it is you want me to do. Because I'm not a mind reader. I don't just magically know what step you want to do next, and I'm really tired of apologizing for the times I don't do what you're doing because I had absolutely no idea what it was you were going to do.
Also, remember that you're the one who's supposed to be steering. Generally, I'm the one going backwards, and I can't see what we may or may not be about to run into. So it's your job to keep us both from running into anything--please don't just plow ahead into that other couple because they happen to be where you were planning on leading me. Just lead me somewhere else instead.
And while I am sure you find it fun to sway back and forth and then spin me around, doing that isn't teaching either of us a damn thing about floorcraft or the actual tango steps. I got my fill of swaying and spinning at my prom. Now, I am actually trying to learn something and I would appreciate if you could at least attempt some tango steps, even if they're very basic ones.
One last thing. I know that I am tall. And I realize that often means I'm taller than you, and we're dancing in a fairly close embrace. That still does not make it acceptable for you to stare at my chest while we dance. If you do it again, I will slap you.
Now, with those guidelines, I know we'll have a lovely time dancing the tango.
Gentlemen: I understand that having to lead kind of sucks. Ultimately, you are responsible for whether or not we look like crap on the dance floor, and I am really just following along. I can see that there's some pressure in constantly having to figure out what we're going to do next.
But here's the thing. If I were to compare the thousands of years of oppression and second-class citizen status that women have suffered to you having to decide what we're doing on the dance floor, it's obvious who got the worse end of the deal.
So suck it up and learn how to lead already. Take a cue from our president and be a "decider." Your hand is strategically located on my back so you can push me around a little bit, and let me know what it is you want me to do. Because I'm not a mind reader. I don't just magically know what step you want to do next, and I'm really tired of apologizing for the times I don't do what you're doing because I had absolutely no idea what it was you were going to do.
Also, remember that you're the one who's supposed to be steering. Generally, I'm the one going backwards, and I can't see what we may or may not be about to run into. So it's your job to keep us both from running into anything--please don't just plow ahead into that other couple because they happen to be where you were planning on leading me. Just lead me somewhere else instead.
And while I am sure you find it fun to sway back and forth and then spin me around, doing that isn't teaching either of us a damn thing about floorcraft or the actual tango steps. I got my fill of swaying and spinning at my prom. Now, I am actually trying to learn something and I would appreciate if you could at least attempt some tango steps, even if they're very basic ones.
One last thing. I know that I am tall. And I realize that often means I'm taller than you, and we're dancing in a fairly close embrace. That still does not make it acceptable for you to stare at my chest while we dance. If you do it again, I will slap you.
Now, with those guidelines, I know we'll have a lovely time dancing the tango.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
To Do List
My to do list for the weekend:
Teach a white guy how to salsa. Check.
Play tourguide to my friend Sejal who very spontaneously showed up in town. Check.
Enjoy the unseasonably warm and dry and sunshine-y weather. Check.
Get ignored by Seamus O'Malley, the taciturn bartender at Johnny Foleys. Check. (Yeah. I totally made up that name for him.)
Make my obligatory Irish friend of the week. Check.
Kick ass on the GRE's. Check and Double Check.
All around, I'd say it was a very productive weekend.
Teach a white guy how to salsa. Check.
Play tourguide to my friend Sejal who very spontaneously showed up in town. Check.
Enjoy the unseasonably warm and dry and sunshine-y weather. Check.
Get ignored by Seamus O'Malley, the taciturn bartender at Johnny Foleys. Check. (Yeah. I totally made up that name for him.)
Make my obligatory Irish friend of the week. Check.
Kick ass on the GRE's. Check and Double Check.
All around, I'd say it was a very productive weekend.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
I always knew clowns were scary. . .
I'm taking the GRE on Saturday, and I've been very methodically working my way through one of those GRE prep books so that I don't mess it up completely. Near the end of the book, they have a list of the 300 words that most often end up on the GRE, along with definitions and a sentence using the word, so you have the context. Here is my personal favorite:
ENGENDER: To Produce, cause, or bring about
His fear and hatred of clowns was ENGENDERED when he witnessed the death of his father at the hands of a clown.
WHAT? What the hell kind of circus has this GRE sentence-writer been going to?
ENGENDER: To Produce, cause, or bring about
His fear and hatred of clowns was ENGENDERED when he witnessed the death of his father at the hands of a clown.
WHAT? What the hell kind of circus has this GRE sentence-writer been going to?
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Blogging as procrastination
I know, I know. It's been too long. When even my parents start complaining about having to look at the same craigslist blog post for almost a month, I know it's time to stop being lazy and start blogging. And it helps that I have tons of other things that I should be doing. So of course I'd rather blog.
And it's not like I haven't had things to blog about. There's been lots to blog about: funny, strange people I've met, crazy unfoldings in my life path, major life decisions, etc.
So with no further ado, some highlights of the last month:
1) My friends Darren and Miranda took me to the Alley, got me super drunk and managed to get me to sing, by myself, in public. Twice. Anyone who knows me well can tell you that at the top of the list of things I am terrified to do is sing in public by myself. So the fact that I did it twice is an indication of just how drunk I was. And you know how they say that the anticipation of the scary thing is worse than the actual thing? It's a load of crap. The singing was scary, and not just for the people who had to listen. That will not be happening ever again.
2) Met a guy in a bar named Sean (from now on, he'll be referenced as Crazy Sean). Crazy Sean knows every bartender and every bar regular in every dive bar in Oakland, he has nothing but beer and cat food in his kitchen (literally. Not even condiments), and he thinks it'll be fun for us to go hang-gliding and then get grills from the Gold Teeth Master on Broadway in downtown Oakland. I'm looking forward to it.
3) I've decided that I'm done with the progressive non-profit/activist world (at least as a profession), because frankly, I've never really enjoyed it and I think I got into it for the wrong reasons. Some people take jobs they hate because they feel they have to make money. I think I've been taking jobs I hate because of white guilt and a misguided notion that I could and should save the world. The outcome is the same though--being stuck and miserable in a job I don't enjoy, unable and unwilling to envision a future that I could be happy with. And that's really no good--life is too short not to enjoy it.
4) So now that I've sunk 5 years into progressive activist work, what do I see myself doing? Um, not entirely sure yet. But it will involve pursuing something I love--writing, movies, travel--or some combination thereof. Maybe I'll make movies. Maybe I'll write about other people's movies. Maybe I'll take videos of other people traveling. I don't know. But I'm already excited about it. And that's something I haven't been able to say about work in a very long time.
5) Started doing temp work this past week. Wow. Being a receptionist is BO-RING. But heck, it pays the bills while I figure out what's next, so it'll do.
6) Met an Irishman named Peter at a football-watching party last weekend. He was visiting SF for a few days before continuing his world travels. As I was not yet working, I convinced him to let me show him my perfect SF day: the Exploratorium (this has been on my agenda with every guy I've dated and friend I've made in the last two years, and finally it got fulfilled!), the Golden Gate Bridge, Baker Beach at sunset, the Mission for burritos, a movie and a bar. Perfect. And I think Peter had a good time too. :-)
7) I've seen something like 7 movies in the theatre in the last 3 weeks. (It's Oscar time and I've got to get caught up!) Most of them have been fantastic, but also extremely violent. Seriously, I wish I'd been keeping a body count. What have I seen, you ask?
--Pan's Labyrinth
--Letters from Iwo Jima
--Children of Men
--The Last King of Scotland
--Volver
--The Good Shepherd
--Little Children
While I could rave about almost all of them (with the exception of The Good Shepherd, which I just wasn't in to), I'm giving a big thumbs up to Volver and Pan's Labyrinth. See them. They were amazing: resonant and beautifully made.
Et c'est tout, je crois. That's all I've got for the month of January. Sorry for the long delay, and I'll try to be better in the future.
And it's not like I haven't had things to blog about. There's been lots to blog about: funny, strange people I've met, crazy unfoldings in my life path, major life decisions, etc.
So with no further ado, some highlights of the last month:
1) My friends Darren and Miranda took me to the Alley, got me super drunk and managed to get me to sing, by myself, in public. Twice. Anyone who knows me well can tell you that at the top of the list of things I am terrified to do is sing in public by myself. So the fact that I did it twice is an indication of just how drunk I was. And you know how they say that the anticipation of the scary thing is worse than the actual thing? It's a load of crap. The singing was scary, and not just for the people who had to listen. That will not be happening ever again.
2) Met a guy in a bar named Sean (from now on, he'll be referenced as Crazy Sean). Crazy Sean knows every bartender and every bar regular in every dive bar in Oakland, he has nothing but beer and cat food in his kitchen (literally. Not even condiments), and he thinks it'll be fun for us to go hang-gliding and then get grills from the Gold Teeth Master on Broadway in downtown Oakland. I'm looking forward to it.
3) I've decided that I'm done with the progressive non-profit/activist world (at least as a profession), because frankly, I've never really enjoyed it and I think I got into it for the wrong reasons. Some people take jobs they hate because they feel they have to make money. I think I've been taking jobs I hate because of white guilt and a misguided notion that I could and should save the world. The outcome is the same though--being stuck and miserable in a job I don't enjoy, unable and unwilling to envision a future that I could be happy with. And that's really no good--life is too short not to enjoy it.
4) So now that I've sunk 5 years into progressive activist work, what do I see myself doing? Um, not entirely sure yet. But it will involve pursuing something I love--writing, movies, travel--or some combination thereof. Maybe I'll make movies. Maybe I'll write about other people's movies. Maybe I'll take videos of other people traveling. I don't know. But I'm already excited about it. And that's something I haven't been able to say about work in a very long time.
5) Started doing temp work this past week. Wow. Being a receptionist is BO-RING. But heck, it pays the bills while I figure out what's next, so it'll do.
6) Met an Irishman named Peter at a football-watching party last weekend. He was visiting SF for a few days before continuing his world travels. As I was not yet working, I convinced him to let me show him my perfect SF day: the Exploratorium (this has been on my agenda with every guy I've dated and friend I've made in the last two years, and finally it got fulfilled!), the Golden Gate Bridge, Baker Beach at sunset, the Mission for burritos, a movie and a bar. Perfect. And I think Peter had a good time too. :-)
7) I've seen something like 7 movies in the theatre in the last 3 weeks. (It's Oscar time and I've got to get caught up!) Most of them have been fantastic, but also extremely violent. Seriously, I wish I'd been keeping a body count. What have I seen, you ask?
--Pan's Labyrinth
--Letters from Iwo Jima
--Children of Men
--The Last King of Scotland
--Volver
--The Good Shepherd
--Little Children
While I could rave about almost all of them (with the exception of The Good Shepherd, which I just wasn't in to), I'm giving a big thumbs up to Volver and Pan's Labyrinth. See them. They were amazing: resonant and beautifully made.
Et c'est tout, je crois. That's all I've got for the month of January. Sorry for the long delay, and I'll try to be better in the future.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Seen on "Best of. . . Craigslist"
This is why I love the Bay Area, Love BART, love craigslist and have a blog about awkward and funny things:
BART 24th-W. Oakland. You threw up on my dog. - w4m
Date: 2006-11-26, 4:35PM PST
I was hiding my new mutt puppy (Sam) in a very large bag. You got on at 24th/Mission reeking of stale booze. You sat next to me. You suddenly grabbed the bag containing Sam and vomited into it. Kudos on not dirtying the train, but I just spent the last hour desanitizing my dog with doggy shampoo. Thanks for the best BART ride of my life.
BART 24th-W. Oakland. You threw up on my dog. - w4m
Date: 2006-11-26, 4:35PM PST
I was hiding my new mutt puppy (Sam) in a very large bag. You got on at 24th/Mission reeking of stale booze. You sat next to me. You suddenly grabbed the bag containing Sam and vomited into it. Kudos on not dirtying the train, but I just spent the last hour desanitizing my dog with doggy shampoo. Thanks for the best BART ride of my life.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Search words
I have a site meter on my blog, which lets me keep track of how many people are looking at my blog. It also tracks all sorts of other information, like where the people who looked at my blog are, whether they use a Mac or a PC, and who their Internet Service Provider is. But one of the best things the site meter keeps track of is how people found my blog--whether they just typed in the address or if they found it through some sort of search, and if so, what words they used for the search.
This has been very educational. The blogs I wrote about IPod Dater and Mobile Alibi have apparently brought in quite a few blog readers who searched for those terms. But there have been some more unusual search terms that have somehow brought people to my blog:
"Claire in the Big City"
"Covered in Tumbleweeds"
And, my personal favorite search so far: "I hate hanging out with middle aged people"
I have no recollection of trashing middle aged people in my blog, so I'm a little puzzled how exactly searching for that would lead you to me, but there it is. I hope this middle-aged person hater enjoyed my blog, or at the very least, is now writing a blog of his or her own called "I Hate Hanging Out With People Who Are Either Middle Aged Or Embrace the Awkward." That would be pretty sweet.
This has been very educational. The blogs I wrote about IPod Dater and Mobile Alibi have apparently brought in quite a few blog readers who searched for those terms. But there have been some more unusual search terms that have somehow brought people to my blog:
"Claire in the Big City"
"Covered in Tumbleweeds"
And, my personal favorite search so far: "I hate hanging out with middle aged people"
I have no recollection of trashing middle aged people in my blog, so I'm a little puzzled how exactly searching for that would lead you to me, but there it is. I hope this middle-aged person hater enjoyed my blog, or at the very least, is now writing a blog of his or her own called "I Hate Hanging Out With People Who Are Either Middle Aged Or Embrace the Awkward." That would be pretty sweet.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Tumblin' Along With the Tumblin' Tumbleweed
As bad as the blizzard that hit Colorado on Wednesday was, the worst--or at least strangest--aspect of the storm was in Pueblo, CO, where people's homes and cars were completely covered by tumbleweeds. Some folks were literally trapped inside their homes because of the massive accumulation of tumbleweeds outside their doors.
Now don't get me wrong. In Pueblo, people were also struggling with snow and ice, but there were also the flying tumbleweeds to contend with. Apparently, when the blizzard's wind picked up, it was launching tumbleweeds all over the place and they were blocking roads, accumulating against fences and cars and buildings and gnereally making a big pain in the ass for the good people of Pueblo.
Fortunately, now that it has stopped snowing, the tumbleweed problem is fairly easy to handle. According to the news, people are just setting them on fire and watching them burn.
And just because I know this sounds odd enough that I have to think you might not believe me, I found some pictures to prove it:
Now don't get me wrong. In Pueblo, people were also struggling with snow and ice, but there were also the flying tumbleweeds to contend with. Apparently, when the blizzard's wind picked up, it was launching tumbleweeds all over the place and they were blocking roads, accumulating against fences and cars and buildings and gnereally making a big pain in the ass for the good people of Pueblo.
Fortunately, now that it has stopped snowing, the tumbleweed problem is fairly easy to handle. According to the news, people are just setting them on fire and watching them burn.
And just because I know this sounds odd enough that I have to think you might not believe me, I found some pictures to prove it:
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Welcome Home
So I'm home in Colorado for the holidays right now. Within 12 hours of my arrival in the state, nearly a foot of snow was dumped on Colorado Springs (with even more in Denver and other parts of the state) in what has been called one of the 5 worst blizzards of all time. It was so bad that Denver International Airport is SHUT DOWN, both the North-South and East-West freeways in the state have been completely closed, and Governor Owens has declared a state of emergency and called in the National Guard to help rescue and evacuate people stuck in their cars.
While it'll be nice to have a white CHristmas (assuming, that is, that any of it lasts until Monday) it has reinforced for me how much I don't really care for snow. I certainly don't care for snow enough to need to have some in the winter. I definitely don't care for snow enough to want to move back to a place like Colorado (or Boston) just to see it. Rainy and (semi-)cold is crappy, but I can accept it as a substitute for snow any day.
Also, I just want to note that my bad flight karma has finally (apparently--knock on some serious wood) broken. For the first time in years, I am not the person stranded in the airport without a flight home. And while I really feel terrible for all the people who are stranded and might not make it home for the holidays, I am grateful that for once, I--along with my luggage--safely made it home. And on time, no less.
Also, just a side note: my parents adopted yet another dog last year. His name is Sammy. He's cute enough, I guess, although kind of lacking in personality. The only thing of note about him is that he is afraid of the dark. He will literally not go outside into the yard after the sun sets. If the rest of the family goes out into the guest house (yeah, there's a guest house. I know it sounds pretentious) to watch movies, he will not follow. If he has to pee, he just won't. He'll hold it until daylight. Apparently, the dog has quite the capacity for holding it.
While it'll be nice to have a white CHristmas (assuming, that is, that any of it lasts until Monday) it has reinforced for me how much I don't really care for snow. I certainly don't care for snow enough to need to have some in the winter. I definitely don't care for snow enough to want to move back to a place like Colorado (or Boston) just to see it. Rainy and (semi-)cold is crappy, but I can accept it as a substitute for snow any day.
Also, I just want to note that my bad flight karma has finally (apparently--knock on some serious wood) broken. For the first time in years, I am not the person stranded in the airport without a flight home. And while I really feel terrible for all the people who are stranded and might not make it home for the holidays, I am grateful that for once, I--along with my luggage--safely made it home. And on time, no less.
Also, just a side note: my parents adopted yet another dog last year. His name is Sammy. He's cute enough, I guess, although kind of lacking in personality. The only thing of note about him is that he is afraid of the dark. He will literally not go outside into the yard after the sun sets. If the rest of the family goes out into the guest house (yeah, there's a guest house. I know it sounds pretentious) to watch movies, he will not follow. If he has to pee, he just won't. He'll hold it until daylight. Apparently, the dog has quite the capacity for holding it.
Monday, December 18, 2006
A pre-holiday weekend rundown
1) Always check the name of the bar before you go in and buy yourself a drink. This way, if you're not actually at the bar where you said you'd meet your friend, you don't have to either abandon a perfectly good beer when you leave to go to the correct bar, or pound down a Fat Tire in 30 seconds flat. That's kind of rough.
2) Red Velour Pants Suit? (On a man, no less.) Never a good going-out option, even if it is December.
3) Even if you suck at pool, it's still possible to win. Just hope the person you're playing scratches when they try to sink the 8-ball. Then talk shit the rest of the night like you really schooled them, despite the fact that 5 of your balls were still on the table when he scratched.
4) Chicken and Waffles? Always good. Chicken and Waffles at 3 in the morning? A gift from god.
5) If you're going to hang out in Jack London Square at 3 in the morning, be prepared to be the worst dressed people there.
6) The holiday tradition continues: get really dressed up, pretend to be swanky, then go to a posh bar and try to fit in. (While making fun of the midwestern tourists who clearly don't fit in!)
7) Even better: go to some really sketchy hole-in-the-wall place for dinner and watch people stare at you. (This year we went to Shalimar--an Indian joint in the 'Loin, and yeah, it was sketchy. Really good food, though. I highly recommend the eggplant.)
8) The Redwood Room: Where apparently it's acceptable for unattractive middle-aged people to make out and grope each other on a couch in the middle of the lobby.
9) If your waitress who looks like Natalie Maines doesn't want to get you "berry juice," don't push it. She'll hate you so much she actually trades you to a different waitress.
10) $600 on New Year's Eve at the Redwood Room will get you "a table for up to 5 people, a bottle of champagne, and admission to the party. It's a really good deal."
11) If you're looking for a good time, bring along the guy who's willing to bust out the greatest hits of the white man's dance repertoire (despite the fact that he was not white himself). He was using moves I've never even seen before, like one I'll call "the jump-rope."
12) Finally, tye-dyed pants are never never never acceptable. Especially in a place as pretentious as the Redwood room.
2) Red Velour Pants Suit? (On a man, no less.) Never a good going-out option, even if it is December.
3) Even if you suck at pool, it's still possible to win. Just hope the person you're playing scratches when they try to sink the 8-ball. Then talk shit the rest of the night like you really schooled them, despite the fact that 5 of your balls were still on the table when he scratched.
4) Chicken and Waffles? Always good. Chicken and Waffles at 3 in the morning? A gift from god.
5) If you're going to hang out in Jack London Square at 3 in the morning, be prepared to be the worst dressed people there.
6) The holiday tradition continues: get really dressed up, pretend to be swanky, then go to a posh bar and try to fit in. (While making fun of the midwestern tourists who clearly don't fit in!)
7) Even better: go to some really sketchy hole-in-the-wall place for dinner and watch people stare at you. (This year we went to Shalimar--an Indian joint in the 'Loin, and yeah, it was sketchy. Really good food, though. I highly recommend the eggplant.)
8) The Redwood Room: Where apparently it's acceptable for unattractive middle-aged people to make out and grope each other on a couch in the middle of the lobby.
9) If your waitress who looks like Natalie Maines doesn't want to get you "berry juice," don't push it. She'll hate you so much she actually trades you to a different waitress.
10) $600 on New Year's Eve at the Redwood Room will get you "a table for up to 5 people, a bottle of champagne, and admission to the party. It's a really good deal."
11) If you're looking for a good time, bring along the guy who's willing to bust out the greatest hits of the white man's dance repertoire (despite the fact that he was not white himself). He was using moves I've never even seen before, like one I'll call "the jump-rope."
12) Finally, tye-dyed pants are never never never acceptable. Especially in a place as pretentious as the Redwood room.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Tango
I just came back from my first post-Argentina tango lesson. I learned a fun new fact: while being in Buenos Aires definitely makes learning tango fun, tango is still fun even when you are no longer in Buenos Aires. It was really great; I wanted to keep dancing and learning new steps all night. And I actually remembered what I had learned in BA, still managed not to step on toes or full-out trip and fall on my face, and I'm slowly but surely learning how to let the guy lead. When one of my tango partners started mixing up the steps a little, I actually was able to roll with it. I think we even had moments where we almost looked graceful and like we knew what we were doing. Awesome. I will definitely be keeping this up. If anyone else is interested in joining me, it's 7:00 pm on Wednesdays, at the Lake Merritt Dance Center .
Sunday, December 10, 2006
(Belated) Weekend Update
Sorry kids--this post isn't actually about this weekend, but rather, about last weekend. I meant to get around to blogging it, but laziness and busy-ness kept me away. Still, it was random and strange enough that it deserves to be blogged. So here goes:
My friend Marcos was celebrating his 26th birthday (oh. . . .they grow up so fast!) last weekend, and since I've bailed on the last few throw-down shindigs he's had, I knew I needed to do more than just make an appearance. I needed to bring my game face. And boy did I pick the night to do it!
Things started with dinner, and cryptic whisperings between Marcos' other roommates about the rest of the evening's plans. We then walked to a club a few blocks away called Asia SF, which is best known for being a. . . wait for it. . . .
Tranny Bar.
Yup. Men dressed up as really hot women putting on quite the dance show. We spent most of our time on the lower level, dancing with a combination of transvestites and bachelorettes. (Seems Asia SF is also the place for bachelorette parties.)
After Asia SF, we got in a cab and hit our next stop of the night: a tranny Karaoke bar called Divas. This is where the night got interesting. The sight of a 6'6" man wearing platform heels and a leopard print evening gown, belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart"--in Spanish, no less--is one that's gonna stick with you for a while. I think my life might be changed forever.
Anyway, the party rolled on into the wee hours (as it has a tendency to do when Marcos is involved. Witness my 8 hour long house-warming party in March as proof) and I think the birthday boy had a pretty good time. I know I definitely did.
My friend Marcos was celebrating his 26th birthday (oh. . . .they grow up so fast!) last weekend, and since I've bailed on the last few throw-down shindigs he's had, I knew I needed to do more than just make an appearance. I needed to bring my game face. And boy did I pick the night to do it!
Things started with dinner, and cryptic whisperings between Marcos' other roommates about the rest of the evening's plans. We then walked to a club a few blocks away called Asia SF, which is best known for being a. . . wait for it. . . .
Tranny Bar.
Yup. Men dressed up as really hot women putting on quite the dance show. We spent most of our time on the lower level, dancing with a combination of transvestites and bachelorettes. (Seems Asia SF is also the place for bachelorette parties.)
After Asia SF, we got in a cab and hit our next stop of the night: a tranny Karaoke bar called Divas. This is where the night got interesting. The sight of a 6'6" man wearing platform heels and a leopard print evening gown, belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart"--in Spanish, no less--is one that's gonna stick with you for a while. I think my life might be changed forever.
Anyway, the party rolled on into the wee hours (as it has a tendency to do when Marcos is involved. Witness my 8 hour long house-warming party in March as proof) and I think the birthday boy had a pretty good time. I know I definitely did.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Chemistry
Recently, some friends and I were discussing our worst first dates. It occurred to me that I don't actually have a worst first date story--I've never been on a really bad first date. Now don't get me wrong, they haven't all been fantastic, but the worst I can say is that the guy was nice but we didn't really connect. No horror stories. Nothing more awkward than running out of things to say and neither of us being that interested in what the other person wanted to talk about.
In fact, as I expand the pool to consider all the dates I've ever been on, very few of them have been bad. I can actually only think of two, and both of those were totally my fault.
This is not to say that every date I've been on has led to happily-ever-after. That's not true--certainly not in the long-term, and not even in the stort-term. (Obviously, or I wouldn't still be going on damn dates.) It's just to say that chemistry and attraction are funny things. It's funny and strange and a little mysterious how you can go on a date, and have it be a perfectly good date, with someone who is smart and funny and attractive, and not feel even remotely inclined to hang out with them again. And the fact that possessing good qualities like being smart and funny and attractive doesn't necessarily equal attraction and chemistry makes it even more mysterious when it suddenly does.
I once dated a guy who was getting his PhD by studying online dating. More specifically, he was studying how (or really, if. Or why) online attraction translated into real life attraction. We met online, and the chemistry we had in real life was both immediate and intense. But that was a total crapshoot--who the hell knows why? He was trying to discover if there was a way to determine a couple's real-life success based on how they had interacted online, or what had intially attracted them to each other online. I often wonder if he realizes that that's the 10 million dollar question of dating--is there a way to know that this other person and I are going to hit it off and work out in the long-run?
For now, there's no way to know. For now, we're left with the mystery of why we sometimes don't work with the smart, attractive guy but totally hit it off with the one who's clearly a trainwreck. For now, it's a little bit like trying on jeans. The number on the tag says that the jeans should work, but you still have to try on a hell of a lot of pairs to find one that really fits.
In fact, as I expand the pool to consider all the dates I've ever been on, very few of them have been bad. I can actually only think of two, and both of those were totally my fault.
This is not to say that every date I've been on has led to happily-ever-after. That's not true--certainly not in the long-term, and not even in the stort-term. (Obviously, or I wouldn't still be going on damn dates.) It's just to say that chemistry and attraction are funny things. It's funny and strange and a little mysterious how you can go on a date, and have it be a perfectly good date, with someone who is smart and funny and attractive, and not feel even remotely inclined to hang out with them again. And the fact that possessing good qualities like being smart and funny and attractive doesn't necessarily equal attraction and chemistry makes it even more mysterious when it suddenly does.
I once dated a guy who was getting his PhD by studying online dating. More specifically, he was studying how (or really, if. Or why) online attraction translated into real life attraction. We met online, and the chemistry we had in real life was both immediate and intense. But that was a total crapshoot--who the hell knows why? He was trying to discover if there was a way to determine a couple's real-life success based on how they had interacted online, or what had intially attracted them to each other online. I often wonder if he realizes that that's the 10 million dollar question of dating--is there a way to know that this other person and I are going to hit it off and work out in the long-run?
For now, there's no way to know. For now, we're left with the mystery of why we sometimes don't work with the smart, attractive guy but totally hit it off with the one who's clearly a trainwreck. For now, it's a little bit like trying on jeans. The number on the tag says that the jeans should work, but you still have to try on a hell of a lot of pairs to find one that really fits.
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