Normally I post book reivews on my Goodreads page, but when you job is as boaring as mine is, its really easy to obess about things. I have been carring my reaction to this book around in my head for a couple of weeks and I need to get it out (again).
I appreciate the delicate balance between the practical and perfect echo friendly life. I'm living it. I take my own bags, bring my own cup, but then... I throw a bag of Chex Mix into my basket along with my Kraft Mac and(chemical powder) Cheese. There are a lot of echo writers out there who standerds are fair above mine and they have no sympathy for us smucks still holding on to our processed foods.
It was with this mind set that I picked up Vanessa Farquharson's book Sleeping Naked is Green. She is different than most environmental voices out there in that she's young, hip and not without a sense of practicality. She spent a year making one echo change a day. Once she made a change she stuck with it so when she unplugged her fridge at day 28 it stayed unplugged. Not all of her changes were so drastic. There was the day that she decided to use revolving doors and she did the switch from paper towels to recycled paper towels, but I can understand that coming up with 366 echo changes isn't easy.
So what did I think of the book? Over all I liked it. I liked that we saw someone who was freaked out by the stuff she had to do. Things are hard. Let's face it, there is a reason why we call this junk "modern conveniences". They make life convenient. Its not convenient keep composting warms, give up meat, live with out a fridge or bike instead of drive your car.
Okay, that last point leads me to my number one problem with this book. I'll be up front here and say that its a personal issue. Its just me. I know this. I need to get over it, but weeks after reading the book it still bothers me.... the no car challenge.
Vanessa decides to sell her car. She lives in the heart of Toronto which has a decent public transit system. She also bikes a lot and then she rents Zip cars when she is in a hurry. She talks a lot about how hard life is without a car is. She does a write up in the magazine she works for about a guy who sold his car and walks because its better for the earth. When she talks to this guy she talks about how amazing and inspiring he is. She puts him on a echo pedestal. *Gag*
There are millions of people in this country living without a car for no echo-self-aggrandizing reason other than they can't afford a car. They have jobs to go to, children to get to school and groceries to buy. They do this on foot, with unreliable public transit and no Zip car. Why not write a newspaper article about them? I'll gladly put them on a pedestal because I can't fathom living in my public-transit-hating-city without a car and yet, people are forced to do it.
I'm not diminishing Vanessa's experience. I get that life without a car is a pain in the butt. I just wish she would stop for a second and realized that when she gave up her car she gave up a luxury item.
Speaking of luxury. Right in the middle of her year long challenge Vanessa got a call from her mom. A really cute newly remodeled townhouse went up for sale right around the corner and she wanted Vanessa to check it out. Vanessa checked it out and fell in love. It was her dream house. She promptly called up the bank of Mom and Dad and got a loan. This again, is a personal issue of mine. I have numerous friends whose parents have bought them things like cars and houses and college educations. I came to this book with a chip on my shoulder the size of Alaska. I don't have parents who could buy me a car, let alone a house. Vanessa spent a good deal of time talking about the stress of buying the most adorable house ever. Why was it stressful if it wasn't your money? Because you had to figure out how to fill out the paper work in between string your compost and going on dates? Wow.
I'm not keeping a compost bin in my apartment anytime soon, unplugging my fridge or selling my car. I'm humbled by everything she did and still does. I enjoyed her writing and loved a lot of her stories. Its a book I would pass on to some of my friends (if I hadn't have checked it out of the library). I just wish she wasn't so flip about what she had and what she was giving up. Weeks later that is what sticks with me more than any else. Be grateful dammit! Its not just her, there are a lot of very nice people with this same mind set and they all bug the crap out of me. I waited several weeks after reading the book to try to separate my own issues from her story and I just can't do it. I'm tainted. I do feel better now that I've whined.
Friday, October 30
Thursday, October 29
Hi My Name is Katy...
... and I'm a Walt Disney World addict. I know what I said a few months ago (that it would be a long time before I planed another trip). I know what I thought while I was down there.... (I can point people to the nearest restroom from any point in all four parks... I'm scaring myself). I want to go to Seattle. I want to see Yellowstone. I want to hike in the middle of nowhere Utah. I want to see a Broadway show On Broadway. I want to see the Prince Edward Island I have read about in books. I want to go to the United Kingdom and Norway and Nepal. I know, I know, I know this! And yet... when I got a pin code in my e-mail box yesterday offing 40% off my next trip (almost anytime of the year).... I jumped on it.I called my friend, the Disney Travel agent, and asked her if she could hook me up. (When your on a first name basis with a travel agent that deals only in Disney and lives in New Jersey ... you have problems. BIG problems.)
I just. Can't help it. Really. I feel like the fat kid in a candy shop right now. Who needs to go to the mecca of conspicuous consummation once a year? Me. Me the girl who frets over reusable bags and cloth napkins and is trying hard to make everyone of her Christmas presents by hand with repurposed, recycled materials. I want to rip my hair out, and jump on a plan for Orlando.
photo by katy - Cinderella's Castle, Magic Kingdom 2009
Wednesday, October 28
Musing of a Bookworm
We are asked to believe, usually by critics, that the most important factor in our response to a book should be its objective quality – a good book is a good book – but we know that’s not true. Mood and taste are important, self-evidently, but mood and taste are formed by educational background, profession, health, amount of leisure time, marital status, state of marriage, gender, age, age of children, relationships with children, and parents, and siblings, and, possibly, an unfortunate experience with Thomas Pynchon’s ‘V’ as an overambitious and pretentious teenager. All of these and thousands of others are governing factors, and many of them are wildly inconstant.
I am glad that I read Sylvia Plath when I was a student; I had plenty of appetite for misery then. There is already enough anxiety attached to parenthood, without having to worry about coming unglued. The first John Irving novel I ever read was ‘The World According to Garth’, and for some time, even after reading most of the others, I was pretty sure that it was his masterpiece. I re-read it a couple of years ago, and I was shocked to discover that Garth, who inhabits a big chunk of the book, is an insufferable drip. Why hadn’t I noticed? Am I a more observant critic now, or was I simply kinder and more indulgent when I was younger? If we are lucky, we read the right books at the right times, and both the books and the times should be left alone. Have you read 'Moby-Dick yet'? No? Well, don’t go back to ‘The Catcher In The Rye’, then. It was great once, and maybe you’re asking too much of it if you want it to be great all over again. This is not to diminish the books that we read at earlier stages in our lives, not to make the claim that, as we get older, our critical faculties get sharper – the sad truth is that we lose as much as we gain. There are some books that have become old friends and I can return to over and over again like 'Pride and Prejudice', and some, like 'The Bell Jar' I wouldn't mind if I never saw again.
I am glad that I read Sylvia Plath when I was a student; I had plenty of appetite for misery then. There is already enough anxiety attached to parenthood, without having to worry about coming unglued. The first John Irving novel I ever read was ‘The World According to Garth’, and for some time, even after reading most of the others, I was pretty sure that it was his masterpiece. I re-read it a couple of years ago, and I was shocked to discover that Garth, who inhabits a big chunk of the book, is an insufferable drip. Why hadn’t I noticed? Am I a more observant critic now, or was I simply kinder and more indulgent when I was younger? If we are lucky, we read the right books at the right times, and both the books and the times should be left alone. Have you read 'Moby-Dick yet'? No? Well, don’t go back to ‘The Catcher In The Rye’, then. It was great once, and maybe you’re asking too much of it if you want it to be great all over again. This is not to diminish the books that we read at earlier stages in our lives, not to make the claim that, as we get older, our critical faculties get sharper – the sad truth is that we lose as much as we gain. There are some books that have become old friends and I can return to over and over again like 'Pride and Prejudice', and some, like 'The Bell Jar' I wouldn't mind if I never saw again.
Tuesday, October 27
Poppins Takes the Stage
Mary Poppins the Musical is in Houston and this weekend, Alex and I got to see it.
As a geek for all things Disney I have been hearing rumblings about this production for years and have been dying to see it. I wasn't going to go into the whole back story of things, but I did a search on Wikipedia and this part of the story wasn't there so I think I should share.
The idea for a Mary Poppins play started with the hairs to the P.L. Travers estate wanting to make more money off the story. They used their rights to the books to produce a stage production. It didn't go over well. They opened in a small theater in England and the play was a huge failure. Why? Because it was nothing like the movie and had non of the original songs. They where forced to swallow their pride, and like A.A. Milne's hairs have done before them, sell their souls to Disney. It was the Sherman Brothers songs that audiences loved and the Disney touch to the characters that turned these quirky (and very British) adventures into childhood classics that Americans could swallow. Anyway, with Disney on board the Musical was a smash hit blah, blah, blah... seven Tony awards... blah, blah ... Happily Ever After... blah.
Now the important part. What did I think of the production? I loved it. I wouldn't call it the best Musical I have ever seen in the history of the universe, but it was nicely done. A great blend of book and movie. I have to confess that my favorite part was the set. I know the actors and orchestra would probably die to hear that, but I really did love the sets the best. It wasn't the best acted thing on earth and while I appreciate the way they made some of the more random songs like Spoonful of Sugar, fit the story better than it did before, I loved the way that everything about the stage made you feel like you were watching illustrations in a book.
Alex loved it as well. It was "spectacular" to use her word. How could it not be? Flying people, people walking on the ceilings, children running amok and nannies being tyrannical what more could a kid ask for? Also, I will say that the finale was pure Disney magic. Mary Poppins flew over the audience, and since we were in the nose bleed section, we were right next to where she landed. We watched her run out, back to the stage for the curtain call. Fun!
On a side note, I heard people there rumbling about how it "wasn't like the movie" and "what did they do to the characters?" I really wish people would take the time to educate themselves about what they are seeing. Even if they didn't know the whole thing about the Traver's hairs, they should have the sense to know that Poppins was first a book. (Wasn't everything?) And really... what is the point of seeing the movie just acted out on the stage? If you are going to bring an old story into a new medium it should be because you are offering a unique perspective on things.
Anyway, we had a great time. I really do wish that theater tickets weren't so expensive. I know that public health care is high on the list of things to do right now, but I think next Congress should tackle rising theater costs.
As a geek for all things Disney I have been hearing rumblings about this production for years and have been dying to see it. I wasn't going to go into the whole back story of things, but I did a search on Wikipedia and this part of the story wasn't there so I think I should share.
The idea for a Mary Poppins play started with the hairs to the P.L. Travers estate wanting to make more money off the story. They used their rights to the books to produce a stage production. It didn't go over well. They opened in a small theater in England and the play was a huge failure. Why? Because it was nothing like the movie and had non of the original songs. They where forced to swallow their pride, and like A.A. Milne's hairs have done before them, sell their souls to Disney. It was the Sherman Brothers songs that audiences loved and the Disney touch to the characters that turned these quirky (and very British) adventures into childhood classics that Americans could swallow. Anyway, with Disney on board the Musical was a smash hit blah, blah, blah... seven Tony awards... blah, blah ... Happily Ever After... blah.
Now the important part. What did I think of the production? I loved it. I wouldn't call it the best Musical I have ever seen in the history of the universe, but it was nicely done. A great blend of book and movie. I have to confess that my favorite part was the set. I know the actors and orchestra would probably die to hear that, but I really did love the sets the best. It wasn't the best acted thing on earth and while I appreciate the way they made some of the more random songs like Spoonful of Sugar, fit the story better than it did before, I loved the way that everything about the stage made you feel like you were watching illustrations in a book.
Alex loved it as well. It was "spectacular" to use her word. How could it not be? Flying people, people walking on the ceilings, children running amok and nannies being tyrannical what more could a kid ask for? Also, I will say that the finale was pure Disney magic. Mary Poppins flew over the audience, and since we were in the nose bleed section, we were right next to where she landed. We watched her run out, back to the stage for the curtain call. Fun!
On a side note, I heard people there rumbling about how it "wasn't like the movie" and "what did they do to the characters?" I really wish people would take the time to educate themselves about what they are seeing. Even if they didn't know the whole thing about the Traver's hairs, they should have the sense to know that Poppins was first a book. (Wasn't everything?) And really... what is the point of seeing the movie just acted out on the stage? If you are going to bring an old story into a new medium it should be because you are offering a unique perspective on things.
Anyway, we had a great time. I really do wish that theater tickets weren't so expensive. I know that public health care is high on the list of things to do right now, but I think next Congress should tackle rising theater costs.
Thursday, October 22
It feels like Friday...
... but for reasons beyond my control, its not. Therefore I am left to make a list of 3 random things you never needed to know.
3) The Walt Disney Company does not own the copyrights to the music for Snow White or Pinocchio. Those first two films were made during a time when Disney didn't have money for his own studios so he traded the publishing rights of the songs to the recording company in exchange for their services. After seeing the killing the copyright owners were making by selling sheet music of "When You Wish Upon A Star," Walt wised up. Still, one would think that Disney could have scrapped together the money by now to buy the rights (after all they just spent $8 Billion buying Marvel), but apparently the owners aren't interested in selling. (Go figure). Over the years there have been several deals made that allow WDC to use the songs in conjunction with movie footage and in TV commercials.
2) One of my favorite literary facts is that Dickens is estimated to have created thirteen thousand characters - an astounding number – that’s always taken as evidence of his extraordinary energy and indefatigable imagination. Every now and again, though, you start to wonder whether it’s not some form of incontinence. For example, he introduces fourteen new characters between pages 209 and 214 of my Penguin edition of Great Expectations – fifteen if you count Mrs Pocket’s deceased father, who gets a couple of pages more or less to himself anyway. Do the Pockets have to have seven children? And two nurses? And two lodgers? And a quirky next-door neighbour? There’s something almost animal about this level of production – this is Dickens as seahorse, popping out tiny creatures apparently uncontrollably, and with very little effort. It’s not his best passage of writing, understandably, those six pages. Maybe someone should have taken him discreetly aside and told him what precautions were available for great novelists.
1) One fact I have found to be incredibly disturbing is that bubblegum is made out of plastic. I learned this from the TV show, How Its Made. Apparently the natural gum from trees they used to use was replaced long ago by modern science. So when you pop a piece of gum in your mouth you are really just chewing on a sugar coded piece of plastic that has been died pink. I don't know why this fact bothers me as much as it does. I chew on pens all day long and they aren't even covered in sugar. I guess I had just always associated bubblegum with candy, and therefore, a cousin of the food family. After all this time, to learn that its more like pen's long lost half cousin once removed is a bit of a blow.
3) The Walt Disney Company does not own the copyrights to the music for Snow White or Pinocchio. Those first two films were made during a time when Disney didn't have money for his own studios so he traded the publishing rights of the songs to the recording company in exchange for their services. After seeing the killing the copyright owners were making by selling sheet music of "When You Wish Upon A Star," Walt wised up. Still, one would think that Disney could have scrapped together the money by now to buy the rights (after all they just spent $8 Billion buying Marvel), but apparently the owners aren't interested in selling. (Go figure). Over the years there have been several deals made that allow WDC to use the songs in conjunction with movie footage and in TV commercials.
2) One of my favorite literary facts is that Dickens is estimated to have created thirteen thousand characters - an astounding number – that’s always taken as evidence of his extraordinary energy and indefatigable imagination. Every now and again, though, you start to wonder whether it’s not some form of incontinence. For example, he introduces fourteen new characters between pages 209 and 214 of my Penguin edition of Great Expectations – fifteen if you count Mrs Pocket’s deceased father, who gets a couple of pages more or less to himself anyway. Do the Pockets have to have seven children? And two nurses? And two lodgers? And a quirky next-door neighbour? There’s something almost animal about this level of production – this is Dickens as seahorse, popping out tiny creatures apparently uncontrollably, and with very little effort. It’s not his best passage of writing, understandably, those six pages. Maybe someone should have taken him discreetly aside and told him what precautions were available for great novelists.
1) One fact I have found to be incredibly disturbing is that bubblegum is made out of plastic. I learned this from the TV show, How Its Made. Apparently the natural gum from trees they used to use was replaced long ago by modern science. So when you pop a piece of gum in your mouth you are really just chewing on a sugar coded piece of plastic that has been died pink. I don't know why this fact bothers me as much as it does. I chew on pens all day long and they aren't even covered in sugar. I guess I had just always associated bubblegum with candy, and therefore, a cousin of the food family. After all this time, to learn that its more like pen's long lost half cousin once removed is a bit of a blow.
Monday, October 19
Homemade Report
I made a gift for my punk rocker nephew. If I had it together I would post a picture. As it is, you'll just have to use your vivid imagination. I took an old vinyl record and pained a handicap parking sign on it. But instead of HANDICAP PARKING, it says... GOOD TIMES.
BACK STORY: My nephew decided to celebrate the start of the summer after his high school graduation by going to a party and jumping off the roof of a two story house and into a swimming pool. Only he didn't land in the swimming pool (missed by less than an inch). He broke several bones in his left foot and shattered the heal. He also broke his right wrist for good measure.
We aren't a particularly sensitive family. We like to poke fun of you when you are down. Honestly I wasn't sure if it was that funny of an idea at first, but when Alex saw it she laughed.
Now, I have to figure out what to do for my country loving nephew who is a card carrying member of the NRA.
BACK STORY: My nephew decided to celebrate the start of the summer after his high school graduation by going to a party and jumping off the roof of a two story house and into a swimming pool. Only he didn't land in the swimming pool (missed by less than an inch). He broke several bones in his left foot and shattered the heal. He also broke his right wrist for good measure.
We aren't a particularly sensitive family. We like to poke fun of you when you are down. Honestly I wasn't sure if it was that funny of an idea at first, but when Alex saw it she laughed.
Now, I have to figure out what to do for my country loving nephew who is a card carrying member of the NRA.
Friday, October 16
I put off taking this challenge because. Yes because. Who wants anything that I make by hand? You can click on the icon and it will take to Chrunchy's challenge page. Read the comments... they are all a variation of "Yes, of course! I knit/sew everything by hand anyway. Maybe this year I'll make my own thread." My level of enthusiasm isn't there. I don't knit or sew. I can bake and make crafty things that involve paint, paper and glue. So you'll understand if I still have a healthy level of doubt about my ability to really stick to my 75% homemade pledge.Why take it at all then? I started thinking, trying to envision what I would do for everyone. What can make for my 18 year old punk rocker nephew that he would actually enjoy? I haven't got a clue. But for the first time in years I am actually thinking about people's gifts. This the end of the card/cash cop-out. Do teenagers appreciate thought as much as cash?
And why so early? There are only 10 weekends between now and Christmas. Its chrunch time.
I know I blogged about Alex wanting Mice this summer, but did I mention that she bought two? No? Well, she did. Daisy (the white and gray mouse) and Sunshine (the gray and white mouse). She also bought the a pink cage filled with pink bedding complete with pink mouse wheel, food dish and water bottle.
When I came in from walking Gryffindor last night Alex was on the couch crying. "Daisy is dead." You sure? "Yes." How sure? "Positive." Do you know what a dead mouse looks like? "Yes. There's on in my bedroom right now."
I don't know why I didn't really believe her at first. I guess I should have realized that a ten year old can tell the difference between a live mouse and a dead mouse, but as I walked into her room, I still held out hope that she was just sleeping. No such luck. Daisy was (is) quite dead. I felt stupid for suggesting that Alex could have possibly been mistaken. Right. What next? Try to persuade little crying girl to clean out the cage so I don't have to touch it? Heartless.
Me: Sorry I was stupid. You're right. She's dead.
A: Of course she is.
Me: Yes. Well, do you want to clean the cage?
A: No.
Me: Right.
A: I want you clean it and set Sunshine free.
Me: Why would you want to set Sunshine free?
A: Because I don't want to have to watch her die too.
Me: That's incredibly selfish. You know she'll die even faster if you set her free.
A: You set Snowball free.
M: Its not the same.
She's right. I did, in fact, free one of my pet mice (when I had pet mice). I think Alex was four or five. I had four mice at the time and this one, Snowball by name, was an insidious creature that kept escaping from the cage. None of my other mice had ever tried this stunt so the first time it happened I was convinced that it was fluke. Then finally, after the fifth escape and numerous attempts to escape proof the cage, I was fed up. I took Snowball into the backyard and let nature have its way with her.
Anyway, Alex was nice enough not to follow that with "so you killed your mouse, but I can't kill mine?" Instead she just sat there while I got on with the cleaning. With dead mouse thrown in the dumpster and alive mouse safely back in her cage. I let Alex stay up and watch the end of Project Runway before she finally went to bed.
This morning, as we were leaving the house, Alex said to me, "You know, I'm really glad you didn't let me set my mouse free." Really? "I was sad and not thinking clearly. I just needed some time."
God, she sounds forty sometimes.
When I came in from walking Gryffindor last night Alex was on the couch crying. "Daisy is dead." You sure? "Yes." How sure? "Positive." Do you know what a dead mouse looks like? "Yes. There's on in my bedroom right now."
I don't know why I didn't really believe her at first. I guess I should have realized that a ten year old can tell the difference between a live mouse and a dead mouse, but as I walked into her room, I still held out hope that she was just sleeping. No such luck. Daisy was (is) quite dead. I felt stupid for suggesting that Alex could have possibly been mistaken. Right. What next? Try to persuade little crying girl to clean out the cage so I don't have to touch it? Heartless.
Me: Sorry I was stupid. You're right. She's dead.
A: Of course she is.
Me: Yes. Well, do you want to clean the cage?
A: No.
Me: Right.
A: I want you clean it and set Sunshine free.
Me: Why would you want to set Sunshine free?
A: Because I don't want to have to watch her die too.
Me: That's incredibly selfish. You know she'll die even faster if you set her free.
A: You set Snowball free.
M: Its not the same.
She's right. I did, in fact, free one of my pet mice (when I had pet mice). I think Alex was four or five. I had four mice at the time and this one, Snowball by name, was an insidious creature that kept escaping from the cage. None of my other mice had ever tried this stunt so the first time it happened I was convinced that it was fluke. Then finally, after the fifth escape and numerous attempts to escape proof the cage, I was fed up. I took Snowball into the backyard and let nature have its way with her.
Anyway, Alex was nice enough not to follow that with "so you killed your mouse, but I can't kill mine?" Instead she just sat there while I got on with the cleaning. With dead mouse thrown in the dumpster and alive mouse safely back in her cage. I let Alex stay up and watch the end of Project Runway before she finally went to bed.
This morning, as we were leaving the house, Alex said to me, "You know, I'm really glad you didn't let me set my mouse free." Really? "I was sad and not thinking clearly. I just needed some time."
God, she sounds forty sometimes.
Thursday, October 15
There is an and awful lot to be said for familiarity, if you think about it. It is an extremely underrated virtue, ignorable until the very moment that you are in danger of losing whatever or whoever it is that is familiar. I'm not quit sure why I am constantly surprised by the power of familiarity. I'm drowning in it.
Wednesday, October 14
Is Positive Thinking Positive?
After being pissed off yesterday at some one's random act of kindness, I started to think that maybe I was the problem. Yes, I was annoyed, but shouldn't I just stop and look at the positive side of things?
Then I turned on Democracy Now! as I drove to pick up Alex from Karate. Barbara Ehrenreich, author of “Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America” was being interviewed. She spoke as a breast cancer survivor about the odd culture of perverted optimism that she found when she was first diagnosed. In her book she writes, “In the most extreme characterization, breast cancer is not a problem at all, not even an annoyance—it is a ‘gift,’ deserving of the most heartfelt gratitude.” That assessment is so freakishly true I had to hear more.
Ehrenreich went on to explain how the positive thinking cult first became pervasive in the 1980s when lots of people were getting laid off, and it never really left us. She talks about the interviews we have all seen recently with people who have lost their jobs saying they are "staying positive" and Ehrenreich asks the obvious, but taboo question, "WHY?" why when your world is crashing in around you must you insist on being positive?
Of course that doesn't mean that when faced with a crisis you have to fall into agony and despair as our constant mood for life, but why doesn't culture allow us to acknowledge that despair exists? Why aren't we allowed to grieve when we find our lives shattered? How can anyone expect to grow as a human we have denied the marrow of our existence?
If you want to hear the whole interview, and not just my musings, you can find it here.
Then I turned on Democracy Now! as I drove to pick up Alex from Karate. Barbara Ehrenreich, author of “Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America” was being interviewed. She spoke as a breast cancer survivor about the odd culture of perverted optimism that she found when she was first diagnosed. In her book she writes, “In the most extreme characterization, breast cancer is not a problem at all, not even an annoyance—it is a ‘gift,’ deserving of the most heartfelt gratitude.” That assessment is so freakishly true I had to hear more.
Ehrenreich went on to explain how the positive thinking cult first became pervasive in the 1980s when lots of people were getting laid off, and it never really left us. She talks about the interviews we have all seen recently with people who have lost their jobs saying they are "staying positive" and Ehrenreich asks the obvious, but taboo question, "WHY?" why when your world is crashing in around you must you insist on being positive?
Of course that doesn't mean that when faced with a crisis you have to fall into agony and despair as our constant mood for life, but why doesn't culture allow us to acknowledge that despair exists? Why aren't we allowed to grieve when we find our lives shattered? How can anyone expect to grow as a human we have denied the marrow of our existence?
If you want to hear the whole interview, and not just my musings, you can find it here.
Tuesday, October 13
I took the day off yesterday. I could be cute and say that it was my way of protesting the fact that Columbus has a holiday, but really I was just tired of work and the people at work.
Its not uncommon for people to go in your office when you are out. People need files you have stashed in your office. Clients have questions and they need answered whether you are there or not. But why would someone reorganize another person's desk?
I'm sorry, I know that my desk was messy. I have two staple removers is because I have trouble finding them. Pens tend to get scattered around and not kept in their proper place. Mail full of notices from foreign associates that I need to respond to at some point is filed in a pile on the right hand side of my desk while files I need to look at in a weeks time are piled on the left. Is it a coherent, organized system? Of course not, but its mine and it works.
I was scared when I first walked in. I was trying to think of something I may have lost. Something that someone had come looking for and failed to find. I was expecting to open my e-mail and find a "we need to talk" message about the state of my office and how I had lost X document. But when I read my e-mail I found nothing out of the ordinary. Its 10:00 and still, no one has come by to claim responsibility.
The "what did I do?" panic has gone and now I just feel violated. I want to throw my pens out on my desk and poor the rubber bands out on the floor. I want to re-mess up my files and mail. But also, I'm just puzzled. Who did this? Who has this kind of time? What on earth were they looking for? What do they think they accomplished?
UPDATE: I was told that "a little fairy" did a good deed while I was gone and tidied up my mess.
My response: "Please tell the 'little fairy' to never touch my stuff again." A little territorial? Maybe. Over the top? Uncalled for? I don't care. I would rather a fairy did me the favor of respecting my space.
Its not uncommon for people to go in your office when you are out. People need files you have stashed in your office. Clients have questions and they need answered whether you are there or not. But why would someone reorganize another person's desk?
I'm sorry, I know that my desk was messy. I have two staple removers is because I have trouble finding them. Pens tend to get scattered around and not kept in their proper place. Mail full of notices from foreign associates that I need to respond to at some point is filed in a pile on the right hand side of my desk while files I need to look at in a weeks time are piled on the left. Is it a coherent, organized system? Of course not, but its mine and it works.
I was scared when I first walked in. I was trying to think of something I may have lost. Something that someone had come looking for and failed to find. I was expecting to open my e-mail and find a "we need to talk" message about the state of my office and how I had lost X document. But when I read my e-mail I found nothing out of the ordinary. Its 10:00 and still, no one has come by to claim responsibility.
The "what did I do?" panic has gone and now I just feel violated. I want to throw my pens out on my desk and poor the rubber bands out on the floor. I want to re-mess up my files and mail. But also, I'm just puzzled. Who did this? Who has this kind of time? What on earth were they looking for? What do they think they accomplished?
UPDATE: I was told that "a little fairy" did a good deed while I was gone and tidied up my mess.
My response: "Please tell the 'little fairy' to never touch my stuff again." A little territorial? Maybe. Over the top? Uncalled for? I don't care. I would rather a fairy did me the favor of respecting my space.
Tuesday, October 6
Not Your Average American Household
I'll be honest, I watch a lot of TV. I know its cool to say that you don't even own one, but I do. I own one. I even have cable. Don't get me wrong, I don't have Showtime or anything, but when I noticed that Bravo wasn't included in the Economy package, I upgraded and threw in the DVR while I was at it.
So why the confessional? Because Nielsen Ratings contacted me a few weeks ago and asked me to fill out a survey about my TV watching habits. What channels do I watch, what shows can I not live with out, that kind of thing. Its was preliminary interview, to see if I fit the mold of "average American household." They even sent me $2 for my troubles.
Their verdict? "Thank you for your participation in our survey.... We will no longer be needing your services" That's right. Rejected. Apparently I'm not average.
I'm not sure if it was the fact that I said I don't watch Network TV or the fact that I keep checking "other" and handwriting in answers that turned them off. Maybe they only want people who are more statistically quantifiable. I am sad I didn't get picked. I think I could have been a voice for great, but over looked shows like How Its Made, Graham Norton and Super Friends reruns. Guess I should just be glad I was considered.
So why the confessional? Because Nielsen Ratings contacted me a few weeks ago and asked me to fill out a survey about my TV watching habits. What channels do I watch, what shows can I not live with out, that kind of thing. Its was preliminary interview, to see if I fit the mold of "average American household." They even sent me $2 for my troubles.
Their verdict? "Thank you for your participation in our survey.... We will no longer be needing your services" That's right. Rejected. Apparently I'm not average.
I'm not sure if it was the fact that I said I don't watch Network TV or the fact that I keep checking "other" and handwriting in answers that turned them off. Maybe they only want people who are more statistically quantifiable. I am sad I didn't get picked. I think I could have been a voice for great, but over looked shows like How Its Made, Graham Norton and Super Friends reruns. Guess I should just be glad I was considered.
Monday, October 5
Small Wire
by Anne Sexton
My faith
is a great weight
hung on a small wire,
as doth the spider
hang her baby on a thin web,
as doth the vine,
twiggy and wooden,
hold up grapes
like eyeballs,
as many angels
dance on the head of a pin.
God does not need
too much wire to keep Him there,
just a thin vein,
with blood pushing back and forth in it,
and some love.
As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.
So if you have only a thin wire,
God does not mind.
He will enter your hands
as easily as ten cents used to
bring forth a Coke.
Anne Sexton was one of the first poets I ever fell in love with. She is very raw. Her words, real. People like to compair her to Syvlia Plath. They have simlar biographies to be sure, but I think it does both of their works a diservice. To dwell on their biographies is to somehow trivialize their words. It makes it easy to ignore truths that make us uncomferatble.
My faith
is a great weight
hung on a small wire,
as doth the spider
hang her baby on a thin web,
as doth the vine,
twiggy and wooden,
hold up grapes
like eyeballs,
as many angels
dance on the head of a pin.
God does not need
too much wire to keep Him there,
just a thin vein,
with blood pushing back and forth in it,
and some love.
As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.
So if you have only a thin wire,
God does not mind.
He will enter your hands
as easily as ten cents used to
bring forth a Coke.
Anne Sexton was one of the first poets I ever fell in love with. She is very raw. Her words, real. People like to compair her to Syvlia Plath. They have simlar biographies to be sure, but I think it does both of their works a diservice. To dwell on their biographies is to somehow trivialize their words. It makes it easy to ignore truths that make us uncomferatble.
I learned how to edit.
I had a great weekend. I have struggled with the kid in the candy store syndrom when it comes to my weekends. I get two days a week that are all mine and I want to go everywhere and do everyting in just two short days. Sunday comes and it all hits me. I have done way too much I'm crashing just as I have to face another day at work.
Not this weekend. I had a list of 10 things Alex and I wanted to do. I picked four of those things. At the end of the weekend I felt like I had been right where I needed to be with my full attention in every moment. Good feeling.
After all, there is always a next weekend.
Not this weekend. I had a list of 10 things Alex and I wanted to do. I picked four of those things. At the end of the weekend I felt like I had been right where I needed to be with my full attention in every moment. Good feeling.
After all, there is always a next weekend.
Thursday, October 1
untitled, like always
the boys asked if I would teach
i told them what was
swimming in my mind
"we wanted something light"
they complained
"we wanted something to discuss"
nobody spoke for awhile
someone taped their foot
on the tile floor
a sort of human language
i didn't understand, like always
then i laughed
the boys started to laugh
laughter spilled out
from all of us
covered the floor
and soaked into our socks.
absurd laugh
our feet were heavy
and cold, but I was lighter
and there was nothing left
to discuss.
~ by Katy
i told them what was
swimming in my mind
"we wanted something light"
they complained
"we wanted something to discuss"
nobody spoke for awhile
someone taped their foot
on the tile floor
a sort of human language
i didn't understand, like always
then i laughed
the boys started to laugh
laughter spilled out
from all of us
covered the floor
and soaked into our socks.
absurd laugh
our feet were heavy
and cold, but I was lighter
and there was nothing left
to discuss.
~ by Katy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)