Hi.
Thanks for stopping by what used to be a place where I dumped my younger twenty-something thoughts. While I don't feel the need to erase this piece of history from the Interwebs, I also don't really do a lot here anymore. It's also funny. The stuff that used to prompt me to share and write is now distilled into 140-character status updates elsewhere.
If you really want to read this stuff, then I will offer some curation of my favorite bits, below. So have fun browsing - and go easy on some of my more ridiculous posts, usually fits of some strong emotion or another.
-Eulogy/dedication for my grandma (March 07)
-family vacation with my Army Ranger uncle (July 05)
-running my first marathon (Nov 05)
-buying some boots (Feb 05)
26.9.08
I'm scared, but not for the reason you may think.
Wow.
The economy is really going down the tubes (duh). I believe in economics as a science, as a study, as an art...and I believe that there are really smart economists and economic and social scientists out there who can probably fix it. I picture them squirreled away in their ivory towers, oaken studies, corner offices, and government cubicles reading and computing and rubbing their smudgy glasses on their ill-fitting oxfords.
We really need to be focusing on finding these people, kidnapping them, and setting them up in some high-tech collaborative Google-like campus so that they can debate and figure and FIX our economic shit day.
And then it dawned on me, and when it dawned on me, it scared the bejeezus out of me:
The person who has to be in charge of doing this round-up and making it happen via real policy manifestations -- bless his heart -- will either be John McCain or Barack Obama. Now before you think I'm going to say, "so I'm scared that neither is qualified"...hold on a sec.
That's not my fear.
My fear is that they CAN'T actually focus on this issue as much as they need to because their priority is actually not fixing the economy...it's getting elected. Sure, they sincerely want to lend a hand. They want it to get better. They really, really do gosh golly gosh gee!
But, they can't.
Getting elected and fixing the economy are two very time- and energy-consuming undertakings, and I really don't think either one of them (or, um, any human being for that matter) is the kind of multi-tasker who could tackle them both at the same time.
The person who has to fix this economy, who has to be RIGHT NOW dedicating 20 hours a day with a panel of experts and scientists, is instead roaming around the country talking in dumb third grader's language about abortion and trying to get elected. What this means is that it is almost guaranteed that the economy will not get the attention it needs.
Scary.
The economy is really going down the tubes (duh). I believe in economics as a science, as a study, as an art...and I believe that there are really smart economists and economic and social scientists out there who can probably fix it. I picture them squirreled away in their ivory towers, oaken studies, corner offices, and government cubicles reading and computing and rubbing their smudgy glasses on their ill-fitting oxfords.
We really need to be focusing on finding these people, kidnapping them, and setting them up in some high-tech collaborative Google-like campus so that they can debate and figure and FIX our economic shit day.
And then it dawned on me, and when it dawned on me, it scared the bejeezus out of me:
The person who has to be in charge of doing this round-up and making it happen via real policy manifestations -- bless his heart -- will either be John McCain or Barack Obama. Now before you think I'm going to say, "so I'm scared that neither is qualified"...hold on a sec.
That's not my fear.
My fear is that they CAN'T actually focus on this issue as much as they need to because their priority is actually not fixing the economy...it's getting elected. Sure, they sincerely want to lend a hand. They want it to get better. They really, really do gosh golly gosh gee!
But, they can't.
Getting elected and fixing the economy are two very time- and energy-consuming undertakings, and I really don't think either one of them (or, um, any human being for that matter) is the kind of multi-tasker who could tackle them both at the same time.
The person who has to fix this economy, who has to be RIGHT NOW dedicating 20 hours a day with a panel of experts and scientists, is instead roaming around the country talking in dumb third grader's language about abortion and trying to get elected. What this means is that it is almost guaranteed that the economy will not get the attention it needs.
Scary.
11.9.08
it's true what they say about assumptions...
Please, can anyone give me one example in which an assumption that was made that was:
A) correct
2) healthy
III) productive
and, last but not least....
NECESSARY??
It's really frustrating living in a world where assumptions drive everything. Assumptions are...NOT FACTS. So WHAT THE EFF are we doing running around basing everything off of assumptions? If NASA built a spaceship and assumed it worked, that would be ridiculous. The same logic applies in life.
So why do we live our lives, do our jobs, engage in relationships (friends, family, whatever), eat our food, vote for candidates -- everything -- based on assumptions? Assumptions produce every single negative thing I can think of.
It makes no sense to me and I fear that I am doomed and/or cursed to tread water in a world driven by assumptions.
That's all. Happy Thursday.
A) correct
2) healthy
III) productive
and, last but not least....
NECESSARY??
It's really frustrating living in a world where assumptions drive everything. Assumptions are...NOT FACTS. So WHAT THE EFF are we doing running around basing everything off of assumptions? If NASA built a spaceship and assumed it worked, that would be ridiculous. The same logic applies in life.
So why do we live our lives, do our jobs, engage in relationships (friends, family, whatever), eat our food, vote for candidates -- everything -- based on assumptions? Assumptions produce every single negative thing I can think of.
It makes no sense to me and I fear that I am doomed and/or cursed to tread water in a world driven by assumptions.
That's all. Happy Thursday.
9.4.08
next time, making Baggio proud
Between the recent college basketball season and the current baseball season, I've been watching something sports-related almost every day of 2008. I thought yesterday would be an exception, since the Nats had an off-day...but around 9pm I needed to unwind, so I turned on the ol' boob tube and started scrolling around. When I noticed the NCAA Women's Baskeball Championship was on, I hit "enter" on my remote and settled in to catch the second half of the game.
The last time I watched women's basketball was in early March, when a friend was visiting and we were flipping through the channels during the commercial breaks of the Syracuse/Marquette men's game. I changed it deliberately to whatever women's game was on and he -- although not a mean or sexist person -- snickered lightheartedly a little and said something to the effect of "isn't it ridiculous how much sloppier girls' basketball is?"
While I hadn't noticed on my own, once he mentioned it I guess I could see what he meant, and he being someone with whom I enjoy a great deal of laughter and who frequently makes these kind of over-the-top remarks in general, I ended up laughing a bit as well.
This sillier mindset carried over to last night, when I was discussing the championship game on the phone with a good friend. I lightheartedly repeated the earlier comment but soon realized how serious the words actually were. In fact, what I thought was funny actually went against not only an entire lifetime of my own experience, but also a century of hard-fought progress by political and athletic heroes alike.
###
Since I can even remember, there was only one thing I wanted in the entire world: to be the first woman to play on the U.S. men's national soccer team. I was obsessed with guys like Pele, Maradona, and Baggio (as well as our own Lalas and Jones) and since there was no women's team, I figured I would just have to step up to the plate and join the fellas.
Fast-forward to 1989. That's when FIFA finally established the Women's World Cup (almost 60 years after the men's!), and Miss Akers & Co. brought the first gold medal home from China in '91. I simply couldn't believe the good news! With this, my mission had been tweaked and my new goal was to instead join the likes of Akers, Hamm, and Lilly someday out there on the pitch. Yes, I still cried myself to sleep when Baggio missed his kick in '94 (I also vowed I would never bring my country that kind of over-the-crossbar shame), and I still wrote fan mail to that red-headed defender of US fame all throughout middle school, but my new dream -- and the dreams of entire generations of girls -- finally had its own place.
Now, more than a decade and a half later, that place is more stable than ever, according to the latest study by two Brooklyn College professors. In fact, in 1970, (prior to the 1972 enactment of Title IX under the Carter Administration), the national average of women's sports teams per school was only 2.5. Currently the number sits at 8.65 -- an incredible total increase of 346%. Additionally, there are now more than 180,000 female athletes competing on more than 9,000 sports teams in our country's colleges. These three figures are historical highs.
While this is all fine and dandy on a pretty bar graph, what does this mean in blood, sweat, and tears?
It means that more young women will spend hours after school kicking a ball against a wall hoping to improve their first touch, because they have more forums in which to pursue their dreams.
It means that more young women will have access to team sports because youth leagues and high-caliber development programs are forming and growing stronger every year to support these dreams.
And it means that The Worldwide Leader in Sports will broadcast on national television every game of the tournament in which one team will end up realizing its ultimate dream, as the Lady Vols did last night.
###
Unlike a free throw or a penalty kick, there really are no extra chances in life, and mistakes and regret cannot be mollified by a gigantic "re-do." Nope, them's the breaks of the real world...um, just like the fact that I never even made the varsity squad in college.
But there is always a next time, an off-season, another game.
So next time I hear a comment like that, rather than laughing I will look my friend in the eye and tell him that what he just said is disgusting. That if the play was, in fact, "sloppy" at all, it sure as hell has nothing to do with the fact that it's "girl's" basketball. I will tell him that even comparing one to the other is like comparing apples and oranges, from which no rational juice could ever be gleamed, and which for such a smart guy is quite the dumbass remark.
I know this isn't the same as a game-winning goal scored at the buzzer, but at least it's not over the crossbar on the final shot.
And sometimes it takes one bad game to come out on top next time.
The last time I watched women's basketball was in early March, when a friend was visiting and we were flipping through the channels during the commercial breaks of the Syracuse/Marquette men's game. I changed it deliberately to whatever women's game was on and he -- although not a mean or sexist person -- snickered lightheartedly a little and said something to the effect of "isn't it ridiculous how much sloppier girls' basketball is?"
While I hadn't noticed on my own, once he mentioned it I guess I could see what he meant, and he being someone with whom I enjoy a great deal of laughter and who frequently makes these kind of over-the-top remarks in general, I ended up laughing a bit as well.
This sillier mindset carried over to last night, when I was discussing the championship game on the phone with a good friend. I lightheartedly repeated the earlier comment but soon realized how serious the words actually were. In fact, what I thought was funny actually went against not only an entire lifetime of my own experience, but also a century of hard-fought progress by political and athletic heroes alike.
###
Since I can even remember, there was only one thing I wanted in the entire world: to be the first woman to play on the U.S. men's national soccer team. I was obsessed with guys like Pele, Maradona, and Baggio (as well as our own Lalas and Jones) and since there was no women's team, I figured I would just have to step up to the plate and join the fellas.
Fast-forward to 1989. That's when FIFA finally established the Women's World Cup (almost 60 years after the men's!), and Miss Akers & Co. brought the first gold medal home from China in '91. I simply couldn't believe the good news! With this, my mission had been tweaked and my new goal was to instead join the likes of Akers, Hamm, and Lilly someday out there on the pitch. Yes, I still cried myself to sleep when Baggio missed his kick in '94 (I also vowed I would never bring my country that kind of over-the-crossbar shame), and I still wrote fan mail to that red-headed defender of US fame all throughout middle school, but my new dream -- and the dreams of entire generations of girls -- finally had its own place.
Now, more than a decade and a half later, that place is more stable than ever, according to the latest study by two Brooklyn College professors. In fact, in 1970, (prior to the 1972 enactment of Title IX under the Carter Administration), the national average of women's sports teams per school was only 2.5. Currently the number sits at 8.65 -- an incredible total increase of 346%. Additionally, there are now more than 180,000 female athletes competing on more than 9,000 sports teams in our country's colleges. These three figures are historical highs.
While this is all fine and dandy on a pretty bar graph, what does this mean in blood, sweat, and tears?
It means that more young women will spend hours after school kicking a ball against a wall hoping to improve their first touch, because they have more forums in which to pursue their dreams.
It means that more young women will have access to team sports because youth leagues and high-caliber development programs are forming and growing stronger every year to support these dreams.
And it means that The Worldwide Leader in Sports will broadcast on national television every game of the tournament in which one team will end up realizing its ultimate dream, as the Lady Vols did last night.
###
Unlike a free throw or a penalty kick, there really are no extra chances in life, and mistakes and regret cannot be mollified by a gigantic "re-do." Nope, them's the breaks of the real world...um, just like the fact that I never even made the varsity squad in college.
But there is always a next time, an off-season, another game.
So next time I hear a comment like that, rather than laughing I will look my friend in the eye and tell him that what he just said is disgusting. That if the play was, in fact, "sloppy" at all, it sure as hell has nothing to do with the fact that it's "girl's" basketball. I will tell him that even comparing one to the other is like comparing apples and oranges, from which no rational juice could ever be gleamed, and which for such a smart guy is quite the dumbass remark.
I know this isn't the same as a game-winning goal scored at the buzzer, but at least it's not over the crossbar on the final shot.
And sometimes it takes one bad game to come out on top next time.
21.3.08
"Good" Friday
It's Good Friday, party people!
Actually, I could care less (no offense) about the religious thing. But I just felt like making a list of things I think are good.
Things I Think Are Good, by Emilie Cole:
-beer (except Fat Tire. Blech.)
-sarcasm
-the practice of following one's gut (by practicing the policy of following one's gut, one will inevitably learn lessons (yes, some very hard). As a result of this learning, one's gut will evolve to include more and more "right" decisions, which in turn will arm one with an even better gut to follow)
-the resulting redevelopment of Southeast DC due to the new Nationals Stadium
-saying "please" and "thank you"
-moderation (itself in moderation)
-laughing until you can't see or breathe, whichever comes first
-having bad days and hard times
-Kraft Mac-n-Cheese Spirals, preferrably with a hot dog cut up
-true alone time once in a while
-feeling exhausted from physical exercise
-Web 2.0 and Google
-extreme right- and left-wingers. Both are a beautiful part of our collective dialogue
-doing nothing sometimes
-if you have kids, to have more than just one
-Cat Stevens
-equality in marriage
-use of the serial comma
-Bush's vegetarian baked beans
-Syracuse not making the tournament (you got to earn it to own it, kiddos)
-the Classical Renaissance
-onion rings with ranch dressing
-trying new things and even retrying things you didn't like before once in a while
-The Wire
-serving in the military (I didn't)
-spending a little more for green products
-these Girl Scout cookies: Thin Mints, Samoas, and Tagalongs
-the Ten Commandments, as read secularly
-immigration
-the people in my life
-the American system of checks and balances, especially the idea of three separate branches of government
-immigration reform
-knowing how to drive manual transmission
-knowing Spanish (I don't)
-direct-service non-profit organizations and huge internationals banks
-the fact that The New Yorker just exists (I don't necessarily need to read it)
-pub appetizers, especially pub appetizer sampler plates which include lots of fried things
-bacon
-All, It's
Actually, I could care less (no offense) about the religious thing. But I just felt like making a list of things I think are good.
Things I Think Are Good, by Emilie Cole:
-beer (except Fat Tire. Blech.)
-sarcasm
-the practice of following one's gut (by practicing the policy of following one's gut, one will inevitably learn lessons (yes, some very hard). As a result of this learning, one's gut will evolve to include more and more "right" decisions, which in turn will arm one with an even better gut to follow)
-the resulting redevelopment of Southeast DC due to the new Nationals Stadium
-saying "please" and "thank you"
-moderation (itself in moderation)
-laughing until you can't see or breathe, whichever comes first
-having bad days and hard times
-Kraft Mac-n-Cheese Spirals, preferrably with a hot dog cut up
-true alone time once in a while
-feeling exhausted from physical exercise
-Web 2.0 and Google
-extreme right- and left-wingers. Both are a beautiful part of our collective dialogue
-doing nothing sometimes
-if you have kids, to have more than just one
-Cat Stevens
-equality in marriage
-use of the serial comma
-Bush's vegetarian baked beans
-Syracuse not making the tournament (you got to earn it to own it, kiddos)
-the Classical Renaissance
-onion rings with ranch dressing
-trying new things and even retrying things you didn't like before once in a while
-The Wire
-serving in the military (I didn't)
-spending a little more for green products
-these Girl Scout cookies: Thin Mints, Samoas, and Tagalongs
-the Ten Commandments, as read secularly
-immigration
-the people in my life
-the American system of checks and balances, especially the idea of three separate branches of government
-immigration reform
-knowing how to drive manual transmission
-knowing Spanish (I don't)
-direct-service non-profit organizations and huge internationals banks
-the fact that The New Yorker just exists (I don't necessarily need to read it)
-pub appetizers, especially pub appetizer sampler plates which include lots of fried things
-bacon
-All, It's
10.3.08
home, spring, whatever
...And that's to say, yeah I'm leaving...But I don't have to go there.
I don't have to go to Spring Street.
Because its spring everywhere.
I thought my spring involved leaving. I was happy with my plan, and too angry to look back. Hindsight is 20/20...and I guess I'd rather eventually see 20/20, no matter how frustratingly-timed, than to never see it at all.
I thought my spring hinged on this move...on this new beginning, and the way I was raised it was ingrained in me to turn to 'new beginnings,' so I never questioned that. Now for the first time in my life I sense home, and I know where it is. And it's not where my family is, although I thought that may have been the case. And it's not where the majority of my family thinks I "should" be. And it's not "less" home because it is far from them.
And it's not the familiarity or the memories. It's not the sound of the Muni, the farmer's market, the sparkling bay on a sunny day, or the freedom to feel glum on a foggy one. It's not calling Papalote and having them know my voice, or sitting in my kitchen with the ravished spread laid out on the table and offering Karen the last bite of my rice and bean super burrito 'cause I know she wants one last bite. It's not merchants of 24th; the Fernandas or the Jules or the Joes. It's not the exhilarating thigh-burn I get when I walk anywhere, nor the fun disdain for the Marina. It's not cheering with Random Dave at the Dub on an autumn Sunday morning, or Karen hearing the homeless guy ride his shopping cart down 24th Street at 11pm and hurry up and look or we'll miss it this time. It's not the obnoxious sound-making knick-knacks lining Mission Street storefronts, or posters of leather-clad beefcakes lining Castro Street. It's not the spot on Fair Oaks where so many nicely-potted plants have been arranged by a bench and I look down toward my house and everything feels good and the sunlight peeks through to the sidewalk and I can hear the kids over at the Adda Clevenger playing during recess. It's not donuts on Christmas morning or Bart's ravioli on Thanksgiving. It's not fixed-gear bike riders, or riding my own bike across the bridge, dodging the Blazing Saddles renters, and around and then up to the tippy top of the Headlands with my calves on fire and my heart pumping and my lungs heaving, and looking back on the city and getting goosebumps.
No, all those things are just nice memories I feel lucky to have like all the other thousands I'm forced to keep in my mind from the myriad of places I've lived.
Home? Home is where the heart is.
And I want to come home.
I don't have to go to Spring Street.
Because its spring everywhere.
I thought my spring involved leaving. I was happy with my plan, and too angry to look back. Hindsight is 20/20...and I guess I'd rather eventually see 20/20, no matter how frustratingly-timed, than to never see it at all.
I thought my spring hinged on this move...on this new beginning, and the way I was raised it was ingrained in me to turn to 'new beginnings,' so I never questioned that. Now for the first time in my life I sense home, and I know where it is. And it's not where my family is, although I thought that may have been the case. And it's not where the majority of my family thinks I "should" be. And it's not "less" home because it is far from them.
And it's not the familiarity or the memories. It's not the sound of the Muni, the farmer's market, the sparkling bay on a sunny day, or the freedom to feel glum on a foggy one. It's not calling Papalote and having them know my voice, or sitting in my kitchen with the ravished spread laid out on the table and offering Karen the last bite of my rice and bean super burrito 'cause I know she wants one last bite. It's not merchants of 24th; the Fernandas or the Jules or the Joes. It's not the exhilarating thigh-burn I get when I walk anywhere, nor the fun disdain for the Marina. It's not cheering with Random Dave at the Dub on an autumn Sunday morning, or Karen hearing the homeless guy ride his shopping cart down 24th Street at 11pm and hurry up and look or we'll miss it this time. It's not the obnoxious sound-making knick-knacks lining Mission Street storefronts, or posters of leather-clad beefcakes lining Castro Street. It's not the spot on Fair Oaks where so many nicely-potted plants have been arranged by a bench and I look down toward my house and everything feels good and the sunlight peeks through to the sidewalk and I can hear the kids over at the Adda Clevenger playing during recess. It's not donuts on Christmas morning or Bart's ravioli on Thanksgiving. It's not fixed-gear bike riders, or riding my own bike across the bridge, dodging the Blazing Saddles renters, and around and then up to the tippy top of the Headlands with my calves on fire and my heart pumping and my lungs heaving, and looking back on the city and getting goosebumps.
No, all those things are just nice memories I feel lucky to have like all the other thousands I'm forced to keep in my mind from the myriad of places I've lived.
Home? Home is where the heart is.
And I want to come home.
5.3.08
misc. wednesday
-I can't believe it's been a year. I don't want to die without doing what makes sense. I don't want to lose important things due to stuff I could have changed. I don't want to sell myself short.
-I won't.
-Hey there...what's that in your sky
With all the pretty lights
You think I can get that high?
Hey you man, where's your motivation
And why the celebration
You've gotten nothing done here.
You wanna live until you
Die alone and will
Fly alone and will
I'm not so far below
I live beneath your sky
With tainted eyes,
I've made my mind
To live until I die
Run run run catch me if you can can can
Come and hold my hand and I'll be your biggest fan
Followers living in your hollow words
I have seen your nine to fives
Wash away your dreams
-I won't.
-Hey there...what's that in your sky
With all the pretty lights
You think I can get that high?
Hey you man, where's your motivation
And why the celebration
You've gotten nothing done here.
You wanna live until you
Die alone and will
Fly alone and will
I'm not so far below
I live beneath your sky
With tainted eyes,
I've made my mind
To live until I die
Run run run catch me if you can can can
Come and hold my hand and I'll be your biggest fan
Followers living in your hollow words
I have seen your nine to fives
Wash away your dreams
5.12.07
misc. wednesday
-Because it's that time of year, here is your fool-proof Bar Bible
-On a similar note, I really do believe that we will beat the P-Bags on Sunday
-If you know me at all (which would be creepy if you didn't), then you know that right now I am in a literal Holly-Daze. The period between Thanksgiving and the New Year is my absolute favorite time of year. Thank you for bearing with me.
-There's recently been some discussions surrounding "good beer." As such, I will go ahead and list my top-ten favorite Winter beers (list subject to change upon new discoveries):
10. Old Dominion Winter IPA
9. Sam Adams' Winter Lager
8. My friend Alex Porcaro's home-brewed Wassail
7. Anderson Valley Winter Solstice
6. Sam Smith's Winter Welcome Ale
5. Sam Adams' Cranberry Lambic
4. Sam Adams' Old Fezziwig Ale
3. Tuborg Christmas Brew
2. Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale
1. Anchor Steam Christmas (with a candy cane in the glass)
-Timing, as they say, is everything.
-On a similar note, I really do believe that we will beat the P-Bags on Sunday
-If you know me at all (which would be creepy if you didn't), then you know that right now I am in a literal Holly-Daze. The period between Thanksgiving and the New Year is my absolute favorite time of year. Thank you for bearing with me.
-There's recently been some discussions surrounding "good beer." As such, I will go ahead and list my top-ten favorite Winter beers (list subject to change upon new discoveries):
10. Old Dominion Winter IPA
9. Sam Adams' Winter Lager
8. My friend Alex Porcaro's home-brewed Wassail
7. Anderson Valley Winter Solstice
6. Sam Smith's Winter Welcome Ale
5. Sam Adams' Cranberry Lambic
4. Sam Adams' Old Fezziwig Ale
3. Tuborg Christmas Brew
2. Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale
1. Anchor Steam Christmas (with a candy cane in the glass)
-Timing, as they say, is everything.
27.11.07
lyrics
You've got so much to say...
Say what you mean,
Mean what you think,
And then think anything.
-Cat Stevens, from "Can't Keep It In"
I'd say that's a fool-proof way to go about life honestly and sincerely. Wouldn't you?
Say what you mean,
Mean what you think,
And then think anything.
-Cat Stevens, from "Can't Keep It In"
I'd say that's a fool-proof way to go about life honestly and sincerely. Wouldn't you?
30.10.07
television
For some reason I've been having lots of conversations about television lately, and have found myself actually watching the ol' boob tube as well. As such, I just thought I'd list my top-ten favorite shows/series (including one miniseries) of all time, followed by an attempt to qualify the ranking:
10. The L Word (Showtime)
OK, OK...this one made this list for obvious reasons. But after living in an annoying "shadow" of a prominent stereotype of lesbians (softball), it was great to see a new image crammed down premium cable subscribers' throats. Even if the new stereotype is now getting stale.
9. Band of Brothers (HBO)
No, I didn't pick this just because it came out when I was an Army ROTC cadet and all of the other nerd-alert cadets (of which I was not one) were obsessed with it. [They were really, really obsessed with it]. I actually thought - even as the more-non-Republican person that I am - that it was a beautiful portrayal of the type of unit morale indicative of WWII and the Modern Era. A well-delivered, wonderfully-directed account of the soldiers and the war.
8. Friends (NBC)
Always hailed by sitcom experts as a look inside the post-Gen-X-but-not-quite-Gen-Y generation (you know, the one in between Reality Bites and Grey's Anatomy) -- the scripted peek inside what happened to My So Called Life's characters once they developed better social skills and moved to the Big Apple -- Friends (whether you hate it or not) DID change the scene for sitcom writing and innovated what has now become "formulaic" comedic timing...what you see in the likes of Scrubs to Grey's...something all of these lame-ass shows (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, What About Brian?, etc.) would never innovate. But even without higher thinking, I always found myself laughing hysterically at the really-for-real situations encountered by the affable Friends, and their realistically-portrayed attempts at getting out alive.
7. Twin Peaks (ABC)
I'm not going to lamely repeat all of the high-brow prose surrounding Lynch's incredible show; in fact, I'm not completely read up on it to this day just because I could really give two craps anyway. Alls I knows is that his style translated brilliantly to the small-screen, and every single scene -- even the comedic ones -- gave every last inch of my body the creeps. This show wins for eliciting the most physical reaction!
6. Disney's Adventures of the Gummy Bears (Disney Afternoon on ABC/NBC)
Dashing and daring, courageous and caring...this was one of those staple shows of my childhood. But aside from its catchy, motivational theme song that made me feel like I could do anything, it really impacted the way I thought about life and the power of teamwork. Overall, I gained a significant amount from the Disney Afternoon (which also included Chip-N-Dale Rescue Rangers, DuckTales, Goof Troop, and Darkwing Duck).
5. Six Feet Under (HBO)
Never has death been portrayed to me as such a meaningful and meaningless occurrence.
4. The Daily Show with Jon Stewart (Comedy Central)
I remember watching The Daily Show with Craig Kilborne and thinking how it couldn't get any better than this. And then it did. Seriously, if Jon Stewart ran for president I would vote instantly. I rely on this show in so many ways, it's kind of embarrassing. Well, not really.
3. Jeopardy! (Sony Pictures)
The simplest and classiest show on TV. One of my life's dreams is to be a contestant.
2. TIE!
Seinfeld (Fox)
Again -- please don't turn to this schmuck of a paragraph for anything "new" about Seinfeld's role in TV and pop history. But this show was instrumental in the development of my sense of humor, which is a crucial element of my personality (did you think I didn't know that?). Its contributions go beyond reminiscing with friends about "the one with...." to some serious borrowing of joke-delivery inflections, humorous concepts, and all the rest of it. And as a high-schooler, I was drawn to this foreign world of selfish adult life in Manhattan in a fascinating anthropological way: it was so foreign from my then-Wal-Mart-centric existence, and it armed me with the ability to take people I meet now like Elaine Benis with a grain of salt.
Absolutely Fabulous (BBC)
Edina Monsoon is one of my heroes (and so is Jennifer Saunders) because she just does whatever the hell she wants.
1. The Wire (HBO)
Here's how good The Wire is: I'm only finishing up Season 2 (Season 5 starts in January 2008), and it's my favorite show of all time. So I guess that could disqualify it if you're going to be all nit-picky. Which you probably are because you never cut me any slack anymore.
Maybe it gets really bad and I'll regret this decision. Maybe not. I don't really care, yo. The show's writing is, hands-down, the best I've ever experienced, thanks to writer/creator Edward Burns' real-life experience as a career BPD cop. It is so real -- so true -- that you literally want to move to Baltimore and at the same time never want to move to Baltimore. Nobody wins and nobody loses -- just like real life. There is not one single cheesy or obvious moment -- as of yet -- and there is not one instructional scene or dialogue to make you "get it." In watching the true reality of Baltimore play out, though, you just do.
10. The L Word (Showtime)
OK, OK...this one made this list for obvious reasons. But after living in an annoying "shadow" of a prominent stereotype of lesbians (softball), it was great to see a new image crammed down premium cable subscribers' throats. Even if the new stereotype is now getting stale.
9. Band of Brothers (HBO)
No, I didn't pick this just because it came out when I was an Army ROTC cadet and all of the other nerd-alert cadets (of which I was not one) were obsessed with it. [They were really, really obsessed with it]. I actually thought - even as the more-non-Republican person that I am - that it was a beautiful portrayal of the type of unit morale indicative of WWII and the Modern Era. A well-delivered, wonderfully-directed account of the soldiers and the war.
8. Friends (NBC)
Always hailed by sitcom experts as a look inside the post-Gen-X-but-not-quite-Gen-Y generation (you know, the one in between Reality Bites and Grey's Anatomy) -- the scripted peek inside what happened to My So Called Life's characters once they developed better social skills and moved to the Big Apple -- Friends (whether you hate it or not) DID change the scene for sitcom writing and innovated what has now become "formulaic" comedic timing...what you see in the likes of Scrubs to Grey's...something all of these lame-ass shows (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, What About Brian?, etc.) would never innovate. But even without higher thinking, I always found myself laughing hysterically at the really-for-real situations encountered by the affable Friends, and their realistically-portrayed attempts at getting out alive.
7. Twin Peaks (ABC)
I'm not going to lamely repeat all of the high-brow prose surrounding Lynch's incredible show; in fact, I'm not completely read up on it to this day just because I could really give two craps anyway. Alls I knows is that his style translated brilliantly to the small-screen, and every single scene -- even the comedic ones -- gave every last inch of my body the creeps. This show wins for eliciting the most physical reaction!
6. Disney's Adventures of the Gummy Bears (Disney Afternoon on ABC/NBC)
Dashing and daring, courageous and caring...this was one of those staple shows of my childhood. But aside from its catchy, motivational theme song that made me feel like I could do anything, it really impacted the way I thought about life and the power of teamwork. Overall, I gained a significant amount from the Disney Afternoon (which also included Chip-N-Dale Rescue Rangers, DuckTales, Goof Troop, and Darkwing Duck).
5. Six Feet Under (HBO)
Never has death been portrayed to me as such a meaningful and meaningless occurrence.
4. The Daily Show with Jon Stewart (Comedy Central)
I remember watching The Daily Show with Craig Kilborne and thinking how it couldn't get any better than this. And then it did. Seriously, if Jon Stewart ran for president I would vote instantly. I rely on this show in so many ways, it's kind of embarrassing. Well, not really.
3. Jeopardy! (Sony Pictures)
The simplest and classiest show on TV. One of my life's dreams is to be a contestant.
2. TIE!
Seinfeld (Fox)
Again -- please don't turn to this schmuck of a paragraph for anything "new" about Seinfeld's role in TV and pop history. But this show was instrumental in the development of my sense of humor, which is a crucial element of my personality (did you think I didn't know that?). Its contributions go beyond reminiscing with friends about "the one with...." to some serious borrowing of joke-delivery inflections, humorous concepts, and all the rest of it. And as a high-schooler, I was drawn to this foreign world of selfish adult life in Manhattan in a fascinating anthropological way: it was so foreign from my then-Wal-Mart-centric existence, and it armed me with the ability to take people I meet now like Elaine Benis with a grain of salt.
Absolutely Fabulous (BBC)
Edina Monsoon is one of my heroes (and so is Jennifer Saunders) because she just does whatever the hell she wants.
1. The Wire (HBO)
Here's how good The Wire is: I'm only finishing up Season 2 (Season 5 starts in January 2008), and it's my favorite show of all time. So I guess that could disqualify it if you're going to be all nit-picky. Which you probably are because you never cut me any slack anymore.
Maybe it gets really bad and I'll regret this decision. Maybe not. I don't really care, yo. The show's writing is, hands-down, the best I've ever experienced, thanks to writer/creator Edward Burns' real-life experience as a career BPD cop. It is so real -- so true -- that you literally want to move to Baltimore and at the same time never want to move to Baltimore. Nobody wins and nobody loses -- just like real life. There is not one single cheesy or obvious moment -- as of yet -- and there is not one instructional scene or dialogue to make you "get it." In watching the true reality of Baltimore play out, though, you just do.
24.10.07
misc. wednesday
Well THAT was a long hiatus!
-all the hoopla in my life right now stems from the World Series. I think, though, and at the expense of being dumped by my Beantown-born girlfriend, that the Sox have a tall order ahead of them (see: Starks' ESPN article from today for more substantive analysis than I could ever give) and could probably end up losing. The good thing is that at least the Sox regain their underdog status heading into the Big Run according to the info given in Starks' piece.
My own prediction lies not in who will win, but how they will win: if the Rox lose, they'll be in such shock that they probably wouldn't be able to recover. If they win, however, it will keep up their amazingly-victorious momentum to drive them to a sweep-like routing of the Sox.
- One of my favorite movie sequences:
Clark: "I can't wait to meet our relatives, in person." "Dipplestrabe." "What are we looking for?"
Audrey: "Sechs."
Clark: "That will do, Audrey."
Audrey: "That's German for six."
-I still don't have any beef with Mike Tomlin's performance so far.
-I went to San Diego this weekend (before the fires started raging). I think it's a really interesting place. It has beautiful weather year-round, and it makes me wonder what the absence of rainy and gloomy days could have on a mass society. Usually rainy/gloomy days result in boredom, introspection, even creativity. Because of the endless sunshine and, thus, distraction, do San Diegoans have, en masse, a generally-less-developed sense of self? Are they in touch with their emotions at all? What do they consider the meaning of life? What IS the meaning of life?
This thought briefly crossed my mind on our way to go surfing.
-Sometimes I just really like Ace of Base.
-And sometimes I don't. Those are the darker days.
-all the hoopla in my life right now stems from the World Series. I think, though, and at the expense of being dumped by my Beantown-born girlfriend, that the Sox have a tall order ahead of them (see: Starks' ESPN article from today for more substantive analysis than I could ever give) and could probably end up losing. The good thing is that at least the Sox regain their underdog status heading into the Big Run according to the info given in Starks' piece.
My own prediction lies not in who will win, but how they will win: if the Rox lose, they'll be in such shock that they probably wouldn't be able to recover. If they win, however, it will keep up their amazingly-victorious momentum to drive them to a sweep-like routing of the Sox.
- One of my favorite movie sequences:
Clark: "I can't wait to meet our relatives, in person." "Dipplestrabe." "What are we looking for?"
Audrey: "Sechs."
Clark: "That will do, Audrey."
Audrey: "That's German for six."
-I still don't have any beef with Mike Tomlin's performance so far.
-I went to San Diego this weekend (before the fires started raging). I think it's a really interesting place. It has beautiful weather year-round, and it makes me wonder what the absence of rainy and gloomy days could have on a mass society. Usually rainy/gloomy days result in boredom, introspection, even creativity. Because of the endless sunshine and, thus, distraction, do San Diegoans have, en masse, a generally-less-developed sense of self? Are they in touch with their emotions at all? What do they consider the meaning of life? What IS the meaning of life?
This thought briefly crossed my mind on our way to go surfing.
-Sometimes I just really like Ace of Base.
-And sometimes I don't. Those are the darker days.
8.8.07
complete douchebag makes baseball "history"
OK, OK...so a lot of people out there might consider the fact that I scored $25 tickets to tonight's Giants game and ended up seeing "history" quite an envious fact. To be honest, I'm just glad to have seen my boys from D.C. rock the house. A very impressive performance by my beloved Nats.
What's less impressive to me is how a doped-up/genetically-altered super-human athlete "beat" an actual athlete's sporting record. When Bonds slammed his 756th homer this evening, I may have been the only one among 46,000ish people who could not only care less, but who actually felt contempt and slight anger at the hoopla surrounding this ridiculous "feat." I mean, how hard is it to beat something that's 33 years old...especially when you've basically been cheating to do it? That's like me bragging I can send an email faster than someone in 1974 could send a fax.
And even less impressive to me than Bonds is the SF Giants fans in general. Way to be so maniacal about the "Road to History" (as the immediately-rolled-out banners proclaim) that as soon as the inning in which this so-called "history" was made, you pack up and go back to your organically-carpeted TIC condos. Because, of course, you saw the "moment"...what does the rest of the game even matter? Seriously, I think about 20,000 left the stadium within 30 minutes of #756. For as much as I think Boston fans are some of the most obnoxious people in the entire world, I admire them for that very same quality. You just know Fenway would have somehow added butts to seats as opposed to this pathetic AT&T Park attrition I saw tonight.
Last but not least. Least impressive than the above: the actual SF Giants themselves. After including in your ballgame one of the singular moments in baseball history, you can't even win the damn game. Pathetic.
I hope this doesn't sound like I didn't have a fun time -- I love baseball and I loved this evening. Just had to get some irritation off my chest. Go Nats...I'll be there tomorrow, too!
What's less impressive to me is how a doped-up/genetically-altered super-human athlete "beat" an actual athlete's sporting record. When Bonds slammed his 756th homer this evening, I may have been the only one among 46,000ish people who could not only care less, but who actually felt contempt and slight anger at the hoopla surrounding this ridiculous "feat." I mean, how hard is it to beat something that's 33 years old...especially when you've basically been cheating to do it? That's like me bragging I can send an email faster than someone in 1974 could send a fax.
And even less impressive to me than Bonds is the SF Giants fans in general. Way to be so maniacal about the "Road to History" (as the immediately-rolled-out banners proclaim) that as soon as the inning in which this so-called "history" was made, you pack up and go back to your organically-carpeted TIC condos. Because, of course, you saw the "moment"...what does the rest of the game even matter? Seriously, I think about 20,000 left the stadium within 30 minutes of #756. For as much as I think Boston fans are some of the most obnoxious people in the entire world, I admire them for that very same quality. You just know Fenway would have somehow added butts to seats as opposed to this pathetic AT&T Park attrition I saw tonight.
Last but not least. Least impressive than the above: the actual SF Giants themselves. After including in your ballgame one of the singular moments in baseball history, you can't even win the damn game. Pathetic.
I hope this doesn't sound like I didn't have a fun time -- I love baseball and I loved this evening. Just had to get some irritation off my chest. Go Nats...I'll be there tomorrow, too!
11.7.07
a fortnight in New England
Ahoy hoy! What a marvelous trip I just had with my boo to her old NE stomping grounds. Let me tell you all about it (mainly so I can relive the past):
Arrive in Boston after a wonderful non-stop flight on JetBlue. Honestly, JetBlue is one of the best things happening to America right now, and even the red-eye is bearable, nay, enjoyable. Leave that afternoon for friend Carrie's Maine lake house, where we spent 5 nights on the waterfront. Daytime activities include canoeing, swimming, laying, eating, laying, and swimming. Nighttime: grilling, watching scary movies (both "Cape Fears," for example). It was a big, gay time.
Back in Boston for a night then on to a solo NYC trip (briefly leaving official New England). As many know, a NYC trip means non-stop, short visits: lunch, coffee, dinner, drinks. Somehow it's never stressful for me because I'm seeing people I like and I don't care if a cross-town bus is involved. Stayed with the wonderful Mer-Bear (Merry Andrews) who introduced me to her world of arts and crafts at her newfound love, Little Shop of Crafts, for which she will be the Upper-West Side store manager. (See very early postings on this blog for more about Merry). One of the highlights was dinner at Amy Ruth's near her Harlem apartment. Let's just say I've never had honey-dipped fried chicken before, and now I can't imagine my life without it.
Met up with Leah and her family to leave NYC for their place in the Berkshires...a small but kick-ass wildnerness house. Got to see two renowned performances, one at the dance venue Jacob's Pillow and the other at Tanglewood. I'm definitely not a modern dance fan (I feel like I could run around in gentle circles waving my arms and call it 'art', but the venue was cool). Heard lovely Beethoven Fuges via Emerson String Quartet at Tanglewood which was nice, although taking all of the retired "Berkshirians" sprawled out on the grass with a grain of salt. Day we left I got some awesome goat cheese from a po-dunk farm and had breakfast at a cafe that rehabilitates and employs adults with mental-health issues (as Carrie, who works with this sector, would say: adult retards).
That day we drove back to Boston for a baseball-filled evening. We walked from Leah's house to Fenway...just her dad, the girls and me. As you may or may not know, I'm relatively new to baseball and consider myself a loyal Nationals fan, but there was something differently-exciting about going to Fenway for the first time, including the seriously-obnoxious Sox fans, including Leah's own dad. I mean, is everyone a bum??
After that is was off to Cape Cod for the Fourth. Leah's family lucked out and moved to Brookline 35 years ago; I'd consider them about as blue-collar as you'd get in that part of the city. Necessarily, though, a lot of her friends from Brookline HS have different experiences and lawyer/doctor-type professions. Needless to say, for whatever reason, they've got Cape houses. So we got to go to the Cape.
A beautiful hike on the bayside to a sandbar for swimming, a walk-up raw bar, a fun-filled BBQ with the necessary (and, on this end, quite missed) summer thunderstorm...it was a really fun time.
Now I'm back in SF and realizing that the east coast is definitely where my heart is. I'll be back eventually!
Arrive in Boston after a wonderful non-stop flight on JetBlue. Honestly, JetBlue is one of the best things happening to America right now, and even the red-eye is bearable, nay, enjoyable. Leave that afternoon for friend Carrie's Maine lake house, where we spent 5 nights on the waterfront. Daytime activities include canoeing, swimming, laying, eating, laying, and swimming. Nighttime: grilling, watching scary movies (both "Cape Fears," for example). It was a big, gay time.
Back in Boston for a night then on to a solo NYC trip (briefly leaving official New England). As many know, a NYC trip means non-stop, short visits: lunch, coffee, dinner, drinks. Somehow it's never stressful for me because I'm seeing people I like and I don't care if a cross-town bus is involved. Stayed with the wonderful Mer-Bear (Merry Andrews) who introduced me to her world of arts and crafts at her newfound love, Little Shop of Crafts, for which she will be the Upper-West Side store manager. (See very early postings on this blog for more about Merry). One of the highlights was dinner at Amy Ruth's near her Harlem apartment. Let's just say I've never had honey-dipped fried chicken before, and now I can't imagine my life without it.
Met up with Leah and her family to leave NYC for their place in the Berkshires...a small but kick-ass wildnerness house. Got to see two renowned performances, one at the dance venue Jacob's Pillow and the other at Tanglewood. I'm definitely not a modern dance fan (I feel like I could run around in gentle circles waving my arms and call it 'art', but the venue was cool). Heard lovely Beethoven Fuges via Emerson String Quartet at Tanglewood which was nice, although taking all of the retired "Berkshirians" sprawled out on the grass with a grain of salt. Day we left I got some awesome goat cheese from a po-dunk farm and had breakfast at a cafe that rehabilitates and employs adults with mental-health issues (as Carrie, who works with this sector, would say: adult retards).
That day we drove back to Boston for a baseball-filled evening. We walked from Leah's house to Fenway...just her dad, the girls and me. As you may or may not know, I'm relatively new to baseball and consider myself a loyal Nationals fan, but there was something differently-exciting about going to Fenway for the first time, including the seriously-obnoxious Sox fans, including Leah's own dad. I mean, is everyone a bum??
After that is was off to Cape Cod for the Fourth. Leah's family lucked out and moved to Brookline 35 years ago; I'd consider them about as blue-collar as you'd get in that part of the city. Necessarily, though, a lot of her friends from Brookline HS have different experiences and lawyer/doctor-type professions. Needless to say, for whatever reason, they've got Cape houses. So we got to go to the Cape.
A beautiful hike on the bayside to a sandbar for swimming, a walk-up raw bar, a fun-filled BBQ with the necessary (and, on this end, quite missed) summer thunderstorm...it was a really fun time.
Now I'm back in SF and realizing that the east coast is definitely where my heart is. I'll be back eventually!
30.5.07
24.5.07
mem day
I'm very excited, for tonight I leave for DC and northern Virginia for a fun-filled weekend of canoeing, weddings, and seeing so many people I haven't seen for the past year. Hurray for Memorial Day weekend!
18.5.07
feel-the-love Friday
Here are some things I love right now and why:
-Gone With the Wind:
Because it has been a nice story to get into after an evening full of logical reasoning, and because I love reading about the South.
-The Washington Nationals:
Because it is baseball season.
- Studying for the LSAT:
Because it is making me a better person.
-My bike:
Because it is waiting patiently in the hallway until I'm done with the LSAT. And because it is off-white in color.
-Radio Deliro (French Internet radio station):
Because it plays a variety of good stuff, from sun-themed Beatles song sets, to 20s big band classics, to Parisian jazz circa 1935, to the Mozart standards, to American blues, to the wonderful group Le Grand Orchestre du Splendid (right now it's some French boogie version of "Swanee River.") Or maybe it's just because it makes me want to drink a Manhattan, and even thinking about drinking a Manhattan makes me happy.
- Leah Tuckman:
Because she "lets" me be myself, without letting me be myself in a bad way. Actually, I think being myself in a bad way is literally impossible given the inherent truth I've discovered that I am always necessarily good with her.
Also, she's a math teacher and she likes to introduce me to really bad hip hop.
-Gone With the Wind:
Because it has been a nice story to get into after an evening full of logical reasoning, and because I love reading about the South.
-The Washington Nationals:
Because it is baseball season.
- Studying for the LSAT:
Because it is making me a better person.
-My bike:
Because it is waiting patiently in the hallway until I'm done with the LSAT. And because it is off-white in color.
-Radio Deliro (French Internet radio station):
Because it plays a variety of good stuff, from sun-themed Beatles song sets, to 20s big band classics, to Parisian jazz circa 1935, to the Mozart standards, to American blues, to the wonderful group Le Grand Orchestre du Splendid (right now it's some French boogie version of "Swanee River.") Or maybe it's just because it makes me want to drink a Manhattan, and even thinking about drinking a Manhattan makes me happy.
- Leah Tuckman:
Because she "lets" me be myself, without letting me be myself in a bad way. Actually, I think being myself in a bad way is literally impossible given the inherent truth I've discovered that I am always necessarily good with her.
Also, she's a math teacher and she likes to introduce me to really bad hip hop.
17.4.07
happy about the Nats
I am very happy about the Nats winning "streak." What makes me more proud is that they're doing it in their crappy stadium and in the worst spring in memorable baseball history. But, for the Nats, it's a chilly spring of bonding.
Ontario native and pitcher Shawn Hill, however, isn't quick to take the compliment:
"We played baseball when it was hailing and it was minus-15 degrees. Until there's snow on the ground and the wind's blowing it sideways, it's not cold."
Ontario native and pitcher Shawn Hill, however, isn't quick to take the compliment:
"We played baseball when it was hailing and it was minus-15 degrees. Until there's snow on the ground and the wind's blowing it sideways, it's not cold."
10.4.07
grow up, DCist
From the DCist's recent article, "In-Nat-equate":
Well, Nats fans, what's there to say? What can we add to the criticism leveled by so many others?
What can we say about an opening week where the Nats have yet to lead for a single pitch? When the pitching has spotted the opposition leads of 6-0, 6-0, 5-0, 4-0, 7-0, 6-0, and 3-0? When the lineup needed 30 at bats to finally get a hit with a man in scoring position? When the defense has a worst-in-the-league eight errors?
This article makes me sad. Boo hoo. How, in our nation's capital, are you actually THIS fickle that you cannot enjoy America's original pastime??? I lived in D.C. when the Nats came to town and spent three hours on eBay trying to get opening day tickets. The daughter of a career officer, I had never had baseball in my life before, and I welcomed the chance to root for the home team and follow the boys through ups and downs. Even though a year later I had moved across the country to San Francisco, I still get excited when the Grapefruit League starts and my Google "Nats" Alerts roll in by the dozens each week. Well, except when crap like this comes to my inbox and I wonder how people like the author are able to enjoy life when they're so focused on the negative and can't just sit back and enjoy what it means to be a fan.
Well, Nats fans, what's there to say? What can we add to the criticism leveled by so many others?
What can we say about an opening week where the Nats have yet to lead for a single pitch? When the pitching has spotted the opposition leads of 6-0, 6-0, 5-0, 4-0, 7-0, 6-0, and 3-0? When the lineup needed 30 at bats to finally get a hit with a man in scoring position? When the defense has a worst-in-the-league eight errors?
This article makes me sad. Boo hoo. How, in our nation's capital, are you actually THIS fickle that you cannot enjoy America's original pastime??? I lived in D.C. when the Nats came to town and spent three hours on eBay trying to get opening day tickets. The daughter of a career officer, I had never had baseball in my life before, and I welcomed the chance to root for the home team and follow the boys through ups and downs. Even though a year later I had moved across the country to San Francisco, I still get excited when the Grapefruit League starts and my Google "Nats" Alerts roll in by the dozens each week. Well, except when crap like this comes to my inbox and I wonder how people like the author are able to enjoy life when they're so focused on the negative and can't just sit back and enjoy what it means to be a fan.
21.3.07
misc. wednesday
-Things are pretty much back to "normal" now; just getting into work again and looking forward to the spring and summer. It's different without the three-minute voice messages hounding on the Democrats or updating me on the weather, but in more ways than one, Grandmere is definitely still alive in spirit.
-While I'm still not sure how I feel about the hyper-personalization of news (that, essentially, we "miss out" on important information if we simply tailor every publication toward our liking), I have to say that Google News Alerts have become the solution to my sports-team ignorance. I've always been so flustered about not being able find my way through the sports-journalism labyrinth, that I simply give up within the first few weeks of the season. Then I feel like such a poser not knowing what's going on when I watch the games! Thank god that now Google simply delivers, right to my inbox, a list of links matching "washington nationals." I think I'm actually going to be able to form an opinion for once -- my first one ever in the history of sports. Maybe I'll try it out on my next posting.
-Congratulations to my roommate and pal Karen for winning this St. Patty's Day "Romancing the Island" 25k run on Angel Island here in SF! (Yours truly, on the other hand, could barely finish the 12k without my knee exploding in pain. A year and a half after the MCM, it's still fucked up.)
-Good ol' Brad is coming to visit this weekend and I couldn't be more excitamundo. Lineup of events includes trip to Napa -- got a free pair of 10-cent tasting passes for 10 wineries. Coupled with the super-cheap $20 ferry/bus pass, I'd say we're gonna be making out pretty frugally. Maybe we'll go to a nice restaurant and just ask for water and bread.
-$10 to anyone who can tell me what he's saying.
-Joined a women's flag football team with Leah. After my first game, I can say with confidence that it's probably the gayest thing I've ever done. Even more than working for the National Center for Lesbian Rights.
-Some pop-meta-critic will probably write (or perhaps has already written), a treatise on spelling, punctuation, and grammar in the digital age. I would like to go on record as the first person who said that hyperlinks are the new parentheses.
-While I'm still not sure how I feel about the hyper-personalization of news (that, essentially, we "miss out" on important information if we simply tailor every publication toward our liking), I have to say that Google News Alerts have become the solution to my sports-team ignorance. I've always been so flustered about not being able find my way through the sports-journalism labyrinth, that I simply give up within the first few weeks of the season. Then I feel like such a poser not knowing what's going on when I watch the games! Thank god that now Google simply delivers, right to my inbox, a list of links matching "washington nationals." I think I'm actually going to be able to form an opinion for once -- my first one ever in the history of sports. Maybe I'll try it out on my next posting.
-Congratulations to my roommate and pal Karen for winning this St. Patty's Day "Romancing the Island" 25k run on Angel Island here in SF! (Yours truly, on the other hand, could barely finish the 12k without my knee exploding in pain. A year and a half after the MCM, it's still fucked up.)
-Good ol' Brad is coming to visit this weekend and I couldn't be more excitamundo. Lineup of events includes trip to Napa -- got a free pair of 10-cent tasting passes for 10 wineries. Coupled with the super-cheap $20 ferry/bus pass, I'd say we're gonna be making out pretty frugally. Maybe we'll go to a nice restaurant and just ask for water and bread.
-$10 to anyone who can tell me what he's saying.
-Joined a women's flag football team with Leah. After my first game, I can say with confidence that it's probably the gayest thing I've ever done. Even more than working for the National Center for Lesbian Rights.
-Some pop-meta-critic will probably write (or perhaps has already written), a treatise on spelling, punctuation, and grammar in the digital age. I would like to go on record as the first person who said that hyperlinks are the new parentheses.
9.3.07
grandmere
Velma "Vicki" Jean Wilburn Strickland1929 - 2007
My Grandmere passed away this Monday after a courageous battle with brain and lung cancer. I wanted to share my remarks from the services with you few blog readers, for no reason other than why the heck else we throw anything upon these blogs: it means something to the author.
Given at Edenton (N.C.) United Methodist Church, 3/8/2007:
It is very hard to relay to you all what Grandmere means to the seven of us grandkids. But hopefully, I can share a fraction of that with you today.
I think I can say with tremendous confidence that Katie, James, Brooke, Caleb, Lauren, Zach and I sure had our work cut out for us. I bet we had to explain ourselves more than any other set of grandchildren out there:
“Grandwho?”
“What-meer?”
Proudly, and as if it was everyone else who was odd, we’d reply, “You know – Grandmere, silly.”
We’d never let anyone get away with, “Oh, your grandma.” And by the end of the conversation, they would have adopted the word “Grandmere” right into their own vocabularies. “Grandmere” was like saying “Velma” or “Vicki”; it was her name.
Many of you still might be a little confused, so let me quickly explain.
Hardly a bedtime passed when she would not read to us. One night we came upon a French fairy tale of a little girl named Nanette who lived with her grandmother. She left their cottage on a journey to visit a creepy, old chateau.
“Now a chateau in France was a castle…built of gray stone and had many high round towers, and underneath there were dungeons. Happily, Nanette trudged along, watching the towers come nearer and nearer. The tall towers reached right up into the clouds. Her wooden shoes clatter-clapped, for they were going to the Chateau, too. Now Nanette began to climb the steps that led to the Chateau. There were many steps to be climbed—the Chateau was far above the stone cottage where Nanette and Grandmere lived.”
-From “Nanette Visits the Chateau” by Esther Brann Childcraft books, 1949
In French, “Grandmere” is pronounced “grahn-mare.” But in her loving, South-Western Virginia accent, she was soon to pronounce the grandmother’s name...well, in her loving, South-Western Virginia accent.
Following directions, I repeated what I had heard...and, just like that, “Grand-meer” was born.
I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve told that story. One of the more memorable was to my French boss when I was working at a French restaurant in Washington, D.C. He jokingly replied, “So…what do you call your grandfather? Grandpeer?”
I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve told that story. One of the more memorable was to my French boss when I was working at a French restaurant in Washington, D.C. He jokingly replied, “So…what do you call your grandfather? Grandpeer?”
Just like her name, Grandmere is an intersection of the true-blue American from the mountains of South Western Virginia and a well-traveled, worldly woman with an incredibly-deep talent of cultural and historical knowledge. No matter how far away my dad’s Army career took us, Grandmere – and Grandpapa – were there. In fact, there are only a handful of memories from the eight years I lived overseas in which Grandmere isn’t a major part. On the other hand, she didn’t think twice to set up her life here in Edenton when our family needed it. And even here, she has turned this small town into an international hub: Strickland Family Central, where relatives and friends come from near and far to what she has made into our family’s home.
But this dedication to family is only a sliver of a glimpse of who Grandmere was, is, and always will be.
A strong, courageous, independent – and, oftentimes respectably-stubborn – woman, Grandmere has given me and my cousins that same life determination and resolution to do what is right and honorable. What’s more has been her remarkable gift of confidence that we can do anything. Today she leaves us so many gifts, not the least of which are her conviction and faith, and so, so many more lessons. I don’t think Grandmere considered herself a teacher, but she was a great one. Indeed, it was especially in these past few years where we grandchildren have watched as Grandmere has stood by our Grandpapa, and have learned so many valuable examples of love and loyalty.
We WILL carry these lessons – and values – through our own lifetimes, and our grandchildren will do the same. It’s this kind of impact that we can only hope to pass down to the generations that follow us as much as Grandmere has done for this generation.
There is a quote that Grandmere never let me forget. Well, there are many things she quite successfully never let me forget; sometimes at the expense of my patience.
But she always told me, “Ems, there are three things no one can ever take away from you: Your vote, your faith, and your dignity.”
To this short – but powerful – list, I would add a fourth: Grandmere herself.
But this dedication to family is only a sliver of a glimpse of who Grandmere was, is, and always will be.
A strong, courageous, independent – and, oftentimes respectably-stubborn – woman, Grandmere has given me and my cousins that same life determination and resolution to do what is right and honorable. What’s more has been her remarkable gift of confidence that we can do anything. Today she leaves us so many gifts, not the least of which are her conviction and faith, and so, so many more lessons. I don’t think Grandmere considered herself a teacher, but she was a great one. Indeed, it was especially in these past few years where we grandchildren have watched as Grandmere has stood by our Grandpapa, and have learned so many valuable examples of love and loyalty.
We WILL carry these lessons – and values – through our own lifetimes, and our grandchildren will do the same. It’s this kind of impact that we can only hope to pass down to the generations that follow us as much as Grandmere has done for this generation.
There is a quote that Grandmere never let me forget. Well, there are many things she quite successfully never let me forget; sometimes at the expense of my patience.
But she always told me, “Ems, there are three things no one can ever take away from you: Your vote, your faith, and your dignity.”
To this short – but powerful – list, I would add a fourth: Grandmere herself.
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