Thank you, George Michael... for getting me through the academic pain that is exam week(s).
Today was good. Not amazing, but good. Steady. And with brownies.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
thanks, connie
1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
Near the top of my right (from my line of view) thigh--I slid down a giant rock in our backyard when I was 4ish. I don't remember why there was a giant rock in our backyard, but it was taken away soon afterward.
2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
Depressingly, nothing. Most of my posters are ruined from the move and I haven't gotten new ones yet slash plastered it with pictures.
3. WHAT DOES YOUR CELL PHONE LOOK LIKE?
One of those Cingular "go" phones. It's supposed to be temporary but I've had it for like 6 months.
4. WHAT MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
Lately angry girl music, emotional girl music, Okkervil River and Beck
5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
I think it was 4:41PM. It was 4:something PM.
6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
To know what I want.
7. WHO DO YOU MISS?
My sister, and a guy I can never have a functional relationship with.
10. WHAT'S YOUR MIDDLE NAME?
Claire
11. THE BEST TV SHOW EVER CREATED:
I'm pretty sure I haven't seen it yet. But if you ask Audrey, Arrested Development.
12. THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO?
The cashier at CVS.
13. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
Sometimes. If I think about ghosts.
14. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
Let's not go there.
15. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOGNE / PERFUME?
Whatever I use. "Life" or something.
16. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
The hair should be kind of unkempt somehow. All eyes are nice, really.
17. WOULD YOU RATHER BE SMART OR FUNNY?
Uhh. Smart? I don't know. How smart or how funny? You can be smart and dramatic, but funny alone is sort of a sad catch. In fact, you sort of have to be smart to be funny.
18. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINKS?
Latte.
19. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?
Sometimes they'll do tomatoes, which can be good. Or onions.
20. IF YOU CAN EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Maybe cold rice pudding.
21. WHO IS THE LAST PERSON YOU MADE MAD?
Um. I don't know. I think I marginally irritated my mom recently.
22. DO YOU SPEAK ANOTHER LANGUAGE?
I try to speak Hindi sometimes. I played with Chinese for a while, was more successful I think.
23. WHAT WAS THE FIRST GIFT SOMEONE EVER GAVE YOU?
My bunny blankey, which was heinously thieved by the bastards at Learn 'N' Play. I'm still inconsolable.
24. DO YOU LIKE SOMEONE?
Yeah, in vein. I also love someone, but that doesn't work either. I fail.
25. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?
No.
26. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?
The kind without the logo on the clothing.
27. WHAT'S YOUR DREAM CAR?
Prius.
28. WHAT COLOR IS IT?
Um. Silver.
29. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF EXERCISE?
Dancing. Bad, bad dancing.
30. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?
No, I would stop myself. wtf? Come on, survey. Clearly rational circumstances have little to do with my feelings.
31. WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU?
Love them unconditionally.
32. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:
49.
33. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?
Redheads.
34. WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL OFTEN?
Upekha, maybe. Mostly text, though, because we already live together. And I hate phones.
35. WHAT ANNOYS YOU MOST?
My recent perpetual self-consciousness.
35. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE U.S.?
Germany. And Canada. And Amsterdam. And Austria, but barely.
36. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
Attractive and intimidating males.
37. TATER TOTS OR FRIES?
Fries. This is stupid.
38. FIRST JOB?
Hastings Public Library, as a page. And I'm still shelving now. Eeugh.
39. EVER PRANK CALLED SOMEONE?
I think I have, in the 14-ish age range at a sleepover, but I doubt I was successful. I've been prank-called, that was more interesting.
40. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED OUT THIS?
Practicing Hindi at no one. Then listening to music.
41. IF YOU COULD GET PLASTIC SURGERY WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Um, no. Not ever.
42. WHY DID YOU FILL OUT THIS SURVEY?
I have to fulfill my goal and post something but I have nothing to say right now.
43. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
People like when I wear my hair down.
44. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ALCOHOL BECAME ILLEGAL?
Continue drinking it when available. I mean, it's already illegal for me.
45. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
For you to call. That's it.
46. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?
Maybe two or three. Probably more like two.
47. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Not really, but my dad likes to think a great-grandmother Emma and a different one Clara. Really though, a girl in my sister's second-grade class.
48. DO YOU WISH ON STARS?
I don't think so, no. I wish on other stuff sometimes.
49. WHICH FINGER[S] IS YOUR FAVORITE?
Ring, I think. It's pretty & unassuming.
50. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY?
A couple weeks ago-ish. Wasn't a really good cry, though.
51. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Yes, usually.
52. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Tofu.
53. ANY BAD HABITS?
Generally, not caring enough to devote my full attention to things.
54. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING CD ON THE SHELF?
I have some of the earliest NOW's--before there were like 357. Also a Smash Mouth CD. It's at home, though.
55. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Not lately.
56. HAVE YOU EVER TOLD A SECRET YOU SWORE NOT TO TELL?
Of course.
57. DO LOOKS MATTER?
In terms of attraction, yeah. If there's no chemistry, there's little to be done.
58. HOW DO YOU RELEASE YOUR ANGER?
I grind my teeth. A lot. In my sleep, too. And I get a lot of tension headaches. Not much of a release, if you ask me. Which you did, kind of.
59. WHERE IS YOUR SECOND HOME?
In Michigan.
60. DO YOU TRUST OTHERS EASILY?
No, not really at all.
61. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?
I had this lamb. Also one of those glow worm things, I think.
62. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?
I don't know--25?
63. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
OK, seriously.
64. DO YOU KNOW ANYONE FAMOUS?
Mmm, no. I know people who know famous people, though.
65. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN A MOSH PIT?
Yes, at the Flogging Molly show. It was involuntary and painful and sort of terrifying.
66. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
Untapped depth.
67. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
Em, Emmy, Emchen, Emilchen, Emface, Emshum. I guess the "Em" is compulsory.
68. HOW MANY PAIRS OF SHOES DO YOU HAVE?
5, maybe. 6?
69. DO YOU UN-TIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
About half the time.
70. WERE YOU UPSET ABOUT STEVE IRWIN DYING?
Actually, yeah, I really was. I didn't cry or anything, but I was disturbed. It was weird.
71. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?
French Silk--the chocolate mousse kind, not the coffee one. It's hard to find.
72. ARE YOU LAZY?
Kinda, yeah.
73. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE COLORS?
Deep greens.
74. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BAND?
That's too transitory. I love Okkervil right now.
75. HOW MANY WISDOM TEETH DO YOU HAVE?
All of them. Dental appt next month, I'm not looking forward to being told they need to be removed.
76. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
I don't care.
77. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
"For Real" by Okkervil River. Question #74 reminded me.
78. LAST THING YOU ATE?
Granola & milk. Mm, dinner.
79. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My mom, who was asking if I've heard from my sister a-freakin'-gain.
80. WHATS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Probably whether they're noticing me. Or how much they're requiring attention.
81. FAVORITE THOUGHT PROVOKING SONG:
I like most of the Shins' stuff for their lyrics.
82. FAVORITE THING TO HATE:
Critics of global warming.
83. FAVORITE DRINK:
Tea.
84. FAVORITE ZODIAC SIGN
I like mine--Sagittarius. It's like a centaur with a bow and arrow. Pretty badass.
85. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SPORT?
I miss volleyball, kind of.
86. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR?
"Dirty" blonde.
87. EYE COLOR?
Green.
88. DO YOU WEAR GLASSES?
Recently, because of my myriad eye issues.
89. SIBLINGS?
John & Gina.
90. FAVORITE MONTH(s)
I usually like March, and June, and October. Sometimes December.
91. DO YOU LIKE SUSHI?
Yes.
92. LAST THING YOU WATCHED?
Manhattan Murder Mystery.
93. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
I'm fond of the new year. Sometimes I really like Halloween.
94. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT?
I don't know--I usually just let the other person lead this part and act according to how I feel. I should become assertive. There's my problem!
95. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Autumn.
96. KISSES OR HUGS?
Kisses.
97. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE-NIGHT STANDS?
The former.
98. WHO IS THE MOST LIKELY TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
No one. I don't know.
99. WHO IS THE LEAST LIKELY TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
BLaah.
100. Create your own question! (Oo, so interactive!)
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO TELL SOMEONE RIGHT NOW?
Don't lose me. Don't put me where you won't find me again.
101. IS ANYONE IN LOVE WITH YOU?
No indeeeed.
Near the top of my right (from my line of view) thigh--I slid down a giant rock in our backyard when I was 4ish. I don't remember why there was a giant rock in our backyard, but it was taken away soon afterward.
2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
Depressingly, nothing. Most of my posters are ruined from the move and I haven't gotten new ones yet slash plastered it with pictures.
3. WHAT DOES YOUR CELL PHONE LOOK LIKE?
One of those Cingular "go" phones. It's supposed to be temporary but I've had it for like 6 months.
4. WHAT MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
Lately angry girl music, emotional girl music, Okkervil River and Beck
5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
I think it was 4:41PM. It was 4:something PM.
6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
To know what I want.
7. WHO DO YOU MISS?
My sister, and a guy I can never have a functional relationship with.
10. WHAT'S YOUR MIDDLE NAME?
Claire
11. THE BEST TV SHOW EVER CREATED:
I'm pretty sure I haven't seen it yet. But if you ask Audrey, Arrested Development.
12. THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO?
The cashier at CVS.
13. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
Sometimes. If I think about ghosts.
14. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
Let's not go there.
15. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOGNE / PERFUME?
Whatever I use. "Life" or something.
16. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
The hair should be kind of unkempt somehow. All eyes are nice, really.
17. WOULD YOU RATHER BE SMART OR FUNNY?
Uhh. Smart? I don't know. How smart or how funny? You can be smart and dramatic, but funny alone is sort of a sad catch. In fact, you sort of have to be smart to be funny.
18. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINKS?
Latte.
19. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?
Sometimes they'll do tomatoes, which can be good. Or onions.
20. IF YOU CAN EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Maybe cold rice pudding.
21. WHO IS THE LAST PERSON YOU MADE MAD?
Um. I don't know. I think I marginally irritated my mom recently.
22. DO YOU SPEAK ANOTHER LANGUAGE?
I try to speak Hindi sometimes. I played with Chinese for a while, was more successful I think.
23. WHAT WAS THE FIRST GIFT SOMEONE EVER GAVE YOU?
My bunny blankey, which was heinously thieved by the bastards at Learn 'N' Play. I'm still inconsolable.
24. DO YOU LIKE SOMEONE?
Yeah, in vein. I also love someone, but that doesn't work either. I fail.
25. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?
No.
26. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?
The kind without the logo on the clothing.
27. WHAT'S YOUR DREAM CAR?
Prius.
28. WHAT COLOR IS IT?
Um. Silver.
29. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF EXERCISE?
Dancing. Bad, bad dancing.
30. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?
No, I would stop myself. wtf? Come on, survey. Clearly rational circumstances have little to do with my feelings.
31. WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU?
Love them unconditionally.
32. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:
49.
33. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?
Redheads.
34. WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL OFTEN?
Upekha, maybe. Mostly text, though, because we already live together. And I hate phones.
35. WHAT ANNOYS YOU MOST?
My recent perpetual self-consciousness.
35. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE U.S.?
Germany. And Canada. And Amsterdam. And Austria, but barely.
36. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
Attractive and intimidating males.
37. TATER TOTS OR FRIES?
Fries. This is stupid.
38. FIRST JOB?
Hastings Public Library, as a page. And I'm still shelving now. Eeugh.
39. EVER PRANK CALLED SOMEONE?
I think I have, in the 14-ish age range at a sleepover, but I doubt I was successful. I've been prank-called, that was more interesting.
40. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED OUT THIS?
Practicing Hindi at no one. Then listening to music.
41. IF YOU COULD GET PLASTIC SURGERY WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Um, no. Not ever.
42. WHY DID YOU FILL OUT THIS SURVEY?
I have to fulfill my goal and post something but I have nothing to say right now.
43. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
People like when I wear my hair down.
44. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ALCOHOL BECAME ILLEGAL?
Continue drinking it when available. I mean, it's already illegal for me.
45. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
For you to call. That's it.
46. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?
Maybe two or three. Probably more like two.
47. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Not really, but my dad likes to think a great-grandmother Emma and a different one Clara. Really though, a girl in my sister's second-grade class.
48. DO YOU WISH ON STARS?
I don't think so, no. I wish on other stuff sometimes.
49. WHICH FINGER[S] IS YOUR FAVORITE?
Ring, I think. It's pretty & unassuming.
50. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY?
A couple weeks ago-ish. Wasn't a really good cry, though.
51. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Yes, usually.
52. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Tofu.
53. ANY BAD HABITS?
Generally, not caring enough to devote my full attention to things.
54. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING CD ON THE SHELF?
I have some of the earliest NOW's--before there were like 357. Also a Smash Mouth CD. It's at home, though.
55. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Not lately.
56. HAVE YOU EVER TOLD A SECRET YOU SWORE NOT TO TELL?
Of course.
57. DO LOOKS MATTER?
In terms of attraction, yeah. If there's no chemistry, there's little to be done.
58. HOW DO YOU RELEASE YOUR ANGER?
I grind my teeth. A lot. In my sleep, too. And I get a lot of tension headaches. Not much of a release, if you ask me. Which you did, kind of.
59. WHERE IS YOUR SECOND HOME?
In Michigan.
60. DO YOU TRUST OTHERS EASILY?
No, not really at all.
61. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?
I had this lamb. Also one of those glow worm things, I think.
62. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?
I don't know--25?
63. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
OK, seriously.
64. DO YOU KNOW ANYONE FAMOUS?
Mmm, no. I know people who know famous people, though.
65. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN A MOSH PIT?
Yes, at the Flogging Molly show. It was involuntary and painful and sort of terrifying.
66. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
Untapped depth.
67. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
Em, Emmy, Emchen, Emilchen, Emface, Emshum. I guess the "Em" is compulsory.
68. HOW MANY PAIRS OF SHOES DO YOU HAVE?
5, maybe. 6?
69. DO YOU UN-TIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
About half the time.
70. WERE YOU UPSET ABOUT STEVE IRWIN DYING?
Actually, yeah, I really was. I didn't cry or anything, but I was disturbed. It was weird.
71. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?
French Silk--the chocolate mousse kind, not the coffee one. It's hard to find.
72. ARE YOU LAZY?
Kinda, yeah.
73. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE COLORS?
Deep greens.
74. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BAND?
That's too transitory. I love Okkervil right now.
75. HOW MANY WISDOM TEETH DO YOU HAVE?
All of them. Dental appt next month, I'm not looking forward to being told they need to be removed.
76. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
I don't care.
77. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
"For Real" by Okkervil River. Question #74 reminded me.
78. LAST THING YOU ATE?
Granola & milk. Mm, dinner.
79. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My mom, who was asking if I've heard from my sister a-freakin'-gain.
80. WHATS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Probably whether they're noticing me. Or how much they're requiring attention.
81. FAVORITE THOUGHT PROVOKING SONG:
I like most of the Shins' stuff for their lyrics.
82. FAVORITE THING TO HATE:
Critics of global warming.
83. FAVORITE DRINK:
Tea.
84. FAVORITE ZODIAC SIGN
I like mine--Sagittarius. It's like a centaur with a bow and arrow. Pretty badass.
85. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SPORT?
I miss volleyball, kind of.
86. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR?
"Dirty" blonde.
87. EYE COLOR?
Green.
88. DO YOU WEAR GLASSES?
Recently, because of my myriad eye issues.
89. SIBLINGS?
John & Gina.
90. FAVORITE MONTH(s)
I usually like March, and June, and October. Sometimes December.
91. DO YOU LIKE SUSHI?
Yes.
92. LAST THING YOU WATCHED?
Manhattan Murder Mystery.
93. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
I'm fond of the new year. Sometimes I really like Halloween.
94. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT?
I don't know--I usually just let the other person lead this part and act according to how I feel. I should become assertive. There's my problem!
95. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Autumn.
96. KISSES OR HUGS?
Kisses.
97. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE-NIGHT STANDS?
The former.
98. WHO IS THE MOST LIKELY TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
No one. I don't know.
99. WHO IS THE LEAST LIKELY TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
BLaah.
100. Create your own question! (Oo, so interactive!)
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO TELL SOMEONE RIGHT NOW?
Don't lose me. Don't put me where you won't find me again.
101. IS ANYONE IN LOVE WITH YOU?
No indeeeed.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
too tired for titles
I keep forgetting I technically only have 3 days of "school" left this quarter.
Probably because the next week and a half--or maybe just the next 3 days--are going to be painfully full of obligation. Here's what I have to do (mostly for my benefit, so it's all written down somewhere)---
Monday: ENST assignment due; Hindi composition & five other homework(s) due; work 4:30-7:30
Tuesday: Bio quiz; Bio writing assignment due; Hindi discussion section; Hindi dialogue recitation
Wednesday: INST discussion section (articles need to be read); Hindi final exam
I'm done for tomorrow, but utterly unprepared for Tuesday/Wednesday. Might have to be late on the bio writing. Might have to cry a little during the Hindi dialogue.
Sigh.
Good news about today:
1) I made tomato noodle soup, almost without having to buy any ingredients (needed basil & non-moldy red pepper.)
2) I did my imminent homework.
3) I watched a good movie, called Manhattan Murder Mystery. I might soon go on a Woody Allen filmography self-education spree.
My brain/heart/soul is telling me to sleep. So much to do. But. I might listen.
Probably because the next week and a half--or maybe just the next 3 days--are going to be painfully full of obligation. Here's what I have to do (mostly for my benefit, so it's all written down somewhere)---
Monday: ENST assignment due; Hindi composition & five other homework(s) due; work 4:30-7:30
Tuesday: Bio quiz; Bio writing assignment due; Hindi discussion section; Hindi dialogue recitation
Wednesday: INST discussion section (articles need to be read); Hindi final exam
I'm done for tomorrow, but utterly unprepared for Tuesday/Wednesday. Might have to be late on the bio writing. Might have to cry a little during the Hindi dialogue.
Sigh.
Good news about today:
1) I made tomato noodle soup, almost without having to buy any ingredients (needed basil & non-moldy red pepper.)
2) I did my imminent homework.
3) I watched a good movie, called Manhattan Murder Mystery. I might soon go on a Woody Allen filmography self-education spree.
My brain/heart/soul is telling me to sleep. So much to do. But. I might listen.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
bathtub uncertainty.
I love Chicago. I love baths. I love reading. I love reading in my bathtub in Chicago.
Now that we're up to date.
I am reading "The Namesake"--which is decently good but not lifechanging--and something I (also) love happened: the character's life intersected with mine. I just got to the part where Gogol (or Nikhil) Ganguli is taking a train home for Thanksgiving break, his sophomore year. He feels the same way about home that I do, is at a comparable university a comparable distance from home, and, well, the author is making him easy to relate to.
Which led to my epiphany. It has nothing to do with any of the crap I just mentioned. Rather, it came to me as I read about him veering from others' expectations and becoming enthralled with architecture, studying it feverishly, even outside of class work. Why? Because he loves it.
I thought of what I loved, what I found most inspiring this quarter. It wasn't in a class for either of my registered majors. It was in, of all places, biology, when my professor talked at length about human evolution. I love learning about human evolution--all the different hominids, where they lived, what they did, the slow progress into modern humans. It fascinates me.
Then I had this thought: I should major in anthropology.
It was jarring, in the way most "I should make this big change" ideas tend to be. But at the same time, it sounded remarkably freeing.
The truth is, lately I've felt boxed-in and depressed in thinking about the future. Before, it would always suffice to imagine myself reading and researching and writing--that was vague and lovely enough. But I'm a second-year college student now. I'm supposed to be more specific than that. International Studies I'm OK with, although the intro class is less than inspiring (who can blame it, though, 120+ people large and power-point-based?)
With Environmental Studies, I feel like I signed on with some kind of Save-the-World syndrome. It's definitely my biggest issue, but.. it doesn't fascinate me. As selfish as I feel saying that, wouldn't you be most productive in the field that drives you? The environment needs creative engineers, lawyers, and activists. And my vote.
I miss the humanities.
All this synthesis and all I end up with is: I'm happiest just sitting here writing. If you know someone that'll pay me to do that, lemme know.
Now that we're up to date.
I am reading "The Namesake"--which is decently good but not lifechanging--and something I (also) love happened: the character's life intersected with mine. I just got to the part where Gogol (or Nikhil) Ganguli is taking a train home for Thanksgiving break, his sophomore year. He feels the same way about home that I do, is at a comparable university a comparable distance from home, and, well, the author is making him easy to relate to.
Which led to my epiphany. It has nothing to do with any of the crap I just mentioned. Rather, it came to me as I read about him veering from others' expectations and becoming enthralled with architecture, studying it feverishly, even outside of class work. Why? Because he loves it.
I thought of what I loved, what I found most inspiring this quarter. It wasn't in a class for either of my registered majors. It was in, of all places, biology, when my professor talked at length about human evolution. I love learning about human evolution--all the different hominids, where they lived, what they did, the slow progress into modern humans. It fascinates me.
Then I had this thought: I should major in anthropology.
It was jarring, in the way most "I should make this big change" ideas tend to be. But at the same time, it sounded remarkably freeing.
The truth is, lately I've felt boxed-in and depressed in thinking about the future. Before, it would always suffice to imagine myself reading and researching and writing--that was vague and lovely enough. But I'm a second-year college student now. I'm supposed to be more specific than that. International Studies I'm OK with, although the intro class is less than inspiring (who can blame it, though, 120+ people large and power-point-based?)
With Environmental Studies, I feel like I signed on with some kind of Save-the-World syndrome. It's definitely my biggest issue, but.. it doesn't fascinate me. As selfish as I feel saying that, wouldn't you be most productive in the field that drives you? The environment needs creative engineers, lawyers, and activists. And my vote.
I miss the humanities.
All this synthesis and all I end up with is: I'm happiest just sitting here writing. If you know someone that'll pay me to do that, lemme know.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Happy Buy Nothing Day!
Sadly, today was not Buy Nothing Day for me.
I needed a winter coat. And when I say "needed", I mean the pockets on my last one looked like they'd been attacked by a pack of savage wolves. So it was off to the mall for me.
Here's a confession: I hate shopping.
I hate mall girls and their mall boyfriends. I hate mall moms and their mall children. I hate watching people buy loads of plastic shit for people who already have too much plastic shit. I hate seeing the bloodthirsty look on middle-aged women's faces as they pluck $5 on-sale DVD's from the shelf. This is not spiritual.
If you're gonna be a spiritual Christian, I'd recommend spending your Christmas season abstaining from materialism. Nobody ever saw Jesus at a Target.
(Ahem.)
My mom likes to shop. She hovers toward make-up counters and inquires about "free gifts". It makes me cranky and headachey and depressed. Cranky because I have to walk all over and feel bored. Headachey because it's total sensory over-stimulation. Depressed because I too often feel drawn to the crap around me. And because 28th Street is all chain stores, zero personality.
Thankfully, the coat was the only mall thing we needed. There was a fair amount of furniture shopping (re: mom's apartment) but I sat in the car and worked on Hindi homework.
I have so much Hindi homework. Sigh.
Tonight I went to Kristin's and then to the coffee house and saw some people, which made me feel better. I can feel so disconnected in this town, but I will never feel uncomfortable in my coffee house. Good thing I should be picking up some hours over winter break.
Tomorrow morning I'll be going back to Chi. I've been gone all of 30 hours and still going back seems relieving. I am so easily affected by my environment. So the opposite of zen. I should work on that.
Oh, and I just realized today that my birthday falls on a Friday this year. What a waste. (On the upside, that means I'll be turning twenty-one on a Saturday!) Regardless, I'm thinking of possibly spending it in Chicago before coming back for break. It just seems like a better place to celebrate. Even if it's just me and the Thing in the cupboard.
Maybe someone will be around. T. might be. Eh. I'm on the fence.
I still have a headache. And gobs of Hindi homework.
Mmn. Hastings.
I needed a winter coat. And when I say "needed", I mean the pockets on my last one looked like they'd been attacked by a pack of savage wolves. So it was off to the mall for me.
Here's a confession: I hate shopping.
I hate mall girls and their mall boyfriends. I hate mall moms and their mall children. I hate watching people buy loads of plastic shit for people who already have too much plastic shit. I hate seeing the bloodthirsty look on middle-aged women's faces as they pluck $5 on-sale DVD's from the shelf. This is not spiritual.
If you're gonna be a spiritual Christian, I'd recommend spending your Christmas season abstaining from materialism. Nobody ever saw Jesus at a Target.
(Ahem.)
My mom likes to shop. She hovers toward make-up counters and inquires about "free gifts". It makes me cranky and headachey and depressed. Cranky because I have to walk all over and feel bored. Headachey because it's total sensory over-stimulation. Depressed because I too often feel drawn to the crap around me. And because 28th Street is all chain stores, zero personality.
Thankfully, the coat was the only mall thing we needed. There was a fair amount of furniture shopping (re: mom's apartment) but I sat in the car and worked on Hindi homework.
I have so much Hindi homework. Sigh.
Tonight I went to Kristin's and then to the coffee house and saw some people, which made me feel better. I can feel so disconnected in this town, but I will never feel uncomfortable in my coffee house. Good thing I should be picking up some hours over winter break.
Tomorrow morning I'll be going back to Chi. I've been gone all of 30 hours and still going back seems relieving. I am so easily affected by my environment. So the opposite of zen. I should work on that.
Oh, and I just realized today that my birthday falls on a Friday this year. What a waste. (On the upside, that means I'll be turning twenty-one on a Saturday!) Regardless, I'm thinking of possibly spending it in Chicago before coming back for break. It just seems like a better place to celebrate. Even if it's just me and the Thing in the cupboard.
Maybe someone will be around. T. might be. Eh. I'm on the fence.
I still have a headache. And gobs of Hindi homework.
Mmn. Hastings.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
thank-u for all the tof-u
OK--so it's actually the 23rd; 12:25AM on the 23rd, to be specific. But I'm still up, so I count today as yesterday. Which means I'm still writing every day. Which pleases me.
I'm in Michigan, of course. I enjoyed a wonderfully birdless Thanksgiving, which amounted to two kinds of potatoes and green bean casserole. Not exactly a feast, but I was just thankful (you have to do that, right?) to be fed by someone other than myself. Still, I count watching my dad carve the golden, steaming turkey as the low point of vegetarianism. (More on vegetarianism later.)
My mom took me to see her new apartment which was empty and really sort of depressing. She acts excited about it, but I simply can't imagine living in such a large space, in such an empty region, alone. Especially in my mid-fifties. I can tell it scares her, too. I guess the fact that she's only living here another year and a half is enough for her--she has books enough to fill a library and that'll keep her occupied. As well as the apparent retail therapy she's been undergoing.
Mom: "All I bought was that chair. And an upright Swedish clock. For five hundred dollars."
Me: "A. A clock. For. Five hundred? Dollars?!"
Mom: "Well I don't have to pay it all back until next June..."
My dad also gave me the shock of the century when I asked him, amidst a pleasant conversation on the relative merits and demerits of Ron Paul, who he planned on voting for. Not Guiliani. Not McCain. Not Romney. Not even can-do-no-wrong, Gift-to-the-Populous Ron Paul. No. No.
Hillary.
Dad?! A DEMOCRAT?!!
Politics and clocks aside... however strange and fragmented my family is right now, it's still nice to come back to a place where everybody is excited to see me. I took advantage of the situation and unleashed the wittier, attention-seeking aspect of my personality, which has been paralyzed in hiding for a while now. I don't care that it's just my parents--at least I'm making somebody laugh.
Re: Mexico/Florida--my mother has something up her sleeve. I don't want to divulge until I know for sure, as she has some pretty deep sleeves and is known to lose things up there, but her current plan is even more lovely. I take it with a grain of salt.
I'm in Michigan, of course. I enjoyed a wonderfully birdless Thanksgiving, which amounted to two kinds of potatoes and green bean casserole. Not exactly a feast, but I was just thankful (you have to do that, right?) to be fed by someone other than myself. Still, I count watching my dad carve the golden, steaming turkey as the low point of vegetarianism. (More on vegetarianism later.)
My mom took me to see her new apartment which was empty and really sort of depressing. She acts excited about it, but I simply can't imagine living in such a large space, in such an empty region, alone. Especially in my mid-fifties. I can tell it scares her, too. I guess the fact that she's only living here another year and a half is enough for her--she has books enough to fill a library and that'll keep her occupied. As well as the apparent retail therapy she's been undergoing.
Mom: "All I bought was that chair. And an upright Swedish clock. For five hundred dollars."
Me: "A. A clock. For. Five hundred? Dollars?!"
Mom: "Well I don't have to pay it all back until next June..."
My dad also gave me the shock of the century when I asked him, amidst a pleasant conversation on the relative merits and demerits of Ron Paul, who he planned on voting for. Not Guiliani. Not McCain. Not Romney. Not even can-do-no-wrong, Gift-to-the-Populous Ron Paul. No. No.
Hillary.
Dad?! A DEMOCRAT?!!
Politics and clocks aside... however strange and fragmented my family is right now, it's still nice to come back to a place where everybody is excited to see me. I took advantage of the situation and unleashed the wittier, attention-seeking aspect of my personality, which has been paralyzed in hiding for a while now. I don't care that it's just my parents--at least I'm making somebody laugh.
Re: Mexico/Florida--my mother has something up her sleeve. I don't want to divulge until I know for sure, as she has some pretty deep sleeves and is known to lose things up there, but her current plan is even more lovely. I take it with a grain of salt.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
there's a Thing in our cupboard
I'm sitting at the kitchen table, listening to something that's about ten feet away, under our sink, having what sounds like his own personal party.
This is what I hear:
"Psssh. Psh. Pssshh." (I assume this is wading through plastic bags)
SCRATCHSCRRTCHSCRATCHSCRRRTCHZ. (digging to China. Or through our apparently not-so-protective cardboard+duct-tape, hole-in-the-wall barrior.)
Shshsh, Shshshshshsh. (Quiet, slow moving around.)
These aren't cockroach noises.
If T. wasn't halfway to England right now, if he was securely and dependably studying Korean in his room through the wall to my right, I could ask him to investigate. He would open the cupboard door. If it wasn't the day before Thanksgiving, if I wasn't alone in a deserted, mournful, dangerous, gray and rainy Hyde Park, I'm sure I could call on a few others as well. As it stands, it's just me and those two closed, wooden, mocking cupboard doors.
On another front--
November gets me down. November and February. They're just two months I have to grind my teeth and soldier through, months that deeply acquaint me with the color gray, months that coin a certain kind of depression I sometimes feel. It isn't all everything personal that's going on around me right now. But it may be the long-term accumulation of personal things that I've avoided dealing with. Nevertheless, I've just felt down.
After talking to my mom, though, I feel a little better. That's because she floated this possibility: post-Christmas getaway in Mexico/Florida Keys/somewherewithsun.
Normally--how corny.
Now--how necessary.
...dare I dare to hope?
This is what I hear:
"Psssh. Psh. Pssshh." (I assume this is wading through plastic bags)
SCRATCHSCRRTCHSCRATCHSCRRRTCHZ. (digging to China. Or through our apparently not-so-protective cardboard+duct-tape, hole-in-the-wall barrior.)
Shshsh, Shshshshshsh. (Quiet, slow moving around.)
These aren't cockroach noises.
If T. wasn't halfway to England right now, if he was securely and dependably studying Korean in his room through the wall to my right, I could ask him to investigate. He would open the cupboard door. If it wasn't the day before Thanksgiving, if I wasn't alone in a deserted, mournful, dangerous, gray and rainy Hyde Park, I'm sure I could call on a few others as well. As it stands, it's just me and those two closed, wooden, mocking cupboard doors.
On another front--
November gets me down. November and February. They're just two months I have to grind my teeth and soldier through, months that deeply acquaint me with the color gray, months that coin a certain kind of depression I sometimes feel. It isn't all everything personal that's going on around me right now. But it may be the long-term accumulation of personal things that I've avoided dealing with. Nevertheless, I've just felt down.
After talking to my mom, though, I feel a little better. That's because she floated this possibility: post-Christmas getaway in Mexico/Florida Keys/somewherewithsun.
Normally--how corny.
Now--how necessary.
...dare I dare to hope?
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
My Lovely Lady Lumps
At the risk of seeming creepy (or, as Lawrence Ferlinghetti would say, "constantly risking absurdity") I walked into the women's restroom in the Reynold's Club yesterday morning with the intention of taking a picture in one of the stalls....
There are references to sisterhood. And nail polish. And the insufficient behavior of men. People gleefully talk about shopping, and our apparent natural tendency toward it. They bemoan the pain of baby-delivering, and emphasize the importance of remembering birthdays and buying diamonds. Oh, and, one word: shoes.
Culture speaks to your gender as if it already knows you, and women pick up the trend. People forever try to weave a thread through every woman in the room, or company, or country, letting us know what we have in common and how we stand in solidarity.
Rarely do I feel the tug of that thread, but standing in a bathroom stall reading a flyer for “Love Your Body Week”, taking in the responses, I did. I felt downright giddy.
It was all there.
The Cheerfully Sincere--“My Eyes!”
The Confident & Sexy--“My hips”; “My curves”
The Intellectual--“My mind”
The Shocking--"My clit"; "My penis"
The Practical--"My strength & flexibility"
The Irreverent--"My left elbow"; "My left fallopian tube"
The Vain--"My breasts, my nipples, my butt!"
Women are not tied together with shoes, or shopping, or purses--don't try to lump us that way, because it isn't going to work. We don't all have babies. Or want diamonds. Or hate men. Or love men.
But we do all go to the same room to pee. And if you ask a question on a paper in a stall, all kinds of woman are going to scramble in their bags for a pen and let you know their opinion.
It's in the bathroom stall, and not Victoria's Secret, that I feel the solidarity.
There are references to sisterhood. And nail polish. And the insufficient behavior of men. People gleefully talk about shopping, and our apparent natural tendency toward it. They bemoan the pain of baby-delivering, and emphasize the importance of remembering birthdays and buying diamonds. Oh, and, one word: shoes.
Culture speaks to your gender as if it already knows you, and women pick up the trend. People forever try to weave a thread through every woman in the room, or company, or country, letting us know what we have in common and how we stand in solidarity.
Rarely do I feel the tug of that thread, but standing in a bathroom stall reading a flyer for “Love Your Body Week”, taking in the responses, I did. I felt downright giddy.
It was all there.
The Cheerfully Sincere--“My Eyes!”
The Confident & Sexy--“My hips”; “My curves”
The Intellectual--“My mind”
The Shocking--"My clit"; "My penis"
The Practical--"My strength & flexibility"
The Irreverent--"My left elbow"; "My left fallopian tube"
The Vain--"My breasts, my nipples, my butt!"
Women are not tied together with shoes, or shopping, or purses--don't try to lump us that way, because it isn't going to work. We don't all have babies. Or want diamonds. Or hate men. Or love men.
But we do all go to the same room to pee. And if you ask a question on a paper in a stall, all kinds of woman are going to scramble in their bags for a pen and let you know their opinion.
It's in the bathroom stall, and not Victoria's Secret, that I feel the solidarity.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Express Yo'self
So,
for anyone (un)fortunate enough to tune into my life/blog between the hours of 4:45PM 11/18/07 and 12:00PM 11/19/07, you now know about my Mess. Congratulations. I figured it would be short-lived, and decided to remove the post today when I asked Connie where it fell on a scale of one-to-ten from Too Open to Way, Way, Far Too Open and she gave it a seven.
Oh, I'm wild.
In other news, last night I went to A's dorm to paint with her and Kyle. I needed to do something like that, or I would have Expressed Myself some other, less intelligent way. Like painting my ceiling black.
K. had a lovely set of canvases, and a lovely set of tempera paints. He covered the floor with The Maroon and an old Newsweek full of adverts for drugs--("Do you ever feel sad? Lonely?" beside a frowning white blob)--and put on painting music. Which was Caribou. Terrific painting music.
The only thing I felt like painting was a dog eating itself. So I did. Remarkably therapeutic.
In other news, I've decided I need Goals and Projects to help with the lack of inspiration I feel in my life. My first Goal is to write daily for a month. We'll see if it works/helps.
My computer's about to die and I'm battery-less, so I suppose that's all for now.
for anyone (un)fortunate enough to tune into my life/blog between the hours of 4:45PM 11/18/07 and 12:00PM 11/19/07, you now know about my Mess. Congratulations. I figured it would be short-lived, and decided to remove the post today when I asked Connie where it fell on a scale of one-to-ten from Too Open to Way, Way, Far Too Open and she gave it a seven.
Oh, I'm wild.
In other news, last night I went to A's dorm to paint with her and Kyle. I needed to do something like that, or I would have Expressed Myself some other, less intelligent way. Like painting my ceiling black.
K. had a lovely set of canvases, and a lovely set of tempera paints. He covered the floor with The Maroon and an old Newsweek full of adverts for drugs--("Do you ever feel sad? Lonely?" beside a frowning white blob)--and put on painting music. Which was Caribou. Terrific painting music.
The only thing I felt like painting was a dog eating itself. So I did. Remarkably therapeutic.
In other news, I've decided I need Goals and Projects to help with the lack of inspiration I feel in my life. My first Goal is to write daily for a month. We'll see if it works/helps.
My computer's about to die and I'm battery-less, so I suppose that's all for now.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
updatez
This quarter has found me something of a mess. Hence my infrequent updating. Hence the heaviness on my chest (which you didn't know about, but now you do.) Hence etc.
The upshot is--I'll get over it. Obviously.
Now for some (none-too-personal, but still totally intriguing) of what you missed:
a) I have very special eyes, apparently. I had an appointment with the... ophthalmologist? Or, to be really specific--the contact lens eye doctor. Actually, I guess she's the president of the American Contact Lens Association, or something fancy like that. She's kind of a big deal. Anyway, because the U of C hospital is kind of a big deal too, I got an appointment with her to be fitted for new, less irritating contacts.
I got poked a great deal by the intern, who told me I had spherical eyes (good, normal) and it wasn't a problem with the shape. The doctor, however, when she finally came in, had something of a panic attack when she started messing with my eyes. "LOOK AT THIS!" she instructed the intern, as I stared into my own large green glassy iris as reflected in a bright light. The intern cooed, impressed. "We need to get her out of her contacts, now," the doctor said.
So here's what's been wrong with my eyes: I had blood vessels growing down into my cornea. My eyes have been, effectively, starved of oxygen because of the contacts--because they have, evidently, "unusually high oxygen demands." Me & my unusually high demands. In addition to this, I have some kind of semi-intense mysterious allergy for which I've been using drops since a few months ago (and which has gone down). And, on top of those things, I had infiltrates--my corneas were apparently inflamed and had accumulations of white blood cells.
Amazing.
The doctor suspended my contact lens use, and gave me strange whitish drops to help my eyes get oxygen. She floated some possibilities--Tigasons, pinkeye--and made me another appointment (which was last Tuesday). Due to my white drops + allergy drops + no contacts regimen, things are back to normal and I'm getting fitted next week for special contacts that deliver oxygen better...somehow. I also have to change my solution (she said something about hydrogen peroxide) and keep using all sorts of drops. But I'm glad. I effing hate wearing glasses all the time. They're so... obstructive.
I don't know why I wrote about that in such detail. Except that it's obviously vividly fascinating.
b) If you get a chance to eat out soon, and you have some opportunity for variety...
...eat Korean food.
Last Saturday I went with some friends to Koreatown (which happens to be waaay-the-hell that way from where we live--think switching from bus, to train, to different train, then walking a mile). It's located in Chicago's Northwest side, nestled amongst a spattering of different immigrant communities. The walk takes you past a legion of Middle Eastern places with Arabic signs, then past a number of Spanish signs, until you're in Asialand. The left is finally on Bryn Mawr, and then everything is in Korean, and everyone looks Korean. We went to the Tofu House, because my friends love me enough to cater to my wayward vegetarian ways.
And oh. The experience of it.
It was small and unassuming at first, but the waitress sat us in our own personal room, with a rolled-up bamboo-like door, in case we wanted privacy. She brought us warm tea (instead of water) and heavy menus. We ordered 1) vegetable tofu soup (me), 2) miso tofu soup, and 3) two bip-bim-bops. My soup came literally boiling in a heavy metal or stone bowl--with a raw egg for me to crack into it myself, and with a side of rice in same sort of bowl, the bottom layer deliciously hardened and steamed. Everything else came similarly boiling, and she placed all kinds of pickled things for everyone in the middle of the table.
The soup was amazing, thrilling, wonderful. It was spicy but not too spicy. It was thick with vegetables. But the best thing was the tofu. Somehow, this place had managed to make the tofu really good.
Now, I eat a lot of tofu. And I will be the first to say that it's not exactly the food of the gods. But this soup--this tofu--I've craved every day since last weekend.
It came down to about $10 per person.
c) I got a new iPod, and now whenever I walk anywhere, whatever mood I'm in, I want to hear one song: "Unless It's Kicks" by Okkervil River. It's a wonderful walking song. It's a wonderful anything song.
d) My hair got longer.
The upshot is--I'll get over it. Obviously.
Now for some (none-too-personal, but still totally intriguing) of what you missed:
a) I have very special eyes, apparently. I had an appointment with the... ophthalmologist? Or, to be really specific--the contact lens eye doctor. Actually, I guess she's the president of the American Contact Lens Association, or something fancy like that. She's kind of a big deal. Anyway, because the U of C hospital is kind of a big deal too, I got an appointment with her to be fitted for new, less irritating contacts.
I got poked a great deal by the intern, who told me I had spherical eyes (good, normal) and it wasn't a problem with the shape. The doctor, however, when she finally came in, had something of a panic attack when she started messing with my eyes. "LOOK AT THIS!" she instructed the intern, as I stared into my own large green glassy iris as reflected in a bright light. The intern cooed, impressed. "We need to get her out of her contacts, now," the doctor said.
So here's what's been wrong with my eyes: I had blood vessels growing down into my cornea. My eyes have been, effectively, starved of oxygen because of the contacts--because they have, evidently, "unusually high oxygen demands." Me & my unusually high demands. In addition to this, I have some kind of semi-intense mysterious allergy for which I've been using drops since a few months ago (and which has gone down). And, on top of those things, I had infiltrates--my corneas were apparently inflamed and had accumulations of white blood cells.
Amazing.
The doctor suspended my contact lens use, and gave me strange whitish drops to help my eyes get oxygen. She floated some possibilities--Tigasons, pinkeye--and made me another appointment (which was last Tuesday). Due to my white drops + allergy drops + no contacts regimen, things are back to normal and I'm getting fitted next week for special contacts that deliver oxygen better...somehow. I also have to change my solution (she said something about hydrogen peroxide) and keep using all sorts of drops. But I'm glad. I effing hate wearing glasses all the time. They're so... obstructive.
I don't know why I wrote about that in such detail. Except that it's obviously vividly fascinating.
b) If you get a chance to eat out soon, and you have some opportunity for variety...
...eat Korean food.
Last Saturday I went with some friends to Koreatown (which happens to be waaay-the-hell that way from where we live--think switching from bus, to train, to different train, then walking a mile). It's located in Chicago's Northwest side, nestled amongst a spattering of different immigrant communities. The walk takes you past a legion of Middle Eastern places with Arabic signs, then past a number of Spanish signs, until you're in Asialand. The left is finally on Bryn Mawr, and then everything is in Korean, and everyone looks Korean. We went to the Tofu House, because my friends love me enough to cater to my wayward vegetarian ways.
And oh. The experience of it.
It was small and unassuming at first, but the waitress sat us in our own personal room, with a rolled-up bamboo-like door, in case we wanted privacy. She brought us warm tea (instead of water) and heavy menus. We ordered 1) vegetable tofu soup (me), 2) miso tofu soup, and 3) two bip-bim-bops. My soup came literally boiling in a heavy metal or stone bowl--with a raw egg for me to crack into it myself, and with a side of rice in same sort of bowl, the bottom layer deliciously hardened and steamed. Everything else came similarly boiling, and she placed all kinds of pickled things for everyone in the middle of the table.
The soup was amazing, thrilling, wonderful. It was spicy but not too spicy. It was thick with vegetables. But the best thing was the tofu. Somehow, this place had managed to make the tofu really good.
Now, I eat a lot of tofu. And I will be the first to say that it's not exactly the food of the gods. But this soup--this tofu--I've craved every day since last weekend.
It came down to about $10 per person.
c) I got a new iPod, and now whenever I walk anywhere, whatever mood I'm in, I want to hear one song: "Unless It's Kicks" by Okkervil River. It's a wonderful walking song. It's a wonderful anything song.
d) My hair got longer.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
thursday night, being.
I am on my fifth samosa of the evening. And it's delicious.
I am learning so much.
I am alone. I've been alone so long. But it's time for a new perspective on alone.
One thing I've learned: 1) You belong.
I am alone. Alone but free.
I am learning so much.
I am alone. I've been alone so long. But it's time for a new perspective on alone.
One thing I've learned: 1) You belong.
I am alone. Alone but free.
Monday, November 12, 2007
our cracking bones make noise.
Today somebody took my chair. At work. I usually sit in this tall chair where mostly I read or tell people when to use treadmills, but when I got there today... it was gone.
"I've been dethroned," I thought to myself. Which struck me as really annoying, but also funny. Who steals a person's chair?
We finally have internet. Tonight a really friendly guy (let's call him Sal) came and fixed everything. Sal is the sort of guy that is perfectly suited for grandfatherhood. He would whistle and say, "Boy, not good," and then repeat it five more times to himself, a little quieter each time and maybe sung slightly the last time. He had me go down with him to the electrical box on our building--where all the veins of the building go, the inhuman, shiny power that runs everything--and when it was all opened up, he flashed the light and saw that our yellow and black wires weren't alone. Something like four other parasitic wires were attached, leaching away our DSL. He cut them off.
Now I'm wrapped in a blanket and listening to "99 Luftballoons" on repeat and thinking about how comfortable the German language sounds to me. In nine months I'll see my mom's side of the family again. I want to learn to communicate a few things in German other than "strawberry" and "milk" and "the little night music". I don't even like strawberries.
If I'm not actually saying anything, it's because I'm wholly drained. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I can think of other things my heart is like. A hand grenade. A stick of butter.
Next weekend I'm sitting home with a book and a cup of tea. I am not touching alcohol. Some things should change a little.
"I've been dethroned," I thought to myself. Which struck me as really annoying, but also funny. Who steals a person's chair?
We finally have internet. Tonight a really friendly guy (let's call him Sal) came and fixed everything. Sal is the sort of guy that is perfectly suited for grandfatherhood. He would whistle and say, "Boy, not good," and then repeat it five more times to himself, a little quieter each time and maybe sung slightly the last time. He had me go down with him to the electrical box on our building--where all the veins of the building go, the inhuman, shiny power that runs everything--and when it was all opened up, he flashed the light and saw that our yellow and black wires weren't alone. Something like four other parasitic wires were attached, leaching away our DSL. He cut them off.
Now I'm wrapped in a blanket and listening to "99 Luftballoons" on repeat and thinking about how comfortable the German language sounds to me. In nine months I'll see my mom's side of the family again. I want to learn to communicate a few things in German other than "strawberry" and "milk" and "the little night music". I don't even like strawberries.
If I'm not actually saying anything, it's because I'm wholly drained. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I can think of other things my heart is like. A hand grenade. A stick of butter.
Next weekend I'm sitting home with a book and a cup of tea. I am not touching alcohol. Some things should change a little.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
my brain on coffee
I am ingesting caffeine. A latte, actually. For this, my body is very happy with me. Espresso makes me tipsy on par with alcohol. I become notably euphoric. It's pretty dramatic, really.
I need caffeine for today; tomorrow I have a potentially ass-kicking midterm in international studies. Those 50 minutes will probably be less euphoric. But now I'm ready to study. If I hadn't destroyed my favorite bandanna to repair some ripped jeans, I would don both it and a pair of leg warmers I found and then do some work. Wearing unusual accessories makes me feel more efficient. It's an interesting phenomenon.
The Arcade Fire think their heart (collectively?) is an apple. Which prompted me toward a creative exercise today, which is: think of three things your heart can be likened to. It's fun, try it. Here's what I got:
a) a fish. Swollen and slippery. Fish are not swollen usually, but I persist in identifying them as swollen. And I always imagine my heart as a fish.
b) a steamboat. Obsolete, cantankerous, irrelevantly Disneyish.
I haven't decided yet on the third one.
People don't like birds enough. I really like birds. In fact, I don't spend enough time thinking about how much I like birds. Did you know they're dinosaurs? I learned that today. The only thing evolutionarily separating birds and dinosaurs are feathers. My biology prof had a big long rant against intelligent design, and we learned birds are dinosaurs.
I was thinking today that non-religion is in many ways more poetic than religion.
Last night I dreamt I was in Saudi Arabia. It was desert, the sky was purple, there were snakes. I felt vulnerable, liberated, and curious. I think that set up my mood for today. I've also been on a steady diet of Regina Spektor/Joanna Newsom songs.
I've been mightily stressed out but I think that's passing over. Here's what you can listen to if you feel stressed out.
I hope that was a little coherent. I should study now.
I need caffeine for today; tomorrow I have a potentially ass-kicking midterm in international studies. Those 50 minutes will probably be less euphoric. But now I'm ready to study. If I hadn't destroyed my favorite bandanna to repair some ripped jeans, I would don both it and a pair of leg warmers I found and then do some work. Wearing unusual accessories makes me feel more efficient. It's an interesting phenomenon.
The Arcade Fire think their heart (collectively?) is an apple. Which prompted me toward a creative exercise today, which is: think of three things your heart can be likened to. It's fun, try it. Here's what I got:
a) a fish. Swollen and slippery. Fish are not swollen usually, but I persist in identifying them as swollen. And I always imagine my heart as a fish.
b) a steamboat. Obsolete, cantankerous, irrelevantly Disneyish.
I haven't decided yet on the third one.
People don't like birds enough. I really like birds. In fact, I don't spend enough time thinking about how much I like birds. Did you know they're dinosaurs? I learned that today. The only thing evolutionarily separating birds and dinosaurs are feathers. My biology prof had a big long rant against intelligent design, and we learned birds are dinosaurs.
I was thinking today that non-religion is in many ways more poetic than religion.
Last night I dreamt I was in Saudi Arabia. It was desert, the sky was purple, there were snakes. I felt vulnerable, liberated, and curious. I think that set up my mood for today. I've also been on a steady diet of Regina Spektor/Joanna Newsom songs.
I've been mightily stressed out but I think that's passing over. Here's what you can listen to if you feel stressed out.
I hope that was a little coherent. I should study now.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
it feels like autumn.
Today is a tofu-soup, Joanna-Newsom, black-sweatpants, fetal-position, drink-tea-in-the-rain-on-the-back-porch, finish-my-old-homework, kiss-someone-on-the-head, slow kind of day.
In case you were wondering what kind of day today is.
In case you were wondering what kind of day today is.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
just me and the bump.
I keep having pregnancy dreams. The number has probably exceeded five in two weeks. If you ask me, that's pretty excessive.
Usually I'm pregnant in the dreams, though one time it was my sister and another time my mother (with twins!). The premise goes like this: I am pregnant. There is no precursory sex; I'm (or they're) always already pregnant. In every case, the baby is a girl and this is already intuitively known. (In the twin case, there was a boy and a girl.) I always experience the anxiety of knowing I can't raise a child in college, and that my life and plans are suddenly irrevocably ruined.
Last night in my dream, I barely realized I was pregnant (very pregnant) before BAM, the baby was suddenly there. I realized, panicked, that I didn't have a name ready; I think I decided on Bridget, which is a name I used to like. The baby had big hazel eyes and I was very fond of her. Then suddenly I was in Mexico with some friends and the baby, and it was very exotic and there were lots of people. In the crowd I lost the baby, got very scared, and started looking everywhere for her.
I don't know why I have this apparent pregnancy fixation. I know some people who are expecting (someone any day now) and maybe it's working its way into my skull: the fact that my peers are now having babies.
Needless to say, I woke up early this morning extraordinarily relieved that I was, in fact, childless and my only worry was getting to Bio on time. I felt so.... independent.
God. Am I a woman now or something?
Usually I'm pregnant in the dreams, though one time it was my sister and another time my mother (with twins!). The premise goes like this: I am pregnant. There is no precursory sex; I'm (or they're) always already pregnant. In every case, the baby is a girl and this is already intuitively known. (In the twin case, there was a boy and a girl.) I always experience the anxiety of knowing I can't raise a child in college, and that my life and plans are suddenly irrevocably ruined.
Last night in my dream, I barely realized I was pregnant (very pregnant) before BAM, the baby was suddenly there. I realized, panicked, that I didn't have a name ready; I think I decided on Bridget, which is a name I used to like. The baby had big hazel eyes and I was very fond of her. Then suddenly I was in Mexico with some friends and the baby, and it was very exotic and there were lots of people. In the crowd I lost the baby, got very scared, and started looking everywhere for her.
I don't know why I have this apparent pregnancy fixation. I know some people who are expecting (someone any day now) and maybe it's working its way into my skull: the fact that my peers are now having babies.
Needless to say, I woke up early this morning extraordinarily relieved that I was, in fact, childless and my only worry was getting to Bio on time. I felt so.... independent.
God. Am I a woman now or something?
Monday, October 08, 2007
September CDX
I am a part of a CD-exchange group with eleven other members (including my sister). Each person is assigned a month to burn eleven identical CDs to send out, and every month you receive a CD. It's very nifty. I'm the youngest person in the group, and also probably the least obscure in music knowledge, which means that every month my taste and knowledge are improved slightly more.
My month is September. Instead of writing tonight, I'm going to post my 2007 track list, and link whenever possible to the song on the internet. Trust me--it's a good mix.
1. "Monochrome" : Yann Tiersen (youtube: Angsty-Emo homemade video)
2. "Green Bird" : Yoko Kanno (youtube: Cowboy Bebop-themed video)
3. "Weather and Water" : The Greencards
4. "City Hall" : Vienna Teng (myspace)
5. "A Better Wife" : Erin McKeown
6. "The Next Step You'll Take" : Club 8
7. "Draft Dodger Rag" : Kind of Like Spitting
8. "Wild is the Wind" : The Second Band (myspace)
9. "She Moves in Her Own Way" : The Kooks (myspace)
10. "Some of Them Were Superstitious : Midlake
11. "Shy That Way (feat. Jason Mraz)" : Tristan Prettyman (youtube: live and ridiculously cute)
12. "Tiger, My Friend" : Psapp (youtube: grey's anatomy video)
13. "The Pirate's Gospel" : Alela Diane
14. "Ashes on Your Eyes" : Deb Talan
15. "Serenade" : Emiliana Torrini (youtube: live with pretty dress)
16. "Rue des Cascades" : Yann Tiersen (youtube: on some french movie)
Here are some notes:
1. "Ashes on Your Eyes" may lack an internet outlet, but that doesn't mean it's not required. It's absolutely required. If you can't find it yourself, I will email it to you. The rest of the album (A Bird Flies Out) is highly recommended. It's all I seem to want to listen to lately, in fact.
2. While I couldn't find the Midlake song either, their myspace music must not be overlooked. They also have a variety of interesting music videos on youtube, including one for Roscoe which is somewhat bland but wonderfully historically Midwestern. It seems to awaken some weird ancient nostalgia in me, like the part of me that really wants to believe that when I was little I played in wheat fields and used wooden toys. Some things did exist, like hayrides (which poke like hell but smell lovely), but really it's Michigan and you can't expect too much in the way of prairie. Really this is all beside the point. Which is: I'm shamelessly promoting this band because I love them.
Happy listening.
My month is September. Instead of writing tonight, I'm going to post my 2007 track list, and link whenever possible to the song on the internet. Trust me--it's a good mix.
1. "Monochrome" : Yann Tiersen (youtube: Angsty-Emo homemade video)
2. "Green Bird" : Yoko Kanno (youtube: Cowboy Bebop-themed video)
3. "Weather and Water" : The Greencards
4. "City Hall" : Vienna Teng (myspace)
5. "A Better Wife" : Erin McKeown
6. "The Next Step You'll Take" : Club 8
7. "Draft Dodger Rag" : Kind of Like Spitting
8. "Wild is the Wind" : The Second Band (myspace)
9. "She Moves in Her Own Way" : The Kooks (myspace)
10. "Some of Them Were Superstitious : Midlake
11. "Shy That Way (feat. Jason Mraz)" : Tristan Prettyman (youtube: live and ridiculously cute)
12. "Tiger, My Friend" : Psapp (youtube: grey's anatomy video)
13. "The Pirate's Gospel" : Alela Diane
14. "Ashes on Your Eyes" : Deb Talan
15. "Serenade" : Emiliana Torrini (youtube: live with pretty dress)
16. "Rue des Cascades" : Yann Tiersen (youtube: on some french movie)
Here are some notes:
1. "Ashes on Your Eyes" may lack an internet outlet, but that doesn't mean it's not required. It's absolutely required. If you can't find it yourself, I will email it to you. The rest of the album (A Bird Flies Out) is highly recommended. It's all I seem to want to listen to lately, in fact.
2. While I couldn't find the Midlake song either, their myspace music must not be overlooked. They also have a variety of interesting music videos on youtube, including one for Roscoe which is somewhat bland but wonderfully historically Midwestern. It seems to awaken some weird ancient nostalgia in me, like the part of me that really wants to believe that when I was little I played in wheat fields and used wooden toys. Some things did exist, like hayrides (which poke like hell but smell lovely), but really it's Michigan and you can't expect too much in the way of prairie. Really this is all beside the point. Which is: I'm shamelessly promoting this band because I love them.
Happy listening.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
autumn is for l<3vers
There's something about autumn--a new breeze, the leafy smell--that drives people into each other's arms so quickly I can't keep track.
Forget what they said about spring. Spring is when people break up.
So while everybody and their uncle are all giddy and blushing and lovingly poking each other, I'm craving ice cream and feeling too sensitive and dreaming about the past. Two nights in a row.
I am having an off week.
I measure the on- and offness of my weeks by how often the past interferes with the present. Which is immeasurably more likely when even my mailbox has a significant other.
You can't manipulate the past to make it more friendly. You can't deny it into submission. You can't change the past's opinion of you, no matter how articulate a letter you write. You can't make the past understand you. You can't make the past want to.
Even if all you want to do is invite the past over for tea, and talk to the past until everything starts going in a forward direction for you again.
In conclusion, the past is a filthy dirty bastard. And it's best just to forget about it.
In other news, apparently I turned 21. I received a letter from the state of Illinois congratulating me on that fact and strongly discouraging me from drinking and driving. Now I guess I'm living in the future? Does that mean Bush is out of office?
I need a pint of ice cream. I need Amelie. Then I might return to the present.
Forget what they said about spring. Spring is when people break up.
So while everybody and their uncle are all giddy and blushing and lovingly poking each other, I'm craving ice cream and feeling too sensitive and dreaming about the past. Two nights in a row.
I am having an off week.
I measure the on- and offness of my weeks by how often the past interferes with the present. Which is immeasurably more likely when even my mailbox has a significant other.
You can't manipulate the past to make it more friendly. You can't deny it into submission. You can't change the past's opinion of you, no matter how articulate a letter you write. You can't make the past understand you. You can't make the past want to.
Even if all you want to do is invite the past over for tea, and talk to the past until everything starts going in a forward direction for you again.
In conclusion, the past is a filthy dirty bastard. And it's best just to forget about it.
In other news, apparently I turned 21. I received a letter from the state of Illinois congratulating me on that fact and strongly discouraging me from drinking and driving. Now I guess I'm living in the future? Does that mean Bush is out of office?
I need a pint of ice cream. I need Amelie. Then I might return to the present.
Friday, October 05, 2007
historical connexions
Today I realized, as I was walking home, that one of the houses I walk by daily is the (previous) residence of Enrico Fermi.
Viva la nuclear weaponry, I guess. :/
Viva la nuclear weaponry, I guess. :/
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Family Values...?
In case you didn't catch it, the president just vetoed a bill that would expand children's health insurance.
Read about it here.
Excuse me while I go burn a flag, then kill myself.
Read about it here.
Excuse me while I go burn a flag, then kill myself.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Because I'm Tired of Colonization Readings
I'm feeling a bit spastic and incredibly unfocused right now (it's only second week!) so I don't think this post will have any theme tying it together. I just wanted to note a couple things.
- I recently decided to make the transition from washing my hair daily to washing it every other day. It's much healthier for your scalp, much more au natural, so it's what I'm doing. The problem, of course, is that once you've decided to wash your hair less, your scalp gets all confused and continues to overproduce oil for a while. This is what my friends (who are all every-other-day people) tell me. It takes a month or two to phase it out, I guess. I feel a little awkward the every-other-day my head is oily, but also sort of liberated. Sort of: "Look at me! I've got oily hair and I don't care! Now watch me go root around in the dirt and then swim in the river!"
- I don't know how to cook very much, but I'm starting to adjust my diet in different small ways. I want to slowly fade out certain habits. I want to stop buying canned soup and more frequently actually make soup, for example. So far, I can make one: a pretty standard tomato soup. But I want to increase my capabilities. Pretty soon I'm going to try a tofu soup (the results of which I will describe). I also, in general, want to eat more fresh food. On Thursday, T. and I are going to the farmer's market over on Harper. A few days ago I made Brussels sprouts with Hollandaise sauce. U. made (amazingly amazing) corn pudding. I have the advantage of having roommates who both love to and know how to cook. T. makes red Thai curry with things like bok choy and bamboo shoots, and U. makes a South Asian curry with chick peas and lots of different spices. I need a specialty. I may need time, but I'll find it.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Pad Si Ew and Chanel.
I am eating last night's leftover pad si ew and reflecting on what it means to be a girl.
It's not easy to forget I'm a girl. It is, however, easy to forget what being a girl normally entails, especially here. For anyone unfamiliar with UChicago's infamous (lack of) social life, let me fill you in: We're nerds. Nerdy nerdy nerds. We're here because we like to study. And because we're attracted to other nerdy nerds.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm not good at being a girl. I don't know how to do make-up. I don't have various smelly things to smear on myself, only deodorant and occasionally some perfume my mother brought me from Germany. I like jewelry, but never think to buy it and therefore have very few things with which to adorn myself. I've gotten my ears pierced several times, and I always forget to wear earrings frequently enough to keep the holes from filling back in. I can't dance. The list goes on.
Tonight some friends and I had Girl's Night. We ate dinner with fancy cheese and grapes and pita and hummus [Note: the Nile's hummus is amazing] and watched Sex and the City. Watching Sex and the City with friends is a bit of a common thing for me. Even so, watching Carrie Bradshaw strut around in expensive shoes and go into bathrooms to fix her hair was strange. I had forgotten. This is Girl Behavior.
What does it mean when you want to be attractive, but you want to be utterly world-conscious at the same time? The gap between girl-vapidity, even girl-normality, and Real Human Life sometimes looks vast. My mother swears by her millions of Liz Claiborne lipsticks and foundations, her small arsenal of Coco Chanel perfumes. And yet somehow I still grew up on the other side of the divide. Beyond my patterned blouses and one designated pair of Cute shoes (which bloody up the backs of my heels, incidentally), I can't do Girl.
I came home and changed into laundry-doing clothes: a gray shirt with a hole in it that I've had since 9th grade, and a pair of secondhand sweatpants. This is the time T. chose, in his loving-roommate way, to call me beautiful.
There's a reason there's a chasm between Girl and real life. Make-up makes me look like a strange plastic doll. There have been times I've made an effort with it.
Otherwise I look like me, which I think I prefer.
It's not easy to forget I'm a girl. It is, however, easy to forget what being a girl normally entails, especially here. For anyone unfamiliar with UChicago's infamous (lack of) social life, let me fill you in: We're nerds. Nerdy nerdy nerds. We're here because we like to study. And because we're attracted to other nerdy nerds.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm not good at being a girl. I don't know how to do make-up. I don't have various smelly things to smear on myself, only deodorant and occasionally some perfume my mother brought me from Germany. I like jewelry, but never think to buy it and therefore have very few things with which to adorn myself. I've gotten my ears pierced several times, and I always forget to wear earrings frequently enough to keep the holes from filling back in. I can't dance. The list goes on.
Tonight some friends and I had Girl's Night. We ate dinner with fancy cheese and grapes and pita and hummus [Note: the Nile's hummus is amazing] and watched Sex and the City. Watching Sex and the City with friends is a bit of a common thing for me. Even so, watching Carrie Bradshaw strut around in expensive shoes and go into bathrooms to fix her hair was strange. I had forgotten. This is Girl Behavior.
What does it mean when you want to be attractive, but you want to be utterly world-conscious at the same time? The gap between girl-vapidity, even girl-normality, and Real Human Life sometimes looks vast. My mother swears by her millions of Liz Claiborne lipsticks and foundations, her small arsenal of Coco Chanel perfumes. And yet somehow I still grew up on the other side of the divide. Beyond my patterned blouses and one designated pair of Cute shoes (which bloody up the backs of my heels, incidentally), I can't do Girl.
I came home and changed into laundry-doing clothes: a gray shirt with a hole in it that I've had since 9th grade, and a pair of secondhand sweatpants. This is the time T. chose, in his loving-roommate way, to call me beautiful.
There's a reason there's a chasm between Girl and real life. Make-up makes me look like a strange plastic doll. There have been times I've made an effort with it.
Otherwise I look like me, which I think I prefer.
Friday, September 28, 2007
half hippie
I am turning into a different creature than the one I used to imagine, than indeed the one my parents want to imagine.
I am about to divulge a fact about myself. It isn't necessarily a fact I like. It's not one that holds any value in meeting people in terms of charm or interest. For a long time, it's not something I wanted to believe, but I think I've become comfortable with it:
I am not extreme.
This applies to probably every aspect of my life.
Despite this fact, I always imagined myself when I was younger, thirteen maybe, as basically normal. But I am not that either. More and more I feel separated from society, or American society, in ways I couldn't have imagined before. More frequently I am disgusted and disheartened by people. Comments that used to seem to me innocent or friendly bother me because of their implications... you may have purchased something cheaper, but it doesn't mean a price isn't getting paid somewhere else. If I see someone drinking with a straw, I might not think about it. But I might also wonder what the hell sort of purpose a straw serves besides making someone at the end of some line a bunch of money and carelessly depleting a resource.
It's not a fun attitude, obviously. Actually, a lot of the time I feel like a grandpa. An embittered, enviro-conscious grandpa.
The thing is, once you're aware of your own values, and the values you desperately want other people to share, you can't shed them. I can't just shake my head and laugh and say, "Oh, those straws" because I know somewhere oil is being converted to plastic and shipped a thousand miles in some direction so people can use straws, and somewhere 700 million McDonald's straws are sitting in the dirt, trying desperately to become dirt themselves. Which will take a while.
And capitalism? Not a big fan.
The thing is, in our society, you can't really have this sort of view, an environmentally-sensitive, socially-critical point of view, without being lumped into the counterculture that ends up being so homogeneous most of the time that I just end up feeling alienated. Must I be physically exotic and tattooed to be a person with radical ideas? Because I find it hard to feel comfortable in any circle sometimes.
Really, though, this is just a small rant at the little things that pop up occasionally and leave me feeling isolated. The old friend that feels more experienced and looks at me only superficially with a how-can-I-help-you? expression, for example. The hypocritical nature inherent in everyone, even those on your side.
I also just wanted to note how hard it is to relate people.
And proclaim that I need a cat.
I am about to divulge a fact about myself. It isn't necessarily a fact I like. It's not one that holds any value in meeting people in terms of charm or interest. For a long time, it's not something I wanted to believe, but I think I've become comfortable with it:
I am not extreme.
This applies to probably every aspect of my life.
Despite this fact, I always imagined myself when I was younger, thirteen maybe, as basically normal. But I am not that either. More and more I feel separated from society, or American society, in ways I couldn't have imagined before. More frequently I am disgusted and disheartened by people. Comments that used to seem to me innocent or friendly bother me because of their implications... you may have purchased something cheaper, but it doesn't mean a price isn't getting paid somewhere else. If I see someone drinking with a straw, I might not think about it. But I might also wonder what the hell sort of purpose a straw serves besides making someone at the end of some line a bunch of money and carelessly depleting a resource.
It's not a fun attitude, obviously. Actually, a lot of the time I feel like a grandpa. An embittered, enviro-conscious grandpa.
The thing is, once you're aware of your own values, and the values you desperately want other people to share, you can't shed them. I can't just shake my head and laugh and say, "Oh, those straws" because I know somewhere oil is being converted to plastic and shipped a thousand miles in some direction so people can use straws, and somewhere 700 million McDonald's straws are sitting in the dirt, trying desperately to become dirt themselves. Which will take a while.
And capitalism? Not a big fan.
The thing is, in our society, you can't really have this sort of view, an environmentally-sensitive, socially-critical point of view, without being lumped into the counterculture that ends up being so homogeneous most of the time that I just end up feeling alienated. Must I be physically exotic and tattooed to be a person with radical ideas? Because I find it hard to feel comfortable in any circle sometimes.
Really, though, this is just a small rant at the little things that pop up occasionally and leave me feeling isolated. The old friend that feels more experienced and looks at me only superficially with a how-can-I-help-you? expression, for example. The hypocritical nature inherent in everyone, even those on your side.
I also just wanted to note how hard it is to relate people.
And proclaim that I need a cat.
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