if you have a dumb thought, don't say it out loud.
mental filter, people. chris matthews does not have one. after obama's state of union address, matthews remarked, "I forgot he [obama] was black tonight for an hour." i think this was his clumsy way of saying obama's speech was so good that it could've come from a white man's mouth. apparently matthews was so impressed, he described this experience of racial forgetfulness as an "epiphany".
dang.
on second thought, the lack of mental filter is useful for me b/c it makes it that much easier for me to tell who's an idiot.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
"we don't have lightning in san francisco"
... says my roommate, jvz, a native of the Bay Area. yet last night we both jumped out of our sleeping bags when we woke up to a brilliant flash, immediately followed by a crashing sound, like a million exploding bowling balls, right behind our ears.
my mind instantly flashed back to a childhood field trip where we sat in a dark auditorium listening to a woman pacing back and forth in a giant clear ball talk about lightning. she'd put her hands on the inside of her ball while electric bolts of lightning zapped her from the outside to teach us that... i forget her point. i do remember something about counting the seconds between a lightning flash and its accompanying thunder crash in order to guess how far away the lightning is. i think if you can count 5 seconds, the lightning is a mile away.
last night, i didn't even get to the first second. with the screaming wind rattling our windows, it sounded like the world was coming to an end outside. like any good east coast-er, my first instinct was to grab some books + a flashlight + saltines and run down to the basement to wait out the storm.
except there are no basements in san francisco either.
damn.
my mind instantly flashed back to a childhood field trip where we sat in a dark auditorium listening to a woman pacing back and forth in a giant clear ball talk about lightning. she'd put her hands on the inside of her ball while electric bolts of lightning zapped her from the outside to teach us that... i forget her point. i do remember something about counting the seconds between a lightning flash and its accompanying thunder crash in order to guess how far away the lightning is. i think if you can count 5 seconds, the lightning is a mile away.
last night, i didn't even get to the first second. with the screaming wind rattling our windows, it sounded like the world was coming to an end outside. like any good east coast-er, my first instinct was to grab some books + a flashlight + saltines and run down to the basement to wait out the storm.
except there are no basements in san francisco either.
damn.
Monday, January 18, 2010
AMERICAN IDOL IS MY CRACK
sad, but true. it's auditions month, so i get to watch twice a week, lucky me. i only like specific parts of the show, though, so i end up watching only 20 min. out of each 2 hr. episode. TGFTivo. i fast forward through all the crazy bad auditions, past simon rolling his eyes, past the singers' backstories about sick relatives, unusual jobs, or the six times they've auditioned for AI in the past. what i crave is when someone gets a golden ticket, which admits them into the next round of auditions. the cameraguy waits with a person's family outside of the judges room, as they all look expectantly at a big door. maybe they make a few comments about how much their person deserves to be on AI. then their person bursts through the big door waving their golden ticket and everyone goes crazy, jumping and laughing and crying and hugging. there's lots of screaming.
i love that part.
it's like how i like watching ppl arrive at airports. again, you have ppl milling around a big door, waiting for their person to show up. a constant parade of ppl files out of the walkway, and then suddenly there's screaming + hugging as someone is spotted and ambushed and welcomed back into the arms of friends/family.
both situations involve celebrating a long-awaited arrival. at the airport, it's a physical arrival that was anticipated, but for AI contestants, it's the arrival of a moment that was in no way guaranteed. for one moment, they have what they wanted. never mind that there are a gazillion more rounds of competition ahead of them, for one moment they feel completely happy with what they have. and their family and friends surround them, screaming. in perhaps as few as 5 minutes, the joy will become tainted by the nagging discontents of life- where did we park the car? do they really charge $10 for every 15 minutes of parking? who's watching the baby? how long will i keep my job? how long will this car keep running? how am i going to afford a new car? what was johnny's teacher calling about? what will we do if his grades don't improve? why can't i remember where i parked the car!?!!
i love that part.
it's like how i like watching ppl arrive at airports. again, you have ppl milling around a big door, waiting for their person to show up. a constant parade of ppl files out of the walkway, and then suddenly there's screaming + hugging as someone is spotted and ambushed and welcomed back into the arms of friends/family.
both situations involve celebrating a long-awaited arrival. at the airport, it's a physical arrival that was anticipated, but for AI contestants, it's the arrival of a moment that was in no way guaranteed. for one moment, they have what they wanted. never mind that there are a gazillion more rounds of competition ahead of them, for one moment they feel completely happy with what they have. and their family and friends surround them, screaming. in perhaps as few as 5 minutes, the joy will become tainted by the nagging discontents of life- where did we park the car? do they really charge $10 for every 15 minutes of parking? who's watching the baby? how long will i keep my job? how long will this car keep running? how am i going to afford a new car? what was johnny's teacher calling about? what will we do if his grades don't improve? why can't i remember where i parked the car!?!!
Sunday, January 3, 2010
"my life's work"
every morning i perform my life's work while i'm still safe + warm in the cocoon of my bed. i often repeat it at night before i turn off the light to go to sleep.
my life's work consists of me putting my nose a couple inches away from my sleeping bag and the sheets underneath and scanning for errant strands of hair. upon finding one, i pinch it securely between two fingers and continue my search. this process takes at most one minute- then i throw out the 6-10 hairs i've collected and climb back into bed.
my permanent roommate, jvz, who thinks this routine is crazy and bewildering, is the one who dubbed this daily activity "my life's work". he'll find me staring at the sheets and say, "are you doing your life's work again?"
i am quite proud of my life's work. during a period of 12 years, i had the privilege of living with several fabulous long-haired people whom i continue to consider my 'friends' in the very purest, non-facebook definition of the word. as much as i enjoyed their company, i despised the way their loose hairs clumped in corners of the carpet and clustered around the shower drain, through entirely no fault of my friends except that they chose to not be bald. to this day, i continue to find hairs shed from the heads of previous roommates laced through my blankets.
hence, my life's work. one would think jvz would respond with gratitude to my conscientious efforts to control my own loose hairs. surprisingly, he has yet to thank me for my work. nonetheless, i persevere.
my life, as i currently understand it, is not so different from harvesting wayward hairs every morning and night. i set small, attainable goals for myself (pick up hairs). i am reasonably successful in achieving these goals (i remove the hairs i find). yet regardless of how hard i work the day before, hairs fall out of my head while i sleep, and i start the whole process over again.
when i was a kid, i thought life was a series of pursuing one goal after another, each more challenging than the previous one, until i eventually became a highly evolved, successful, and wise human being. i would have been horrified to know that my life would instead turn out to follow a very non-linear path, where the most concrete successes i have involve harvesting hairs from my sheets.
my life's work consists of me putting my nose a couple inches away from my sleeping bag and the sheets underneath and scanning for errant strands of hair. upon finding one, i pinch it securely between two fingers and continue my search. this process takes at most one minute- then i throw out the 6-10 hairs i've collected and climb back into bed.
my permanent roommate, jvz, who thinks this routine is crazy and bewildering, is the one who dubbed this daily activity "my life's work". he'll find me staring at the sheets and say, "are you doing your life's work again?"
i am quite proud of my life's work. during a period of 12 years, i had the privilege of living with several fabulous long-haired people whom i continue to consider my 'friends' in the very purest, non-facebook definition of the word. as much as i enjoyed their company, i despised the way their loose hairs clumped in corners of the carpet and clustered around the shower drain, through entirely no fault of my friends except that they chose to not be bald. to this day, i continue to find hairs shed from the heads of previous roommates laced through my blankets.
hence, my life's work. one would think jvz would respond with gratitude to my conscientious efforts to control my own loose hairs. surprisingly, he has yet to thank me for my work. nonetheless, i persevere.
my life, as i currently understand it, is not so different from harvesting wayward hairs every morning and night. i set small, attainable goals for myself (pick up hairs). i am reasonably successful in achieving these goals (i remove the hairs i find). yet regardless of how hard i work the day before, hairs fall out of my head while i sleep, and i start the whole process over again.
when i was a kid, i thought life was a series of pursuing one goal after another, each more challenging than the previous one, until i eventually became a highly evolved, successful, and wise human being. i would have been horrified to know that my life would instead turn out to follow a very non-linear path, where the most concrete successes i have involve harvesting hairs from my sheets.
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