Yesterday, I rode my bike in the rain in West Oakland to pick up my greeting cards. (Likely you’ll receive one soon. If not, remind me.) It only took an hour all together, but the journey was just so gritty and wet and weird. I rode along Mandella Parkway, which has a bike lane that the cars park in and cut thru – I don’t think they’ve ever seen a bike on the road before. Meanwhile, other bicyclists don’t know how to use the road either. One helmetless woman on what looked like a Target bike loaded down with plastic shopping bags (remember the rain), swerved around the left hand lane. I didn’t have the heart to stop and explain the whole thing to her.
Once I got to SF, I got a flat. The men at Blazing Saddles lent (and gave, in the case of the patch) me their equipment and flirted with me, which was nice. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I got a flat on one of my bikes.
So, I was late to the final printmaking class. I gave my teacher a print (which is required but also to be included in a show). He insisted on the True Love Frogs, which seems to be everyone’s favorite. (He got a pink one.) As a brief aside, I showed Matt some of my work last night and he said, “Where are the chickens?” His favorite was Girl in Chair.
Class was spent cleaning the studio, but I slipped out for a minute bc I was starving. I tried to get the counter girl at Green’s to take a credit card, but they have a $10 limit. “I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today,” I mumbled, but she didn’t hear me. So, I was just this crazy lady laughing at my own jokes that no one else can hear. I explained this to her, and she went on about how important it is to be entertained by yourself. In fact, I had trouble getting away.
I had some time to kill at Fort Mason after class ended; so, I wandered around and went to the bookstore. They had $1 book tables. I wasn’t planning on buying anything bc I’m trying to get rid of all of my stuff, but I found 2 books I wanted:
The Rules (time tested secrets for capturing the heart of Mr. Right), and
Success with the Gentle Art of Verbal Self-Defence.
Once I got the books home, I realized that, especially, they are 2 books on the same subject.
The short version: I found myself very amusing yesterday.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
A few words on Happiness
I don’t know what the impetus was, but Slate recently had an essay on Happiness. Since this is one of my subjects of interest, I jotted down a few notes. The essay noted that you choose your spouse but not your parents, yet most people report enjoying time spent with their parents more than their spouse. I see 2 possible reasons for this: 1) you spend a lot more time with your spouse than your parents. Time with parents is limited, and therefore more valuable (basic supply and demand, economics is, afterall, really about human reactions to things). 2) Because you spend more time with your spouse, they become an extension of you. Your frustrations with your life are showcased. Your parents generally think you’re great no matter what you do. You’re their superhero. Your spouse, alas, knows that you’re human.
However, the essay notes, married people report being generally happier than single people. (I believe this is for entirely different reasons of the basic need for love, physical affection, companionship and support.) It follows up this discrepancy with observations about differences in methodology. One study asked people for their overall feeling about their life. The other interrupted their day for periodic ranking of their mood. (I’m sure I’m over-simplifying.) What we can learn from these observations is that our perception of our happiness is based on heavily edited memories influenced by our immediate surroundings. For example, if the sun is shining or your find a coin on the floor shortly before being asked about your life, you’re more likely to report a higher level of happiness.
However, the essay notes, married people report being generally happier than single people. (I believe this is for entirely different reasons of the basic need for love, physical affection, companionship and support.) It follows up this discrepancy with observations about differences in methodology. One study asked people for their overall feeling about their life. The other interrupted their day for periodic ranking of their mood. (I’m sure I’m over-simplifying.) What we can learn from these observations is that our perception of our happiness is based on heavily edited memories influenced by our immediate surroundings. For example, if the sun is shining or your find a coin on the floor shortly before being asked about your life, you’re more likely to report a higher level of happiness.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Review of The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood
Penelope was the faithful wife of Odysseus, left alone for 20 years while her husband fought wars and slept with goddesses, or so says Homer. But Atwood was troubled by an inconsistency in the story. When Odysseus returned, why did he murder Penelope’s 12 maids who had been raped by her suitors? So, she wrote a novel presenting, at least, their side of the story.
She speculates that they were symbols, of the months, of virginity, or something. I can’t help but wonder if they were symbols of Penelope’s adventures in his absence. In order for Odysseus to believe his wife had waited patiently for him for 20 years (10 more than was necessary, it appears), he needed first to “murder” the “lives” she led while they were apart. But maybe that’s just me.
Does Atwood always write this way? Helen was “beautiful” but we never heard about the texture of her hair. Ithica was not as grand as Sparta, but we never heard why… or how. At first, I found it a bit hard to invest in, but I learned to just go with it.
Here are a few quotes:
To have a child was to set loose a force in the world. Pg 24
I was clever, everyone said so – in fact they said it so much that I found it discouraging – but cleverness is a quality a man likes to have in his wife as long as she is some distance away from him. Up close, he’ll take kindness any day of the week, if there’s nothing more alluring to be had. Pg 29
Nothing helps gluttony along so well as eating food you don’t have to pay for yourself, as I learned from later experience. Pg 40
As for my mother, she stopped swimming around like a porpoise long enough to attend my wedding…. Pg 43
Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can’t go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does. Pg 43
I had to agree – at least in public – that Odysseus was probably dead. Yet his ghost had never appeared to me in a dream, as would have been proper. Pg 111
“Which prayer shall we answer today?” they (the Gods) ask one another. “Let’s cast a dice! Hope for this one, despair for that one, and while we’re at it, let’s destroy the life of this woman other there by having sex with her in the form of a crayfish!” pg 135
Also, if a man takes pride in his disguising skills, it would be a foolish wife who would claim to recognize him: it’s always an imprudence to step between a man and the reflection of his own cleverness. Pg 137
But he knew me well – my tender heart, my habit of dissolving in tears and falling down on thresholds. Pg 145
She speculates that they were symbols, of the months, of virginity, or something. I can’t help but wonder if they were symbols of Penelope’s adventures in his absence. In order for Odysseus to believe his wife had waited patiently for him for 20 years (10 more than was necessary, it appears), he needed first to “murder” the “lives” she led while they were apart. But maybe that’s just me.
Does Atwood always write this way? Helen was “beautiful” but we never heard about the texture of her hair. Ithica was not as grand as Sparta, but we never heard why… or how. At first, I found it a bit hard to invest in, but I learned to just go with it.
Here are a few quotes:
To have a child was to set loose a force in the world. Pg 24
I was clever, everyone said so – in fact they said it so much that I found it discouraging – but cleverness is a quality a man likes to have in his wife as long as she is some distance away from him. Up close, he’ll take kindness any day of the week, if there’s nothing more alluring to be had. Pg 29
Nothing helps gluttony along so well as eating food you don’t have to pay for yourself, as I learned from later experience. Pg 40
As for my mother, she stopped swimming around like a porpoise long enough to attend my wedding…. Pg 43
Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can’t go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does. Pg 43
I had to agree – at least in public – that Odysseus was probably dead. Yet his ghost had never appeared to me in a dream, as would have been proper. Pg 111
“Which prayer shall we answer today?” they (the Gods) ask one another. “Let’s cast a dice! Hope for this one, despair for that one, and while we’re at it, let’s destroy the life of this woman other there by having sex with her in the form of a crayfish!” pg 135
Also, if a man takes pride in his disguising skills, it would be a foolish wife who would claim to recognize him: it’s always an imprudence to step between a man and the reflection of his own cleverness. Pg 137
But he knew me well – my tender heart, my habit of dissolving in tears and falling down on thresholds. Pg 145
Two other stories about my trip
I have 2 other stories I want to share. You may want to skip the first. On Monday, I went to the airport before 7 AM. I’m almost never out at that hour these days; so, maybe what I saw was an every day occurrence. Capp Street has a bad reputation, which I have thought was not justified over the past 4+ years I’ve lived there. I walked along it towards the 24th Street BART Station. First, at the corner of 23rd, I saw a person lying in the gutter in the fetal position with her pants around her thighs, bottom complete exposed. I don’t know if this was the result of some kind of sexual activity or if she was relieving her bowels and then passed out. A few cars down, a man was relieving his bowels in the gutter between two cars. He may have been the partner of the other (who I assumed to be a woman, but couldn’t be sure). I was so traumatized that I feel the need to tell the world.
My second story is much nicer. In Old Town Alexandria, there is a coffee shop that Ilana loves and I have forgotten its name. They seem to be the real thing, with jars of coffee all around looking fresh and handmade. At one end of the café, there are a bunch of small tables, all empty, and at the other end of the end of the café is a large community table. The community table was completely full. About 12 people took up tiny spaces at the table, using their laptops, talking on their phones, reading the paper, smoking, chatting with each other. Ilana asked the café worker, and she said they don’t know each other, but they just like to be together.
My second story is much nicer. In Old Town Alexandria, there is a coffee shop that Ilana loves and I have forgotten its name. They seem to be the real thing, with jars of coffee all around looking fresh and handmade. At one end of the café, there are a bunch of small tables, all empty, and at the other end of the end of the café is a large community table. The community table was completely full. About 12 people took up tiny spaces at the table, using their laptops, talking on their phones, reading the paper, smoking, chatting with each other. Ilana asked the café worker, and she said they don’t know each other, but they just like to be together.
Day 3 in DC or Panda Porn
On my 24th birthday, Grayson and I went to the Saigon Zoo. The experience scarred me. I haven’t wanted to see a zoo since, and I’ve been pretty successful at avoiding them. However, when I asked Mitja what he thought I should see in DC, he said: “I really like the Pandas. You should go to the zoo.”
“Is this because you’re a new dad?” I teased.
“No, I liked the Pandas even before Citrus was born.”
Meanwhile, my mother’s best friend from college, Dorothea, announced to my sister that she was coming to see the Pandas on Thursday. (I imagined that she had arranged to come bc she knew I was here, but it turned out to be a coincidence.)
We saw clouded leopards, red pandas, elephants, a tiger, a female lion who growled, and, yes, the Giant Pandas. We saw the father panda first; he was napping on a rock. The mother and baby panda napped too, but shortly after we found them, the mother started wandering around and eating bamboo shoots. (They have to eat bamboo something like 16 hours a day to stay alive!) Their little faces are so cute. The father has been rather depressed lately bc he needs to be separated from the mother while she’s lactating, which will last up to 1.5 years. It’ll be better for him when they can be together.
China can take the baby back once he’s 2 years old, but they might not. The pandas they have there have been prolific lately; so, they might not have the space for another one. On the other hand, they need to be aware of inbreeding, and this mother’s genes are unique, making the baby more valuable for future breeding. You can imagine that a lot of inbreeding goes on when there are only a few pandas breeding in captivity.
Male pandas raised in captivity, it turns out, don’t know how to mate instinctively. In the wild, they see it, but since breeding in captivity is unusual, they don’t get that example there. So… the zoo keepers show the adolescent male pandas Panda Porn for them to learn.
My other favorite animal was the hippo. He stayed there in the water, otherwise huge, with his little eyes and ears a nose just above. I felt a bit blasé about the elephants, and then I thought that was weird.
Ilana lives a short walk from the zoo, and after we’d seen the animals, we walked over to her place for tea. On our way there, Dorothea’s friend Gail said that she’d read about this neighborhood – that there were a lot of muggings here.
I said: “what’s the name of the neighborhood?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” And then she pointed out the bars on some of the windows.
I think living in a city is good for democracy. There was all that talk a few years ago about talking to people about politics especially when we know their views are different from ours as a form of public education (both ways!) and outreach, to help us all care about and understand politics. You’re supposed to follow your intuition about your own safety, but I was surprised that she would be afraid of such a beautiful neighborhood (old brownstones, trees lining the roadway) just because (it seemed) it’s a city. I’ve talked about this a lot, but I believe that Fear drives us to do all kinds of destructive things. And the more we know about each other, and by extension, ourselves, the more we can make decisions based on more positive emotions, intuitions, than fear.
Dorothea brought us some etchings she’d done (www.cdlimited.com/doba.html), and I showed her mine as well (tho I wasn’t able to give her one). Then, we went for lunch at a nearby Peruvian chicken place where we ordered way too much food for about $1. After lunch, we walked Dorothea and Gail too the Metro.
I had forgotten how much I love Dorothea and she loves me, I told Ilana on our way home.
“That’s because you never see each other,” was her explanation.
But I don’t think that’s right. I think that if you love someone, and they love you, you’d better have a pretty good reason for not keeping in touch. Anything else is superficial. Love is the only real thing in this world. Now that I’m reminded, I hope to be better about that. I even got her email.
In the evening, we met Ilana’s friend Jeff at a bar a short bike ride away. At some point in the evening, I asserted that everyone should get therapy just like everyone should see a dentist. Ilana thought that people should get therapy during times of crisis in their lives. Jeff and Ilana seemed to agree that some people shouldn’t ever get therapy bc it makes them even more self-absorbed than they were at first. (At one point in the conversation, I said to Jeff: “maybe you don’t know enough crazy people.” Now this was pretty funny since he works with the homeless – that’s his job!)
Anyway, what I think I meant to say is that people’s mental and emotional health should get just as much attention as other kinds of health. We should get check ups. But not every mental health program works for every person. For example, some people might get more from prayer and going to church while others might get more from a shrink. Some might be best treated with medication while others exercise. But I think regular checkups and treatment program adjustments should be built into our system like teeth cleanings.
Now, here’s a question: do even smart people get stupid when drunk? There was this guy at the bar who tried to hit on us. He saw my bike helmet and asked if I’d been for a ride. Then, he could not understand that I had ridden the bicycle _For Transportation_. Despite the potential political ramifications of him gaining that understanding, I gave up after a few exchanges. He wouldn’t have remembered anyway.
I’m on the Amtrak to Durham right now, and of course the train is already an hour late. A friend of Sara’s warned us that we should expect to be between one and three hours late on this line, much like the one I’ve ridden in CA. What’s wrong with Amtrak?
Speaking of transportation, I thought DC’s signal timing system particularly pedestrian-friendly. For one thing, the lights count down from when they first turn green (not once the red hand begins to flash like in SF). People are always happier with more complete information. The lights count down from like 96 sometimes. You can nearly always make it across without risking death even after the light has changed against you. I didn’t notice a long all-red time, but I did notice that the drivers appear to be willing to wait a few seconds after their light turns green before going. This must be cultural. Mitja said that the DC drivers are the worst – the upshot being that they make stupid maneuvers despite there being plenty of room on the roadway.
The Metro, too, seemed to work. Each line has a color. Each platform displays where the train is going and where you can transfer. How many minutes until the next train comes is constantly shown on a screen, and the numbers are usually small. The lights flash when the train is coming (this is probably an ADA thing). My only complaint is that I would have liked to have seen more system maps on the platforms. If I have a general idea, I would rather figure out the details while I wait for a train to come. I also haven’t decided yet if I think that fare system was unnecessarily complicated. I bought a $10 ticket (which I didn’t use up.), but each time I rode the train, they deducted a different amount. It wasn’t a problem, I just never knew what to expect. Does that matter?
Now the winter trees and frozen lakes wiz past the train windows. I remember that it snowed, just briefly, last night before we went to the bar. The flakes were barely noticeable tiny angels floating through the air. Nothing stuck.
“Is this because you’re a new dad?” I teased.
“No, I liked the Pandas even before Citrus was born.”
Meanwhile, my mother’s best friend from college, Dorothea, announced to my sister that she was coming to see the Pandas on Thursday. (I imagined that she had arranged to come bc she knew I was here, but it turned out to be a coincidence.)
We saw clouded leopards, red pandas, elephants, a tiger, a female lion who growled, and, yes, the Giant Pandas. We saw the father panda first; he was napping on a rock. The mother and baby panda napped too, but shortly after we found them, the mother started wandering around and eating bamboo shoots. (They have to eat bamboo something like 16 hours a day to stay alive!) Their little faces are so cute. The father has been rather depressed lately bc he needs to be separated from the mother while she’s lactating, which will last up to 1.5 years. It’ll be better for him when they can be together.
China can take the baby back once he’s 2 years old, but they might not. The pandas they have there have been prolific lately; so, they might not have the space for another one. On the other hand, they need to be aware of inbreeding, and this mother’s genes are unique, making the baby more valuable for future breeding. You can imagine that a lot of inbreeding goes on when there are only a few pandas breeding in captivity.
Male pandas raised in captivity, it turns out, don’t know how to mate instinctively. In the wild, they see it, but since breeding in captivity is unusual, they don’t get that example there. So… the zoo keepers show the adolescent male pandas Panda Porn for them to learn.
My other favorite animal was the hippo. He stayed there in the water, otherwise huge, with his little eyes and ears a nose just above. I felt a bit blasé about the elephants, and then I thought that was weird.
Ilana lives a short walk from the zoo, and after we’d seen the animals, we walked over to her place for tea. On our way there, Dorothea’s friend Gail said that she’d read about this neighborhood – that there were a lot of muggings here.
I said: “what’s the name of the neighborhood?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” And then she pointed out the bars on some of the windows.
I think living in a city is good for democracy. There was all that talk a few years ago about talking to people about politics especially when we know their views are different from ours as a form of public education (both ways!) and outreach, to help us all care about and understand politics. You’re supposed to follow your intuition about your own safety, but I was surprised that she would be afraid of such a beautiful neighborhood (old brownstones, trees lining the roadway) just because (it seemed) it’s a city. I’ve talked about this a lot, but I believe that Fear drives us to do all kinds of destructive things. And the more we know about each other, and by extension, ourselves, the more we can make decisions based on more positive emotions, intuitions, than fear.
Dorothea brought us some etchings she’d done (www.cdlimited.com/doba.html), and I showed her mine as well (tho I wasn’t able to give her one). Then, we went for lunch at a nearby Peruvian chicken place where we ordered way too much food for about $1. After lunch, we walked Dorothea and Gail too the Metro.
I had forgotten how much I love Dorothea and she loves me, I told Ilana on our way home.
“That’s because you never see each other,” was her explanation.
But I don’t think that’s right. I think that if you love someone, and they love you, you’d better have a pretty good reason for not keeping in touch. Anything else is superficial. Love is the only real thing in this world. Now that I’m reminded, I hope to be better about that. I even got her email.
In the evening, we met Ilana’s friend Jeff at a bar a short bike ride away. At some point in the evening, I asserted that everyone should get therapy just like everyone should see a dentist. Ilana thought that people should get therapy during times of crisis in their lives. Jeff and Ilana seemed to agree that some people shouldn’t ever get therapy bc it makes them even more self-absorbed than they were at first. (At one point in the conversation, I said to Jeff: “maybe you don’t know enough crazy people.” Now this was pretty funny since he works with the homeless – that’s his job!)
Anyway, what I think I meant to say is that people’s mental and emotional health should get just as much attention as other kinds of health. We should get check ups. But not every mental health program works for every person. For example, some people might get more from prayer and going to church while others might get more from a shrink. Some might be best treated with medication while others exercise. But I think regular checkups and treatment program adjustments should be built into our system like teeth cleanings.
Now, here’s a question: do even smart people get stupid when drunk? There was this guy at the bar who tried to hit on us. He saw my bike helmet and asked if I’d been for a ride. Then, he could not understand that I had ridden the bicycle _For Transportation_. Despite the potential political ramifications of him gaining that understanding, I gave up after a few exchanges. He wouldn’t have remembered anyway.
I’m on the Amtrak to Durham right now, and of course the train is already an hour late. A friend of Sara’s warned us that we should expect to be between one and three hours late on this line, much like the one I’ve ridden in CA. What’s wrong with Amtrak?
Speaking of transportation, I thought DC’s signal timing system particularly pedestrian-friendly. For one thing, the lights count down from when they first turn green (not once the red hand begins to flash like in SF). People are always happier with more complete information. The lights count down from like 96 sometimes. You can nearly always make it across without risking death even after the light has changed against you. I didn’t notice a long all-red time, but I did notice that the drivers appear to be willing to wait a few seconds after their light turns green before going. This must be cultural. Mitja said that the DC drivers are the worst – the upshot being that they make stupid maneuvers despite there being plenty of room on the roadway.
The Metro, too, seemed to work. Each line has a color. Each platform displays where the train is going and where you can transfer. How many minutes until the next train comes is constantly shown on a screen, and the numbers are usually small. The lights flash when the train is coming (this is probably an ADA thing). My only complaint is that I would have liked to have seen more system maps on the platforms. If I have a general idea, I would rather figure out the details while I wait for a train to come. I also haven’t decided yet if I think that fare system was unnecessarily complicated. I bought a $10 ticket (which I didn’t use up.), but each time I rode the train, they deducted a different amount. It wasn’t a problem, I just never knew what to expect. Does that matter?
Now the winter trees and frozen lakes wiz past the train windows. I remember that it snowed, just briefly, last night before we went to the bar. The flakes were barely noticeable tiny angels floating through the air. Nothing stuck.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Day 2 in DC
I’m feeling rather depressed and upset about coordinating xmas with my family at the moment. I’m the only one with a “home” in the Bay Area, but my place is small. So, there isn’t any place for even the nuclear family to descend. For various reasons, it’s best for us to celebrate there. I guess these are what Alison calls “white girl problems”, but I’m already feeling delicate, and I need all the loving wholeness I can get.
Ilana and I spent today on bikes. I rode a really cute vintage Trek (with lugs!), turquoise, that looked super girly with my baby pink hat and gloves. I loved that. Unfortunately, I did not love the seat. She gave me a tour of downtown including her former office buildings with the World Bank and where she’d met boys for dates. We stopped off at the Vietnam Memorial, hidden there under the hill, and then at the Lincoln Memorial resting majestically above the Mall.
From there, we crossed the Potomac and rode along its banks for about 10 miles to Old Town Alexandria. On the way, we passed the DC Airport (where I flew in 2 days before), and spent a moment at the end of the runway watching the planes hit the ground a few feet away from over our heads. Also sitting there was a middle-aged couple who took pains to write down our names correctly in order to pray for us. (At first, I gave them my correct name, but then I got a little worried and “corrected” my spelling. I had no idea Ilana’s name could be spelled so differently!)
The weather was gorgeous despite it being winter, the grass was green and the trees were there. The surface of the Potomac lay flat despite the cold air, bc the wind stayed low. The bike path runs between the highway and the river, but across the river the view is of the Capital. The Town’s super cute, and we looked at the art at the Torpedo Factory Art where we saw some really cool ceramic animals and pottery. Ilana fell in love with a little cow, but she couldn’t justify spending $38 on it. Alexandria has some outlet stores, and in addition to lunch we tried to shop. Ilana bought some blue shoes. I’ve lost some weight lately, which means that all my pants are way too big. Ilana wanted me to find some that fit at the Gap outlet, but alas, none of their 12 styles are made for my body.
We biked back in the dark, which was particularly scary on the bike path where there was NO light at all (of course I lacked a headlight). I thought of Carolyn smashing her face in on the Oholone Greenway in Berkeley. What was spectacular was the view of the Capital all lit up in the night across the river. By this time, the river wasn’t so placid, and tiny waves lapped against the bank.
Our evening destination was Sam and Jess’s house in Capital Hill. They live in an amazing 3-story townhouse. I guess it’s been a few months since they left San Francisco, but it didn’t feel like any time had passed at all. Their lives have changed though. I also really enjoyed catching up with Nomar (the parrot, who, incidently let me pet him and pooped on my leg) and Muni and Bart (the guinea pigs).
Ilana and I spent today on bikes. I rode a really cute vintage Trek (with lugs!), turquoise, that looked super girly with my baby pink hat and gloves. I loved that. Unfortunately, I did not love the seat. She gave me a tour of downtown including her former office buildings with the World Bank and where she’d met boys for dates. We stopped off at the Vietnam Memorial, hidden there under the hill, and then at the Lincoln Memorial resting majestically above the Mall.
From there, we crossed the Potomac and rode along its banks for about 10 miles to Old Town Alexandria. On the way, we passed the DC Airport (where I flew in 2 days before), and spent a moment at the end of the runway watching the planes hit the ground a few feet away from over our heads. Also sitting there was a middle-aged couple who took pains to write down our names correctly in order to pray for us. (At first, I gave them my correct name, but then I got a little worried and “corrected” my spelling. I had no idea Ilana’s name could be spelled so differently!)
The weather was gorgeous despite it being winter, the grass was green and the trees were there. The surface of the Potomac lay flat despite the cold air, bc the wind stayed low. The bike path runs between the highway and the river, but across the river the view is of the Capital. The Town’s super cute, and we looked at the art at the Torpedo Factory Art where we saw some really cool ceramic animals and pottery. Ilana fell in love with a little cow, but she couldn’t justify spending $38 on it. Alexandria has some outlet stores, and in addition to lunch we tried to shop. Ilana bought some blue shoes. I’ve lost some weight lately, which means that all my pants are way too big. Ilana wanted me to find some that fit at the Gap outlet, but alas, none of their 12 styles are made for my body.
We biked back in the dark, which was particularly scary on the bike path where there was NO light at all (of course I lacked a headlight). I thought of Carolyn smashing her face in on the Oholone Greenway in Berkeley. What was spectacular was the view of the Capital all lit up in the night across the river. By this time, the river wasn’t so placid, and tiny waves lapped against the bank.
Our evening destination was Sam and Jess’s house in Capital Hill. They live in an amazing 3-story townhouse. I guess it’s been a few months since they left San Francisco, but it didn’t feel like any time had passed at all. Their lives have changed though. I also really enjoyed catching up with Nomar (the parrot, who, incidently let me pet him and pooped on my leg) and Muni and Bart (the guinea pigs).
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Day 1 in DC
I had a pretty good day here in our fine country’s capital. Ilana and I spent a leisurely morning in her lovely Mt. Pleasant apartment. She has a little xmas tree with a short string of white lights and nothing else. She also has a collection of heart-shaped rocks pinned around one her front window. The place feels homey, and I was amazed how she does everything right. It’s probably bc she’s my sister – we figured out a lot of things together.
So, I finally got my butt in gear and decided to go see an exhibition on American Modernism at the Philips Museum. I walked there (DuPont Circle) from here. But once I got there, paid my admission, I realized there was a problem: I already saw this exhibition last summer in LA. And it wasn’t so interesting of an exhibit that I wanted to see it again (for another $10 when I’m living mostly off my savings and taking a trip for no reason).
But I’ve got this idea for a bicycle art exhibition, and I did see a painting with a bicycle. So, note to self: Braque’s The Shower, 1952.
Yeah, otherwise, I felt like a real turkey. Which leads me to something I was just talking about with my mother. I tend to blame myself for most everything that goes wrong: a stubbed toe, a burned cookie, when my sailing teacher takes out a boat with a broken spreader, the holocaust. I often do my best to hide this bc it would…. Well, just because. Meanwhile, the woman who lives downstairs from me apologizes for everything whenever I see her, and it makes me feel like she’s got serious confidence issues or that she’s a manipulator. Either way is bad. Anyway, there’s a balance, but sometimes finding that balance takes a lot of thought, not just about responsibility, and personal responsibility, but also about social objectives and the messages we put out into the world. I need to think not only about what my role was in something that went wrong, but also about what I can gain by taking, or not taking, responsibility for that mistake. Anyway, it’s complicated.
From there, I had a little time to kill. So, I strolled around the neighborhood and finished the Crispy Crème donuts I’d bought for my lunch. (Ilana offered me OJ with my breakfast, but I declined bc juice has too much sugar. I should have clarified that I like to be very selective about where my sugar comes from.) I then took the Metro to the massage appt that Ilana made for me.
She found this massage school where you can get one for a very reasonable price. She went last week, and I happened to speak with her bf and after her appt. The idea is that it’s hard to be single, without hugs and caresses day after day. (I burst into tears when a friend gave me a very empathic hug the other day, but then, that’s nothing unusual these days.) So, getting a regular massage not only keeps your body feeling good and relaxed, it also gives you human contact that we all so desperately need.
I had a sort of dream during my massage. There was a city made out of glass, and it was Paris. Except something happened, and it all shattered. The lights and colors and shimmering glass were still so beautiful, and we played in the broken glass, throwing it into the air, and it didn’t hurt us.
I glanced in the mirror after my massage, and the bags under my eyes were especially puffy. I had to rush to meet my old high-school friend Mitja at his office. He works at AARP, and he looked great. We went to a fancy restaurant, Zola, bc I said I wanted an experience special to DC. He had chowder and we shared some fries for a starter. The fries were good, but the exciting part was the mustardy mayonnaise they gave us to dip them. For our mains, I had the chicken which involved a fig sauce, a butternut squash puree over that, and then chicken breast covered with brussel sprouts and zucchini and cheese. Mitja had monk fish with some kind of asian sauce and spinach. Also tasty. Since Mitja had already tried the chocolate bomb they make, we had the chocolate fondue s’mores for dessert.
The air outside was freezing cold, but I convinced him to take me for turn on the Mall. Earlier in the day, when I was having trouble leaving Ilana’s, I felt a bit panicked that I would somehow miss seeing “DC”. I am less worried about that now I have strolled up to the well-lit White House (were there really people in all of those rooms with their lights on??) and then back towards the Washington Monument.
Of course, the conversation this whole time was lovely, and it was great to see him. He drove me home in his red Miata (inherited from his father, he assured me when I said “you’re joking, right?” in response to the car). You might have to know him to get the joke.
Now I’m back at Ilana’s, wading thru email for the first time in 2 days. I really need to buy my train ticket to Durham. Ugh.
So, I finally got my butt in gear and decided to go see an exhibition on American Modernism at the Philips Museum. I walked there (DuPont Circle) from here. But once I got there, paid my admission, I realized there was a problem: I already saw this exhibition last summer in LA. And it wasn’t so interesting of an exhibit that I wanted to see it again (for another $10 when I’m living mostly off my savings and taking a trip for no reason).
But I’ve got this idea for a bicycle art exhibition, and I did see a painting with a bicycle. So, note to self: Braque’s The Shower, 1952.
Yeah, otherwise, I felt like a real turkey. Which leads me to something I was just talking about with my mother. I tend to blame myself for most everything that goes wrong: a stubbed toe, a burned cookie, when my sailing teacher takes out a boat with a broken spreader, the holocaust. I often do my best to hide this bc it would…. Well, just because. Meanwhile, the woman who lives downstairs from me apologizes for everything whenever I see her, and it makes me feel like she’s got serious confidence issues or that she’s a manipulator. Either way is bad. Anyway, there’s a balance, but sometimes finding that balance takes a lot of thought, not just about responsibility, and personal responsibility, but also about social objectives and the messages we put out into the world. I need to think not only about what my role was in something that went wrong, but also about what I can gain by taking, or not taking, responsibility for that mistake. Anyway, it’s complicated.
From there, I had a little time to kill. So, I strolled around the neighborhood and finished the Crispy Crème donuts I’d bought for my lunch. (Ilana offered me OJ with my breakfast, but I declined bc juice has too much sugar. I should have clarified that I like to be very selective about where my sugar comes from.) I then took the Metro to the massage appt that Ilana made for me.
She found this massage school where you can get one for a very reasonable price. She went last week, and I happened to speak with her bf and after her appt. The idea is that it’s hard to be single, without hugs and caresses day after day. (I burst into tears when a friend gave me a very empathic hug the other day, but then, that’s nothing unusual these days.) So, getting a regular massage not only keeps your body feeling good and relaxed, it also gives you human contact that we all so desperately need.
I had a sort of dream during my massage. There was a city made out of glass, and it was Paris. Except something happened, and it all shattered. The lights and colors and shimmering glass were still so beautiful, and we played in the broken glass, throwing it into the air, and it didn’t hurt us.
I glanced in the mirror after my massage, and the bags under my eyes were especially puffy. I had to rush to meet my old high-school friend Mitja at his office. He works at AARP, and he looked great. We went to a fancy restaurant, Zola, bc I said I wanted an experience special to DC. He had chowder and we shared some fries for a starter. The fries were good, but the exciting part was the mustardy mayonnaise they gave us to dip them. For our mains, I had the chicken which involved a fig sauce, a butternut squash puree over that, and then chicken breast covered with brussel sprouts and zucchini and cheese. Mitja had monk fish with some kind of asian sauce and spinach. Also tasty. Since Mitja had already tried the chocolate bomb they make, we had the chocolate fondue s’mores for dessert.
The air outside was freezing cold, but I convinced him to take me for turn on the Mall. Earlier in the day, when I was having trouble leaving Ilana’s, I felt a bit panicked that I would somehow miss seeing “DC”. I am less worried about that now I have strolled up to the well-lit White House (were there really people in all of those rooms with their lights on??) and then back towards the Washington Monument.
Of course, the conversation this whole time was lovely, and it was great to see him. He drove me home in his red Miata (inherited from his father, he assured me when I said “you’re joking, right?” in response to the car). You might have to know him to get the joke.
Now I’m back at Ilana’s, wading thru email for the first time in 2 days. I really need to buy my train ticket to Durham. Ugh.
Winterfest 2006
I had a particularly good time at the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition's Winterfest this year, but I don't know how to explain why. I was busy. The company and conversation were outstanding. I felt on my game. The beer was really tasty. On the other hand, they seem to have decided to gear it towards the auctions and reduce many other forms of entertainment. Last year I enjoyed the films, but maybe they ended up being a social crutch. Here is photo of my from the photo booth (something they do every year).
Sunday, December 03, 2006
NeXmap Review, etc.
My hands are all messed up from sailing. I need to get some sailing gloves, and I hear they do exist. My hands feel like sand paper. But the weather was beautiful, and my fellow sailors sweet. We took out a Precision, which doesn’t steer with much. I think I’ll try to stick with the Lidos for a bit longer.
I had a lot of competing invitations last night, but ultimately I decided to go to Kristin’s video art show. It seemed important to support her in this project, and also I thought I would enjoy it (of course). It was called “NeXmap: New Experimental Music, Art, Performance” in the “recombinant media labs”, this cool space south of Market. They showed 6 pieces.
In the first one, a violinist played notes (music) and computer responded with harmonizing or dissonant notes. I believe they were the result of the computer processing her sounds. The effect was really interesting. At the same time, a Durer etching was projected on the screens (along the entire wall of the space, 360 degrees), first so blown up that all you saw were a few pixels, then slowly we got to see the image until it became so small that it was a tiny, quivering dot on a black screen.
The second piece was a series of photos and recordings of people in urban settings. It was called “a strange intimacy”, and seemed to be about how, in urban settings, we are always surrounded by people we don’t know, and maybe we like it that way. He talked about the closeness of it, but I also wonder about the alienation of it.
In another piece, a Claronetist played very powerful music called “Dust” which he said was about 9/11. Kristin’s piece was 5th, and she had edited a dance performance into waves so that it looked like the dancers were rolling into and out of the water.
Julie said that the final piece made her feel like she was in hell. (She arrived with a headache.) The room was black, and we lay on the floor. The composer said it was about the Tsnami in Thailand. It sounded like huge rats crawling in the walls and floor and ceiling all around us. As the music built, and became more frantic, I began to feel unsafe. It was a tremendous feeling. But then I remembered that I was in a black room in downtown San Francisco at a music performance. Of course I was safe – these were just sounds. It made me wonder about our basic human reactions to other situations – maybe we’re nearly always safe. How much of modern life is simulated, and how much of it can be controlled and made to be a positive rather than negative experience through thought?
I thought about horror films and how I find them “too scary”. I like that they cause you to clutch the person next to you for “safety”. I like that they instigate human contact. Our world right now has so many fewer risks than when humans were more active members of wildlife. And yet, we find things to be afraid of anyway. We are afraid of our airplane falling from the sky, or of having our hearts broken by the careless, or of slipping in the shower. We’re afraid of having things we value taken from us. We’re afraid of dying too soon.
I always talk about letting go of these fears. “Forget safety,” I say. “Loosen your grip,” I think. But right now I realize that that disregards our most basic human programming, real or not. Feeling fear is part of being human. What that leaves is a question of how we react to our fears. Do we bomb foreign countries? Do we run away from Love? Do we stop bathing? Well, we all know the answers to these questions for ourselves, but I guess the thing I want to keep in mind is what these reactions mean and if they are an appropriate reaction to the real level of risk I face.
I had a lot of competing invitations last night, but ultimately I decided to go to Kristin’s video art show. It seemed important to support her in this project, and also I thought I would enjoy it (of course). It was called “NeXmap: New Experimental Music, Art, Performance” in the “recombinant media labs”, this cool space south of Market. They showed 6 pieces.
In the first one, a violinist played notes (music) and computer responded with harmonizing or dissonant notes. I believe they were the result of the computer processing her sounds. The effect was really interesting. At the same time, a Durer etching was projected on the screens (along the entire wall of the space, 360 degrees), first so blown up that all you saw were a few pixels, then slowly we got to see the image until it became so small that it was a tiny, quivering dot on a black screen.
The second piece was a series of photos and recordings of people in urban settings. It was called “a strange intimacy”, and seemed to be about how, in urban settings, we are always surrounded by people we don’t know, and maybe we like it that way. He talked about the closeness of it, but I also wonder about the alienation of it.
In another piece, a Claronetist played very powerful music called “Dust” which he said was about 9/11. Kristin’s piece was 5th, and she had edited a dance performance into waves so that it looked like the dancers were rolling into and out of the water.
Julie said that the final piece made her feel like she was in hell. (She arrived with a headache.) The room was black, and we lay on the floor. The composer said it was about the Tsnami in Thailand. It sounded like huge rats crawling in the walls and floor and ceiling all around us. As the music built, and became more frantic, I began to feel unsafe. It was a tremendous feeling. But then I remembered that I was in a black room in downtown San Francisco at a music performance. Of course I was safe – these were just sounds. It made me wonder about our basic human reactions to other situations – maybe we’re nearly always safe. How much of modern life is simulated, and how much of it can be controlled and made to be a positive rather than negative experience through thought?
I thought about horror films and how I find them “too scary”. I like that they cause you to clutch the person next to you for “safety”. I like that they instigate human contact. Our world right now has so many fewer risks than when humans were more active members of wildlife. And yet, we find things to be afraid of anyway. We are afraid of our airplane falling from the sky, or of having our hearts broken by the careless, or of slipping in the shower. We’re afraid of having things we value taken from us. We’re afraid of dying too soon.
I always talk about letting go of these fears. “Forget safety,” I say. “Loosen your grip,” I think. But right now I realize that that disregards our most basic human programming, real or not. Feeling fear is part of being human. What that leaves is a question of how we react to our fears. Do we bomb foreign countries? Do we run away from Love? Do we stop bathing? Well, we all know the answers to these questions for ourselves, but I guess the thing I want to keep in mind is what these reactions mean and if they are an appropriate reaction to the real level of risk I face.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Random quotes
If there’s an upside to freefalling, it’s that you give your friends a chance to catch you.
Grey’s Anatomy (TV show)
Each day, we must learn
again how to love…
Excerpt from "In the Middle" by Barbara Crooker, from Word Press. © 1998
…too full to swallow any sorrow…
The Joy Luck Club (the movie)
Grey’s Anatomy (TV show)
Each day, we must learn
again how to love…
Excerpt from "In the Middle" by Barbara Crooker, from Word Press. © 1998
…too full to swallow any sorrow…
The Joy Luck Club (the movie)
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Thanksgiving
I usually like to take some time around thanksgiving to articulate what I’m thankful for. This year, I found it difficult. I am thankful, but, in Laura’s words, I’ve been thrown a few curve balls lately. So, I guess that makes me more thankful for the things I am thankful for and less thankful for everything else.
Let’s see…. most of all, I’m thankful for my friends, my mother and my sister. I’m thankful for the Bay Area, and all the cool stuff you can do here, easily and inexpensively. I’m thankful that I have this really pretty and central apartment and that I’ve stayed here as long as I have (huge surprise!). I’m thankful for my skills and education (Have I been writing a lot of cover letters lately???). I’m thankful for passion. I’m thankful for the health of my loved ones and myself.
Kristin, Julie and I were talking last night about The Ring. What’s really scary about it is that you anticipate dying in 7 days – you have 7 days to worry about it. I’ve been reading this book, Stumbling on Happiness, where the author (Daniel Gilbert) asserts that anticipation of pleasure makes it possible to enjoy that pleasure more. Likewise, anticipation of the unpleasant (like dying from watching a video) is that much more so. I have flower bulbs growing in my apartment now, and I am thankful for their future blooms.
I had a really good Thanksgiving. I started my day with a yoga class – heated and involving sun salutations (2 things I don’t like) but refreshing anyway. Carolyn and I took a walk along the Bay Trail, which was so so beautiful and, of course, the conversation brilliant. I went with them to Tom’s briefly (fun!), and then walked up to Anne and Ray’s for my official Thanksgiving dinner.
About 10 people were there, and not surprisingly, they were particularly interesting. I sat next to a property manager from the Peninsula. We got to talking about traffic congestion and parking issues, and I got to bring out my "toolkit" for solving these problems. He seemed genuinely interested, and said he would try to push thru some of my suggestions in their larger buildings (which was my suggestion about where he should start). Hey, maybe I did something to save the world right there at the Thanksgiving table?!
I love this quote from Don DeLillo: "I've never thought about myself in terms of a career. ... I don't have a career, I have a typewriter." I love to work, to do stuff. I love to tell people about transportation alternatives, and solve their transportation (and other) problems. I love to figure stuff out. I’ve never been a very good American with this idea of a sacred “career” that you build and guard and cultivate like a plant… I think it’s a way to avoid living.
And from Sharon Olds: “I was a late bloomer. But anyone who blooms at all is very lucky.”
Let’s see…. most of all, I’m thankful for my friends, my mother and my sister. I’m thankful for the Bay Area, and all the cool stuff you can do here, easily and inexpensively. I’m thankful that I have this really pretty and central apartment and that I’ve stayed here as long as I have (huge surprise!). I’m thankful for my skills and education (Have I been writing a lot of cover letters lately???). I’m thankful for passion. I’m thankful for the health of my loved ones and myself.
Kristin, Julie and I were talking last night about The Ring. What’s really scary about it is that you anticipate dying in 7 days – you have 7 days to worry about it. I’ve been reading this book, Stumbling on Happiness, where the author (Daniel Gilbert) asserts that anticipation of pleasure makes it possible to enjoy that pleasure more. Likewise, anticipation of the unpleasant (like dying from watching a video) is that much more so. I have flower bulbs growing in my apartment now, and I am thankful for their future blooms.
I had a really good Thanksgiving. I started my day with a yoga class – heated and involving sun salutations (2 things I don’t like) but refreshing anyway. Carolyn and I took a walk along the Bay Trail, which was so so beautiful and, of course, the conversation brilliant. I went with them to Tom’s briefly (fun!), and then walked up to Anne and Ray’s for my official Thanksgiving dinner.
About 10 people were there, and not surprisingly, they were particularly interesting. I sat next to a property manager from the Peninsula. We got to talking about traffic congestion and parking issues, and I got to bring out my "toolkit" for solving these problems. He seemed genuinely interested, and said he would try to push thru some of my suggestions in their larger buildings (which was my suggestion about where he should start). Hey, maybe I did something to save the world right there at the Thanksgiving table?!
I love this quote from Don DeLillo: "I've never thought about myself in terms of a career. ... I don't have a career, I have a typewriter." I love to work, to do stuff. I love to tell people about transportation alternatives, and solve their transportation (and other) problems. I love to figure stuff out. I’ve never been a very good American with this idea of a sacred “career” that you build and guard and cultivate like a plant… I think it’s a way to avoid living.
And from Sharon Olds: “I was a late bloomer. But anyone who blooms at all is very lucky.”
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Life Goals 2006 (based on last new year's)
1. Live a life of constant Learning
2. Have True Love/a meaningful life Partnership
3. Have a baby or 2 and raise it/them well
4. Be a good Friend to 3-6 people at all times (partner included)
5. Live in a beautiful Home with a garden and a piano; grow tomatoes
6. Do something that helps people/makes the world a better place
7. See the world/have meaningful interactions with all kinds of people/have adventures/be open to what life offers
8. Be charming and talented
9. Be able to afford what I want (have money not be an issue – I don’t think it would ever happen to me that I would become too focused on accumulating wealth or living extravagantly; so, there’s no reason to have a goal on that)
10. Live in major cities around the world for 2+ years at a time
11. Care for my body/be healthy and fit
12. Make/do/produce good things
13. Strive to be low-impact on the planet
2. Have True Love/a meaningful life Partnership
3. Have a baby or 2 and raise it/them well
4. Be a good Friend to 3-6 people at all times (partner included)
5. Live in a beautiful Home with a garden and a piano; grow tomatoes
6. Do something that helps people/makes the world a better place
7. See the world/have meaningful interactions with all kinds of people/have adventures/be open to what life offers
8. Be charming and talented
9. Be able to afford what I want (have money not be an issue – I don’t think it would ever happen to me that I would become too focused on accumulating wealth or living extravagantly; so, there’s no reason to have a goal on that)
10. Live in major cities around the world for 2+ years at a time
11. Care for my body/be healthy and fit
12. Make/do/produce good things
13. Strive to be low-impact on the planet
Thursday, November 16, 2006
On Democracy in America
Last night, Brian and I went to see Steven Hill talk about his book "10 Steps to Repair American Democracy" at Modern Times Book Store. There has been a lot said on this subject ever since the debacle we call the 2000 presidential election (although I was overseas a good bit of time since then and a lot of what I heard said was said by Europeans. The French are completely convinced that American Democracy no longer exists). Yeah, so there’s a lot to say. But I was particularly compelled by one comment:
Steven Hill pointed out that Regan was the first politician to blame government for America’s problems. “Government is the problem,” he said. But, here’s the thing: if government is bad, then why vote? This sort of ideology, particularly when asserted by our Leaders, is hugely destructive not just to government, but to the public’s interest in participating in it. No wonder apathy is rampant – entire generations have heard this message since we were small.
Republicans value business to make the individual profit. Government serves the public without self-interest (except maybe people wanting to keep their jobs…?). What motivates us to serve each other, to make our world better, if the mechanism thru which we can do that is “the problem”. Sure, there are non-profits, but the non-profit structure, with battling board members, etc., contains the risk of preventing real leadership at that level either. Are we really destined to be a nation of individuals who only wish to make themselves rich at the expense of everyone else? Yet, without a mechanism to help people, we are left without other options.
At this point, I have jotted in my notes from the talk: “why do anything?” I like money just as much as the next guy, but there are so many ways to get there from here. If we don’t start with our fundamental beliefs – and figuring out what they are – how does anyone make a decision? (On the other hand, I get the feeling that everyone else is more decisive by nature than I am.)
I mentioned this to Brian after the talk, and he said that Katrina represented a shift in the American attitude towards government. Suddenly, everyone could see as plain as weather the need for competent representation. I’m hoping it’s a lasting effect.
I don’t know how to wrap up this post. I want to leave my readers with some really profound message, but exactly what it is eludes me. Government isn’t the problem. Government officials who blame the system which support them – those hypocrates – are the problem. And it is the responsibility of every single American to fight those messages, to make government better, to make it competent, to make it serve our needs, and to make sure every other American understands that. That’s our job. And if anyone supposedly representing us criticizes the system thru which they got that power, it’s our responsibility to impeach them.
Steven Hill pointed out that Regan was the first politician to blame government for America’s problems. “Government is the problem,” he said. But, here’s the thing: if government is bad, then why vote? This sort of ideology, particularly when asserted by our Leaders, is hugely destructive not just to government, but to the public’s interest in participating in it. No wonder apathy is rampant – entire generations have heard this message since we were small.
Republicans value business to make the individual profit. Government serves the public without self-interest (except maybe people wanting to keep their jobs…?). What motivates us to serve each other, to make our world better, if the mechanism thru which we can do that is “the problem”. Sure, there are non-profits, but the non-profit structure, with battling board members, etc., contains the risk of preventing real leadership at that level either. Are we really destined to be a nation of individuals who only wish to make themselves rich at the expense of everyone else? Yet, without a mechanism to help people, we are left without other options.
At this point, I have jotted in my notes from the talk: “why do anything?” I like money just as much as the next guy, but there are so many ways to get there from here. If we don’t start with our fundamental beliefs – and figuring out what they are – how does anyone make a decision? (On the other hand, I get the feeling that everyone else is more decisive by nature than I am.)
I mentioned this to Brian after the talk, and he said that Katrina represented a shift in the American attitude towards government. Suddenly, everyone could see as plain as weather the need for competent representation. I’m hoping it’s a lasting effect.
I don’t know how to wrap up this post. I want to leave my readers with some really profound message, but exactly what it is eludes me. Government isn’t the problem. Government officials who blame the system which support them – those hypocrates – are the problem. And it is the responsibility of every single American to fight those messages, to make government better, to make it competent, to make it serve our needs, and to make sure every other American understands that. That’s our job. And if anyone supposedly representing us criticizes the system thru which they got that power, it’s our responsibility to impeach them.
Human consciousness is like a bicycle?
I was just listening to my Scientific American podcast, and they were discussing the issues that came up at the recent World Science Forum (NYC). One was the idea that shortly, the technology will exist to make it possible for people to live forever. They mentioned people "downloading" their consciousness or even correcting "bugs" in the consciousness of their friends. This, of course, made me think of bicycles.
(Would this happen with ink blots?)
Years ago, I asked my friend James Hill who worked at the Missing Link bicycle shop how long he had had his bicycle. He shifted weight on his feet and said, that's a difficult question. What is a bicycle? You wear out parts and replace them. Is a bicycle its frame? But what if you switch all the parts from one frame to another? Likewise, if you get a new heart or kidney or "download" your consciousness to a new body, are you the same person?
I can't help but think that we are a different person (or bicycle) from one minute to the next. They say your cells turn over every 7 years (or something like that) that after 7 years you have none of the same cells that you had to begin with. Are you the same person bc you have the "same" consciousness? The same "soul"?
Some people just love to categorize. "You're intellectual" or "you’re sensitive" or "women have ESP and men don't". There are 2 kinds of people, and you're the first (whatever that is). When it’s stated seriously, this infuriates me. Keep your labels to yourself. I am the sky -- you can't fit me into any box. Likewise, if we are each a different entity from one moment to the next, we can't be categorized. Let go of the idea of separate self and embrace the idea of systemic self. We are each part of the economy, the political system, the eco-system, our community.... Isn't that a much more important, reliable identity?
(Would this happen with ink blots?)
Years ago, I asked my friend James Hill who worked at the Missing Link bicycle shop how long he had had his bicycle. He shifted weight on his feet and said, that's a difficult question. What is a bicycle? You wear out parts and replace them. Is a bicycle its frame? But what if you switch all the parts from one frame to another? Likewise, if you get a new heart or kidney or "download" your consciousness to a new body, are you the same person?
I can't help but think that we are a different person (or bicycle) from one minute to the next. They say your cells turn over every 7 years (or something like that) that after 7 years you have none of the same cells that you had to begin with. Are you the same person bc you have the "same" consciousness? The same "soul"?
Some people just love to categorize. "You're intellectual" or "you’re sensitive" or "women have ESP and men don't". There are 2 kinds of people, and you're the first (whatever that is). When it’s stated seriously, this infuriates me. Keep your labels to yourself. I am the sky -- you can't fit me into any box. Likewise, if we are each a different entity from one moment to the next, we can't be categorized. Let go of the idea of separate self and embrace the idea of systemic self. We are each part of the economy, the political system, the eco-system, our community.... Isn't that a much more important, reliable identity?
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Random quote
Whereever there is injustice, oppression, and suffering, America will show up 6 months later and bomb the country next to where it's happening.
-P J O'Rourke
-P J O'Rourke
Monday, November 13, 2006
Wrapping-up Alaska, part 1
Yeah, I’m slow. I’ve taken up Sudoku, and I occasionally mutter to myself that I might developmentally delayed as I play. I love playing with Jared bc he catches my mistakes (“there’s no 8 there.”) and every time I get stuck he provides a number that jump-starts me again. He’s tried doing crosswords with me, but I am completely hopeless with any game involving words. Sudoku is a good compromise.
Anyway, I have one more story from our trip to Alaska and then some plugs. Jared’s parents kindly delivered us to Bellingham on the day of our ferry’s departure. It was a long drive and enormously generous of them to take us all that way. I had found a nice little 12-speed Peuget bicycle, but Jared didn’t have one yet. He arranged to meet a guy he’d found thru craigslist with a Specialized Hybrid for sale. It was fortunate that we were able to take care of that business at the last minute. A planner thru-and-thru, I felt anxious about this purchase not happening until hours before we left on the boat.
Jared’s parents unloaded us onto an industrial sidewalk, and I felt another pang of anxiety. If the parents leave, who will take care of us? At that moment, I felt like an 8-year old. I don’t know if anyone noticed my eyes filling with tears. When I told Jared later about this thought, he was a little offended. Didn’t I trust him to take care of us? How like a man.
The ferry was fantastic, and, as I mentioned before, I could happily live on one for quite a while. We had a couple days to read thru guidebooks and decide where we’d get off. I’d bought the ticket to Wrangell, but we talked ourselves into changing the first stop to Petersburg. Changing the ticket was easy, and didn’t cost much more. I was surprised.
The sun was setting when we disembarked in Petersburg, and immediately it began to rain. We’d asked a guy on the boat for directions, and began racing down one of the town’s few roadways in the wrong direction. About 20 minutes later, another guy we’d met on the boat pulled over in his truck next to us – it was dark and a little scary until we figured out we knew him – it turned out that 1) we were going the wrong way (as I mentioned) and 2) the campground was closed. He suggested we camp illegally (and even had a spot picked out for us), but after heading back into town (it was getting quite late!) I cast a strong vote for camping at the divvy RV park in town.
The RV park was incredibly muddy, and imbedded in the mud was broken glass (and who knows what else – used syringes?). The shared bathroom was dirty and broken. Some down-and-out souls lived there, either in their RVs or, in some unfortunate cases, in tents with various contraptions elevating and sheltering them from the constant rain. I tried to imagine how a person could fall on so much bad luck as to live here, and I could only think that mental illness or substance abuse must be involved. One man lived next to our tent with a whole little set up, and while he sat a few feet from us the entire evening, he just stared off into the corner. I was surprised when he responded in normal-sounding English when we asked him a question.
We woke up before daybreak and broke camp never tracking down our landlords to pay the $5 we owed them for sleeping there, criminals already so early in our vacation. I don’t know if it was the weather or my mood, but the supposedly-pretty and pleasant town seemed more sad to me. We had a “real” breakfast by the boats (there was only one possible place) and killed some time before the Ranger’s office opened. The plan was to find out about available cabins in the area.
This story is already way too long, and I haven’t even gotten to the point yet. I guess I’ll go ahead and post this in hopes of writing the rest later.
Anyway, I have one more story from our trip to Alaska and then some plugs. Jared’s parents kindly delivered us to Bellingham on the day of our ferry’s departure. It was a long drive and enormously generous of them to take us all that way. I had found a nice little 12-speed Peuget bicycle, but Jared didn’t have one yet. He arranged to meet a guy he’d found thru craigslist with a Specialized Hybrid for sale. It was fortunate that we were able to take care of that business at the last minute. A planner thru-and-thru, I felt anxious about this purchase not happening until hours before we left on the boat.
Jared’s parents unloaded us onto an industrial sidewalk, and I felt another pang of anxiety. If the parents leave, who will take care of us? At that moment, I felt like an 8-year old. I don’t know if anyone noticed my eyes filling with tears. When I told Jared later about this thought, he was a little offended. Didn’t I trust him to take care of us? How like a man.
The ferry was fantastic, and, as I mentioned before, I could happily live on one for quite a while. We had a couple days to read thru guidebooks and decide where we’d get off. I’d bought the ticket to Wrangell, but we talked ourselves into changing the first stop to Petersburg. Changing the ticket was easy, and didn’t cost much more. I was surprised.
The sun was setting when we disembarked in Petersburg, and immediately it began to rain. We’d asked a guy on the boat for directions, and began racing down one of the town’s few roadways in the wrong direction. About 20 minutes later, another guy we’d met on the boat pulled over in his truck next to us – it was dark and a little scary until we figured out we knew him – it turned out that 1) we were going the wrong way (as I mentioned) and 2) the campground was closed. He suggested we camp illegally (and even had a spot picked out for us), but after heading back into town (it was getting quite late!) I cast a strong vote for camping at the divvy RV park in town.
The RV park was incredibly muddy, and imbedded in the mud was broken glass (and who knows what else – used syringes?). The shared bathroom was dirty and broken. Some down-and-out souls lived there, either in their RVs or, in some unfortunate cases, in tents with various contraptions elevating and sheltering them from the constant rain. I tried to imagine how a person could fall on so much bad luck as to live here, and I could only think that mental illness or substance abuse must be involved. One man lived next to our tent with a whole little set up, and while he sat a few feet from us the entire evening, he just stared off into the corner. I was surprised when he responded in normal-sounding English when we asked him a question.
We woke up before daybreak and broke camp never tracking down our landlords to pay the $5 we owed them for sleeping there, criminals already so early in our vacation. I don’t know if it was the weather or my mood, but the supposedly-pretty and pleasant town seemed more sad to me. We had a “real” breakfast by the boats (there was only one possible place) and killed some time before the Ranger’s office opened. The plan was to find out about available cabins in the area.
This story is already way too long, and I haven’t even gotten to the point yet. I guess I’ll go ahead and post this in hopes of writing the rest later.
Friday, November 03, 2006
My new bicycle
Jared gave me this bicycle for my birthday. I think it's the prettiest bicycle I have ever seen.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Green Challenge
Slate Green Challenge: Your eight-week carbon diet
My annual carbon emissions are 16,556.2 lbs.
Average carbon emissions per year, per person:
United States: 44,312
Qatar: 117,064
France: 13,668
India: 2,645
Kenya: 440
So, you can see, I have some work to do. You should play too.
My annual carbon emissions are 16,556.2 lbs.
Average carbon emissions per year, per person:
United States: 44,312
Qatar: 117,064
France: 13,668
India: 2,645
Kenya: 440
So, you can see, I have some work to do. You should play too.
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