Jared and I are going to Alaska for 3 weeks on Thursday. I know I haven't posted very regularly lately, but I didn't want you to worry if I don't post for a few weeks. I will be available by mobile phone.
We fly to Seattle on Thursday morning. There, we'll spend a few days with Jared's family on Hood Canal where they keep a little vacation house. Tuesday evening, we board a ferry from Bellingham to Wrangell, AK where we arrive 2 days later. We fly out of Sitka 2.5 weeks later. What happens in between is anyone's guess, but I bet it will involve a tent. I've heard it's beautiful up there, and I'm looking forward to telling you all about it.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Thursday, August 03, 2006
On making love stay....
Finally, my response to the Bronson/Merryman article on predicting marital longevity.
My first thought out of the gate here is: what makes us think that relationships are supposed to last? Why, as a society, do we hope for love to stay? Maybe love is something that happens now and then and passes, sort of like food poisoning? One of the things my friends and I like to remind ourselves of is to stop beating ourselves up for things we just aren’t.
Biologically, the t-shirt study (Wedekind, 1995) indicated that women are programmed to go out into the world and get ourselves knocked up by men who we are genetically different from, and, then, have men who are genetically similar to us care for us thru delivery until, presumably, we’re ready to get knocked up again. (I extrapolate wildly.) So, this provides scientific evidence towards cynicism? I believe the lifelong partner concept may be some kind of perverse sociological infliction, like sleeping at night or the right to parking, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want one.
There was one night in Paris, Christian and I were on our 3rd bottle of wine, and I talked how surprised I am every time a relationship ends. He said (I paraphrase) “You always think they’re going to last forever at the beginning. You have to, or you wouldn’t be able fall in love.” It’s that suspension of disbelief that they talk about in the theater; you forget that your feet are on the ground in a world where the only things you can count on are death and taxes. On the other hand, I also believe that there are times when you just know the future of a relationship, either way.
More recently, Jared was telling me about this book he read on primates. He claimed it explains in detail why primates couple, and why, from a biological stand point, that works best. He didn’t remember all the details of the argument, but he did say that the book argued, from a biological standpoint, that coupling is more advantageous for women (and female primates), and that’s the reason male infidelity is more common. I found this last statement somewhat shocking. Sure, it’s the stereotype that male infidelity is more common, but I think that’s mythology. In the mainstream, women are just better at keeping secrets than men, and men are more likely to brag about their conquests. In my social universe, male infidelity definitely isn’t more common.
Life is long and complicated, and nearly everything is transient. Some humans have a greater need for the feeling of permanence than others. Some, even, thrive in an environment of impermanence and stability makes them nervous. So, yeah, nothing lasts forever and we are born to die, but the real question we need to address is “how are we going to live?” I want to live like all my dreams will come true. I want to believe in unicorns and fairy god mothers. The power of positive thinking can’t be underestimated.
It’s like Alison said “getting married is the most optimistic act I have ever committed.” She also said: “It’s practical, you get rights and recognition instantly, and telling people you are committed does strengthen your commitment. It is also an optimistic act (like having a child), and we all need more optimistic acts. When else can you get people to celebrate you, what you are doing in your life?”
But there is sometimes some confusion. Some people seem to think that getting married is a rite of passage. You graduate; you get married; you have a family, each at a certain stage in your life. It’s what you do. This offends my idealistic vision of Love. Kevin used to point out that the bible recommends staying single; that marriage is something you do only in the rare case that you fall in love. That makes sense to me. I’m sure you’ve heard my tirade against the music industry for brain washing us into believing that the only time we’ll feel anything strongly is thru falling in love. It’s this type of message that creates a society of complacents. The world contains so many other things we should feel passionately about, and we certainly can’t expect that to come from another person very often.
Yet, some of us are love-prone. I’m not going to try to find the citation, but I remember my mother reading years ago that if you have fallen in love more than 6 times in your lifetime, you are “love prone” and you present a small percentage of the population. My mother, of course, is love-prone. I’m, of course, wondering how we’re defining “in love”.
So, when the Bronson/Merryman article discusses these couples who move in together because it’s convenient and then get married to “solve” a problem in their relationship (I’ve heard this so many times!), I feel …insulted. The housework indicator they mention is a little like the “yes, dear” indicator of about 10 years ago (Gottman of UW found this was the single indicator of a lasting marriage). Of course, reading thru this, I can’t help but wonder how to predict a *happy* LTR (not the same as a lasting one. Of course, that involves defining a lot of terms, which scares me off right now). Like with happiness, a relatively little amt of money helps a whole lot say Bronson and Merryman. Is it, again, 15K? No, the article says “If this couple will earn a modest $50,000 as a family, their odds of seeing their 15th anniversary jump to 68%.”
There are a lot of ways to commit to another person. Sam’s parents bought a house together and had him. Nearly 30 years later, they decided to have a wedding (last year). The same story with my friends in London, Linda and David, although I think the house might have been hers at first. (Linda and David said they wanted to wait to have a wedding until their son could enjoy it.) I like Bronson and Merryman’s observation that “Homeowners aren't happier in marriage than renters, but there's a permanence to their life — a connection to a community.” Maybe Alison would say that homeownership is an act of optimism.
We can’t control our relationships with our parents; I mean, not really. But I do like Bronson/Merryman’s statistic about children of divorced parents who didn’t fight openly not trusting their relationships. Jared is always trying to get me to talk about stuff; on the other hand, he completely disagreed with me when I called myself conflict-avoidant the other day. While I saw my mother fight with her exes, I can tell you with absolute certainty that she doesn’t know how to resolve conflict constructively (sorry, mom). I’m really trying to learn.
I’m convinced there’s something in the water. The vast majority of my friends are getting married and pregnant, buying houses, relocating together. It’s partially bc many of my friends I met in grad school and we finished 5ish years ago. Their careers are settled. It’s time for the next step. No surprise there. But true love doesn’t follow a convenient time pattern, or at least that makes me question its presence. Maybe falling in love *is* a rite of passage. Maybe when your heart is open and you know who you are, you’re able to be amazed by another person, and it’s completely natural to want to celebrate that. In a world where people are killing each other for reasons that don’t make any sense and our lifestyle is destroying the planet, we need something to believe in, and maybe that can be each other.
My first thought out of the gate here is: what makes us think that relationships are supposed to last? Why, as a society, do we hope for love to stay? Maybe love is something that happens now and then and passes, sort of like food poisoning? One of the things my friends and I like to remind ourselves of is to stop beating ourselves up for things we just aren’t.
Biologically, the t-shirt study (Wedekind, 1995) indicated that women are programmed to go out into the world and get ourselves knocked up by men who we are genetically different from, and, then, have men who are genetically similar to us care for us thru delivery until, presumably, we’re ready to get knocked up again. (I extrapolate wildly.) So, this provides scientific evidence towards cynicism? I believe the lifelong partner concept may be some kind of perverse sociological infliction, like sleeping at night or the right to parking, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want one.
There was one night in Paris, Christian and I were on our 3rd bottle of wine, and I talked how surprised I am every time a relationship ends. He said (I paraphrase) “You always think they’re going to last forever at the beginning. You have to, or you wouldn’t be able fall in love.” It’s that suspension of disbelief that they talk about in the theater; you forget that your feet are on the ground in a world where the only things you can count on are death and taxes. On the other hand, I also believe that there are times when you just know the future of a relationship, either way.
More recently, Jared was telling me about this book he read on primates. He claimed it explains in detail why primates couple, and why, from a biological stand point, that works best. He didn’t remember all the details of the argument, but he did say that the book argued, from a biological standpoint, that coupling is more advantageous for women (and female primates), and that’s the reason male infidelity is more common. I found this last statement somewhat shocking. Sure, it’s the stereotype that male infidelity is more common, but I think that’s mythology. In the mainstream, women are just better at keeping secrets than men, and men are more likely to brag about their conquests. In my social universe, male infidelity definitely isn’t more common.
Life is long and complicated, and nearly everything is transient. Some humans have a greater need for the feeling of permanence than others. Some, even, thrive in an environment of impermanence and stability makes them nervous. So, yeah, nothing lasts forever and we are born to die, but the real question we need to address is “how are we going to live?” I want to live like all my dreams will come true. I want to believe in unicorns and fairy god mothers. The power of positive thinking can’t be underestimated.
It’s like Alison said “getting married is the most optimistic act I have ever committed.” She also said: “It’s practical, you get rights and recognition instantly, and telling people you are committed does strengthen your commitment. It is also an optimistic act (like having a child), and we all need more optimistic acts. When else can you get people to celebrate you, what you are doing in your life?”
But there is sometimes some confusion. Some people seem to think that getting married is a rite of passage. You graduate; you get married; you have a family, each at a certain stage in your life. It’s what you do. This offends my idealistic vision of Love. Kevin used to point out that the bible recommends staying single; that marriage is something you do only in the rare case that you fall in love. That makes sense to me. I’m sure you’ve heard my tirade against the music industry for brain washing us into believing that the only time we’ll feel anything strongly is thru falling in love. It’s this type of message that creates a society of complacents. The world contains so many other things we should feel passionately about, and we certainly can’t expect that to come from another person very often.
Yet, some of us are love-prone. I’m not going to try to find the citation, but I remember my mother reading years ago that if you have fallen in love more than 6 times in your lifetime, you are “love prone” and you present a small percentage of the population. My mother, of course, is love-prone. I’m, of course, wondering how we’re defining “in love”.
So, when the Bronson/Merryman article discusses these couples who move in together because it’s convenient and then get married to “solve” a problem in their relationship (I’ve heard this so many times!), I feel …insulted. The housework indicator they mention is a little like the “yes, dear” indicator of about 10 years ago (Gottman of UW found this was the single indicator of a lasting marriage). Of course, reading thru this, I can’t help but wonder how to predict a *happy* LTR (not the same as a lasting one. Of course, that involves defining a lot of terms, which scares me off right now). Like with happiness, a relatively little amt of money helps a whole lot say Bronson and Merryman. Is it, again, 15K? No, the article says “If this couple will earn a modest $50,000 as a family, their odds of seeing their 15th anniversary jump to 68%.”
There are a lot of ways to commit to another person. Sam’s parents bought a house together and had him. Nearly 30 years later, they decided to have a wedding (last year). The same story with my friends in London, Linda and David, although I think the house might have been hers at first. (Linda and David said they wanted to wait to have a wedding until their son could enjoy it.) I like Bronson and Merryman’s observation that “Homeowners aren't happier in marriage than renters, but there's a permanence to their life — a connection to a community.” Maybe Alison would say that homeownership is an act of optimism.
We can’t control our relationships with our parents; I mean, not really. But I do like Bronson/Merryman’s statistic about children of divorced parents who didn’t fight openly not trusting their relationships. Jared is always trying to get me to talk about stuff; on the other hand, he completely disagreed with me when I called myself conflict-avoidant the other day. While I saw my mother fight with her exes, I can tell you with absolute certainty that she doesn’t know how to resolve conflict constructively (sorry, mom). I’m really trying to learn.
I’m convinced there’s something in the water. The vast majority of my friends are getting married and pregnant, buying houses, relocating together. It’s partially bc many of my friends I met in grad school and we finished 5ish years ago. Their careers are settled. It’s time for the next step. No surprise there. But true love doesn’t follow a convenient time pattern, or at least that makes me question its presence. Maybe falling in love *is* a rite of passage. Maybe when your heart is open and you know who you are, you’re able to be amazed by another person, and it’s completely natural to want to celebrate that. In a world where people are killing each other for reasons that don’t make any sense and our lifestyle is destroying the planet, we need something to believe in, and maybe that can be each other.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Monday, July 24, 2006
Sweet and charming travel video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZiGDSr_DFlE
Grace says: This brightened my day.
I say: See any place you want to go? Let's!
Grace says: This brightened my day.
I say: See any place you want to go? Let's!
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Predicting marital longevity
A forward from my mother:
http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1209784,00.html
I have a lot to say about this.... consider it forthcoming.
http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1209784,00.html
I have a lot to say about this.... consider it forthcoming.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Happiness
I’ve been thinking a lot about happiness lately. It’s resulted in a lot of talk, and since my friends actually read, that results and being referred to books and articles. Tam’s been going thru back issues of the New Yorker, and she passed along to me one with a dual book review on happiness (2/27/06, John Lanchester, “Pursuiting Happiness”). Well, it’s presented as book reviews, but really it’s an article.
It said 7 mention-worthy things:
1) Happiness is the result of 3 components: your set point (S), the conditions of you life (C), and your voluntary activities (V). So, here’s the equation:
H=S+C+V
You don’t have any control over S and only a little over C, but you have a lot of control over V.
2) Unhappiness is biological. The article gave the example to 2 pre-historic hunter-gatherers, one cautious and the other carefree. The carefree one is happier, but he’s also likely eat poison berries, be eaten by a bear or wild cat. The other is more likely to survive and reproduce. So, from a Darwinian point of view, we are breed to be unhappy. As a result, we have a stronger reaction to the negative things in life than to the positive.
3) Emotion is what makes it possible for us to make decisions. People who suffer damage to their frontal cortex and are left with rational thought but no emotional experience are paralyzed when confronted with a simple choice.
4) Some people are unhappy bc they are poor. But rich people aren’t any happier than people who have just enough. A British economist (Layard) found that the threshold is $15K. I wonder if this should be adjusted for local economic conditions; 15K doesn’t go very far in SF.
5) Winning the lottery is better than breaking your neck, but a year afterwards, these people have gone back to their baseline happiness level (S). So, winning the lottery is not as much better than breaking your neck as you might think (Haidt).
6) Top 4 favorite activities: sex, socializing after work, dinner, and relaxing;
Top 4 least favorite activities: commuting, work, childcare, and housework (Kahneman)
Along the same lines, when examining data on people who have committed suicide, no matter how you examine the data, people with fewer social “constraints, bonds, and obligations” (all remarkably negative words) are more likely to kill themselves. In other words, Friends = Happiness; big surprise!
7) I mentioned in an earlier blog a radio show I heard on NPR talking about the concept of “flow”, “the state of total immersion in a task that is challenging yet closely matched to one’s abilities”. Flow makes people happy. Happiness is a “by-product of absorption” (Haidt).
I can’t help but apply this to relationships. Maybe people who make us happy are both challenging and like us. So, from a biological stand point, in its simplest terms, this means that smart people would be programmed to produce smart children and stupid people, stupid children. But maybe that’s oversimplifying. Perhaps musical, or mathematical, or linguistic people will each mate and produce children with those talents resulting in the polarization of social groups and increasing difficulty communicating between groups. I think this is what's happening in National American politics or something along these lines.
It said 7 mention-worthy things:
1) Happiness is the result of 3 components: your set point (S), the conditions of you life (C), and your voluntary activities (V). So, here’s the equation:
H=S+C+V
You don’t have any control over S and only a little over C, but you have a lot of control over V.
2) Unhappiness is biological. The article gave the example to 2 pre-historic hunter-gatherers, one cautious and the other carefree. The carefree one is happier, but he’s also likely eat poison berries, be eaten by a bear or wild cat. The other is more likely to survive and reproduce. So, from a Darwinian point of view, we are breed to be unhappy. As a result, we have a stronger reaction to the negative things in life than to the positive.
3) Emotion is what makes it possible for us to make decisions. People who suffer damage to their frontal cortex and are left with rational thought but no emotional experience are paralyzed when confronted with a simple choice.
4) Some people are unhappy bc they are poor. But rich people aren’t any happier than people who have just enough. A British economist (Layard) found that the threshold is $15K. I wonder if this should be adjusted for local economic conditions; 15K doesn’t go very far in SF.
5) Winning the lottery is better than breaking your neck, but a year afterwards, these people have gone back to their baseline happiness level (S). So, winning the lottery is not as much better than breaking your neck as you might think (Haidt).
6) Top 4 favorite activities: sex, socializing after work, dinner, and relaxing;
Top 4 least favorite activities: commuting, work, childcare, and housework (Kahneman)
Along the same lines, when examining data on people who have committed suicide, no matter how you examine the data, people with fewer social “constraints, bonds, and obligations” (all remarkably negative words) are more likely to kill themselves. In other words, Friends = Happiness; big surprise!
7) I mentioned in an earlier blog a radio show I heard on NPR talking about the concept of “flow”, “the state of total immersion in a task that is challenging yet closely matched to one’s abilities”. Flow makes people happy. Happiness is a “by-product of absorption” (Haidt).
I can’t help but apply this to relationships. Maybe people who make us happy are both challenging and like us. So, from a biological stand point, in its simplest terms, this means that smart people would be programmed to produce smart children and stupid people, stupid children. But maybe that’s oversimplifying. Perhaps musical, or mathematical, or linguistic people will each mate and produce children with those talents resulting in the polarization of social groups and increasing difficulty communicating between groups. I think this is what's happening in National American politics or something along these lines.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
How to Train a Woman
An article from my mother:
http://www.nytimes.com/
July 5, 2006
Op-Ed Columnist
How to Train a Woman
By MAUREEN DOWD
Washington
Women may want to mold their men to be more obedient and less irksome, but there are nagging questions about nagging:
Does it work? And can you do it while you're dating or should you wait until you're married?
In "The Break-Up," Jennifer Aniston dumps her boyfriend because he not only won't do the dishes, but he doesn't want to do the dishes. But in "Guys and Dolls," Adelaide advises waiting because "you can't get alterations on a dress you haven't bought."
Amy Sutherland struck a chord with her recent Times essay — still high on the most e-mailed list — about how she successfully applied the techniques of exotic animal trainers to change some annoying traits of her husband, Scott. He became her guinea pig for methods she discovered as she researched a book on trainers teaching hyenas to pirouette, baboons to skateboard and elephants to paint.
"The central lesson I learned from exotic animal trainers is that I should reward behavior I like and ignore behavior I don't," she wrote. "After all, you don't get a sea lion to balance a ball on the end of its nose by nagging."
She began using "approximations," which means rewarding the small steps toward learning a whole new behavior. "With the baboon you first reward a hop, then a bigger hop, then an even bigger hop," she wrote. "With Scott the husband, I began to praise every small act every time: if he drove just a mile an hour slower, tossed one pair of shorts into the hamper, or was on time for anything."
She also learned the concept of "incompatible behavior," training an animal in a new behavior that would make the annoying behavior impossible. To keep Scott from crowding her while she cooked, she set a bowl of chips and salsa across the room.
Could it be that simple? And does it work the other way around — can men train women using exotic animal techniques?
Helen Fisher, a Rutgers anthropologist and the author of "Why We Love: The Nature and Chemistry of Romantic Love," speculated that it might be easier for men to train women because "women are better at reading the emotions in your voice, better at seeing things in their peripheral vision, better at seeing in the dark. So just the man's tone of voice as opposed to even the words could be rewarding."
Both sexes would be better off following the lead of animal trainers and ignoring irritating bad behavior.
"Women are more verbal," she said. "But that doesn't mean that men aren't manipulative. I think both sexes are busy manipulating each other. Women will nag and men will tease. There's a kind of teasing that's just cloaked nagging."
She observed that it may be hard for men to use compliments to alter female behavior because women give and get so many polite or insincere compliments from other women that they're immune to flattering words.
"Men and women tend to get intimacy differently," she explained. "Women get intimacy from face-to-face contact. We do what we call the anchoring gaze. It comes from millions of years of holding your baby in front of your face. Men tend to get intimacy by doing things side by side, because for millions of years they faced their enemy but sat side by side with their friends.
"If I were a man rewarding a woman, I'd do it in the format women find intimate, which is face to face. I'd go straight up to her, while she was doing the dishes, I'd turn her around face to face, and I'd say: 'Thanks so much for being on time last night. It meant a lot to me.' " (You might also tell her that you will not only finish the dishes, but that you want to finish the dishes.)
Training your mate may be essential in an era when everybody is more connected and yet less. A new study in the American Sociological Review suggests that Americans may be getting lonelier and more isolated, with people relying more on family and making fewer close friends and confidants from clubs and the neighborhood than they did 20 years ago. So if they lose a spouse or partner, their whole social safety net can disintegrate.
The romantic relationship, Dr. Fisher says, "is more poignant, focused and important than ever. It's also the one part of our lives we feel we have some control over. It's hard to change your boss or the conductor on the train. But if we can keep our partner from dumping their dirty socks, that may make us feel sexier after dinner."
But if they must dump their dirty socks, let's hope they can at least balance a ball on their nose.
http://www.nytimes.com/
July 5, 2006
Op-Ed Columnist
How to Train a Woman
By MAUREEN DOWD
Washington
Women may want to mold their men to be more obedient and less irksome, but there are nagging questions about nagging:
Does it work? And can you do it while you're dating or should you wait until you're married?
In "The Break-Up," Jennifer Aniston dumps her boyfriend because he not only won't do the dishes, but he doesn't want to do the dishes. But in "Guys and Dolls," Adelaide advises waiting because "you can't get alterations on a dress you haven't bought."
Amy Sutherland struck a chord with her recent Times essay — still high on the most e-mailed list — about how she successfully applied the techniques of exotic animal trainers to change some annoying traits of her husband, Scott. He became her guinea pig for methods she discovered as she researched a book on trainers teaching hyenas to pirouette, baboons to skateboard and elephants to paint.
"The central lesson I learned from exotic animal trainers is that I should reward behavior I like and ignore behavior I don't," she wrote. "After all, you don't get a sea lion to balance a ball on the end of its nose by nagging."
She began using "approximations," which means rewarding the small steps toward learning a whole new behavior. "With the baboon you first reward a hop, then a bigger hop, then an even bigger hop," she wrote. "With Scott the husband, I began to praise every small act every time: if he drove just a mile an hour slower, tossed one pair of shorts into the hamper, or was on time for anything."
She also learned the concept of "incompatible behavior," training an animal in a new behavior that would make the annoying behavior impossible. To keep Scott from crowding her while she cooked, she set a bowl of chips and salsa across the room.
Could it be that simple? And does it work the other way around — can men train women using exotic animal techniques?
Helen Fisher, a Rutgers anthropologist and the author of "Why We Love: The Nature and Chemistry of Romantic Love," speculated that it might be easier for men to train women because "women are better at reading the emotions in your voice, better at seeing things in their peripheral vision, better at seeing in the dark. So just the man's tone of voice as opposed to even the words could be rewarding."
Both sexes would be better off following the lead of animal trainers and ignoring irritating bad behavior.
"Women are more verbal," she said. "But that doesn't mean that men aren't manipulative. I think both sexes are busy manipulating each other. Women will nag and men will tease. There's a kind of teasing that's just cloaked nagging."
She observed that it may be hard for men to use compliments to alter female behavior because women give and get so many polite or insincere compliments from other women that they're immune to flattering words.
"Men and women tend to get intimacy differently," she explained. "Women get intimacy from face-to-face contact. We do what we call the anchoring gaze. It comes from millions of years of holding your baby in front of your face. Men tend to get intimacy by doing things side by side, because for millions of years they faced their enemy but sat side by side with their friends.
"If I were a man rewarding a woman, I'd do it in the format women find intimate, which is face to face. I'd go straight up to her, while she was doing the dishes, I'd turn her around face to face, and I'd say: 'Thanks so much for being on time last night. It meant a lot to me.' " (You might also tell her that you will not only finish the dishes, but that you want to finish the dishes.)
Training your mate may be essential in an era when everybody is more connected and yet less. A new study in the American Sociological Review suggests that Americans may be getting lonelier and more isolated, with people relying more on family and making fewer close friends and confidants from clubs and the neighborhood than they did 20 years ago. So if they lose a spouse or partner, their whole social safety net can disintegrate.
The romantic relationship, Dr. Fisher says, "is more poignant, focused and important than ever. It's also the one part of our lives we feel we have some control over. It's hard to change your boss or the conductor on the train. But if we can keep our partner from dumping their dirty socks, that may make us feel sexier after dinner."
But if they must dump their dirty socks, let's hope they can at least balance a ball on their nose.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Observations on American Cities and Culture
Home Is Where the Heart Is Open
Alison sent me this article some time ago. I must have been busy that week, bc it fell to the bottom of my inbox, and I didn't unearth it until just now. I don't think the article is named appropriately, but I do think you'll find it fascinating.
Alison sent me this article some time ago. I must have been busy that week, bc it fell to the bottom of my inbox, and I didn't unearth it until just now. I don't think the article is named appropriately, but I do think you'll find it fascinating.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Friday, June 30, 2006
Random quote
To see the world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wildflower:
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
-William Blake
And a heaven in a wildflower:
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
-William Blake
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Emotional arithmetic
(or the meaning of “We”)
Jared and I have known eachother for 4.5 months now, and there’s a lot of “we” going on. Then there’s conflict about that “we”ing. For example, before getting into Jared’s car to drive to LA, I said: “How do we feel about food?” which was code for “do you want to pick up some snacks to eat in the car or would you prefer to stop for food along the way? It doesn’t make sense to do both.” He must have been tired, bc he wasn’t able to decode my message. But that’s another issue all together.
I think the sounds of “we” eclipsed his ability to translate my question into plan English. Later, he was speaking on the phone, arranging for us to meet someone for dinner. He said, “I will be coming from the airport.” After he got off the phone, I asked “Will we be traveling separately?” bc it wasn’t clear to me why he couldn’t say “we will be coming from the airport,” which is likely more accurate. How did plain language become so loaded? If Jared and I are traveling in the car together, the correct pronoun is “we”.
Likewise, if _I_ feel someway and _he_ feels the same way, then _we_ feel that way. Of course, we had to pick this apart late into the night. As part of this process, he came up with the concept of emotional arithmetic, although now that I type this up, it makes less sense to me.
He likened “we” to truth tables: if A is true, AND B is true, then A+B is true. Actually, it can be used for AND, OR, NOT and a variety of other ways. So, when I say “we like whole grain bread” it’s not that I’m usurping his authority on his own preferences. It’s that I know that I prefer whole grain bread, and Jared prefers whole grain bread. Therefore I can safely say that WE prefer whole grain bread.
So, what I was asking about food and the car we for him to negotiate with me about how we would handle food in the car. I was not simply asking how he wanted to feed himself. Two people made the journey. I feel that I can safely speak for both us when I say that we both require nutriance. Therefore, I think it’s also fair to discuss each of our preferences and come up with a consensus.
It seems I can’t win on this “we” issue. Not only does Jared have issues with me speaking for him (“we went to the movies.” Well, we did! We also both road in the car. Ugh!) He also has issues when I use “we” in reference to myself and other people. “The last time I was in LA, we went to a restaurant on Wilshire.” Now, I think it should be pretty clear that the “we” I mean does not include Jared. But now, he has to say “I wasn’t here…?” and wants to know who I’m talking about.
When we discussed this the other night, I said, “this would make a great blog post on relationships.” But now that I’m trying to type it up, I’m thinking maybe not. Maybe I’m sharing just a little too much about this relationship. I think I’ll mull it over for a while before posting.
***
It’s the next day, and I talked with Jared about this post and my feelings about it. I suggested perhaps the “we” issue is his form of what we call an “oatmeal moment”. He said that’s possible, but he wants to make it clear that he just wants to understand what the decision tree is for what “we feel”. He thinks it’s unnecessarily complicated to feel things collectively.
Over the past few months, we have developed a bit of our own language. The joke/fear is that, shortly, none of our friends will understand us. But then, it provides the opportunity to explain our language, which can be fun. But you’re still wondering, what is an “oatmeal moment”? Well, it’s pretty much the opposite of what it sounds like.
The Oatmeal Moment
We’d been dating only a few weeks (and been on maybe 4 or 5 dates only) when it came up that I like to eat oatmeal for breakfast. The next time we saw each other, he told me that he’d been looking at oatmeal in the grocery store (he didn’t buy any bc they didn’t have the right kind). My reaction? Well, I kinda freak out in the line of “we only just started seeing each other. It’s way too early for you to be shopping for me.” I took some deep breaths and it passed, but an “oatmeal moment” is basically a moment of commitment phobia where you think “this is going too fast”.
What Do You Think About This Relationship? (Don’t answer, read on for explanation….)
We have another one we call “what do you think about this relationship?” which is roughly the opposite of an oatmeal moment. Around the same time (date 5 or so), I mentioned that 2 of the artists at Creative Growth appeared to be dating and described them a little. At this point in the conversation, there was some environmental distraction (likely a good looking bike, knowing us). When it passed, Jared paused and then said “So, what do you think about this relationship?”
I, then, wrongly assumed that he meant the relationship between him and me and not the relationship between these artists at Creative Growth. I thought to myself “he’s about to break up with me” and began racking my brain for any additional evidence that that was possible. Except there wasn’t any. I turned and looked into his face, mine filled with anxiety. He, of course, read this in my face and began stammering to clarify. So, “what do you think about this relationship?” is that moment when you misinterpret what someone has said to mean that they are about to leave you when that’s not what they meant at all. It happens more than you might think.
Jared and I have known eachother for 4.5 months now, and there’s a lot of “we” going on. Then there’s conflict about that “we”ing. For example, before getting into Jared’s car to drive to LA, I said: “How do we feel about food?” which was code for “do you want to pick up some snacks to eat in the car or would you prefer to stop for food along the way? It doesn’t make sense to do both.” He must have been tired, bc he wasn’t able to decode my message. But that’s another issue all together.
I think the sounds of “we” eclipsed his ability to translate my question into plan English. Later, he was speaking on the phone, arranging for us to meet someone for dinner. He said, “I will be coming from the airport.” After he got off the phone, I asked “Will we be traveling separately?” bc it wasn’t clear to me why he couldn’t say “we will be coming from the airport,” which is likely more accurate. How did plain language become so loaded? If Jared and I are traveling in the car together, the correct pronoun is “we”.
Likewise, if _I_ feel someway and _he_ feels the same way, then _we_ feel that way. Of course, we had to pick this apart late into the night. As part of this process, he came up with the concept of emotional arithmetic, although now that I type this up, it makes less sense to me.
He likened “we” to truth tables: if A is true, AND B is true, then A+B is true. Actually, it can be used for AND, OR, NOT and a variety of other ways. So, when I say “we like whole grain bread” it’s not that I’m usurping his authority on his own preferences. It’s that I know that I prefer whole grain bread, and Jared prefers whole grain bread. Therefore I can safely say that WE prefer whole grain bread.
So, what I was asking about food and the car we for him to negotiate with me about how we would handle food in the car. I was not simply asking how he wanted to feed himself. Two people made the journey. I feel that I can safely speak for both us when I say that we both require nutriance. Therefore, I think it’s also fair to discuss each of our preferences and come up with a consensus.
It seems I can’t win on this “we” issue. Not only does Jared have issues with me speaking for him (“we went to the movies.” Well, we did! We also both road in the car. Ugh!) He also has issues when I use “we” in reference to myself and other people. “The last time I was in LA, we went to a restaurant on Wilshire.” Now, I think it should be pretty clear that the “we” I mean does not include Jared. But now, he has to say “I wasn’t here…?” and wants to know who I’m talking about.
When we discussed this the other night, I said, “this would make a great blog post on relationships.” But now that I’m trying to type it up, I’m thinking maybe not. Maybe I’m sharing just a little too much about this relationship. I think I’ll mull it over for a while before posting.
***
It’s the next day, and I talked with Jared about this post and my feelings about it. I suggested perhaps the “we” issue is his form of what we call an “oatmeal moment”. He said that’s possible, but he wants to make it clear that he just wants to understand what the decision tree is for what “we feel”. He thinks it’s unnecessarily complicated to feel things collectively.
Over the past few months, we have developed a bit of our own language. The joke/fear is that, shortly, none of our friends will understand us. But then, it provides the opportunity to explain our language, which can be fun. But you’re still wondering, what is an “oatmeal moment”? Well, it’s pretty much the opposite of what it sounds like.
The Oatmeal Moment
We’d been dating only a few weeks (and been on maybe 4 or 5 dates only) when it came up that I like to eat oatmeal for breakfast. The next time we saw each other, he told me that he’d been looking at oatmeal in the grocery store (he didn’t buy any bc they didn’t have the right kind). My reaction? Well, I kinda freak out in the line of “we only just started seeing each other. It’s way too early for you to be shopping for me.” I took some deep breaths and it passed, but an “oatmeal moment” is basically a moment of commitment phobia where you think “this is going too fast”.
What Do You Think About This Relationship? (Don’t answer, read on for explanation….)
We have another one we call “what do you think about this relationship?” which is roughly the opposite of an oatmeal moment. Around the same time (date 5 or so), I mentioned that 2 of the artists at Creative Growth appeared to be dating and described them a little. At this point in the conversation, there was some environmental distraction (likely a good looking bike, knowing us). When it passed, Jared paused and then said “So, what do you think about this relationship?”
I, then, wrongly assumed that he meant the relationship between him and me and not the relationship between these artists at Creative Growth. I thought to myself “he’s about to break up with me” and began racking my brain for any additional evidence that that was possible. Except there wasn’t any. I turned and looked into his face, mine filled with anxiety. He, of course, read this in my face and began stammering to clarify. So, “what do you think about this relationship?” is that moment when you misinterpret what someone has said to mean that they are about to leave you when that’s not what they meant at all. It happens more than you might think.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
[Los Angeles] Another kind of Greek Island
(Written 3 days ago)
As planned, I did nothing yesterday. That is, I blogged. I worked out. I hung out by the pool. I waited for Jared. Oh, and I went to the ATM.
It’s amazing the way they’ve managed to take a pool surrounded by parking lots, plant a few trees, and make it very pleasant. I read and swam, swam and read and easedropped. A mother with 4 young boys played in the pool (after the kids couldn’t entertain themselves anymore and the mother had to give up her sunbathing). Parents and their lovely grown daughter sunbathed. Two 20-something men, who did not appear to be lovers, discussed their childhoods and their experiences with their fathers and their backyard pools. One drank a Midori sour, the other beer.
I wasn’t sure if I was finished when I left the poolside, but I wanted to have time to do some research and shower before Jared returned. It was too much time.
When he returned from class and taking care of business, it turned out Jared was jealous. He wanted to do nothing too. So, we decided not to go anywhere last night either – to stay in the airport complex. Between the hotel and the self-parking area there’s a sign that reads “California Pizza”, and we thought that sounded like an excellent low-key dinner option.
However, we’d read the sign wrong. The sign indicated the “California Pizza” restaurant supply headquarters. We were back to square one. So, we began walking down the “street”. It has about 4 lanes in each direction, a grassy area, and a sidewalk. The street serves office-park-style hotels and the occasional… office building. We walked about a mile along it, and then down a similar street that also served a lot of surface parking facilities and a Burger King. We were not hopeful. We began weighing our options: Burger King or the hotel restaurant. Ugh!
As we followed the roadway away from the airport, the hotels got lower-brow. We passed a Super 8 with a sign that it also had a Greek Restaurant. Hmm… We peered inside. Nothing promising. But then we rounded the corner and found our place. It was a divey little place with Greek tourism posters on the white walls. Maybe it was a converted garage or fast food joint – the building was a strange shape. Keep in mind that we were completely surrounded by surface parking lots for airport parking and cheap hotels for at least a mile in each direction.
The service was very slow – I was just as likely to get up and get us whatever we needed as the waiter was – and the food was fine. After a while, when the other patrons had left (it was well after 9 PM at this point) they changed the music from whatever strange soft rock they were playing (I’d never heard any of those songs before) to heavy metal, which we figured was our cue to leave. It turned out to be one of those odd experiences you only have when you have no idea where you are or where you’re going… when you don’t plan. It was fun.
As planned, I did nothing yesterday. That is, I blogged. I worked out. I hung out by the pool. I waited for Jared. Oh, and I went to the ATM.
It’s amazing the way they’ve managed to take a pool surrounded by parking lots, plant a few trees, and make it very pleasant. I read and swam, swam and read and easedropped. A mother with 4 young boys played in the pool (after the kids couldn’t entertain themselves anymore and the mother had to give up her sunbathing). Parents and their lovely grown daughter sunbathed. Two 20-something men, who did not appear to be lovers, discussed their childhoods and their experiences with their fathers and their backyard pools. One drank a Midori sour, the other beer.
I wasn’t sure if I was finished when I left the poolside, but I wanted to have time to do some research and shower before Jared returned. It was too much time.
When he returned from class and taking care of business, it turned out Jared was jealous. He wanted to do nothing too. So, we decided not to go anywhere last night either – to stay in the airport complex. Between the hotel and the self-parking area there’s a sign that reads “California Pizza”, and we thought that sounded like an excellent low-key dinner option.
However, we’d read the sign wrong. The sign indicated the “California Pizza” restaurant supply headquarters. We were back to square one. So, we began walking down the “street”. It has about 4 lanes in each direction, a grassy area, and a sidewalk. The street serves office-park-style hotels and the occasional… office building. We walked about a mile along it, and then down a similar street that also served a lot of surface parking facilities and a Burger King. We were not hopeful. We began weighing our options: Burger King or the hotel restaurant. Ugh!
As we followed the roadway away from the airport, the hotels got lower-brow. We passed a Super 8 with a sign that it also had a Greek Restaurant. Hmm… We peered inside. Nothing promising. But then we rounded the corner and found our place. It was a divey little place with Greek tourism posters on the white walls. Maybe it was a converted garage or fast food joint – the building was a strange shape. Keep in mind that we were completely surrounded by surface parking lots for airport parking and cheap hotels for at least a mile in each direction.
The service was very slow – I was just as likely to get up and get us whatever we needed as the waiter was – and the food was fine. After a while, when the other patrons had left (it was well after 9 PM at this point) they changed the music from whatever strange soft rock they were playing (I’d never heard any of those songs before) to heavy metal, which we figured was our cue to leave. It turned out to be one of those odd experiences you only have when you have no idea where you are or where you’re going… when you don’t plan. It was fun.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
[Los Angeles] Toxic Waste
Today, I’ve pretty much decided not to do anything. I’m in my swim suit and Jared’s running shorts – I’m planning some exercise. But I might not leave the airport complex. My justification? I have some research to do, and I don’t mean google-stalking.
After much agonizing, I decided to go to the Santa Monica Museum of Art at the Bergamot Station yesterday, where many galleries are also located. I started with the MTA web site, to figure out how to get there on public transportation. Alas, apparently you can’t get there from here. This is funny for a few reasons including that Santa Monica is a relatively small city, and it is reputed to have the best public transit system in the US. But no, you can’t get to their Art Museum on the bus. You have to drive.
So, my bike and I took the #3 Big Blue Bus from the LAX Transit Center to Pico and Lincoln (Hwy 1 – which will take you the entire length of this country, and beyond, along the coast). There, I tootled down some residential streets, ventured a somewhat tenuous freeway crossing, and finally found the art center next to the toxic waste dump.
Of course, the first thing that jumps into your head is “is that what Santa Monica thinks of its art scene? Toxic waste?” But here’s another thought: There’s a long tradition linking industrial and otherwise undesirable land uses with the arts: there’s no money in art (unless you’re Rauschenberg, I guess). So, it makes sense for art uses to occupy these spaces in our cities. This also explains why there’s no public transportation access to the Art Museum. Art is like the least favorite child of a wealthy family (the city): They’ll let him have a car, because they have extras lying around, but not any space in the better areas. The affluent fall on hard times thru art and never the other way around.
Here’s another way of thinking about it: artists struggle, and find cheap space to work to get by. Others admire their work and their pluck. It then becomes a sort of “hip-to-be-square” type of thing. Suddenly, you have to look for new cheap areas to work, bc the previously affordable industrial areas are now made cool by the artists and have become expensive. The part that bothers me about this is that Museums are for the people. Museums are not cute little art galleries that only rich people drive to. They are like libraries – a service of the city to its residents and visitors. If you put it in the middle of nowhere, the museum’s no longer a service to all.
I got the feeling that these galleries are pretty “mainstream”. They mostly featured old works (made interesting by their age), bad works by well-known artists (specifically, Rauschenberg, but not the good stuff), and stuff with weird gimmicks (like this one guy did a series of large painting of the same little Asian girl, multiple times per painting, naked, doing different, sometimes strange, things, like whipping another of herself, having sex with another of herself, running with a group of herselves to play soccer, etc.). I saw some good, skillfully-made art, but it was generally hung at the back or side of the gallery, hard to find.
The museum had a few exhibitions: one by an anthropologist who collects things (Ken Brecher: The Little Room of Epiphanies). It included jars of sand, soil, water, etc. from various places, buttons, flags, etc., all artfully displayed and a video of him talking with his son about what collecting means to him. He believes that collecting is a way of making the world richer, of experiencing the world in an exciting and engaged way. He told a story about going to Syria with his wife, people said it was dangerous to go, but when they got there, they just found other people, people who wanted to tell their side of the story. He said it wasn’t dangerous, but he wouldn’t take his son there just in case. He would, however, take his son places where he can collect things, because that’s how you roll up your sleeves and live in the world (my words) and they want that for their son. The other exhibition was much larger and less interesting, of a Portuguese architect’s work (ALVARO SIZA/ARCHITECT: DRAWINGS, MODELS, PHOTOGRAPHS). I found myself reacting to his work like this: “that’s beautiful… it’s weird… I don’t think I like it.”
I took the bus back to the hotel to meet Jared. We had a near miss with a nap, and then rushed off to Hollywood to see Rachel and Damon at their new place. We went to Thai Town for dinner (they also live near the Armenian district), and then back to their place for homemade ice cream sandwiches (yum!). Their apartment is super cute, and their company, as always, excellent. I would have taken pictures but my camera battery was used up, which reminds me: I’ll plug that in now… and then go for a swim….
After much agonizing, I decided to go to the Santa Monica Museum of Art at the Bergamot Station yesterday, where many galleries are also located. I started with the MTA web site, to figure out how to get there on public transportation. Alas, apparently you can’t get there from here. This is funny for a few reasons including that Santa Monica is a relatively small city, and it is reputed to have the best public transit system in the US. But no, you can’t get to their Art Museum on the bus. You have to drive.
So, my bike and I took the #3 Big Blue Bus from the LAX Transit Center to Pico and Lincoln (Hwy 1 – which will take you the entire length of this country, and beyond, along the coast). There, I tootled down some residential streets, ventured a somewhat tenuous freeway crossing, and finally found the art center next to the toxic waste dump.
Of course, the first thing that jumps into your head is “is that what Santa Monica thinks of its art scene? Toxic waste?” But here’s another thought: There’s a long tradition linking industrial and otherwise undesirable land uses with the arts: there’s no money in art (unless you’re Rauschenberg, I guess). So, it makes sense for art uses to occupy these spaces in our cities. This also explains why there’s no public transportation access to the Art Museum. Art is like the least favorite child of a wealthy family (the city): They’ll let him have a car, because they have extras lying around, but not any space in the better areas. The affluent fall on hard times thru art and never the other way around.
Here’s another way of thinking about it: artists struggle, and find cheap space to work to get by. Others admire their work and their pluck. It then becomes a sort of “hip-to-be-square” type of thing. Suddenly, you have to look for new cheap areas to work, bc the previously affordable industrial areas are now made cool by the artists and have become expensive. The part that bothers me about this is that Museums are for the people. Museums are not cute little art galleries that only rich people drive to. They are like libraries – a service of the city to its residents and visitors. If you put it in the middle of nowhere, the museum’s no longer a service to all.
I got the feeling that these galleries are pretty “mainstream”. They mostly featured old works (made interesting by their age), bad works by well-known artists (specifically, Rauschenberg, but not the good stuff), and stuff with weird gimmicks (like this one guy did a series of large painting of the same little Asian girl, multiple times per painting, naked, doing different, sometimes strange, things, like whipping another of herself, having sex with another of herself, running with a group of herselves to play soccer, etc.). I saw some good, skillfully-made art, but it was generally hung at the back or side of the gallery, hard to find.
The museum had a few exhibitions: one by an anthropologist who collects things (Ken Brecher: The Little Room of Epiphanies). It included jars of sand, soil, water, etc. from various places, buttons, flags, etc., all artfully displayed and a video of him talking with his son about what collecting means to him. He believes that collecting is a way of making the world richer, of experiencing the world in an exciting and engaged way. He told a story about going to Syria with his wife, people said it was dangerous to go, but when they got there, they just found other people, people who wanted to tell their side of the story. He said it wasn’t dangerous, but he wouldn’t take his son there just in case. He would, however, take his son places where he can collect things, because that’s how you roll up your sleeves and live in the world (my words) and they want that for their son. The other exhibition was much larger and less interesting, of a Portuguese architect’s work (ALVARO SIZA/ARCHITECT: DRAWINGS, MODELS, PHOTOGRAPHS). I found myself reacting to his work like this: “that’s beautiful… it’s weird… I don’t think I like it.”
I took the bus back to the hotel to meet Jared. We had a near miss with a nap, and then rushed off to Hollywood to see Rachel and Damon at their new place. We went to Thai Town for dinner (they also live near the Armenian district), and then back to their place for homemade ice cream sandwiches (yum!). Their apartment is super cute, and their company, as always, excellent. I would have taken pictures but my camera battery was used up, which reminds me: I’ll plug that in now… and then go for a swim….
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
[Los Angeles]From the belly of the beast***
*** This post has been edited since its original posting to reflect actual events.
I’m writing from Los Angeles, where Jared has come for a class and I tagged along for the company. I brought my bike, and the idea is to keep myself entertained with art. LA has a lot of art to see, it turns out.
In other news, my ALC “tan” on my right leg is peeling. Also, I forgot to tell you about the time a bird pooped on me mid-ride.
We drove down here on Sunday afternoon. It went pretty quickly (the company was good), but did take longer than the Google estimated 6 hours. We stopped a couple times in “America” for milkshakes and Starbucks coffee. Jared said “I would have thought that you’d have a problem with Starbucks.”
I replied “I do, but there aren’t any other options. Anyway, what’s great about Starbucks is that now you can get good coffee anywhere in the world.”
Jared: “Yeah, there was a while there when, in parts of the country, the coffee was really bad. It was as if we were in the coffee Dark Ages, and Starbucks started the Renaissance.”
Me: “Sometimes I like bad coffee. You know, it’s bad coffee about being bad coffee.” And, to my surprise, he shook his head.
Yesterday I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA) downtown. It was funny because it appears you can't get there on foot. I took the bus, which took an hour, and then walked a couple blocks to the underground loading area where I took an elevator to the main entrance thru a parking garage. Anyway, the art was good.
They have a Rauschenberg exhibit going now. I read recently that he is the most successful living artist, based on the kind of money he gets for his work. I’ve always liked the way he “combines” every day items into his painting, and way he uses color, to create these seemingly random but really quite compelling canvasses. Of course, it helps that he likes chickens and goats (and puts stuffed ones into his work).
I watched the film on him for a short while and learned some interesting things. One friend told a story about Rauschenberg having a bunch of bamboo polls up on the wall in his studio. The friend said, I really like your work here, but I don’t get what’s going on with the bamboo polls. Rauschenberg replied, I bet you’ve put things up on the wall before that you don’t know what they mean. To that I say: LET’S ALL PUT SOMETHING UNEXPECTED UP ON THE WALL THIS MONTH. Maybe it will change your life. Rauschenberg said he works for maximum lack of control so that something might happen that he didn’t think of. This seems like a great idea to keep life unexpected and work fresh.
Also at the museum, I saw a film called “call waiting” where several characters show a story by talking on the phone, in their native languages (subtitles) and English, in various locations. They are working, at home in their kitchen, in a bar, etc., and they receive other calls, either thru call waiting or on other phones there. Between the languages and phone lines, the piece was an interesting fairytale on contemporary American communication.
While riding the bus back to the hotel to meet Jared, a woman asked the bus driver in Spanish which bus she should ride to get home. They had an extended conversation where she spoke Spanish and he responded in English. Eventually, it became clear to her that he didn’t even speak Spanish; he spoke Italian. It also turned out that she was on the wrong bus.
Mid-intersection where the bus was attempting to turn left (it took a while), I noticed a woman attempted to cross the street. She was speaking on her mobile phone and pushing the pedestrian signal activation button constantly. I thought to myself “that’s how those things get broken.” But on the other hand, I understood her frustration. She can’t jaywalk because this is LA and there are too many cars. Her only recourse to having to wait too long at the corner is to keep pressing the button. It’s no consolation to her that it took the bus a long time to make a left turn there too….
We went to Santa Monica last night and Venice the night before. SM was a hit. We walked along the beach with our shoes off. I’ve got this idea that I want to be able to move each of my toes independently, and I heard that walking in sand is a good way to teach those muscles. I waded and forced Jared to get his feet (and pant legs) wet too, and the water was warm and soft.
We decided we wanted tacos, and of course there’s a problem with deciding exactly what you want to eat when you’re in a city and neighborhood you don’t know. SM is pretty up-scale, and we walked along pedestrianized 3rd Street, where street performers dominate and there are white Christmas lights on all the trees. It took some trial and error, but we found a place with tasty fish tacos. Jared said it was even better than what he had imagined.
Venice appears not to be much of a night spot. We found this place on citysearch which people said had excellent sushi and a relaxed “beachy” ambiance. On the real beach, the stalls stood empty and dark, looking kind of dirty and pathetic.
We're staying at the airport, which kinda sucks, but it does mean there are a lot of buses for me to take around. The hotel has a decent gym, pool and hot tub in addition to a view of the runway. I spent some time yesterday morning enjoying the fitness facilities. But today, alas, I just slept in. For some reason we didn’t get the lights off for sleeping until after 1 AM.
I’m writing from Los Angeles, where Jared has come for a class and I tagged along for the company. I brought my bike, and the idea is to keep myself entertained with art. LA has a lot of art to see, it turns out.
In other news, my ALC “tan” on my right leg is peeling. Also, I forgot to tell you about the time a bird pooped on me mid-ride.
We drove down here on Sunday afternoon. It went pretty quickly (the company was good), but did take longer than the Google estimated 6 hours. We stopped a couple times in “America” for milkshakes and Starbucks coffee. Jared said “I would have thought that you’d have a problem with Starbucks.”
I replied “I do, but there aren’t any other options. Anyway, what’s great about Starbucks is that now you can get good coffee anywhere in the world.”
Jared: “Yeah, there was a while there when, in parts of the country, the coffee was really bad. It was as if we were in the coffee Dark Ages, and Starbucks started the Renaissance.”
Me: “Sometimes I like bad coffee. You know, it’s bad coffee about being bad coffee.” And, to my surprise, he shook his head.
Yesterday I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA) downtown. It was funny because it appears you can't get there on foot. I took the bus, which took an hour, and then walked a couple blocks to the underground loading area where I took an elevator to the main entrance thru a parking garage. Anyway, the art was good.
They have a Rauschenberg exhibit going now. I read recently that he is the most successful living artist, based on the kind of money he gets for his work. I’ve always liked the way he “combines” every day items into his painting, and way he uses color, to create these seemingly random but really quite compelling canvasses. Of course, it helps that he likes chickens and goats (and puts stuffed ones into his work).
I watched the film on him for a short while and learned some interesting things. One friend told a story about Rauschenberg having a bunch of bamboo polls up on the wall in his studio. The friend said, I really like your work here, but I don’t get what’s going on with the bamboo polls. Rauschenberg replied, I bet you’ve put things up on the wall before that you don’t know what they mean. To that I say: LET’S ALL PUT SOMETHING UNEXPECTED UP ON THE WALL THIS MONTH. Maybe it will change your life. Rauschenberg said he works for maximum lack of control so that something might happen that he didn’t think of. This seems like a great idea to keep life unexpected and work fresh.
Also at the museum, I saw a film called “call waiting” where several characters show a story by talking on the phone, in their native languages (subtitles) and English, in various locations. They are working, at home in their kitchen, in a bar, etc., and they receive other calls, either thru call waiting or on other phones there. Between the languages and phone lines, the piece was an interesting fairytale on contemporary American communication.
While riding the bus back to the hotel to meet Jared, a woman asked the bus driver in Spanish which bus she should ride to get home. They had an extended conversation where she spoke Spanish and he responded in English. Eventually, it became clear to her that he didn’t even speak Spanish; he spoke Italian. It also turned out that she was on the wrong bus.
Mid-intersection where the bus was attempting to turn left (it took a while), I noticed a woman attempted to cross the street. She was speaking on her mobile phone and pushing the pedestrian signal activation button constantly. I thought to myself “that’s how those things get broken.” But on the other hand, I understood her frustration. She can’t jaywalk because this is LA and there are too many cars. Her only recourse to having to wait too long at the corner is to keep pressing the button. It’s no consolation to her that it took the bus a long time to make a left turn there too….
We went to Santa Monica last night and Venice the night before. SM was a hit. We walked along the beach with our shoes off. I’ve got this idea that I want to be able to move each of my toes independently, and I heard that walking in sand is a good way to teach those muscles. I waded and forced Jared to get his feet (and pant legs) wet too, and the water was warm and soft.
We decided we wanted tacos, and of course there’s a problem with deciding exactly what you want to eat when you’re in a city and neighborhood you don’t know. SM is pretty up-scale, and we walked along pedestrianized 3rd Street, where street performers dominate and there are white Christmas lights on all the trees. It took some trial and error, but we found a place with tasty fish tacos. Jared said it was even better than what he had imagined.
Venice appears not to be much of a night spot. We found this place on citysearch which people said had excellent sushi and a relaxed “beachy” ambiance. On the real beach, the stalls stood empty and dark, looking kind of dirty and pathetic.
We're staying at the airport, which kinda sucks, but it does mean there are a lot of buses for me to take around. The hotel has a decent gym, pool and hot tub in addition to a view of the runway. I spent some time yesterday morning enjoying the fitness facilities. But today, alas, I just slept in. For some reason we didn’t get the lights off for sleeping until after 1 AM.
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