Of cows, rules and realities.
I have been so busy lately. People who know me would know this by my absence in several areas where I usually have a greater presence. I have not been writing much. Or at least I have not been finishing anything I start writing – and when this happens I tend to get really mentally muddled. All this shit bouncing around my brain, leading me to feel more overwhelmed and then more busy…
For the most part has been a good busy, like work stuff, which I like, and people stuff, which I like (more on that presently.) I have also decided that I am going to try to go to the gym every day this month – sort of like a challenge to myself, and I don’t really like or dislike this. Though I have to say I am enjoying the fact that for the first time – probably ever – I am not going to the gym because I feel physically repugnant, but because I am trying to do something to make my knee situation better. It is nice to be freed up of the more superficial elements about going to the gym. Though, truth be told, I would feel like a giant cow if I were still in Hong Kong. Fortunately – in America I feel really thin – so, there you have the benefit of perspective, I suppose.
Speaking of cows, one of the things that has been leading to my busy-ness is a significant amount of mental energy going towards an unexpected focal point. I have been spending time (in hindsight not that much time, but that it seems like a lot is interesting) with a person who I enjoy allowing to take up my time. [This person is wicked smart and frequently a total ass (not usually to me - though that I am not above reproach is also very cool.) So, clearly I think they're completely great.] But I am unsure if this is a good decision on my part or if I am making something out of nothing. Like, is this person just keeping me “on the hook“? Or is there something more to it? In discussing this with both T, now Dr. T to us regular folk, and R, the answers were the same, “Well, why would a guy buy a cow when he gets the milk for free…?” I am not really interested in being bovine. Or purchased for that matter. But their point is clear. The only way to find out the answer the questions I have would be to withhold the milk. [Have I mentioned I am lactose intolerant?]
I would almost just rather pass the person a note via a third-party and be like, “Do you like me? ____ Yes ____ No”
I am annoyed that there have to be rules to stuff like this. But it appears, from all angles that there are. I tried to justify the decisions I had made: I know the person fairly well. There have been “signs” that suggest certain things. The nervousness. Who called who. Who did what, when, where.
Whatever.
The reality is that people are messy and honesty is like using a bad paper towel to clean up a big old pile of reality. It makes it worse first. Telling someone how you feel is risky and difficult. And judging from my personal tastes, it is also a pretty direct route to awkward. I tend to not talk about these kinds of things. To anyone really. Let alone the specific people to whom I should be speaking. [My grandma apparently said about me as a young child, "A will share about anything that doesn't matter." Or something along those lines.]
The further reality is that I have never been made to feel so nervous around someone before, and this nervousness makes me feel like a total jackass and likely act like one too. Thus perpetuating the cycle wherein the rules become tedious and the realities become obfuscated.
Moooooooooo.
Sitcom Wisdom.
I don’t watch much TV. I have it on more than normal lately, but I am still not watching much of it; even in a totally compromised mental state I find most of it really tedious, I’d rather just look out the window.
In the midst of my spaced out staring the other day I flipped past a sitcom called “How I Met Your Mother.” I have never watched this program, but I saw Doogie Howser on it and so I stopped for a minute. These people were talking about being “on the hook” and how everyone has been both the hook-ee, and hooker. For lack of better terms. The episode is summarized thusly:
When a beautiful young woman “hooks” Ted (keeping Ted in reserve as backup while she pursues her own dream boyfriend), the gang discusses their own experiences both as the one who “hooks” and the one on the hook.
Huh.
On the hook. It got me thinking. Am I on the hook? Am I keeping anyone on the hook? And since being “off the hook” is cool, what does it all even mean?
It is certainly on my mind whether or not it’s on the hook. Or, in general, off the hook.
Scared of the wrong things
I am scared of the wrong things. This has likely always been true of me, but like most of the elements of our personalities we come to acknowledge them through events and experiences, mishaps and miscues… living.
I know that there is a popular credo – No Fear! And that there is a widely held attitude that somehow fear is a sign of weakness. But the reality is, we all have things that we are afraid of. Of these things, some are acknowledged, either because they are socially acceptable or because they are too intense to ignore. Others we hide, pretend they don’t exist, or maybe we don’t even notice them.
It is okay to say that you are afraid of snakes. People accept that snakes are scary. It is not okay to say you are afraid of going outside. People think you are psychological if you say this and you are, by the way, agoraphobic. But why is this any more irrational (or rational) than ophidiophobia?
Fear is one of the most basic survival instincts that any being possesses. It is a feeling that is brought about by a perceived threat. “Worth noting is that fear almost always relates to future events, such as worsening of a situation, or continuation of a situation that is unacceptable. Fear could also be an instant reaction to something presently happening.”
So fear is good. Right? Or wait…
This really is lovely.
Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And, the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about physics: You are all stardust.
~ Lawrence M. Krauss
Unexpected emails continue…
Today’s installment in the unexpected emails comes from… me. A few years ago I came across a website called Future Me. I was using the website, which allows you to send yourself an email at a specified date in the future (obv), with my students. It was kind of cool in terms of a more unusual way to practice writing, and also goal setting in some ways. The premise was simple, set a date to receive your letter, type your letter, send.
So, of course, I did it too.
life in a day
The old man said to me
Said don’t always take life so seriously
Play the flute
And dance and sing your song
July 24 was the day selected for a very interesting project spearheaded by Ridley Scott and Kevin MacDonald. The premise being that people all over the world – anyone from anywhere – would take to the streets in a common 24-hour period and film… anything. Then, people submit the videos and Scott and MacDonald are going to use the footage they deem worthy in what they are calling an “experimental documentary film” that will debut at Sundance next year. I love shit like this. This may be because I am an inherently nosy person, but I am okay with that.
In addition, MacDonald had four questions that I guess he is using as his guiding questions for the project and so if you wished you could film a video that also answered/addressed them. The questions were:
- What do you love?
- What do you fear?
- What makes you laugh?
- What’s in your pockets and what’s the story there?
I really wish I were more adept at video because I would have loved to have done it. I thought about it a lot. But I did not do it. [On principle that sort of behavior really bothers me, because the more I think about it the more I realize: I could have done this.] If I would have done it I would have used the varied clips of footage from the day to create a montage that addressed the questions…. all of which I am contemplating about in response to another cool project/concept I am thinking about that asks us to consider: “Why do you do what you do?”
I spent the day in San Francisco and as I headed home I thought about all the people I had interacted with and how I would have endeavored to capture their presence on video. And I thought about those questions. (more…)
Essay requirement from the Oxford Gods goes to the dogs
Since 1932, and on and off prior to that, Oxford has been requiring as essay as part of a multi-day assessment [it consists of 12 hours of essays over two days. Half are on the applicants’ academic specialties, the other half on general subjects, with questions like: “Do the innocent have nothing to fear?” “Isn’t global warming preferable to global cooling?” “How many people should there be?” and the surprisingly relevant, because this is Britain: “Does the moral character of an orgy change when the participants wear Nazi uniforms?"] for entrance to All Souls College that some have called the hardest exam in the world. It is the “One Word Essay.” Now don’t get excited kids… it is not the answer that is one word; it is the prompt. You get a single noun and three hours to work your magic. Water. Bias. Innocence. Style. Censorship. Charity. Reproduction. Corruption. Novelty. Chaos. Mercy. Harmony. Miracle. Conversion.
Oh. My. God.
I cannot imagine a more enjoyable task, and my hyperbole is absolutely sincere. This would be something that I would love so much, I am filing it away for my imminent return to the classroom (beware…) I would love to see what students would come up with and I think the results, no matter the quality would be so telling. It’s brilliant. I mean, even if it is, as one person describes in the article, “an exercise in showmanship to avoid answering the question,” doesn’t that demonstrate certain skill sets (or a lack thereof)? No matter, it has been scrapped.
And I think that is a crying shame. Seriously. I know that some of my former students would say that this is the assignment of a lazy teacher… ‘can’t even put a real question together,’ ‘just want to give the students something that takes up a lot of time…’ But I disagree. For a student who is willing to think about their word and really mentally consider the scope of the lexis, the context, the power of the word itself, the possibilities are endless.
But therein lies the rub.
My Yoga Journey, Chapter 2: Departure
I wanna thank you... for a real good time... xoxo
I have a funny way of doing things. Like, in preparation for a six-week sojourn to a completely unknown place, I work up until the day before I leave, don’t pack until the day I do leave and then I sort of realize the reality that has settled on me as I am on my way onto the plane.
This may not be the most efficient method.
But then, in spite of my best efforts, I remain imperfect.
I celebrated my emancipation from employment last night with an eclectic and wonderful group of friends. I made a lot of <> exclamations and generally revelled in the surprising turn of events the past year had brought to me. I woke up this morning early. And then when back to bed. I had erratic and interesting dreams of which I remember very little and woke up to look around my house with the knowledge that it would not be my house for a whole lot longer. I made some lists – always a good thing to do when feeling overwhelmed to paralysis. I thought for a moment about how I was really being kind of silly about taking this whole thing so lightly.
But then I had another thought; over thinking this trip would be silly, in fact, as I have little to no idea of what to expect I think that to over think it would likely just cause panic. My relatively irreverent attitude towards things has not been ridiculous, it has been a matter of self-preservation.
I got up and went out to get some last-minute things that I needed and do a couple of errands. I finally got a hold of my parents who are in Bend, Oregon on their way home and that was calming. I ate some really hot tom yum and then on the ferry back, ran into one of the most lovely humans I know on Lamma. Actually, I thought he had moved back to NYC, but it turns out he has moved into my village. I smiled as I thought, ‘Isn’t that always the way.’ And I said goodbye.
I still have not packed. I have contemplated packing. I am hanging out with my cats and trying to get the things together that I need to get together like money and documents and such. I will leave my house in three and a half hours. My flight will leave a few hours after that.
And then the departure becomes an arrival.
Holy Crap. This guy is my hero. (Well, one of them…)
I had heard of Romanpoet (also here) somehow, not sure how. It sounded kind of, you know… cool. But being neither Luddite nor particularly motivated to explore the tech-underworld I never really investigated.
Should have.
Here is a kid with some ingenuity <– understatement. And he has used it in a pretty effective way <– ditto. So, he is a PhD candidate at Caltech (don’t worry, not getting fished in again [at least not yet]) and he is studying computation and neural systems. He says his life goal is to make a computer that feels. While I have a few comments on emo computers, I am absolutely fascinated in contemplating (maybe someday I’ll move beyond that phase) the way in which our brains take in, understand, manipulate, infer. categorize, utilize, store and apply information. And all the attendant variables.
In the mean time, this (just) 27-year old has been referred to as The Internet Man of Mystery and gotten the attentions (lawsuits) of the powers that be. He certainly does appear to have some panache. He is young, smart, creative and well-groomed. Win. He also came up with an application, WikiScanner (now on version 2) to see who is editing Wikipedia entries, and it is not who you might think. He told the Times of London, he did it “to create minor public relations disasters for companies and organizations I dislike.” Like it Centurion. Like it.
In his spare time he hangs out in Santa Fe at the Santa Fe Institute. Now this is a place that is thinking about some very cool shit. They focus on complex systems research. That is like, the total shit of synthesis: “Complex systems research attempts to uncover and understand the deep commonalities that link artificial, human, and natural systems. By their very nature, these problems transcend any particular field, for example, if we understand the fundamental principles of organization, we will gain insight into the functioning of cells in biology, firms in economics, and magnets in physics. This research relies on theories and tools from across the sciences. Part of the rise of the complex systems research agenda can be tied to the use of theoretical computation as a new way to explore such systems.” Um. Yes, please. Would that I had a PhD that might be my dream job.
And then… he is the man behind the Musicthatmakesyoudumb and Booksthatmakeyou Dumb. Best graphics EVER (concept here.) I am frightened by the placement of the Book of Mormon and in honor of The Dude, I am going to have to question how Eagles can have less of a dumbing effect than Queen, though I suppose Bohemian Rhapsody and We Are the Champions fucked that statistic up. I think the next one should be clothes that make you dumb, there would be a complex system, and all the raw data is here.
But don’t let me be the judge and jury (or do, I am fine with that…) have look for yourself after the jump (or via the above concept link.)
Epiphanaaaaay.
-(I don’t need it) – (I don’t want it) = I can take it.
Wow. There is an equation that could have served me well ages ago. I get sort of irritated in contemplating the concept that the root of all of life’s suffering stems from desire because really, a life without desire seems empty to me. But I might be starting to understand. The other night I realized that the freedom I gained in fully admitting that I was okay without something I thought I needed, and therefore wanted, was truly awesome. Extrapolating from that, it became clear that everything was totally cool exactly as it was.
Like that ambiguity? No? Well, it is staying because it is the only thing that can make my law of happiness universally applicable. Deriving happiness from what is rather than what should/could/would seems doable. I = happy.
It’s all good.
{photo from here.}
The worst idea for an invention I never followed through on.
I used to think that a “Cat-Cam” would be a super-cool little gadget to come across. I wanted to figure out a way to rig a tiny, relatively indestructible, wireless webcam onto my cats’ heads somehow, and then get to see what they got up to all day while I was out at work and stuff. I thought it would really show me a differnt side of Pak Kok and the jungle or something.
What a stupid freaking idea.
I have had a lot of time at home these past few days with the Easter public holidays and such and so I have been a first-hand witness. You know what they get up to all day? (Best sit down so the action doesn’t knock you off your feet.)
And yes, I realize I am following up a post about having nothing to say with a post about cat inactivity.
There is nothing like punctuating one’s point.
John Cusack FTW. Don’t act like you are surprised.
Less than a week before its official US debut, the star (one of) and producer of Hot Tub Time Machine, John Cusack took his promotional mettle to Twitter. As both a regular Twitter user and a follower of Cusack I was party to the whole thing.
And it was a thing of beauty.
The thing about following Cusack on Twitter is this: he has very little (admitted) knowledge of how the thing works, and even less (admitted) interest in working it out. He also cannot type for shit. I assume he probably can spell, but only because of any public evidence I can glean as to his intelligence. And I think he is super-duper smart, politically, ideologically and, well… in the Mary Poppins way, if you want to know how I really feel about it. I think he likely Tweets drunk on occasion and I applaud his irreverence and his range of topics in his “stream” (look at me work the double entendre.) Basically, he cracks me up and makes me wonder how HST might handle such a concept as Tweeting.
So, either of his own volition or at the request of someone else, Mr. Cusack decided to take advantage of the Twitter tool of “trending” and see if, with the efforts of his more than 27k followers, get the movie to “trend.” He seemed unclear on how the trending thing worked at first, and I could certainly relate. Basically, any subject that starts getting repeat Tweets (to an exponential degree) shows up in the sidebar of a Twitter user’s page. This, in the tradition of the hive mind, of course draws more attention and before you know it, whatever the trending topic is, it has gone viral. You can set your trend topics regionally or world-wide, so you see what kind of audience we are talking about. Using a hashtag (#) seems to speed things up, but to my (limited) knowledge it does not seem like a requirement.
I guess you can sort of see the potential for massive exposure. The question is… to what do you want to be exposed.
A quick survey of the trending topics on any given day is almost certain to be 80% inane-to-the-point-of-insulting topics. For example, right this minute the worldwide trends are:
- now playing
- don’t you hate it when
- april wish
- i just wanna know why
- Justin Bieber….
And let’s just stop right here.
Justin Bieber. Two weeks ago, my only knowledge of this individual was through my blogging friend Clare‘s husband‘s tweets about Bieber because he has to write about him for celebrity news website. I had no idea who he was or why he was so popular, he is almost always a trending topic, but obviously I had never taken the time to investigate. I assumed he must have been an American Idol contestant or on Dancing With The Stars or something equally not-my-style. Turns out, No. He is a pre-pubescent (though he is 16 apparently so someone should be worried…) Canadian pop “star”.
Back to the Cusack connection. In the effort to become a trending topic, Hot Tub time Machine was going to have to disable the Bieber-machine. How to do this? Could it be done? Was it impossible that Cusack/Coddry could generate enough cyber-energy to topple the hormonal urges of millions of teenage girls around the world? [Turns out it is not teenagers that they had to worry about... it was three-year olds. Amazing.]
Game on people.
The Cusack troops were motivated. The Bieber-barbs were witty and snarky and all that is right with mockumentary. But clever does not always win you points in the world of Twitter. You need volume. Bieber held fast. But the,… suddenly… after a few days of solid #httm/#hottubtimemachine effort… it looked like the Bieber might be cracking. Add to that Roger Ebert’s review of the film and the ABSOLUTE AUDACITY of The Bieber to even try to emulate Lloyd Dobler, and the game was getting interesting. [By the way, just look at the picture. I mean, come-the-fuck-on people... what is this thing you have created? He thinks he is serious. Wait till his voice changes... All down hill from there, kid.] After just a few days, the movie was trending… it was a victory of Bieber proportions to be sure. When the movie opened it got an even bigger boost as people not actively involved in (or inciting) the Shockozulu-Bieber smackdown were inadvertently helping by tweeting about the movie.
Thus far, the movie that began this Twitter showdown, which apparently made it into the foreign press, has yet to make it to my far off shores, but you can be sure I am going to see it. I mean, 1986? I’ll take a second look. Plus, there is not much connected to Cusack that I don’t like. [Yeah, yeah, yeah, it was on purpose.] And while I am certain that the temporary Bieber displacement will be short-lived because I am aware that you cannot stop the insanity madness idiocracy that supports a concept like Bieberism, you can certainly enjoy it for one brief, shining, Twitter moment.
After this post, I may need to be “Committed.”
It has happened again.
I am reading a book with so much immediate and significant relevance I am wondering how it is possible that it landed in my hands at this time. Of course I know, technically, how it happened: I went to the bookstore and saw a book written by an author I enjoy, about a subject I am perplexed by, fascinated with, horrified of, uninitiated unto, and perhaps even, somehow excluded from. And I bought the book.
The subject is MARRIAGE.
Liz Gilbert writes like a blogger. Not sure if that comes across as a compliment or an insult, but as she says in her book, people used to say she wrote like a man and she was as sure that it was meant to be a compliment as she was sure that it was meant to be condescending when people described her as a chick-lit writer. In the end it is not so important. The way she tackles this particular subject and the perspective she comes at it from are perfectly brilliant. For me. Lots of people I know here in Hong Kong don’t like her style, they seem to think she is derivative or somehow generic. One friend of mine said of Eat Pray Love (among other books) “I could write that book.” Hmmm. I am not sure about that. But if there were a book I could dedicate to all of my girlfriends on all of their respective continents, regardless of marital status or ambitions, this would be it. And I would also recommend it to a number of my gentleman friends as well. Especially those about to wed. READ IT.
The premise of Gilbert’s latest book, Committed, is simple: two people who fell in love after brutal divorces swore they would never get married and were perfectly okay with that for every conceivable reason. Then, due to circumstances largely out their hands, they were faced with an ultimatum of sorts that indicated they would have to marry. And this book is the result of Gilbert’s method of coping: investigation. She really, really, really looks into marriage – its history, effect on women (and men), purpose, and the cult-like fascination that encompasses it. She is clear about her limits as an anthropologist and scholar in general, but some of the things she uncovers are really eye-opening. Which is not to say you read them and go, “Well I never!” It is more like you read them and you go, “Holy shit! Maybe I am not crazy.”
I am not married. I have never been married (though almost one and a half times.) I have, like most girls and women I know, vacillated wildly between desperate longing to get married and a cavalier not giving a shit attitude about it. But through it all, I have always been, and imagine I will always be, interested in the ongoing fascination with marriage and from where said fascination springs eternal. To this end, Gilbert’s text is immensely satisfying for me.
The time frame of this book places Gilbert in Southeast Asia throughout the long, hot summer of 2006. Interestingly, I was likely within earshot of her on more than one occasion as we were in exactly the same places at the same times. Weird. Add to that the detail that she and both seem to have wreaked romantic havoc on a good portion of our own lives. My BFF tells me my motto could be: “Amanda – Making bad relationship choices since 1989″ – and she’d be more correct than I want to admit. And the pattern of this chaotic, period of infatuation can be summed up thusly:
“My new love interest seemed to have a giant EXIT sign hanging over his head – and I dived right through that exit, using the love affair as an excuse to escape my collapsing [whatever you need to escape from], then claiming with an almost hysterical certainty that this person was everything I truly needed in life.
“Shocking how that didn’t work out.” (Gilbert, p. 101)
Tou-freaking-ché.
Further, Gilbert points out that psychologists call infatuation, that deluded state of madness, “narcissistic love.” Along with Gilbert, I am gonna have to say: “I call it ‘my twenties’.”
Hello.
And through her examination of marriage Gilbert uncovers with some very interesting stuff, like the Marriage Benefit Imbalance. This is the suggestion (real enough for me through an analysis of my own empirical evidence) that men get more out of marriage than women. I would add to this that in spite of the conventional wisdom assumption that women are desperate to be married, I find the opposite to be true in my (admittedly limited, though extremely variegated) experience. She has caught a lot of flack for her use of the M.B.I. as a concept. But when people complain about it and then sum up their argument this way: the main point of marriage as a social institution: to protect and raise children, it becomes clear that we are going to have to agree to disagree. I am still stuck back in that illusory place where marriage is about a partnership of two adults to do whatever the hell they want. (Could be one more reason why I am not married…) Not surprisingly, my understanding also comes from the generation of divorce so do what you want, but just remember, a lot of the time what you want is not exactly what your partner wants.
Gilbert spends a lot of time talking about the “Auntie Brigade” as well and the social pressures to have children that go along with marriage. Every woman I know is familiar with this pressure to some degree, whether it comes from their own psyche or from external sources. Not having kids seems like some kind of cultural failure on the “How to be a girl” chart of life. On the other hand, in Sunday’s South China Morning Post this week there was an article about how the single most beneficial thing a person can do to help stave off the seemingly inevitable doom of planet Earth is to not have kids. Yay me. I am suddenly so inadvertently green I can take all those plane trips and not worry about my carbon foot print anymore. Which brings me to another point. While I am no longer in the habit of ruling out life possibilities or choices, on the approach to forty things do start to look different. In a discussion of the SCMP article on Sunday, a good friend of mine, (single, forties, “Auntie,”) told me she has no interest in kids because she doesn’t want to be chasing toddlers around throughout middle age, she has other things she wants to do. She admits she was inclined to have kids in her twenties, but “things didn’t work out” with the potential F.O.B., so she has moved on – mentally, physically, etcetera. Good point. (And Green!) At the same time I have another friend here whose sole (soul?) objective is to get married. When I was telling her about my trip to Bali over New Year’s she couldn’t even talk about the trip – only wanted to talk about my companion and “Don’t you want to get married?” The non-sequitur-like nature of the conversation gave me a headache, and she never got to see the photos.
What marriage is and what it was and what it may become seem to be deeply personal. I am certainly not proclaiming a permanent, or even actual, disdain for any of it. But I do advocate for it all to be taken in some sort of perspective, like really, the proverbial ‘grain of salt.’ I do not need a husband for any concrete reason. And I am no longer convinced that partnership is somehow more valid through legal documentation. It has been a very relaxing change of heart. That doesn’t mean I won’t agree to some sort of permanent partnership should the cosmos find themselves in perfect alignment or something. On that note, the idea that “all we need is love” is also examined in the book. What do you think? Yes? No? Maybe so? Seems like there may be a little more to it than that. Go figure. Had I married the boys (men in a few cases) that I was completely and desperately in love with…
sorry… not able…………..
to……… type……..
having physical reaction akin to shock……………………….
On the other hand, I am sure I let a couple of “keepers” get away. Though, that certainly does not make me unusual. One of my favorite asides in Committed is a story of a friend of the author asking a Mongolian singer who had just completed a performance in NYC what the songs were about, because in spite of not understanding a word she had found them heart wrenching. He said, “Our songs are about the same things that everyone else’s songs are about: lost love, and somebody stole your fastest horse.”
Amen. [And now I know where Tom T. Hall got his material - I guess everything does come from Asia.]
Gilbert’s book, through the best parts and my least favorite bits, is really a worthwhile read especially for looking at the personal and public histories that have contributed to our understanding, née, fetish with marriage at least in my generation and demographic. She hits on divorce, gay marriage, remarriage and non-marriage from a lot of vantage points. Let me also say that the obvious double entendre in the word choice “committed” is not lost on me. We commit to things (or in the case of some of us, we categorically rebel against it) and we get committed in other instances. Loony bin, church or Justice of the Peace. In the end it turns out the choice is up to me, and that is just a-o-k. Though, one might be wise to bear in mind the sentiments of Albert Camus:
“You have the freedom to choose your actions, you don’t have the freedom to choose the consequences of your actions.”
The brief and wondrous life of Oscar – WOW!
Sunday there was quite a lot of pre-Oscar speculation at my house as we all completed our ballots to see who could pick the most winners of the 24 major award categories for the 2010 Academy Awards. I find that just about everything is more fun when you have a wager on the line. [Sue won with a tie-breaker over Vickie, both having guessed 12 correctly...] One big disadvantage of living in Asia is that we do not get a lot of the hype associated with the movies nor do we get a chance to see a lot of them in the theaters, certainly not prior to the Academy award telecast. [Though, The Hurt Locker is coming now, and as I was walking through the Causeway Bay station on my way to work about an hour after the end of the live telecast in Los Angeles, I saw the poster for it and it says winner of 6 Academy Awards - that was fast! (On second thought the sign is in Chinese so I suppose the "6 blahblahblah 9" could mean something else...)] On the other hand one of the big advantages is that we have almost all of the movies (save for foreign films, documentaries, and shorts – far too, what? Too cultural? I don’t know…) on DVD thanks to our very industrious pirated entertainment industry. So, among us we had seen a pretty significant number of the films up for awards.
It made for a very lively discussion (along with whether or not my neighbor, now living in Saigon would vie to defend his impressive win (21 of 24) from last year, via the interwebs. (He did not…) Sue was sure Mo’Nique would win, Vickie and Andre had their money on Sandra, I knew this would be the year The Dude would Abide, Jerry was simply convinced that Avatar was not good enough for a Best Picture win, but conceded that it might… We vacillated between The Fantastic Mr. Fox and Coraline lot about the animated features, which in hindsight was kind of lame since, as Neil Gaiman pointed out, when one of the cartoons is also nominated for Best Picture, it is probably going to get the nod in the Animated Feature category. Personally, I was totally pulling for the regional flavors in the documentaries and I didn’t get either with Burma VJ or China’s Unnatural Disaster.
In general, the whole spectacle is just an excuse for a party and a chance to banter on pop culture phenoms. I have always loved the Oscars and I am not entirely sure why. The telecasts can be terribly tedious, the hosts can be painful, the politics too much or not enough, and the Red Carpet interviewers (hosts?) generally make me want to punch something. But still, I love it. The clothes, the couples and the speeches.
Oh, and the “In Memoriam” part always makes me cry. Serious. This year they did not include Farrah Fawcett and some people were pissed about that, but I am not sure she was ever in a movie, was she? I don’t know, maybe they should have put her in simply because her death got totally overshadowed by MJ. I am always amazed – and saddened in a strange way as I certainly do not know any of these people – when I watch this segment. I guess it serves to remind me of the fragility or the inevitability of death. Doesn’t matter if you are a SuperStar or drive a big fancy car…
Brief and wondrous.
And in the spirit of brevity, right after the touching images and voice overs, we’re right back to the best and worst dressed. As I mentioned, not “watching” the awards live but through various live feeds (this year substantially bolstered by live Twitter feeds from a variety of sources, most notably the aforementioned Neil Gaiman) I saw mostly still images. I thought Sandra Bullock, Rachel McAdams and Penelope Cruz looked stunning. Nicole Richie! No idea why she was there, but she looked amazing. JLo <– WTF? Demi Moore was making it work and Charlize Theron could probably not look bad if she tried… oh wait, she actually did try once, but not here, though her dress was totally boobie-centric. Not interested in the dudes, sorry – all looked the same-ish. Oh, except RDJ, he always brings it and his wife’s dress was AWESOME. Kate Winslet looked hot too… why is everyone always on her case? The Grande Dames were working it too… Helen and Meryl FTW.
Everyone was loving on Cameron Diaz and Zoe Saldana… I am not sold. And that Twilight girl – gack. Oh, and SJP? The color was ace, but, um… yeah. And could someone please tell me what Whiney Cyrus is doing at the Oscars? On that note, Kathy Ireland? I tripped right back to 1986 on that note. Mariah Carey… eeewwwww. This link pretty much indicates that I do not share my taste with the majority of people polled. Good thing I don’t care. And these links are more interesting.
After the fashion brigade, I like to contemplate the books or stories that I would like to see make it to the big screen. And there are a few. Of course the much mentioned Steig Larsson books would be a good time (the Swedes already made them for T.V. I think), The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie would be very good, or Counting Coup: A True Story of Basketball and Honor on the Little Big Horn – I would like to see some modern Native American young-adult stories. And one that I have been contemplating as a great screen play for some time now is The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz. On a semi-realted note, I am hoping to go to see Junot Diaz next Tuesday in Hong Kong when he delivers a talk as part of the Man Hong Kong Literary Festival.
Would that I were a screen play writer…
Brief and wondrous sounds okay, for a day: at the Academy, followed by a party at Morton’s…
Lessons from Lisbeth.
Occasionally I read books that have a deep impact on me and the way I see or interact in the world. This can be the result of myriad influences: good writing, interesting characters, fantastic plots, scandalous behavior… the list goes on. I love reading and have a very broad range of books that I enjoy. Like wine and music, what I like often fluctuates depending on various circumstances in my own life, and I am repeatedly impressed with how often I end up reading books that have significant resonance at exactly the right time.
Oddly, that has turned out to be the case quite recently as I have been tearing through Steig Larsson’s nearly posthumous trilogy centered around Lisbeth Salander (a great blog on the first book The Girl Who Played With Fire and excellent links here.) these books are a totally indulgent guilty pleasure. But they are far more relevant than typical crime fiction or pulp fiction… certainly for me: a capable, single woman, with a strong personality, who has often dealt with men who are not big fans. In fact, the attributes I see in my female friends (and Lisbeth) are usually the root cause of the animosity… Perplexing.
As I have been taking in the saga of Lisbeth’s life, I have begun to see how much she has to teach me right at this very minute. These are the lessons I have been taking from Wasp.
1) Silence can, in fact, be golden.
I often want to tell/share/broadcast information that I find exciting or interesting or offensive, and of course, I mean information pertaining to me. But Lisbeth has demonstrated time and again how savvy it is to keep it to yourself, as frequently people are trying to use it against you, even in cases where you least expect it, or said people don’t actually realize they are doing this. Plus, as Mark Rothko astutely pointed out: “Silence is so accurate.”
2) Resist the urge to prove your worth/talents/knowledge to those who challenge you to do so.
Consequently, as an extension of #1, it is best to let people just carry on with their assumptions and predilections rather than trying to demonstrate they have misjudged you. A very smart man I know said, “They already know everything they want to know.” For sure.
3) Information is POWER.
In summing up #1 and #2, we arrive at #3. Yeah, I know everyone says ‘knowledge is power’ and whatnot, but what they really mean is information. Real information is the key to everything. And if you have it, you are secure and can distinguish (or allow) misinformation and it all becomes moot… until you need to use it. Then you have it.
4) Document EVERYTHING.
You can bet your ass I am doing this. This has become incredibly important in my life lately, and I am redoubling my efforts at being a meticulous record taker and keeper. It is kind of amazing the things people do that leave such a visible trace. I think in the world of investigation they call it “evidence.” I am holding on to all of it.
5) Allow people to make foolish assumptions.
This is similar to #3, but worth extra consideration. There is that old cliché that it is “better to remain silent and thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt.” I can honestly say that the only reason I have ever tried to combat the assumptions has to do with my own ego. But it dawned on me recently that people who make assumptions about me do not know me and so why should I care about said assumptions?
6) Maintain your integrity, particularly when it is so easy or tempting not to.
This basically has to do with taking the high road and is pretty much an extension of #2 and #5, and a warning about misusing information or documentation. If you find yourself surrounded by people who seek to bring you down by false accusations or name calling or whatever pettiness they resort to, ignore them. Acknowledge your moral parameters and stick to them.
7) Do not react.
See above. “Ignore them.” It neutralizes all their artillery
8 ) Understand that you cannot possibly illuminate dark corners for those who live under rocks.
My BFF and I had a conversation about this last summer and my aunt and I over Chinese New Year. No matter how hard you try to explain yourself or your position, if someone disagrees with you or thinks you are fundamentally flawed, it is a completely wasted effort. Remember what my wise friend said in #2… those people’s brains are full.
9) Do your research.
Know what the hell you are talking about. Just good advice and will likely prevent much embarrassment if you fly off the handle about something, and also will allow you to better recognize bullshit misinformation. Relative to #4 above, document it all, and then you substantially improve your holdings wrt #3. Win.
10) Be clear in your objectives.
Understand what you want and why you are doing anything. If you are unclear in either of these areas, stop what you are doing and reexamine the situation. It will save you a lot of time and also lead to much more satisfying results.
This Too Shall Pass ~ Thanks for letting us sing along @ Grappa’s!
You know you can’t keep lettin’ it get you down
And you can’t keep draggin’ that dead weight around.
If there ain’t all that much to lug around,
Better run like hell when you hit the ground.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
You can’t stop these kids from dancin’.
Why would you want to?
Especially when you’re already gettin’ yours.
‘Cause if your mind don’t move and your knees don’t bend,
well don’t go blamin’ the kids again.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
Let it go, this too shall pass.
Let it go, this too shall pass.
Let it go, this too shall pass.
(You know you can’t keep lettin’ it get you down. No, you can’t keep lettin’ it get you down.)
Let it go, this too shall pass.
(You know you can’t keep lettin’ it get you down. No, you can’t keep lettin’ it get you down.)
Hey!
Let it go, this too shall pass.
(You know you can’t keep lettin’ it get you down. No, you can’t keep lettin’ it get you down.)
When the morning comes.
(You can’t keep lettin’ it get you down. You can’t keep lettin’ it get you down.)
When the morning comes.
(You can’t keep lettin’ it get you down. No, you can’t keep lettin’ it get you down.)
When the morning comes.
(You can’t keep lettin’ it get you down. You can’t keep lettin’ it get you down.)
When the morning comes.
(You can’t keep lettin’ it get you down. No, you can’t keep lettin’ it get you down.)
When the morning comes!
You asked why, I will try to tell you.
Yoga is a process of becoming free from limited definitions of the field of consciousness. ~ Patanjali
I am not sure I can effectively explain the reason behind my interest in and focus on yoga over the past months. I suppose it has been more than a few months, but whatever, no need to be so specific. But I feel sort of compelled to try to articulate it because, well, because then maybe people will quit telling me I am crazy. Or maybe it will only solidify my craziness in their minds, but at least I know I will have made the effort.
I started doing yoga because I needed something to do to take my mind off of things that were becoming increasingly challenging in my life and which I felt were out of my control. It turned out that they were, of course, entirely within my control once I got brave enough to deal with them, but that is not the point here. I had never done yoga, and in fact had thought it was sort of a silly pastime of the less athletically inclined, or people who were trying to be a part of something that rang false (to me). [Yeah, yeah... judgement reigns supreme.] However, my options in Hong Kong seemed to be quite limited with regard to physical activity – dragon boating? Umm, HELL NO. Basketball? Cannot with my work schedule. The Gym? Simply an extension of the LKF meat market that I was ready to avoid forever. So, yoga it was.
And it was good.
I went to a big old huge place where the classes had like 50 people in them. We’ll call it “Mega Yoga.” Not knowing any different I rolled with it and made my way. Slowly. Yoga is really hard if you want it to be. But I immediately noticed that it made me feel better. Like, not just physically, but really shifted my mood noticeably. That seemed like a good thing, all things considered. There were some really good teachers at Mega Yoga, and I felt like I was learning a lot. But the place itself was kind of annoying, and it definitely caters to a tai-tai’s certain type of person that I am not. The vibe was not ideal, but the purpose remained intact.
Then the teachers that I really liked started to leave. One by one they were disappearing and it was clear that things were not going the way I wanted them to go at Mega Yoga. I was not sure what I was going to do. I did not know any of the teachers, like really know them and I am quite sure that none of them had even ever heard my voice – I go to yoga for the practice, not for conversation (which has become an issue on occasion – and I know you all who know me are laughing to think of me as mute, but there you go…) – and so even though I wanted to ask them what was up, I didn’t. Fortunately, my cousin, who is much more forward in circumstances like this and was a member of the same studio did inquire. And on the heels of his inquiry I finally asked one of the teachers, my favorite one, where he was going. It was a funny conversation, like the weird ones where you have seen someone a million times, but still have to introduce yourself. Odd. But, then I got a little bit of the info, he would be going home to India and then to a new studio in a different part of Hong Kong. Hm. Again, not ideal for me and potentially forcing me to deal with change. Damn. But as Vonnegut says, ‘So it goes.’
Of course, I did not remember the name of the place where this teacher was going and I had no idea how I would find it – or him – if I didn’t work it out. And then one morning I decided to get off the bus at a different stop just for variety and walk to work a different way. Randomly. And as I was walking along talking on the phone I believe, I saw the teacher. It was one of those funny moments, like I know my students have when they see me out my classroom context. But there he was. And we stopped and exchanged numbers.
Then he went to India and I went home for month.
Being Brave on One Fine Day.
"Get closer." By Neem, age 6. "Yeah, it's good."
Face to face I find, I contemplate
Even though a man is made of clay
Everything can change that one fine
One fine day
Sometimes I have to pause to really acknowledge and understand how completely awe-inspiring my friends are. I have been surrounded by so many amazing people in my life… I have heard that the measure of a person can be taken from her friends. I can only hope so.
I listened to a friend tell me about something so incredibly brave today I was awestruck. The details of the act she described are not the point. I watched her tell me the story and saw the energy play across her face. I wish I would have tried to photograph it. It was a palpable and real energy which I have never seen before. This was not the sparkly silliness of Edward Cullen, and not some aural psychic reading. This was simply the manifestation of something so powerful that I could see it on my friend’s face. I am proud to know people who are willing to be so brave in the face of an often unwilling world.
As I watched her tell me more of her story, I realized that I was being distracted by something else. There were some other people sitting in our proximity that were drawing my attention as well. As a career eavesdropper I am used to this, but in general I can tune this sort of thing out when I want to. It was getting so on my nerves today that I finally said out loud, “Who are those people?” It was rhetorical and mildly inappropriate, but it was like a momentary lapse of reason and I couldn’t stop myself from saying it. Then they left.
Our conversation continued.
And then the primary focal point of my earlier comment returned and came over to us. He said he had to ask who we were. He was sure he knew us. It was strange for reasons far beyond the mundane, “Come here often?” kind of thing. I couldn’t place this person. But I could. No I couldn’t. Could. Couldn’t. The name game ensued. He was so sure. And then the connection was made.
Yes, we had all met. In fact, this person has been in my home. I cannot now determine if I realized this as we were speaking just then or not. Or if he even remembers that detail.
Then he left.
As we did eventually.
Then he was there again. I considered asking him if he remembered being at my house. But I did not. I am not that brave yet. After I said goodbye to my breakfast companions I considered going back… But in spite of it all, I did not. I wanted to say, “Hi.”
I understand that in many ways the elements that we see in others are often reflecting something in us. Maybe. I also am truly beginning to believe that the purpose that others serve in our lives is not random and the sequence and intensity with which people enter and leave us are supremely relevant. This is not to say that I have any real ability to articulate or even identify what these purposes may be… but I now think that it may be possible to work towards a more precise answer, something I did not used to believe, preferring to subscribe to the paradoxically existential deterministic view that it was not really up to me nor was it my responsibility to comprehend. Lately events – big and small – and observations have shown me something different. Things are what they are. But it is more than that whether we understand it or not. Sometimes you see something that is so amazing it makes you stop everything you are doing. No moving. No talking. No thinking. You just, Stop. It runs deep, as well as far and wide. Right now I am revisiting my recent trip to Bali and it is replete with beauty of many kinds. But today I saw something else.
- A sunny day in the winter.
- A friend who has found the place in her life where duality is recognized, revered and reunited.
- A little boy with new binoculars who was late for breakfast because he kept stopping to look into his future.
- A stranger brave enough to ask a simple question.
- A greeting on a path.
Even Steven.
Life gets easier as you get older. This is one thing I am sure of. I watch the trials and tribulations of adolescence every day and I remember. I remember how it was. And it is easier now. Or maybe it is not easier, maybe perspective really makes all the difference. Sometimes things that are so confusing seem really clear if you just take a different seat at the table. I enjoyed high school just fine. I think I did all the things I was supposed to do, good and bad. I enjoyed college too, though the ups and downs there were a bit more dramatic at each extreme. And I did all the things I was supposed to do. And all the things I wasn’t. And as I have done other stuff in my life I have found it often to be initially challenging. No. Actually, freaking difficult. But eventually, it all evens out in the end. Just like Seinfeld said:
And each successive step is met with a similar sentiment, “Man, I can’t believe I thought — was such a big deal, that was nothing. Now this, THIS is really something.” It all is what it is. And it is all just scenery along the way anyhow. It is nice to have cool shit to look at for sure, but in the end it comes back to us. Imagine how UNscary things would seem, like totally NOT daunting, if we trusted that we would always break even in the end (because you do, but you never believe until after the fact… Shakespeare couldn’t have written better irony.)
Then there is this added pressure to be all that you can be, and do all that you should do, and get all that you can get. And all the measuring up and the attendant pressure – in one of his most salient interviews [that I have seen] Marilyn Manson summed it up pretty well: “you’re watching television, you’re watching the news, you’re being pumped full of fear, there’s floods, there’s AIDS, there’s murder, cut to commercial, buy the Acura, buy the Colgate, if you have bad breath they’re not going to talk to you, if you have pimples, the girl’s not going to fuck you” I guess it is the fear of not breaking even that messes everything up and gets in the way of the natural cycle of equanimity. Not to mention the problem of not recognizing the equanimity when it happens. But it certainly seems to keep on happening in spite of our manipulations.
Jerry : You know, life is amazing…
Kramer : You know who you are? Even Steven
Amanda
