...The people at my school who either don't have a part-time job or do have a job, but the dress is casual and still wear suits to school every day.
I mean, does it just get them into the legal "zone" or something?
Personally, I have difficulty getting anything done in a suit. I'm too busy concentrating on how uncomfortable I am.
The same applies to high heels, hoisery, and underwire bras. My friends always think I look constipated when I wear any of these items. I suppose this is what happens when you spend the first twelve years of your adult life in Austin. Anything nicer than a flip-flop is dressy.
Monday, March 31, 2008
If you could answer just one question of the future...
The other night Wine-Time-Girl and I were out for drinks, and in the middle of it all, we decided to go visit a psychic.
I know a lot of people think psychics are nuts, but you have to view it as entertainment. Instead of wondering it they’re actually accurate, pretend you’re spending the money on a movie or dinner or hell, a theme park.
On this particular occasion I chose a Tarot card reading, and as I held the deck in my hands, the woman said, “Concentrate on a question.”
I scrunched my eyes and thought hard, eventually handing the deck back to her. You would think that at this stage in my life, I’d be really worried about finding a serious job or maybe a life-long companion, right? Or possibly I’d be curious about my transition from school to the working world?
The psychic flipped over the first card.
“I see serious love-making in the next one-two months,” she said.
Damn, those ladies are intuitive. And yes, she was correct. I wanted to know when I would next get laid. (What? It's a been a while!)
“You’ll meet him in a group, at a gathering or a party,” she continued, “and be nice to this one; he really wants to get to know you.”
Oh please, like I’d actually pay serious attention to some floosie I take home from a party.
Ana's getting laid soon. Ana's getting laid soon. Nanny-nanny-boo-boo.
I know a lot of people think psychics are nuts, but you have to view it as entertainment. Instead of wondering it they’re actually accurate, pretend you’re spending the money on a movie or dinner or hell, a theme park.
On this particular occasion I chose a Tarot card reading, and as I held the deck in my hands, the woman said, “Concentrate on a question.”
I scrunched my eyes and thought hard, eventually handing the deck back to her. You would think that at this stage in my life, I’d be really worried about finding a serious job or maybe a life-long companion, right? Or possibly I’d be curious about my transition from school to the working world?
The psychic flipped over the first card.
“I see serious love-making in the next one-two months,” she said.
Damn, those ladies are intuitive. And yes, she was correct. I wanted to know when I would next get laid. (What? It's a been a while!)
“You’ll meet him in a group, at a gathering or a party,” she continued, “and be nice to this one; he really wants to get to know you.”
Oh please, like I’d actually pay serious attention to some floosie I take home from a party.
Ana's getting laid soon. Ana's getting laid soon. Nanny-nanny-boo-boo.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Literary Incompatibility...
Today the New York Times has an article about avid readers and their propensity to “dump” potential love interests based on the books they read.
Seriously.
Though I understand where Ms. Miller is coming from, I don’t think Rand's books are the problem in and of themselves. I am unashamed to admit that I have two of them on my shelf, and for the most part, I enjoyed reading them. For me, the discussion of selfish vs. selfless was a new perspective. Therefore, The Fountainhead falls into the category of a book that caused me to think. My other Rand novel is We the Living, a rather interesting piece of historical fiction about a formerly upper class family living in the aftermath of the Bolshevik Revolution. I’m not sure that I’ve ever come across a piece of fiction with a similar subject matter.
What usually gives me pause when someone mentions Ayn Rand as a favorite author is that I immediately wonder, “Is this guy one of those psycho-cultist Libertarian freak-types?”
Rand has a devoted following that is a teensy bit strange to say the least.
Conversely, I’m leery of those who immediately bash Rand. Those individuals immediately stand out to me as non-independent followers. Just as there is a movement for Ayn Rand, there is also a movement against her. Once thought of as a more highbrow read, Rand has experienced a popularity among the non-intellectuals types as of late. Additionally, some college campuses have started using her books in philosophy classes. The result has been a backlash.
But even as one might judge your reading as shallow, you can also be perceived as too pretentious.
And the book that you loved in high school?
Perhaps we should all just stop reading? I ran over to my bookshelf, eager to inspect just what type of message I was broadcasting to all the world. My eyes immediately darted to the books that raise the most eyebrows. I have no less than fifteen books on Judaism. To the untrained eye, it looks like I am a religious freak.
My close friends know that I am as far away from religious freak as is humanly possible. Though it’s a long, complex and confounded story, I am an atheist who grew up Episcopalian and converted to Judaism. I wasn’t sure I believed in God, but I wanted a spiritual community. I thought I needed a moral yardstick outside of my personal one. I wanted a religion based on actions rather than belief. Besides being in line with much of my personal philosophy, there was something comforting to me about a religion that didn’t make huge attempts to proselytize, was accepting of other religions, didn’t subscribe to the concept of heaven and hell per se, and placed intellectual curiosity next to holiness.
I shrugged. Religion is personal. Moving on, I came across my Larry McMurtry books and my personal favorite, Moving On. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who liked this book. I love it. There were just too many characters I identified with, and I’m very familiar with one of the settings, not just the city, but the neighborhood the characters inhabit. I’ve walked the very same roads and goofed off at the same parks of Patsy and Emma. Plus, McMurtry understands Texas. No shame yet on the bookshelf.
Marjorie Morningstar.
*Cringe*
I found Marjorie Morningstar while I was pondering my conversion to Judaism. A five year process, there were days when I used to walk up and down the aisles of the public library looking for novels where the author’s last name sounded Jewish. Marjorie Morningstar is still one of my favorites, not because of the obvious message in the book. Rather, when I read a book, I’ve come to look for the story of the author in its pages. I’m convinced that during Wouk’s time at Columbia he was snubbed by some cute and pert little upstart from Hunter College. Years later, still offended, he wrote MM thinking it was his revenge, thinly disguising himself as a character named Wally Wronken.
But if you just see the title on the shelf, you’ll probably think I’m filled with self-hatred. Wouk’s books are laden with misogyny. The great noble hero, who cheats on his wife, then mentally berates the cheap, superficial, heathen with whom the affair was had, the protagonist, merely a flawed man who has come to see the light and return to goodness. Barf. Wouk is especially cruel to non-Jewish women in his works. (See Inside, Outside.) In fact, I think the only female Gentile character to which he has given a modicum of respect is the character of Queenie from The Hope and The Glory.
Speaking of misogyny, Humboldt’s Gift by Saul Bellow is also on my shelf. I randomly bought it one day in a bookstore. Though I might get points from the pseudo-intellectual for owning a Nobel prize winner, the book is a self-absorbed piece of trash. Bellow could seemingly only write two female characters: the Jewish woman who is intelligent, but a bitch, and the Gentile woman who is kind, but profoundly stupid. (Even more frightening are the number of men I've dated who seem to view women the same way. What do they think of me, the convert? I get the best of both worlds. I'm a dumb bitch.)
Roth is right next to Bellow. How did Roth get on my shelf? He’s an observer. He’s interesting because you can tell that he actually watches what’s going on around him and then ponders their behavior.
There is a blog on the NYT to accompany the article asking which books are deal-breakers. The responses are entertaining to say the least.
Several people mention anything chosen for Oprah’s book club. I guess that means they hate Tolstoy. Again, so dumb. Oprah may not be the poster child for deep thought, but she has given a voice to many who felt they were without value, the housewives, the uneducated. She encourages people to read for crying out loud. How can someone condemn that? I’ve never read a Franzen book, partly because of his response to being chosen for the book club (well that, and an essay he wrote on bird-watching for the New Yorker bored me to tears).
Also on the bash list is anything by Paulo Coehlo. Okay, Veronika Decides to Die was a little self-helpy, but it was still fun to read. Again, I think the problem is not that his books are bad so much as we are turned off by the people who consider him to be a literary genius. Incidentally, Veronika Decides to Die is also on my shelf.
I could go on and on, but I think I’ve made my point. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to sometimes looking down my nose when dates mention their favorite reads. Once a guy was on the fence, and in the end, I found justification for calling it off when he listed Koontz and Grisham on his MySpace page, but it wasn’t because he read bad books. He just obviously wasn’t as serious a reader as I was – AND I didn’t like him that much to begin with.
The same goes with people who spout off DaVinci Code or Tuesdays with Morrie as their favorite read. I just assume they don’t read that much and that’s what actually bothers me. Either that, or they’re just following the crowd. If you read enough, you should have a well-loved book that didn’t fly high on the bestseller list.
Next time you’re perusing a bookshelf looking to find out more about your date, what can I say except, don’t judge a book by its cover. Dating is hard enough as it is!
And many thanks to Weef for sending me the article. I loved it!
P.S. - So what am I currently reading? Well, since we're being all non-judgmental and stuff, my latest attempt is Phenomenology of Perception by Maurice Merleau-Ponty. I'm not a jerk, I promise. Intellectual curiosity, remember? And I write my blogs on a 4th-grade reading level. See, I can't be elitist! BUT, to all the boys who like Camus, please feel free to email me privately at the address listed on the left hand side of the screen...not that it's a requirement or anything....
Seriously.
“'I did have to break up with one guy because he was very keen on Ayn Rand,’ said Laura Miller, a book critic for Salon.”
Though I understand where Ms. Miller is coming from, I don’t think Rand's books are the problem in and of themselves. I am unashamed to admit that I have two of them on my shelf, and for the most part, I enjoyed reading them. For me, the discussion of selfish vs. selfless was a new perspective. Therefore, The Fountainhead falls into the category of a book that caused me to think. My other Rand novel is We the Living, a rather interesting piece of historical fiction about a formerly upper class family living in the aftermath of the Bolshevik Revolution. I’m not sure that I’ve ever come across a piece of fiction with a similar subject matter.
What usually gives me pause when someone mentions Ayn Rand as a favorite author is that I immediately wonder, “Is this guy one of those psycho-cultist Libertarian freak-types?”
Rand has a devoted following that is a teensy bit strange to say the least.
Conversely, I’m leery of those who immediately bash Rand. Those individuals immediately stand out to me as non-independent followers. Just as there is a movement for Ayn Rand, there is also a movement against her. Once thought of as a more highbrow read, Rand has experienced a popularity among the non-intellectuals types as of late. Additionally, some college campuses have started using her books in philosophy classes. The result has been a backlash.
But even as one might judge your reading as shallow, you can also be perceived as too pretentious.
“I saw, to my horror, an artfully worn, older-than-me copy of ‘Proust’ by Samuel Beckett.” That, Burroughs claims, was a deal breaker. “If there existed a more hackneyed, achingly obvious method of telegraphing one’s education, literary standards and general intelligence, I couldn’t imagine it.”
And the book that you loved in high school?
Judy Heiblum, a literary agent at Sterling Lord Literistic, shudders at the memory of some attempted date-talk about Robert Pirsig’s 1974 cult classic “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance,” beloved of searching young men. “When a guy tells me it changed his life, I wish he’d saved us both the embarrassment,” Heiblum said, adding that “life-changing experiences” are a “tedious conversational topic at best.”
Perhaps we should all just stop reading? I ran over to my bookshelf, eager to inspect just what type of message I was broadcasting to all the world. My eyes immediately darted to the books that raise the most eyebrows. I have no less than fifteen books on Judaism. To the untrained eye, it looks like I am a religious freak.
My close friends know that I am as far away from religious freak as is humanly possible. Though it’s a long, complex and confounded story, I am an atheist who grew up Episcopalian and converted to Judaism. I wasn’t sure I believed in God, but I wanted a spiritual community. I thought I needed a moral yardstick outside of my personal one. I wanted a religion based on actions rather than belief. Besides being in line with much of my personal philosophy, there was something comforting to me about a religion that didn’t make huge attempts to proselytize, was accepting of other religions, didn’t subscribe to the concept of heaven and hell per se, and placed intellectual curiosity next to holiness.
I shrugged. Religion is personal. Moving on, I came across my Larry McMurtry books and my personal favorite, Moving On. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who liked this book. I love it. There were just too many characters I identified with, and I’m very familiar with one of the settings, not just the city, but the neighborhood the characters inhabit. I’ve walked the very same roads and goofed off at the same parks of Patsy and Emma. Plus, McMurtry understands Texas. No shame yet on the bookshelf.
Marjorie Morningstar.
*Cringe*
I found Marjorie Morningstar while I was pondering my conversion to Judaism. A five year process, there were days when I used to walk up and down the aisles of the public library looking for novels where the author’s last name sounded Jewish. Marjorie Morningstar is still one of my favorites, not because of the obvious message in the book. Rather, when I read a book, I’ve come to look for the story of the author in its pages. I’m convinced that during Wouk’s time at Columbia he was snubbed by some cute and pert little upstart from Hunter College. Years later, still offended, he wrote MM thinking it was his revenge, thinly disguising himself as a character named Wally Wronken.
But if you just see the title on the shelf, you’ll probably think I’m filled with self-hatred. Wouk’s books are laden with misogyny. The great noble hero, who cheats on his wife, then mentally berates the cheap, superficial, heathen with whom the affair was had, the protagonist, merely a flawed man who has come to see the light and return to goodness. Barf. Wouk is especially cruel to non-Jewish women in his works. (See Inside, Outside.) In fact, I think the only female Gentile character to which he has given a modicum of respect is the character of Queenie from The Hope and The Glory.
Speaking of misogyny, Humboldt’s Gift by Saul Bellow is also on my shelf. I randomly bought it one day in a bookstore. Though I might get points from the pseudo-intellectual for owning a Nobel prize winner, the book is a self-absorbed piece of trash. Bellow could seemingly only write two female characters: the Jewish woman who is intelligent, but a bitch, and the Gentile woman who is kind, but profoundly stupid. (Even more frightening are the number of men I've dated who seem to view women the same way. What do they think of me, the convert? I get the best of both worlds. I'm a dumb bitch.)
Roth is right next to Bellow. How did Roth get on my shelf? He’s an observer. He’s interesting because you can tell that he actually watches what’s going on around him and then ponders their behavior.
There is a blog on the NYT to accompany the article asking which books are deal-breakers. The responses are entertaining to say the least.
Several people mention anything chosen for Oprah’s book club. I guess that means they hate Tolstoy. Again, so dumb. Oprah may not be the poster child for deep thought, but she has given a voice to many who felt they were without value, the housewives, the uneducated. She encourages people to read for crying out loud. How can someone condemn that? I’ve never read a Franzen book, partly because of his response to being chosen for the book club (well that, and an essay he wrote on bird-watching for the New Yorker bored me to tears).
Also on the bash list is anything by Paulo Coehlo. Okay, Veronika Decides to Die was a little self-helpy, but it was still fun to read. Again, I think the problem is not that his books are bad so much as we are turned off by the people who consider him to be a literary genius. Incidentally, Veronika Decides to Die is also on my shelf.
I could go on and on, but I think I’ve made my point. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to sometimes looking down my nose when dates mention their favorite reads. Once a guy was on the fence, and in the end, I found justification for calling it off when he listed Koontz and Grisham on his MySpace page, but it wasn’t because he read bad books. He just obviously wasn’t as serious a reader as I was – AND I didn’t like him that much to begin with.
The same goes with people who spout off DaVinci Code or Tuesdays with Morrie as their favorite read. I just assume they don’t read that much and that’s what actually bothers me. Either that, or they’re just following the crowd. If you read enough, you should have a well-loved book that didn’t fly high on the bestseller list.
Next time you’re perusing a bookshelf looking to find out more about your date, what can I say except, don’t judge a book by its cover. Dating is hard enough as it is!
And many thanks to Weef for sending me the article. I loved it!
P.S. - So what am I currently reading? Well, since we're being all non-judgmental and stuff, my latest attempt is Phenomenology of Perception by Maurice Merleau-Ponty. I'm not a jerk, I promise. Intellectual curiosity, remember? And I write my blogs on a 4th-grade reading level. See, I can't be elitist! BUT, to all the boys who like Camus, please feel free to email me privately at the address listed on the left hand side of the screen...not that it's a requirement or anything....
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Suddenly I feel extremely well-rounded...
Stolen from Mademoiselle
(x) smoked a cigarette (too many she thinks as she hacks.)
(x) crashed a car
(x) got drunk with a good friend
(x) stolen a car (actually, just broken into one. I didn't steal anything though. I left a note or something. I was in high school, and it was the guy I was "dating.")
(x) been in love (this one's more questionable)
(x) been dumped
(x) shoplifted (did everyone steal gum from the grocery store as a kid?)
( ) been fired
(x) been in a fist fight (although I think a guy restrained me before I could really hit the other girl)
(x) snuck out of my parent’s house
( ) been arrested
(x) gone on a blind date
(x) skipped school
(x) seen someone die
(x) been to Canada
( ) been to Mexico
(x) been on a plane
(x) purposely set a part of myself on fire (not sure if this one's true either, but as a smoker, I've singed my hair dozens of times)
(x) eaten Sushi
(x) been skiing
(x) been moshing at a concert
(x) taken painkillers
(x) love someone or miss someone right now (my family!)
(x) lay on my back and watched cloud shapes go by
(x) made a snow angel
(x) flown a kite
(x) built a sand castle
(x) gone puddle jumping
(x) played dress up
(x) jumped into a pile of leaves
(x) gone sledding
(x) cheated while playing a game
(x) been lonely
(x) fallen asleep at work/school
(x) used a fake id (a pretty pathetic attempt since at the age of thirty-something, I still look like I'm twelve)
(x) watched the sun set
(x) felt an earthquake
(x) touched a snake
(x) slept beneath the stars
(x) been tickled
(x) been robbed
(x) been misunderstood
(x) pet a goat
(x) won a contest
(x) run a red light
( ) been suspended from school
(x) been in a car crash
(x) had braces
(x) eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night
(x) had deja vu
(x) danced in the moonlight
(x) liked the way I look
(x) witnessed a crime
( ) questioned my heart
( ) been obsessed with post-it notes
(x) squished barefoot through the mud
(x) been lost
(x) been to the opposite side of the country
(x) swum in the ocean
(x) felt like dying
(x) cried myself to sleep
( ) played cops and robbers
(x) recently colored with crayons
(x) sung karaoke
(x) paid for a meal with only coins
(x) done something I told myself I wouldn’t
(x) made prank phone calls
(x) laughed until some kind of beverage came out of my nose
(x) caught a snowflake on my tongue
(x) danced in the rain
( ) written a letter to Santa Claus
(x) been kissed under a mistletoe
( ) watched the sun rise with someone I care about
(x) blown bubbles
(x) made a bonfire on the beach
(x) crashed a party
(x) gone roller-skating
(x) had a wish come true
(x) worn pearls
( ) jumped off a bridge
( ) ate dog/cat food
( ) told a complete stranger I loved them
(x) kissed a mirror
(x) sung in the shower
(x) had a dream that I married someone
(x) glued my hand to something
(x) got my tongue stuck to a flag pole
( ) kissed a fish
(x) sat on a roof top
(x) screamed at the top of my lungs
( ) done a one-handed cartwheel (insofar as I can't do a two-handed one?)
( ) talked on the phone for more than 6 hours
(x) stayed up all night
(x) didn’t take a shower for a week
(x) pick and ate an apple right off the tree
(x) climbed a tree
(x) had a tree house
(x) been scared to watch scary movies alone
(x) believe in ghosts
(x) have more then 30 pairs of shoes
( ) worn a really ugly outfit to school just to see what others say (though this often happened without any intention on my part; I was sixteen before I could shop somewhere other than the children's dept)
(x) gone streaking
( ) gone doorbell ditching
(x) played chicken
(x) jumped into a pool/hot tub/lake with all my clothes on
(x) been told I’m hot by a complete stranger
( ) broken a bone
(x) been easily amused
( ) caught a fish then ate it
(x) caught a butterfly
(x) laughed so hard I cried
(x) cried so hard I laughed
(x) cheated on a test (this is actually a great story)
( ) owned a Britney Spears CD
(xxx) forgotten someone’s name
(x) French-braided someone’s hair
(x) gone skinny dipping in a pool
(x) been threatened to be kicked out of my house
( ) been kicked out my house
(x) had a fantasy over someone I love as a good friend
( ) sun-tanned naked
( ) ran naked in the rain
(x) smoked a cigarette (too many she thinks as she hacks.)
(x) crashed a car
(x) got drunk with a good friend
(x) stolen a car (actually, just broken into one. I didn't steal anything though. I left a note or something. I was in high school, and it was the guy I was "dating.")
(x) been in love (this one's more questionable)
(x) been dumped
(x) shoplifted (did everyone steal gum from the grocery store as a kid?)
( ) been fired
(x) been in a fist fight (although I think a guy restrained me before I could really hit the other girl)
(x) snuck out of my parent’s house
( ) been arrested
(x) gone on a blind date
(x) skipped school
(x) seen someone die
(x) been to Canada
( ) been to Mexico
(x) been on a plane
(x) purposely set a part of myself on fire (not sure if this one's true either, but as a smoker, I've singed my hair dozens of times)
(x) eaten Sushi
(x) been skiing
(x) been moshing at a concert
(x) taken painkillers
(x) love someone or miss someone right now (my family!)
(x) lay on my back and watched cloud shapes go by
(x) made a snow angel
(x) flown a kite
(x) built a sand castle
(x) gone puddle jumping
(x) played dress up
(x) jumped into a pile of leaves
(x) gone sledding
(x) cheated while playing a game
(x) been lonely
(x) fallen asleep at work/school
(x) used a fake id (a pretty pathetic attempt since at the age of thirty-something, I still look like I'm twelve)
(x) watched the sun set
(x) felt an earthquake
(x) touched a snake
(x) slept beneath the stars
(x) been tickled
(x) been robbed
(x) been misunderstood
(x) pet a goat
(x) won a contest
(x) run a red light
( ) been suspended from school
(x) been in a car crash
(x) had braces
(x) eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night
(x) had deja vu
(x) danced in the moonlight
(x) liked the way I look
(x) witnessed a crime
( ) questioned my heart
( ) been obsessed with post-it notes
(x) squished barefoot through the mud
(x) been lost
(x) been to the opposite side of the country
(x) swum in the ocean
(x) felt like dying
(x) cried myself to sleep
( ) played cops and robbers
(x) recently colored with crayons
(x) sung karaoke
(x) paid for a meal with only coins
(x) done something I told myself I wouldn’t
(x) made prank phone calls
(x) laughed until some kind of beverage came out of my nose
(x) caught a snowflake on my tongue
(x) danced in the rain
( ) written a letter to Santa Claus
(x) been kissed under a mistletoe
( ) watched the sun rise with someone I care about
(x) blown bubbles
(x) made a bonfire on the beach
(x) crashed a party
(x) gone roller-skating
(x) had a wish come true
(x) worn pearls
( ) jumped off a bridge
( ) ate dog/cat food
( ) told a complete stranger I loved them
(x) kissed a mirror
(x) sung in the shower
(x) had a dream that I married someone
(x) glued my hand to something
(x) got my tongue stuck to a flag pole
( ) kissed a fish
(x) sat on a roof top
(x) screamed at the top of my lungs
( ) done a one-handed cartwheel (insofar as I can't do a two-handed one?)
( ) talked on the phone for more than 6 hours
(x) stayed up all night
(x) didn’t take a shower for a week
(x) pick and ate an apple right off the tree
(x) climbed a tree
(x) had a tree house
(x) been scared to watch scary movies alone
(x) believe in ghosts
(x) have more then 30 pairs of shoes
( ) worn a really ugly outfit to school just to see what others say (though this often happened without any intention on my part; I was sixteen before I could shop somewhere other than the children's dept)
(x) gone streaking
( ) gone doorbell ditching
(x) played chicken
(x) jumped into a pool/hot tub/lake with all my clothes on
(x) been told I’m hot by a complete stranger
( ) broken a bone
(x) been easily amused
( ) caught a fish then ate it
(x) caught a butterfly
(x) laughed so hard I cried
(x) cried so hard I laughed
(x) cheated on a test (this is actually a great story)
( ) owned a Britney Spears CD
(xxx) forgotten someone’s name
(x) French-braided someone’s hair
(x) gone skinny dipping in a pool
(x) been threatened to be kicked out of my house
( ) been kicked out my house
(x) had a fantasy over someone I love as a good friend
( ) sun-tanned naked
( ) ran naked in the rain
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Free Book? Yes, please!
People are always sending me strange unsolicited emails asking for promotion on this site.
Stuff like: Dear Ana, How would you like to write up a piece on our company? We create document review software, and we think your readers would be very interested to learn about it!
Delete.
Seriously. When you start getting emails like that, you realize that you’re not writing enough about boys, sex, and liquor. (Hey, I would write about my cute kid and adoring husband, but that’s a saturated area that others are pulling off much better than me.)
Where was I? Oh yes, uninvited emails. A few weeks ago I got an email from a gal named Anne offering to send me a free book. In exchange, I would write a review for it on the blog. I immediately agreed.
So there you have it. I’ve finally whored myself out to advertisers in exchange for literature. Kind of makes you wonder what I’d do for free tuition at an M.F.A. program, doesn’t it?
…
…
…
Sorry, my mind went into the gutter there for a second.
The book being sent my way was a British mystery called Prisoner of Birth by Jeffrey Archer. I was not familiar with this Archer chap, but hey, free book. My mother however, recognized the name. (Dear Anne wherever you are, thank you so much. My mom thinks I am so cool now, and despite my age, I am still desperate for parental approbation.)
As some of you may have deduced, I am a little snooty when it comes to books. I mean, I’m not truly pretentious per se. I just think good books should make you think. Good books should cause you to look at things differently. When you put down a good book, you’ve learned something. …or at the very least, felt entertained.
People always look at me like I’m an idiot when I say that I wasn’t the biggest fan of Middlesex by Eugenides. Don’t get me wrong. The writing is gorgeous. The plot, however, was weak and gimmicky. I felt the same way about Fortress of Solitude by Lethem. The reverse discrimination theme was beat over your head relentlessly. Your mom doesn't love you and black kids beat you up. We get it. Wouldn't it have been awesome though if the book ended with the white kid as the drug dealer? (The superheroes were extremely cool though.)
Michael Chabon is one of my favorite writers, but Kavalier and Clay is not my favorite book by him. (However, love the superheroes. And comics!) It is a beautiful book, cohesive, coherent, and again, very well-written. However, I prefer Mysteries of Pittsburgh despite its disjointedness and roughness. (If you ever get the opportunity to see Chabon at a book reading - go. He's amazing, and I've always loved the essays his wife Ayelet Waldman has written on Salon, NYT and NY Mag. He's the great writer, but she's slightly brilliant.)
As of late, I’ve not been too impressed with the books I’ve read. Since December I’ve completed:
Shadows on the Hudson by Isaac Singer (This book is good, but it was a re-read so it doesn’t count.)
American Pastoral by Phillip Roth (First hundred pages are great, next 150 are junk, last sixty pages are juicy, but this book didn’t make my top ten list.)
Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie (At first I was in love with all the symbolism. By about page 300, I felt like I was a patron at Benihana’s, forced to watch my beautiful steak cook into a lump of blackened coal.)
Three Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling (Placated my disappointment by reminding myself that they ARE meant to be children’s books)
The First Man by Camus (Haven’t finished it yet, but we all know how much I drool over Camus so it’s probably a winner.)
A thin copy of Borges is always in my back pocket – because he’s a God. I think Borges may be the only writer who can make my head hurt – in a good way as opposed to a similar feeling that sometimes comes with reading casebooks.
The problem with many of my recent reads is that they start off strong, but then never really seem to go anywhere. The author kicks ass for the first 100 pages, but seems more than a little lost by page 250. You get to a point where you just want the author to put the book out of its misery and end it already.
Prisoner of Birth is not that type of book. Rather, it starts iffy and then just gets stronger.
I daresay, I really liked it.
The biggest issue is getting past the premise. A young middle class man is out for drinks one night and a few months later finds himself being sentenced to twenty-two years in prison for the murder of his best friend. The witnesses who send him to jail are the very same men who committed the murder. The problem is, only one man engaged in the actual killing and you will have difficulty accepting the idea that three other men would commit perjury for a friend. Just roll with it. Trust me.
Loosely based on The Count of Monte Cristo (maybe?), the main character escapes from prison when he assumes the identity of his early-release cell mate, a nobleman. (Yep, just roll with that as well.) From there he moves forward with his revenge, but that’s not all. There are a few mysteries associated with his new identity that he must first solve.
This book is not a mind bender, but it is seriously fun to read. Reading time averages about a minute per page, and at moments, you feel more like you’re watching a movie than reading a book because it moves so quickly. While many mysteries are fairly predictable, this one has enough twists and turns to keep you guessing given its dual plot line. The good guys are good and the bad guys are BAD. There is no great moral dilemma to contend with during the reading. Just pop some popcorn and sit down to enjoy the ride, pausing occasionally to cheer and do the wave. Even the clichéd commentary on Classism is tolerable – and all too true. Along the way you’ll find some rather enjoyable characters and the exchange at the end between the young barrister and his “second chair” retired-judge father is priceless.
Mikey likes it, and you probably will too.
Thanks Anne for sending it my way AND feel free to send more!
Stuff like: Dear Ana, How would you like to write up a piece on our company? We create document review software, and we think your readers would be very interested to learn about it!
Delete.
Seriously. When you start getting emails like that, you realize that you’re not writing enough about boys, sex, and liquor. (Hey, I would write about my cute kid and adoring husband, but that’s a saturated area that others are pulling off much better than me.)
Where was I? Oh yes, uninvited emails. A few weeks ago I got an email from a gal named Anne offering to send me a free book. In exchange, I would write a review for it on the blog. I immediately agreed.
So there you have it. I’ve finally whored myself out to advertisers in exchange for literature. Kind of makes you wonder what I’d do for free tuition at an M.F.A. program, doesn’t it?
…
…
…
Sorry, my mind went into the gutter there for a second.
The book being sent my way was a British mystery called Prisoner of Birth by Jeffrey Archer. I was not familiar with this Archer chap, but hey, free book. My mother however, recognized the name. (Dear Anne wherever you are, thank you so much. My mom thinks I am so cool now, and despite my age, I am still desperate for parental approbation.)
As some of you may have deduced, I am a little snooty when it comes to books. I mean, I’m not truly pretentious per se. I just think good books should make you think. Good books should cause you to look at things differently. When you put down a good book, you’ve learned something. …or at the very least, felt entertained.
People always look at me like I’m an idiot when I say that I wasn’t the biggest fan of Middlesex by Eugenides. Don’t get me wrong. The writing is gorgeous. The plot, however, was weak and gimmicky. I felt the same way about Fortress of Solitude by Lethem. The reverse discrimination theme was beat over your head relentlessly. Your mom doesn't love you and black kids beat you up. We get it. Wouldn't it have been awesome though if the book ended with the white kid as the drug dealer? (The superheroes were extremely cool though.)
Michael Chabon is one of my favorite writers, but Kavalier and Clay is not my favorite book by him. (However, love the superheroes. And comics!) It is a beautiful book, cohesive, coherent, and again, very well-written. However, I prefer Mysteries of Pittsburgh despite its disjointedness and roughness. (If you ever get the opportunity to see Chabon at a book reading - go. He's amazing, and I've always loved the essays his wife Ayelet Waldman has written on Salon, NYT and NY Mag. He's the great writer, but she's slightly brilliant.)
As of late, I’ve not been too impressed with the books I’ve read. Since December I’ve completed:
Shadows on the Hudson by Isaac Singer (This book is good, but it was a re-read so it doesn’t count.)
American Pastoral by Phillip Roth (First hundred pages are great, next 150 are junk, last sixty pages are juicy, but this book didn’t make my top ten list.)
Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie (At first I was in love with all the symbolism. By about page 300, I felt like I was a patron at Benihana’s, forced to watch my beautiful steak cook into a lump of blackened coal.)
Three Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling (Placated my disappointment by reminding myself that they ARE meant to be children’s books)
The First Man by Camus (Haven’t finished it yet, but we all know how much I drool over Camus so it’s probably a winner.)
A thin copy of Borges is always in my back pocket – because he’s a God. I think Borges may be the only writer who can make my head hurt – in a good way as opposed to a similar feeling that sometimes comes with reading casebooks.
The problem with many of my recent reads is that they start off strong, but then never really seem to go anywhere. The author kicks ass for the first 100 pages, but seems more than a little lost by page 250. You get to a point where you just want the author to put the book out of its misery and end it already.
Prisoner of Birth is not that type of book. Rather, it starts iffy and then just gets stronger.
I daresay, I really liked it.
The biggest issue is getting past the premise. A young middle class man is out for drinks one night and a few months later finds himself being sentenced to twenty-two years in prison for the murder of his best friend. The witnesses who send him to jail are the very same men who committed the murder. The problem is, only one man engaged in the actual killing and you will have difficulty accepting the idea that three other men would commit perjury for a friend. Just roll with it. Trust me.
Loosely based on The Count of Monte Cristo (maybe?), the main character escapes from prison when he assumes the identity of his early-release cell mate, a nobleman. (Yep, just roll with that as well.) From there he moves forward with his revenge, but that’s not all. There are a few mysteries associated with his new identity that he must first solve.
This book is not a mind bender, but it is seriously fun to read. Reading time averages about a minute per page, and at moments, you feel more like you’re watching a movie than reading a book because it moves so quickly. While many mysteries are fairly predictable, this one has enough twists and turns to keep you guessing given its dual plot line. The good guys are good and the bad guys are BAD. There is no great moral dilemma to contend with during the reading. Just pop some popcorn and sit down to enjoy the ride, pausing occasionally to cheer and do the wave. Even the clichéd commentary on Classism is tolerable – and all too true. Along the way you’ll find some rather enjoyable characters and the exchange at the end between the young barrister and his “second chair” retired-judge father is priceless.
Mikey likes it, and you probably will too.
Thanks Anne for sending it my way AND feel free to send more!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
3L's don't forget...
...to take part in the glorious sucker-punch of paying the full balance on your BarBri bill. I got an email a few weeks ago telling me I'd be hit with a $75 late fee unless I paid a zillion dollars by April 1...you know like two whole months before the class starts. They should pay us interest for that. Let's hope that the bar prep course is better than this year's MPRE class. Otherwise I'm going to feel even more ripped off.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Whoo-hooo...
I wrote twelve pages of paper today (not including footnotes). Finally! The thing's a complete mess, but at least it's started. With another day, I might get most of the ideas on paper and then I'll just have to worry about structure and fine-tuning.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Stop. Breathe. Break...
This is an odd point in my life. School is ending. A new career is beginning. Things are uncertain. The economy’s in flux. I’ve been offered a great job that I don’t think is the right choice for this point in my life. Casting this opportunity off for the unknown is a frightening decision.
Waiting for Destiny
School is disturbing as well. I took a full course load despite needing just a few hours to graduate. I went outside my comfort zone for many of my classes and now I find myself dreading exam period.
Readers only, please.
For my favorite class, I have a paper due on a subject where my knowledge is extensive. The downside that I didn’t realize in the beginning is that the topic would be so difficult for me to write about. I’ve spent the last few days staring at my computer screen, reliving memories that are better left forgotten. I returned to Texas in 1993 in part to be nearer to my grandparents, and my grandfather’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s came less than a year later. His slow death that lasted twelve years profoundly altered my life, and this week I’ve come to understand that even though he is gone, his illness still haunts me.
I'm with the band.
So, I said forget all that and met a friend at the museum.
Growth, conflict, structure
And took a walk in the park.
Self Portrait
And ate a nice, slow lunch at a Belgian cafe' with a glass of beer.
Art
And thought about things.
Becoming one with Art.
And laughed a little.
And took a few pictures.
Spring Break 2008
And felt a lot better.
I was supposed to write today, but I’m so glad I didn’t. Though I feel guilty about my lack of work, I think there are times when you really just need to give yourself a break.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
I'm supposed to be writing a paper...
Actually, I'm supposed to be writing three papers...
And you know what I've done today?
Skimmed various journal articles and thought, "No, no, no. This is not what I'm looking for."
Tried to access medical studies online and obtained nothing more than abstracts.
Googled every single person I've ever dated and various members of their families out of boredom.
Jotted notes on a pad.
Tried to make an outline.
Prepared my academy award/Nobel Peace Prize/Pulitzer Prize/Grammy acceptance speech - just in case, you know?
Done a Westlaw search for just about every term I can think of.
Stared at the ceiling.
Drank about ten diet cokes.
Fallen asleep while reading statutes related to Medicare/Medicaid.
Yelled at the dog for interrupting my concentration.
Pondered consciousness.
Read online philosophy papers related to agency-theory for kicks.
Realized that my paper topic has little to do with law and is more about medicine and maybe bioethics.
Realized that the last topic I picked for a long paper in my Law & Religion class was also on bioethics.
Snickered at the term 'bioethics' because it's kind of an oxymoron.
Wondered why I have been obsessed with medicine since a young age, but never took a science-related class in undergrad or law school.
Wondered why everything involving short alleles always seems to indicate bad news.
Thought that my short midget legs might be genetic symbolism.
Debated whether I would ever have my DNA looked at if given the opportunity.
Day-drinking in hopes that it will grease the wheels of inspiration.
Looked at legal job postings to get an idea of the job climate.
Yep, not word one. I so want to scream.
And you know what I've done today?
Skimmed various journal articles and thought, "No, no, no. This is not what I'm looking for."
Tried to access medical studies online and obtained nothing more than abstracts.
Googled every single person I've ever dated and various members of their families out of boredom.
Jotted notes on a pad.
Tried to make an outline.
Prepared my academy award/Nobel Peace Prize/Pulitzer Prize/Grammy acceptance speech - just in case, you know?
Done a Westlaw search for just about every term I can think of.
Stared at the ceiling.
Drank about ten diet cokes.
Fallen asleep while reading statutes related to Medicare/Medicaid.
Yelled at the dog for interrupting my concentration.
Pondered consciousness.
Read online philosophy papers related to agency-theory for kicks.
Realized that my paper topic has little to do with law and is more about medicine and maybe bioethics.
Realized that the last topic I picked for a long paper in my Law & Religion class was also on bioethics.
Snickered at the term 'bioethics' because it's kind of an oxymoron.
Wondered why I have been obsessed with medicine since a young age, but never took a science-related class in undergrad or law school.
Wondered why everything involving short alleles always seems to indicate bad news.
Thought that my short midget legs might be genetic symbolism.
Debated whether I would ever have my DNA looked at if given the opportunity.
Day-drinking in hopes that it will grease the wheels of inspiration.
Looked at legal job postings to get an idea of the job climate.
Yep, not word one. I so want to scream.
They grow up so quickly...
When I first got Martha, she'd wake me up every morning at the crack of dawn by crying in her crate. These days were awful because not only was her alarm clock set earlier than mine, once the crying began, I had to lie in bed and ignore her until it was over.
The next step after the crying period was the underfoot era. I couldn't let Martha out of her crate before I was dressed in the morning because if I did, she'd be at my heels until I finally took her outside.
Then Martha started sleeping outside of the crate, and in the mornings I'd hear the little taps of her feet circling the bed as her periscope-shaped tail peered over the comforter.
This morning when I woke Martha was napping in her dog bed. She didn't even bother to look up, and I walked over to make sure she was still alive.
"HEY YOU! Rise and shine!"
Martha came to all fours and started to follow me to the bathroom, but then turned around and crawled back into bed as if to say, "Um yeah, just wake me when you're ready to go for a walk, okay?"
The next step after the crying period was the underfoot era. I couldn't let Martha out of her crate before I was dressed in the morning because if I did, she'd be at my heels until I finally took her outside.
Then Martha started sleeping outside of the crate, and in the mornings I'd hear the little taps of her feet circling the bed as her periscope-shaped tail peered over the comforter.
This morning when I woke Martha was napping in her dog bed. She didn't even bother to look up, and I walked over to make sure she was still alive.
"HEY YOU! Rise and shine!"
Martha came to all fours and started to follow me to the bathroom, but then turned around and crawled back into bed as if to say, "Um yeah, just wake me when you're ready to go for a walk, okay?"
Midnight's Children...
I've finished it (and now moved on to The First Man by Albert Camus). I'm just trying to find the time to write a post about it (as well as decide how I want to approach the review).
Question is, have you read it?
PS - A publisher recently sent me a book to review on the blog, so I've got that to do as well! Augh! This semester is turning out to be quite a doozy.
Question is, have you read it?
PS - A publisher recently sent me a book to review on the blog, so I've got that to do as well! Augh! This semester is turning out to be quite a doozy.
Girlfriends and Boyfriends...
THANK YOU Chicken Magazine for your latest post. You’ve touched on something that I wanted to write about, but as of yet was too fearful. Yes, you’ve given me courage.
A few weeks ago, I was out with a group of women from law school, and one of them asked, “Do you think the premise in ‘When Harry Met Sally’ is true? Do you think men and women can never be friends?”
“Of course they can!" I replied. "Take for instance, Wine-Time-Girl’s Boyfriend. He and I are great friends.”
My friendship with Wine-Time-Girl was instantaneous from the moment we met. Upon our first discussion I thought, “Where have you been all my life?” In our early meetings we divulged our souls to each other and every time we parted I worried I might never see her again, feeling the same way one often does when they first begin dating. But that never happened, and as months went by our friendship grew until one day she said, “BoyFriend got tickets to a concert. I was supposed to go with him, but now I’ll be out of town. Would you mind being my stand-in?”
I wanted to say no. Didn’t she see that this would be the downfall to our friendship? A lose-lose situation? If I accompanied WTGBF to the concert and we had a bad time, then WTG would hesitate in including me in later events. If WTGBF and I had a good time, then WTG would hesitate in including me in later events.
The concert was a blur, punctuated by me stating every ten minutes, “You should probably call WTG!”
At the same time, it was fun. I bonded with WTGBF. He provided a neurological explanation for my nicotine addiction. We danced to the music. We discussed my dorky science questions and interests. But that wasn’t why I had such a good time. Whenever WTG came up in conversation, he’d text-message her, but instead of placing his phone back in his pocket, he’d leave it out, waiting for her response, picking it up every so often to check and see if she’d replied.
That’s when I fell 'in love' with WTGBF. I realized that he was the type of guy that my best friend deserved, the type of guy that cared for her and respected her. That night as he dropped me off, I brimmed with happiness, but I was still worried about WTG’s response.
Sometimes, you just have to let go and know that there are reasons that your best friend is your best friend. WTG was fine with the entire evening. She trusted me. She trusted him. She was secure with the situation. I was amazed.
“So you’re in love with best friend’s boyfriend,” one of the girls responded upon hearing the story.
“HUH?!?!” I said. “No way. He’s like my brother-in-law. I mean, ewww. It’s more like WTG is a really healthy eater and WTGBF and I bond over our love of brownies.”
The girls at the table nodded with knowing glances and raised eyebrows.
“Seriously!” I said, “It’s not creepy at all. For example, the other night we were out and WTGBF and I were being completely obnoxious to the rest of the party. Then WTG came up to me to say, ‘Sorry if he’s being too much! It’s just sometimes I think he likes you more than he likes his own friends!’”
“Oh,” said the girls, “so he’s into you.”
“WHAT?!? NO!!” I continued. “We only bond on a mental level.”
“AH-HA!” added another girl. “You know you never can truly be attracted to someone unless you connect with them intellectually.”
I sat at the table feeling like Scarlett O’Hara in her red dress. Was it possible that I was attracted to WTG’s boyfriend? Had I flirted with him at moments? Surely, I had, but I flirted with everyone. Was that enough to cross the line? Did I view WTGBF as a romantic interest? I tried to imagine the thought, but gross, that would be like kissing your own brother. Still, should I feel bad? Another woman at the end of the table caught the tail-end of the conversation and came to my aid.
"My husband and my old roommate are friends," she said. "They watch TV shows together and have their own special connection. It makes sense that they'd get along. They're my two best friends!"
A few minutes later Wine-Time-Girl called.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Eh,” she said. “I'm hanging out with people across town. What are you up to?”
I paused because I was upset, yet I wasn’t sure I should tell Wine-Time-Girl the reason. I wanted to discuss the situation with my best friend but, was this the kind of thing I should tell her?
“I miss you so much,” I said and then proceeded to relay the entire story with tearful hesitation.
When I was done, I waited for the inevitable reply.
“Well, actually…”
“I was going to mention…"
Instead I just got, “Gah, women can be so catty sometimes. Can you imagine having such a limited perception of men? Or conversely, maybe they were just saying those things to upset you. What causes people to be that way? I wouldn't let them bother you.”
I love WTG.
No really, I love her.
A few weeks ago, I was out with a group of women from law school, and one of them asked, “Do you think the premise in ‘When Harry Met Sally’ is true? Do you think men and women can never be friends?”
“Of course they can!" I replied. "Take for instance, Wine-Time-Girl’s Boyfriend. He and I are great friends.”
My friendship with Wine-Time-Girl was instantaneous from the moment we met. Upon our first discussion I thought, “Where have you been all my life?” In our early meetings we divulged our souls to each other and every time we parted I worried I might never see her again, feeling the same way one often does when they first begin dating. But that never happened, and as months went by our friendship grew until one day she said, “BoyFriend got tickets to a concert. I was supposed to go with him, but now I’ll be out of town. Would you mind being my stand-in?”
I wanted to say no. Didn’t she see that this would be the downfall to our friendship? A lose-lose situation? If I accompanied WTGBF to the concert and we had a bad time, then WTG would hesitate in including me in later events. If WTGBF and I had a good time, then WTG would hesitate in including me in later events.
The concert was a blur, punctuated by me stating every ten minutes, “You should probably call WTG!”
At the same time, it was fun. I bonded with WTGBF. He provided a neurological explanation for my nicotine addiction. We danced to the music. We discussed my dorky science questions and interests. But that wasn’t why I had such a good time. Whenever WTG came up in conversation, he’d text-message her, but instead of placing his phone back in his pocket, he’d leave it out, waiting for her response, picking it up every so often to check and see if she’d replied.
That’s when I fell 'in love' with WTGBF. I realized that he was the type of guy that my best friend deserved, the type of guy that cared for her and respected her. That night as he dropped me off, I brimmed with happiness, but I was still worried about WTG’s response.
Sometimes, you just have to let go and know that there are reasons that your best friend is your best friend. WTG was fine with the entire evening. She trusted me. She trusted him. She was secure with the situation. I was amazed.
“So you’re in love with best friend’s boyfriend,” one of the girls responded upon hearing the story.
“HUH?!?!” I said. “No way. He’s like my brother-in-law. I mean, ewww. It’s more like WTG is a really healthy eater and WTGBF and I bond over our love of brownies.”
The girls at the table nodded with knowing glances and raised eyebrows.
“Seriously!” I said, “It’s not creepy at all. For example, the other night we were out and WTGBF and I were being completely obnoxious to the rest of the party. Then WTG came up to me to say, ‘Sorry if he’s being too much! It’s just sometimes I think he likes you more than he likes his own friends!’”
“Oh,” said the girls, “so he’s into you.”
“WHAT?!? NO!!” I continued. “We only bond on a mental level.”
“AH-HA!” added another girl. “You know you never can truly be attracted to someone unless you connect with them intellectually.”
I sat at the table feeling like Scarlett O’Hara in her red dress. Was it possible that I was attracted to WTG’s boyfriend? Had I flirted with him at moments? Surely, I had, but I flirted with everyone. Was that enough to cross the line? Did I view WTGBF as a romantic interest? I tried to imagine the thought, but gross, that would be like kissing your own brother. Still, should I feel bad? Another woman at the end of the table caught the tail-end of the conversation and came to my aid.
"My husband and my old roommate are friends," she said. "They watch TV shows together and have their own special connection. It makes sense that they'd get along. They're my two best friends!"
A few minutes later Wine-Time-Girl called.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Eh,” she said. “I'm hanging out with people across town. What are you up to?”
I paused because I was upset, yet I wasn’t sure I should tell Wine-Time-Girl the reason. I wanted to discuss the situation with my best friend but, was this the kind of thing I should tell her?
“I miss you so much,” I said and then proceeded to relay the entire story with tearful hesitation.
When I was done, I waited for the inevitable reply.
“Well, actually…”
“I was going to mention…"
Instead I just got, “Gah, women can be so catty sometimes. Can you imagine having such a limited perception of men? Or conversely, maybe they were just saying those things to upset you. What causes people to be that way? I wouldn't let them bother you.”
I love WTG.
No really, I love her.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Spare me the annoyance...
Does Camus have a middle name?
This has been driving me crazy for too long today. If you know the answer, please indulge.
Thanks,
Ana
This has been driving me crazy for too long today. If you know the answer, please indulge.
Thanks,
Ana
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Not for another twenty years...
I'm doing some research and the tv is on in the background. Oprah is doing some kind of clothes show or something and one of the fashion people just said, "Pencil skirts are really great for women in their fifties."
I'm wearing a pencil skirt today.
I am not close to fifty.
I cannot obsess over an accidentally overheard comment on Oprah.
I'm wearing a pencil skirt today.
I am not close to fifty.
I cannot obsess over an accidentally overheard comment on Oprah.
Monday, March 10, 2008
i need more exciting television...
You know what I hate?
TV shows that are two-parters like tonight's Medium. I never know if I'll be able to watch from week-to-week.
You know what's more annoying?
Watching the show tonight and thinking, "It's so obvious! The two dreams are related. The dentist modified the runaway's teeth to match the dental work of the wife. It's the runaway's burned body in the house. The dentist and the wife are involved and have flown the coop to another country!"
But did they figure it out tonight? No! They're stretching it out for another week! Great.
Damn those annoying PBS pledge drives.*
*PBS is currently having a pledge drive. During the pledge drives PBS departs from the regular (*good*) programming and shows some of the most god-awful crap known to man like Charlotte Church or Sarah Brightman or Jig-Dancing Irish Folksingers or Suze Orman or yougettheidea.
TV shows that are two-parters like tonight's Medium. I never know if I'll be able to watch from week-to-week.
You know what's more annoying?
Watching the show tonight and thinking, "It's so obvious! The two dreams are related. The dentist modified the runaway's teeth to match the dental work of the wife. It's the runaway's burned body in the house. The dentist and the wife are involved and have flown the coop to another country!"
But did they figure it out tonight? No! They're stretching it out for another week! Great.
Damn those annoying PBS pledge drives.*
*PBS is currently having a pledge drive. During the pledge drives PBS departs from the regular (*good*) programming and shows some of the most god-awful crap known to man like Charlotte Church or Sarah Brightman or Jig-Dancing Irish Folksingers or Suze Orman or yougettheidea.
Oh, the irony!
Eliot Spitzer. Busted in relation to a prostitution ring.
WTF was he thinking?
I bet Martha Stewart is laughing her ass off.
WTF was he thinking?
I bet Martha Stewart is laughing her ass off.
Missing the Point...
There’s an article today in the NYT discussing high school athletes and college athletic scholarships. After dumping thousands upon thousands of dollars (and hours and hours of time) into a child’s athletic career, many parents are shocked to discover that many athletic scholarships cover little of tuition cost. Actually, most scholarships don’t even come close to the amount of money the parent has spent on the sport.
Besides the obvious ‘duh’ and my amazement that people will throw tons of money at something without doing the actual research for return on investment (if that is in fact their main reason for getting their child involved in sports), I think both the parents and the focus of the article misses one of the major reasons a child with athletic potential should concentrate on a sport in hopes of one day playing for a college team.
Point 1: College athletes have lower admission standards.
Point 2: Many colleges with excellent academic reputations have crappy athletic teams.
Ergo: Above-average (but not amazing) student + Above-average (but not amazing) athlete = Serious leg-up in the admission process to a top academic school.
Think of it like affirmative action for athletes.
As example, a friend of mine in high school with comparable grades and SAT scores was also on the swim team. She did well, but she wasn’t a huge standout. During our senior year, she was ‘recruited’ by Duke and Rice. While I sweated the college application process and wondered which of my sixteen billion activities should be included on the five lines allowed, my friend was checking the box for yes (Does your SAT score exceed 800?) and no (Have you ever been convicted of a felony?).
Similarly, I have a friend who got rejected at UCLA, but was then accepted at Berkeley after meeting with the team coach. In college, he was on the team, but never actually competed. Other athletes came ahead of him in skill, but he had enough, the coached liked him, and voila. Having Berkeley on his resume really helped him in his graduate school admission process.
Neither of my friends had scholarships, but that wasn’t the point of using their athletic ability to their advantage. Both got admitted to schools that might not have otherwise considered them because of their participation in sports. (I will also note that legwork was involved. I believe in both cases my friends didn’t wait around for schools to call, but rather contacted the coaches at the schools they wanted to attend.)
There is still potential for athletes to obtain large scholarships, but parents should be realistic in realizing that such scholarships typically come from smaller, lesser-known schools. Perhaps over time the name of where you went to school will be less important for one’s future, but today it seems more important than grades, performance, or even actual ability. Parents are right to think that participation in athletics may one day monetarily pay off, but they’re looking at it the wrong way.
Besides the obvious ‘duh’ and my amazement that people will throw tons of money at something without doing the actual research for return on investment (if that is in fact their main reason for getting their child involved in sports), I think both the parents and the focus of the article misses one of the major reasons a child with athletic potential should concentrate on a sport in hopes of one day playing for a college team.
Point 1: College athletes have lower admission standards.
Point 2: Many colleges with excellent academic reputations have crappy athletic teams.
Ergo: Above-average (but not amazing) student + Above-average (but not amazing) athlete = Serious leg-up in the admission process to a top academic school.
Think of it like affirmative action for athletes.
As example, a friend of mine in high school with comparable grades and SAT scores was also on the swim team. She did well, but she wasn’t a huge standout. During our senior year, she was ‘recruited’ by Duke and Rice. While I sweated the college application process and wondered which of my sixteen billion activities should be included on the five lines allowed, my friend was checking the box for yes (Does your SAT score exceed 800?) and no (Have you ever been convicted of a felony?).
Similarly, I have a friend who got rejected at UCLA, but was then accepted at Berkeley after meeting with the team coach. In college, he was on the team, but never actually competed. Other athletes came ahead of him in skill, but he had enough, the coached liked him, and voila. Having Berkeley on his resume really helped him in his graduate school admission process.
Neither of my friends had scholarships, but that wasn’t the point of using their athletic ability to their advantage. Both got admitted to schools that might not have otherwise considered them because of their participation in sports. (I will also note that legwork was involved. I believe in both cases my friends didn’t wait around for schools to call, but rather contacted the coaches at the schools they wanted to attend.)
There is still potential for athletes to obtain large scholarships, but parents should be realistic in realizing that such scholarships typically come from smaller, lesser-known schools. Perhaps over time the name of where you went to school will be less important for one’s future, but today it seems more important than grades, performance, or even actual ability. Parents are right to think that participation in athletics may one day monetarily pay off, but they’re looking at it the wrong way.
Really?
My clocks say 11:22 pm. My computer say it's 12:22 am.
It would have been nice to know that it was jump forward weekend prior to midnight on a Sunday.
Then again, it's better than finding out when you walk into Monday morning class an hour late.
It would have been nice to know that it was jump forward weekend prior to midnight on a Sunday.
Then again, it's better than finding out when you walk into Monday morning class an hour late.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Awesome Article Title...
Men who do housework may get more sex.
Ooh, baby, I just love it when you vacuum the rug. Do it again!
Ooh, baby, I just love it when you vacuum the rug. Do it again!
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Martha!
Last night Martha was hanging out in her crate as I sat studying at my desk.
"You look a little peaked, kiddo," I said when I looked over at her.
A few minutes later I checked on her again and she'd barfed all over the crate.
"Oh poor baby, what did you eat?"
Martha wobbled over to me, but still looked like she might get sick at any moment, so I fenced her into the kitchen and monitored her throughout the evening. After an hour or so (and lots of water) she seemed fine.
This morning I went to let her out of her crate and was like, "OH GOD, MARTHA. WHAT DID YOU EAT!"
Martha's face was the size of a small beach ball. I thought about calling the vet, but M's behavior was perfectly normal, and in the end, I just decided to stay home from school and monitor her progress. The swelling has subsided a little bit, but not completely. I've done a few google searches and I think it's probably just an allergy. If for some reason she starts to have trouble breathing, I'll run her in.
I took a pic midday, and I'm not sure if you can tell the difference. It might just be the kind of thing an owner (aka mom) notices.
Normal v. Puffy-faced Martha
"You look a little peaked, kiddo," I said when I looked over at her.
A few minutes later I checked on her again and she'd barfed all over the crate.
"Oh poor baby, what did you eat?"
Martha wobbled over to me, but still looked like she might get sick at any moment, so I fenced her into the kitchen and monitored her throughout the evening. After an hour or so (and lots of water) she seemed fine.
This morning I went to let her out of her crate and was like, "OH GOD, MARTHA. WHAT DID YOU EAT!"
Martha's face was the size of a small beach ball. I thought about calling the vet, but M's behavior was perfectly normal, and in the end, I just decided to stay home from school and monitor her progress. The swelling has subsided a little bit, but not completely. I've done a few google searches and I think it's probably just an allergy. If for some reason she starts to have trouble breathing, I'll run her in.
I took a pic midday, and I'm not sure if you can tell the difference. It might just be the kind of thing an owner (aka mom) notices.
Normal v. Puffy-faced Martha
Monday, March 03, 2008
To all the non-lawyer people...
FYI, your friend the attorney/law student/judge/whatever has seen and received every lawyer joke known to man. You do not need to forward them to us. And no, for the record, we do not find them especially funny. End post.
Bacon!
'not martha' is so cool, but today her blog is exceptionally cool. Check out her foray into bacon. The possibilities abound - you could fill them with scrambled eggs, biscuit mix, cheese. OMG.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Small Joys...
Today I managed to complete everything I wanted to finish today.
Review journal member assignments? Check.
Begin research on a class project? Check.
Complete MPRE practice tests? Check.
Read boring upper-level tax law reading? Check.
Paid rent, turned in lease renewal, did laundry, paid credit card. Checkity-check.
I feel all accomplished and on top of stuff. This will be short-lived as tomorrow's list includes:
Class.
Send out new journal assignment.
Finish research for project.
Do another practice test.
Set up job-networking meeting.
More reading.
Just in case you were wondering, they do not, in fact, bore you to death your third year. And the only reason you look forward to the weekend is because you don't have class or job and can therefore do your studying, researching, and writing in your P.J.'s.
Review journal member assignments? Check.
Begin research on a class project? Check.
Complete MPRE practice tests? Check.
Read boring upper-level tax law reading? Check.
Paid rent, turned in lease renewal, did laundry, paid credit card. Checkity-check.
I feel all accomplished and on top of stuff. This will be short-lived as tomorrow's list includes:
Class.
Send out new journal assignment.
Finish research for project.
Do another practice test.
Set up job-networking meeting.
More reading.
Just in case you were wondering, they do not, in fact, bore you to death your third year. And the only reason you look forward to the weekend is because you don't have class or job and can therefore do your studying, researching, and writing in your P.J.'s.
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