The Pink Party
Theo and I are co-hosting a Pink Party along with Allison (who must be credited with the idea of having a party in the first place). To celebrate the illustrious Pride weekend, we insist that you wear some sort of pink, so that you can match the food and mood of the party. We'll be serving hors d'oeuvres and cocktails from 8:00 on, until you pass out or get bored. It'll be on Friday, June 25. Who's invited?
1. You, if I like you/know you.
2. Your friends, if you like/know them.
Call my cell phone or E-mail me (Boyinbrownshirt@aol.com) if you'd like to come and want directions.
A more thorough update will ensue once I don't have an obnoxious test to study for.
Friday, June 04, 2004
King David
Theo, Allison, and I saw David Sedaris read tonight at my favorite bookstore, Unabridged. Well...we didn't actually see him read. We got there too late due in large part to a fight Theo and I had this morning, but we heard him and it was mostly alright. He read one of my least favorite stories from his new collection, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, "Blood Work," and a few entries from his journal. Between two of his entires, he practically flipped out due to people taking his picture. It wasn't very pleasant. He later apologized, and I still was left with an unpleasant feeling in my stomach.
I then waited in line for two hours to have the Mr. Sedaris sign my copy of the aforementioned book. After spending the two long hours of waiting trying to figure out something interesting to say or an insightful question to ask him, I came up with a whole bunch of nothing. Finally, when it was my turn to address him, I asked, "So, is Hugh with you on this tour?" He lowered his voice, and sullenly said, "Um...Hugh and I broke up a few months ago...Yeah..."
Of course, I felt absolutely horrible. I didn't feel horrible about the fact that they broke up, like a NORMAL person would. Rather, I felt bad because I felt like I should have known that, like there was a story in his book that I skipped over or something. Instead of feeling like a bad human, I felt like a failed fanatic.
Then, he laughed, and said, "Oh, I'm just kidding. Hugh just doesn't like these book tours, because there's nothing for him to do. He'll be coming with me on a tour in Germany, though." Fooled by the great man himself. How perfect--and what a great payoff for waiting two hours to see him.
David Sedaris's book, however, is not so great. It's pretty much hit-and-miss. There are a few selections--"The Girl Next Door," "Nuit of the Living Dead," "Forgive Me," and the two stories about his brother--that I absolutely adore and am about to reread, but everything elase lacks direction and purpose. Sometimes, as Allison accurately pointed out, he tacks on these didactic, moralistic endings to otherwise alright stories that ruin the piece. I still think that Me Talk Pretty... is my favorite, but a few selections in his latest will remain in my mind for quite some time.
Theo, Allison, and I saw David Sedaris read tonight at my favorite bookstore, Unabridged. Well...we didn't actually see him read. We got there too late due in large part to a fight Theo and I had this morning, but we heard him and it was mostly alright. He read one of my least favorite stories from his new collection, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, "Blood Work," and a few entries from his journal. Between two of his entires, he practically flipped out due to people taking his picture. It wasn't very pleasant. He later apologized, and I still was left with an unpleasant feeling in my stomach.
I then waited in line for two hours to have the Mr. Sedaris sign my copy of the aforementioned book. After spending the two long hours of waiting trying to figure out something interesting to say or an insightful question to ask him, I came up with a whole bunch of nothing. Finally, when it was my turn to address him, I asked, "So, is Hugh with you on this tour?" He lowered his voice, and sullenly said, "Um...Hugh and I broke up a few months ago...Yeah..."
Of course, I felt absolutely horrible. I didn't feel horrible about the fact that they broke up, like a NORMAL person would. Rather, I felt bad because I felt like I should have known that, like there was a story in his book that I skipped over or something. Instead of feeling like a bad human, I felt like a failed fanatic.
Then, he laughed, and said, "Oh, I'm just kidding. Hugh just doesn't like these book tours, because there's nothing for him to do. He'll be coming with me on a tour in Germany, though." Fooled by the great man himself. How perfect--and what a great payoff for waiting two hours to see him.
David Sedaris's book, however, is not so great. It's pretty much hit-and-miss. There are a few selections--"The Girl Next Door," "Nuit of the Living Dead," "Forgive Me," and the two stories about his brother--that I absolutely adore and am about to reread, but everything elase lacks direction and purpose. Sometimes, as Allison accurately pointed out, he tacks on these didactic, moralistic endings to otherwise alright stories that ruin the piece. I still think that Me Talk Pretty... is my favorite, but a few selections in his latest will remain in my mind for quite some time.
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Movie of the Week
Saved! is just brilliant. Criticism of Christianity--especially in America--is commonly something that filmmakers (and large media corporations) shy away from, but this film accurately and successfully parodized both the Willow Creek-style belief-less attitude many churches have, and the inane right-wing fundamentalist virus that has crept into politics. And it was cuuuute too! I like Patrick Fugit. But I LOVE Jena Malone.
IKEA fieldtrip tomorrow!
Saved! is just brilliant. Criticism of Christianity--especially in America--is commonly something that filmmakers (and large media corporations) shy away from, but this film accurately and successfully parodized both the Willow Creek-style belief-less attitude many churches have, and the inane right-wing fundamentalist virus that has crept into politics. And it was cuuuute too! I like Patrick Fugit. But I LOVE Jena Malone.
IKEA fieldtrip tomorrow!
Saturday, May 22, 2004
Clueless
I just returned from a brief sojourn in suburbia to see my high school's production of "Clue." What's that, you say? There's a stage version of that film I fell in love with so long ago? Nay, nay. They simply ILLEGALLY printed the film script off some internet source and staged it. Hm.
Now, knowing full well that some Jacobs people read this, I'll be nice. And truly, the brunt of my issues with the show stem from the fact that I COULDN'T HEAR IT. I think (and had I been elected drama club pres. my senior year, this was my main goal...but, who wanted to elect a fag to be president of drama club? that's positively unheard of.) that some sort of parentally-run booster club MUST be erected, so that the theater program can succumb to a much-needed rehabilitation. If there were a booster club on the level of Vocal-Strings or whatnot, a new sound system (A MUST) could be purchased, more money could be spent on costuming, sets, PUBLICITY (I could have spat on the entire audience in one fell loogie, it was so minute) and lighting, and perhaps the school could put on a play that they'd BOUGHT THE RIGHTS TO. Otherwise, the show was alright. Just a poor show to pick, I think. But talent-wise, it was alright.
Another blah weekend. I work all day and all night tomorrow, and I have an 8AM meeting on Sunday. Rumor has it Zoe's in town, which is frustrating because I have no time to spend with her. Luckily, i have several events to look forward to in June: David Sedaris on the 4th, Rufus sometime in the middle of the month, and pride at the end. And my superexciting Af-Am history and politics class.
'Tis all.
I just returned from a brief sojourn in suburbia to see my high school's production of "Clue." What's that, you say? There's a stage version of that film I fell in love with so long ago? Nay, nay. They simply ILLEGALLY printed the film script off some internet source and staged it. Hm.
Now, knowing full well that some Jacobs people read this, I'll be nice. And truly, the brunt of my issues with the show stem from the fact that I COULDN'T HEAR IT. I think (and had I been elected drama club pres. my senior year, this was my main goal...but, who wanted to elect a fag to be president of drama club? that's positively unheard of.) that some sort of parentally-run booster club MUST be erected, so that the theater program can succumb to a much-needed rehabilitation. If there were a booster club on the level of Vocal-Strings or whatnot, a new sound system (A MUST) could be purchased, more money could be spent on costuming, sets, PUBLICITY (I could have spat on the entire audience in one fell loogie, it was so minute) and lighting, and perhaps the school could put on a play that they'd BOUGHT THE RIGHTS TO. Otherwise, the show was alright. Just a poor show to pick, I think. But talent-wise, it was alright.
Another blah weekend. I work all day and all night tomorrow, and I have an 8AM meeting on Sunday. Rumor has it Zoe's in town, which is frustrating because I have no time to spend with her. Luckily, i have several events to look forward to in June: David Sedaris on the 4th, Rufus sometime in the middle of the month, and pride at the end. And my superexciting Af-Am history and politics class.
'Tis all.
Friday, May 14, 2004
Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
So, I leave the Blogging world for one month, and the setup is completely different. Ah, life.
The fact that my computer decided to finally stop working altogether IN THE MIDDLE OF FINALS WEEK not only hindered me while writing my seminar papers, but prevented me from applying to, and eventually getting--I have connections--a meeting planning internship with the American Library Association. As it violently shuts down every time I try to reformat it, my computer has prevented me from a multitude of things that I would normally be able to access through Theo's computer...except that he's a computer Nazi.
I didn't do as well as I would have liked this semester. And that's all about that. Looking forward to summer/fall classes.
I painted my room a wretched color of lavenderpurple today. It's hideous and fit to be a tween girl's room.
I've already run out of negative adjectives, I think.
I've been reading a lot--catching up on books I wanted to read all semester but didn't have time to.
- Yann Martel's Life of Pi: Brilliant; fun theological things woven into a delightful "adventure" story.
- Augusten Burroughs's Running With Scissors and Dry: I don't think he should be an author. His latter title epitomizes his writing--dry like a week-old piece of bread.
- Lynne Truss's Eats, Shoots, and Leaves: Love the topic, hate her writing. I wanted to scratch my eyeballs out at times. British punctuation is sometimes queer.
Theo and I, after inevetable rollercoaster weeks, are fine as of all day after this morning. Mornings are not good for us--I like sleeping in, and he gets upset when I don't wake up. Then, I usually say something really insulting that I forget about when I fall back asleep five minutes later. Then, I officially wake up and he isn't speaking to me.
Yuki is wonderful; a bit hot, because I haven't had time to have her shorn, but otherwise great. A disgusting, soaking wet Bassett Hound tried mounting/humping her at the dog park on Monday. She would have none of it.
I chauffered my sister around for her pre-prom appointments a week or two ago. She looked lovely in a strapless mint green gown. I think she had a good time with her boyfriend, WHO IS GOING TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO IN THE FALL--ahhhhh. So jealous.
I think that is all. Oh! As usual, I have a laundry list of people to call, and I get to see Erin tomorrow. Hopefully.
So, I leave the Blogging world for one month, and the setup is completely different. Ah, life.
The fact that my computer decided to finally stop working altogether IN THE MIDDLE OF FINALS WEEK not only hindered me while writing my seminar papers, but prevented me from applying to, and eventually getting--I have connections--a meeting planning internship with the American Library Association. As it violently shuts down every time I try to reformat it, my computer has prevented me from a multitude of things that I would normally be able to access through Theo's computer...except that he's a computer Nazi.
I didn't do as well as I would have liked this semester. And that's all about that. Looking forward to summer/fall classes.
I painted my room a wretched color of lavenderpurple today. It's hideous and fit to be a tween girl's room.
I've already run out of negative adjectives, I think.
I've been reading a lot--catching up on books I wanted to read all semester but didn't have time to.
- Yann Martel's Life of Pi: Brilliant; fun theological things woven into a delightful "adventure" story.
- Augusten Burroughs's Running With Scissors and Dry: I don't think he should be an author. His latter title epitomizes his writing--dry like a week-old piece of bread.
- Lynne Truss's Eats, Shoots, and Leaves: Love the topic, hate her writing. I wanted to scratch my eyeballs out at times. British punctuation is sometimes queer.
Theo and I, after inevetable rollercoaster weeks, are fine as of all day after this morning. Mornings are not good for us--I like sleeping in, and he gets upset when I don't wake up. Then, I usually say something really insulting that I forget about when I fall back asleep five minutes later. Then, I officially wake up and he isn't speaking to me.
Yuki is wonderful; a bit hot, because I haven't had time to have her shorn, but otherwise great. A disgusting, soaking wet Bassett Hound tried mounting/humping her at the dog park on Monday. She would have none of it.
I chauffered my sister around for her pre-prom appointments a week or two ago. She looked lovely in a strapless mint green gown.
I think that is all. Oh! As usual, I have a laundry list of people to call, and I get to see Erin tomorrow. Hopefully.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
The Stupid One/Smart One Relationship
In all group/partner exercises, there's inevetably one or more people who act as "the smart ones": those who provide the interesting ideas and keep the group on-track. Consequently, there are also "the stupid ones": those who have nothing worthwhile to contribute, and end up completing all the banal things, like writing things "the smart ones" say and making posters and whatnot.
My whole life, I have been "the smart one"; I have always been frustrated with group activities because my ideas were generally better and more complete than those I worked with. I've always wanted to do everything my way, and ended up just doing the whole project by myself, voluntarily. But, now I know how it feels to be "the stupid one." I'm working on a presentation for my Feminist Theory and Gender Studies class with a brilliant girl I've befriended this semester, and invariably, if she's more brilliant than me, I must adopt the "stupid one" role. I know how it feels to be told, "oh, I can just write that," and have the entire project exist without hardly any of my input. And the thing that sucks about it, is that she's totally right in doing so, because I'm completely clueless about the article on which we're presenting. And, moreover, she isn't trying to be mean about it--the presentation will simply be better if she mans the "thought" part of it.
I can't stand not being the best--and even though I know that I'm not the best at everything (or anything, undoubtably), I hate that I now have to know it, and have proof of it. How did this happen?
On another note, this week, I'm going to put to an end the passive-agressive discourse I've had with a certain person. I'm just fed up.
In all group/partner exercises, there's inevetably one or more people who act as "the smart ones": those who provide the interesting ideas and keep the group on-track. Consequently, there are also "the stupid ones": those who have nothing worthwhile to contribute, and end up completing all the banal things, like writing things "the smart ones" say and making posters and whatnot.
My whole life, I have been "the smart one"; I have always been frustrated with group activities because my ideas were generally better and more complete than those I worked with. I've always wanted to do everything my way, and ended up just doing the whole project by myself, voluntarily. But, now I know how it feels to be "the stupid one." I'm working on a presentation for my Feminist Theory and Gender Studies class with a brilliant girl I've befriended this semester, and invariably, if she's more brilliant than me, I must adopt the "stupid one" role. I know how it feels to be told, "oh, I can just write that," and have the entire project exist without hardly any of my input. And the thing that sucks about it, is that she's totally right in doing so, because I'm completely clueless about the article on which we're presenting. And, moreover, she isn't trying to be mean about it--the presentation will simply be better if she mans the "thought" part of it.
I can't stand not being the best--and even though I know that I'm not the best at everything (or anything, undoubtably), I hate that I now have to know it, and have proof of it. How did this happen?
On another note, this week, I'm going to put to an end the passive-agressive discourse I've had with a certain person. I'm just fed up.
Monday, April 05, 2004
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Just Prattling on About God Stuff
Today was a bad "faith" day. IN that, I mean to say, the day has left me with an ill feeling in my stomach (or is that from the BBQ potato chips I just inhaled?) concerning my faith.
I talked with my Hinduism professor today (who I have grown to like greatly) about how, even though there's no idea of "conversion" in the Hindu faith, whether or not a non-South Asian person can freely enter a "congregation" of Hindus. She responded by saying that Hinduism is really more about blood than belief, and that mose South Asians wouldn't accept an Anglo as a spiritual peer simply because of their ethnicity. that really disturbs me, in part because it unfounded my own Christian belief system, which dictates that religion is based on beliefs, tenets, and most crucially, faith.
I don't have a yen to commit myself to Hinduism--while I find it fascinating, and see a great sense of universality in their teachings that would allow me to effortlessly "convert" to their faith, I'm still wrestling with my own heretically-received God (thank you Gerard Manley Hopkins for the analogy). While on the back porch this evening, I, for the first time, admitted to myself that my faith isn't as strong as I'd like to think. This is a very hard admission to myself, because faith has always been an integral factor in my life, and even though I'm sure I've said these words before to people, I don't think I ever really believed them.
Perhaps, then, no faith is really about beliefs. Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism--these are all human-constructed ideas of morality that civilizations were constructed upon, and are passed on from parent to child. (Christianity, of course, doesn't fit this description so perfectly, since the main goal of the Christian church has always been prosletyzing to "unbelievers.") Where does biology stop and faith begin?
Damn you, Tracy.
Today was a bad "faith" day. IN that, I mean to say, the day has left me with an ill feeling in my stomach (or is that from the BBQ potato chips I just inhaled?) concerning my faith.
I talked with my Hinduism professor today (who I have grown to like greatly) about how, even though there's no idea of "conversion" in the Hindu faith, whether or not a non-South Asian person can freely enter a "congregation" of Hindus. She responded by saying that Hinduism is really more about blood than belief, and that mose South Asians wouldn't accept an Anglo as a spiritual peer simply because of their ethnicity. that really disturbs me, in part because it unfounded my own Christian belief system, which dictates that religion is based on beliefs, tenets, and most crucially, faith.
I don't have a yen to commit myself to Hinduism--while I find it fascinating, and see a great sense of universality in their teachings that would allow me to effortlessly "convert" to their faith, I'm still wrestling with my own heretically-received God (thank you Gerard Manley Hopkins for the analogy). While on the back porch this evening, I, for the first time, admitted to myself that my faith isn't as strong as I'd like to think. This is a very hard admission to myself, because faith has always been an integral factor in my life, and even though I'm sure I've said these words before to people, I don't think I ever really believed them.
Perhaps, then, no faith is really about beliefs. Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism--these are all human-constructed ideas of morality that civilizations were constructed upon, and are passed on from parent to child. (Christianity, of course, doesn't fit this description so perfectly, since the main goal of the Christian church has always been prosletyzing to "unbelievers.") Where does biology stop and faith begin?
Damn you, Tracy.
Sunday, March 28, 2004
The Gods are Making Me Crazy
If the weather weren't so amazing, I might actually be doing something I NEED to do. But, instead of writing my two papers and reading the 1,000+ pages of material I need to have completed for Tuesday, I've been playing with the dog outdoors for the past hour.
My car was struck Friday night. MY ENTIRE FAMILY came down to celebrate my mother's birthday that night, and I was about to pull out of a parallel spot (WITH ALL OF THEM IN THE CAR) when I was struck by an SUV. Instead of hitting me and stopping, he decided to continue dragging his car through my car ("I thought it was a bump in the road," he later said) until the entire right side of his car had been horribly damaged. All while going less than four miles an hour, might I add. It's not as if he couldn't have stopped immediately upon ramming into my car. So, everything is fucked, and I owe even MORE money. Cars and me were not meant to be. Esp. in Chicago.
I went on a "field trip" to the Hindu Temple of Greater Chicago this morning, for my Hindu class. It was so incredibly beautiful, and everything--from the offerings to the icons to the millions of flower arrangements everywhere to the icons' outfits to the buildings themselves--seemed so much more expensive than in Christian churches. For an incredibly impovershed country (it's like this in all temples, in India and abroad--the level of ornateness), India sure does love its religion. I took some pictures of the exterior of the building (I don't think I was supposed to, but...oh well) and will TRY to post them sometime this week.
In addition to the thousands of dollars I owe on my car (I got booted a few weeks ago; I don't think that was mentioned here) and the horrible stress school is giving me, my very best friend is angry with me. How does this happen?
I'm going to go wash off the yellow stuff on my forehead, and...yeah, probably play with the dog some more. Dammit.
If the weather weren't so amazing, I might actually be doing something I NEED to do. But, instead of writing my two papers and reading the 1,000+ pages of material I need to have completed for Tuesday, I've been playing with the dog outdoors for the past hour.
My car was struck Friday night. MY ENTIRE FAMILY came down to celebrate my mother's birthday that night, and I was about to pull out of a parallel spot (WITH ALL OF THEM IN THE CAR) when I was struck by an SUV. Instead of hitting me and stopping, he decided to continue dragging his car through my car ("I thought it was a bump in the road," he later said) until the entire right side of his car had been horribly damaged. All while going less than four miles an hour, might I add. It's not as if he couldn't have stopped immediately upon ramming into my car. So, everything is fucked, and I owe even MORE money. Cars and me were not meant to be. Esp. in Chicago.
I went on a "field trip" to the Hindu Temple of Greater Chicago this morning, for my Hindu class. It was so incredibly beautiful, and everything--from the offerings to the icons to the millions of flower arrangements everywhere to the icons' outfits to the buildings themselves--seemed so much more expensive than in Christian churches. For an incredibly impovershed country (it's like this in all temples, in India and abroad--the level of ornateness), India sure does love its religion. I took some pictures of the exterior of the building (I don't think I was supposed to, but...oh well) and will TRY to post them sometime this week.
In addition to the thousands of dollars I owe on my car (I got booted a few weeks ago; I don't think that was mentioned here) and the horrible stress school is giving me, my very best friend is angry with me. How does this happen?
I'm going to go wash off the yellow stuff on my forehead, and...yeah, probably play with the dog some more. Dammit.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Cooking With Chestnuts
The beginning of finals season has taken its toll on me, sendingme into a period of passivity, frustration, lethargy, and the like. I've fallen behind on the readings in almost all of my classes--and I've been so good about that this semester!--and this weekend will not allow me the time needed to catch up. Not only has the temptress of spring weather made designs on my weekend, but I'm traveling to Lemont on Sunday to visit the Hindu Temple of Greater Chicago for my Hinduism class. I have papers, at least 1,000 words to write, and a teensy shift at Gap.
I'm shopping for a new job right now (aren't I always?). I'm thinking about Borders--while I'd rather not support their monopoly on the bookselling business, all the "ma-and-pa" bookstores in the area are run by one or two people, or are highly coveted positions that are full-time (a la Unabridged). Oh, or "bookstore" means "porn shop," in which case, I morally object to it.
Good things, good things...I saw the first movie in the theaters since December this week--Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I'm really not a fan of Kaufman's previous two films, but I fell in love with the concept of this film even before I screened it. Now, after seeing this beautiful, smart film, I no longer HATE Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet. I just have no feeling for them whatsoever. Which is an improvement. (Improvment?) (Why can't I spell.)
Oh, and I finally had a chance to listen to "David Sedaris Live at Carnegie Hall" this week--a gift from Tim for my birthday--and have re-fallen in love with the man. When I first bulleted through his three books a few years ago, I set my heart on one day becoming a prose essayist like him. (I've since abandoned the aspiration, chalking it up to another literary trend that will surely fade in time. Have you seen all of the bourgeois collections of women shopping-and-men stories out there?) Strangely enough, one of his pieces from his upcoming collection discusses the morality of writing about personal experiences, and how his family and friends react to him writing about their intimate anecdotes. I'd just like to add that, from now on, if anyone's going to add my personal experiences into a Souffle of Trite Tripe, asking permission or something would be greatly appreciated. I thought there was an understanding within the writing community that a level of professionalism and courtesy was to be upheld at all times. If you don't know what I'm taking about...don't ask, because I'm still stewing about it.
Otherwise, I've got nothing.
The beginning of finals season has taken its toll on me, sendingme into a period of passivity, frustration, lethargy, and the like. I've fallen behind on the readings in almost all of my classes--and I've been so good about that this semester!--and this weekend will not allow me the time needed to catch up. Not only has the temptress of spring weather made designs on my weekend, but I'm traveling to Lemont on Sunday to visit the Hindu Temple of Greater Chicago for my Hinduism class. I have papers, at least 1,000 words to write, and a teensy shift at Gap.
I'm shopping for a new job right now (aren't I always?). I'm thinking about Borders--while I'd rather not support their monopoly on the bookselling business, all the "ma-and-pa" bookstores in the area are run by one or two people, or are highly coveted positions that are full-time (a la Unabridged). Oh, or "bookstore" means "porn shop," in which case, I morally object to it.
Good things, good things...I saw the first movie in the theaters since December this week--Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I'm really not a fan of Kaufman's previous two films, but I fell in love with the concept of this film even before I screened it. Now, after seeing this beautiful, smart film, I no longer HATE Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet. I just have no feeling for them whatsoever. Which is an improvement. (Improvment?) (Why can't I spell.)
Oh, and I finally had a chance to listen to "David Sedaris Live at Carnegie Hall" this week--a gift from Tim for my birthday--and have re-fallen in love with the man. When I first bulleted through his three books a few years ago, I set my heart on one day becoming a prose essayist like him. (I've since abandoned the aspiration, chalking it up to another literary trend that will surely fade in time. Have you seen all of the bourgeois collections of women shopping-and-men stories out there?) Strangely enough, one of his pieces from his upcoming collection discusses the morality of writing about personal experiences, and how his family and friends react to him writing about their intimate anecdotes. I'd just like to add that, from now on, if anyone's going to add my personal experiences into a Souffle of Trite Tripe, asking permission or something would be greatly appreciated. I thought there was an understanding within the writing community that a level of professionalism and courtesy was to be upheld at all times. If you don't know what I'm taking about...don't ask, because I'm still stewing about it.
Otherwise, I've got nothing.
Thursday, March 11, 2004
I just want to make sure everyone understands that my away messages are generally not autobiographical. Theo and I have not broken up; Ani is not singing about the "bubble" that is Theo and I. Ok?
I am just in a shit shit shitty mood. My father is so angry with me right now, and I have to go take care of some expensive fucking things.
I am just in a shit shit shitty mood. My father is so angry with me right now, and I have to go take care of some expensive fucking things.
Sunday, February 22, 2004
Gestures
Over dinner at the ever-annoying Clarke's, Theo and I were discussing how sincerely and wonderfully grateful Allison is. And, it just made us think about how some people he and I know are not as grateful, and how simple an earnest "thank you" is to deliver. It's an effortless action that really makes a difference for a friendship.
And of course, as I type this, I realize how overdue a thank you is to Tim, who gave me--without a doubt--the best birthday present ever. Its perfection stemmed from how simple it was, and yet how meaningful and unforgettable it is. It really serves as a testament to how well he knows me, and I hope that it's proof that our frienship is not as doomed as he once thought.
Over dinner at the ever-annoying Clarke's, Theo and I were discussing how sincerely and wonderfully grateful Allison is. And, it just made us think about how some people he and I know are not as grateful, and how simple an earnest "thank you" is to deliver. It's an effortless action that really makes a difference for a friendship.
And of course, as I type this, I realize how overdue a thank you is to Tim, who gave me--without a doubt--the best birthday present ever. Its perfection stemmed from how simple it was, and yet how meaningful and unforgettable it is. It really serves as a testament to how well he knows me, and I hope that it's proof that our frienship is not as doomed as he once thought.
Saturday, February 21, 2004
Cigarettes and Deep-Fried Chocolate
Life is nothing but circuitous patterns, in which the same situations arise again and again. Why, while some people recognize these patterns and make efforts to transcend them, do others listlessly subject themselves to the same misery over and over again? Perhaps there is no end to our patterns, and like some M.C. Escher portrait, while we think there's a source and an end to everything, there really isn't. Yeah, reading other people's journals, even when you KNOW they'll upset you (I have a list of several), sucks.
Allison came in from Iowa yesterday, and as always, I enjoyed her presence. We saw Rufus' show last night, which was excellent--a few new songs that I had't heard, including one about a 14-year old girl (him) falling in love with her art teacher. I wish we were able to SEE him, but just being there was good enough.
After searching for non-permit parking for the better part of an hour (Theo, much to my dismay, used all the permits without telling me), we parked in a garage. Then we did something I have been DYING to do for years--we deep fried things! We started off with some mini candy bars, moved on to Cadbury's Eggs (kind of a mistake), and had a grand greasy finale with the immolation of a CAR-O-MEL HO HO (Which are the best things ever)! Between that, the smoke alarm screaming, and many glasses of wine, I had one of the better weekends of the year.
I hear chewing. must investigate.
Life is nothing but circuitous patterns, in which the same situations arise again and again. Why, while some people recognize these patterns and make efforts to transcend them, do others listlessly subject themselves to the same misery over and over again? Perhaps there is no end to our patterns, and like some M.C. Escher portrait, while we think there's a source and an end to everything, there really isn't. Yeah, reading other people's journals, even when you KNOW they'll upset you (I have a list of several), sucks.
Allison came in from Iowa yesterday, and as always, I enjoyed her presence. We saw Rufus' show last night, which was excellent--a few new songs that I had't heard, including one about a 14-year old girl (him) falling in love with her art teacher. I wish we were able to SEE him, but just being there was good enough.
After searching for non-permit parking for the better part of an hour (Theo, much to my dismay, used all the permits without telling me), we parked in a garage. Then we did something I have been DYING to do for years--we deep fried things! We started off with some mini candy bars, moved on to Cadbury's Eggs (kind of a mistake), and had a grand greasy finale with the immolation of a CAR-O-MEL HO HO (Which are the best things ever)! Between that, the smoke alarm screaming, and many glasses of wine, I had one of the better weekends of the year.
I hear chewing. must investigate.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
End of a Short-Lived Era
As unceremoniously as I placed my Howard Dean sticker on my bag--after attending his prophetic Navy Pier speech on a hot, rainy summer day--I removed it today, while traveling to class on the El. As he rightfully claims, Dean introduced a new generation to the political game of baseball, and while he may not have scored any much-needed bases in the latter few innings, it is the home runs he sent soaring out of the park at the game's beginning I will remember most. I'll still vote for him in the upcoming primary, since I'm not ready to take a seat on the John Kerry bandwagon, but with less of that giddy glee that once filled me up when thinking about my first voting experience.
Now, I'm just worried about my future--not as a political yuppie, but as a gay man hoping to one day marry. After Bush stumbled over his words yesterday about how angry he is at the judical processes in Massachusetts and San Fransisco, I'm feeling lost. Very lost.
As unceremoniously as I placed my Howard Dean sticker on my bag--after attending his prophetic Navy Pier speech on a hot, rainy summer day--I removed it today, while traveling to class on the El. As he rightfully claims, Dean introduced a new generation to the political game of baseball, and while he may not have scored any much-needed bases in the latter few innings, it is the home runs he sent soaring out of the park at the game's beginning I will remember most. I'll still vote for him in the upcoming primary, since I'm not ready to take a seat on the John Kerry bandwagon, but with less of that giddy glee that once filled me up when thinking about my first voting experience.
Now, I'm just worried about my future--not as a political yuppie, but as a gay man hoping to one day marry. After Bush stumbled over his words yesterday about how angry he is at the judical processes in Massachusetts and San Fransisco, I'm feeling lost. Very lost.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Oh, the Minnesotans...
No offense, Zoe, but..."grey duck?" Give me a break.
The dog has officially caught on to my biggest insecurity. We were playing (well, I was trying to pet her and she was pouncy and riled up), and she bit my nose. Doesn't that only happen in cartoons, and the person whose nose is bitten/honked/squashed/pulled has a really really huge nose? Anyone want to donate $4000 to me for the Save Brian's Dignity Fund?
No offense, Zoe, but..."grey duck?" Give me a break.
The dog has officially caught on to my biggest insecurity. We were playing (well, I was trying to pet her and she was pouncy and riled up), and she bit my nose. Doesn't that only happen in cartoons, and the person whose nose is bitten/honked/squashed/pulled has a really really huge nose? Anyone want to donate $4000 to me for the Save Brian's Dignity Fund?
Another Letter.
Dear friend,
During this year's Super Bowl, you'll see ads sponsored by beer companies, tobacco companies, and the Bush White House. But you won't see the winning ad in MoveOn.org Voter Fund's Bush in 30 Seconds ad contest. CBS refuses to air it.
Meanwhile, the White House and Congressional Republicans are on the verge of signing into law a deal which Senator John McCain (R-AZ) says is custom-tailored for CBS and Fox, allowing the two networks to grow much bigger. CBS lobbied hard for this rule change; MoveOn.org members across the country lobbied against it; and now the MoveOn.org ad has been rejected while the White House ad will be played. It looks an awful lot like CBS is playing politics with the right to free speech.
Of course, this is bigger than just the MoveOn.org Voter Fund. People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) submitted an ad that was also rejected. We need to let CBS know that this practice of arbitrarily turning down ads that may be "controversial" – especially if they're controversial simply because they take on the President – just isn't right.
To watch the ad that CBS won't air and sign the petition to CBS to run these ads, go to:
http://www.moveon.org/cbs/ad/
MoveOn.org will deliver the petition by email directly to CBS headquarters.
Thanks.
Dear friend,
During this year's Super Bowl, you'll see ads sponsored by beer companies, tobacco companies, and the Bush White House. But you won't see the winning ad in MoveOn.org Voter Fund's Bush in 30 Seconds ad contest. CBS refuses to air it.
Meanwhile, the White House and Congressional Republicans are on the verge of signing into law a deal which Senator John McCain (R-AZ) says is custom-tailored for CBS and Fox, allowing the two networks to grow much bigger. CBS lobbied hard for this rule change; MoveOn.org members across the country lobbied against it; and now the MoveOn.org ad has been rejected while the White House ad will be played. It looks an awful lot like CBS is playing politics with the right to free speech.
Of course, this is bigger than just the MoveOn.org Voter Fund. People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) submitted an ad that was also rejected. We need to let CBS know that this practice of arbitrarily turning down ads that may be "controversial" – especially if they're controversial simply because they take on the President – just isn't right.
To watch the ad that CBS won't air and sign the petition to CBS to run these ads, go to:
http://www.moveon.org/cbs/ad/
MoveOn.org will deliver the petition by email directly to CBS headquarters.
Thanks.
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
Overload
I've officially begin my semester sliding ritual. In said ritual, I find myself sliding behind in one or more classes--in this case, four of the total five. For Thursday, I have 1.5 novels to read, as well as thirty pages of St. Agustine's dry Confessions, a book meriting no correlation to my history class. Somewhere between these three texts, I must study for my massive Hinduism midterm, slated for Thursday afternoon. Why do I do this to myself? Or, better yet, how do I do this to myself?
The answer to this latter question seems rooted in my inbalance of work and play. While at the time, my "play" (including reading Newsweek cover to cover, watching The Simpsons, scouring the Internet for religious-based groups, such as the Alliance Defense Fund, who hate homosexuals, exercising my dog, eating, and sleeping, among other things) seems justified and minute, in retrospect, I realize that those precious hours could have been spent prewriting papers, reading assigned texts, and preparing intelligent things to say in class (an activity I generally shy away from). Work, therefore, occupies my hours of 8:00PM-1:00AM, Monday and Wednesday (IF I have a paper to write or an entire novel due the following day), and 7:00AM-9:00AM Tuesday and Thursday (to read as much as I can before class). This is radically unhelathy, and while my grades thus far have been nothing short of stellar, it opens up the possibility of future failure. I'm just not sure how I can escape my lethargy.
I've officially begin my semester sliding ritual. In said ritual, I find myself sliding behind in one or more classes--in this case, four of the total five. For Thursday, I have 1.5 novels to read, as well as thirty pages of St. Agustine's dry Confessions, a book meriting no correlation to my history class. Somewhere between these three texts, I must study for my massive Hinduism midterm, slated for Thursday afternoon. Why do I do this to myself? Or, better yet, how do I do this to myself?
The answer to this latter question seems rooted in my inbalance of work and play. While at the time, my "play" (including reading Newsweek cover to cover, watching The Simpsons, scouring the Internet for religious-based groups, such as the Alliance Defense Fund, who hate homosexuals, exercising my dog, eating, and sleeping, among other things) seems justified and minute, in retrospect, I realize that those precious hours could have been spent prewriting papers, reading assigned texts, and preparing intelligent things to say in class (an activity I generally shy away from). Work, therefore, occupies my hours of 8:00PM-1:00AM, Monday and Wednesday (IF I have a paper to write or an entire novel due the following day), and 7:00AM-9:00AM Tuesday and Thursday (to read as much as I can before class). This is radically unhelathy, and while my grades thus far have been nothing short of stellar, it opens up the possibility of future failure. I'm just not sure how I can escape my lethargy.
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Fantasies and Realities
Thank you, San Francisco. Although this will probably not become a trend among metropolitan cities--especially not Chicago--it still tickles me.
I had a relatively good day, that was mired by one bothersome trend. I got an A on my first Border Literatures essay (Thank you, Cyndi!), but my prof. suggested I not be so wordy. Later, in a "response essay" (waste of time essay with no grade) for my Feminist Theory course, my prof. write something along the lines of, "Great ideas--if you'd like, come see me so we can talk about some of your choices of words." WHAT? This is quite frustrating. Not since junior year of high school, when my AP Lit. teacher called my writing "circumbendibus" has my actual style been criticized (content notwithstanding). I happen to enjoy reading my own prose. I suppose I'll have to conform to the wishes of these two word-conservationalists for the semester.
My weekend was good--Theo and I went out to dinner on Friday, and Saturday my parents and sister came down to visit. Theo bought me a new wallet, with sort of a linen-y pattern in the leather. For the big day, my parents bought me a fun camera cell phone, a new rug, some wine (that I distinctly recall seeing in their fridge, unopened, at Christmas), and dog things. We ate at Erwin, my favorite Lakeview restuarant, and came back to our apartment to open some gifts and eat cake. Yuki, in the midst of all this, decided to urinate on the new rug that my parents JUST gave me. Of course, my parents were horrified, and did not touch her for the rest of the evening. I was much more angry at them than the dog--she was just a bit overwhelmed by all of the people. My parents, on the other hand, probably assume this is a regular thing (it's not) and think that this "dog thing" was a terrible idea. Otherwise, 'twas a good weekend.
I bought some fun new spring clothes today at H&M. Before this season, I'd never really distinguished spring clothes from the rest of my seasonal wardrobe. For whatever reason, this year I've had a fashion epiphany and decided to adorn myself in a very Gatsby-esque palate of white and pastels. (This will only last for about a week, since I now own...five "spring"-ish tops, but it's fun to pretend.) (I pulled off a snazzy ensemble last week, with slim-fitting khakis, a white Oxford, and a black-and-pink-striped tie coyly tucked between the buttonfolds of my shirt.) (Buttonfolds? You know what I mean.)
I've also considered undertaking yet another field of study--the Asian Studies minor. My Hinduism professor happens to be the chairperson of the organization, and she passed the propaganda-esque brochures out today, outlining the requirements. I'd like to extensively study South Asian literature--that of the diasporic cultures established in "Western" countries, and of the region itself. Wouldn't that rock?
Thank you, San Francisco. Although this will probably not become a trend among metropolitan cities--especially not Chicago--it still tickles me.
I had a relatively good day, that was mired by one bothersome trend. I got an A on my first Border Literatures essay (Thank you, Cyndi!), but my prof. suggested I not be so wordy. Later, in a "response essay" (waste of time essay with no grade) for my Feminist Theory course, my prof. write something along the lines of, "Great ideas--if you'd like, come see me so we can talk about some of your choices of words." WHAT? This is quite frustrating. Not since junior year of high school, when my AP Lit. teacher called my writing "circumbendibus" has my actual style been criticized (content notwithstanding). I happen to enjoy reading my own prose. I suppose I'll have to conform to the wishes of these two word-conservationalists for the semester.
My weekend was good--Theo and I went out to dinner on Friday, and Saturday my parents and sister came down to visit. Theo bought me a new wallet, with sort of a linen-y pattern in the leather. For the big day, my parents bought me a fun camera cell phone, a new rug, some wine (that I distinctly recall seeing in their fridge, unopened, at Christmas), and dog things. We ate at Erwin, my favorite Lakeview restuarant, and came back to our apartment to open some gifts and eat cake. Yuki, in the midst of all this, decided to urinate on the new rug that my parents JUST gave me. Of course, my parents were horrified, and did not touch her for the rest of the evening. I was much more angry at them than the dog--she was just a bit overwhelmed by all of the people. My parents, on the other hand, probably assume this is a regular thing (it's not) and think that this "dog thing" was a terrible idea. Otherwise, 'twas a good weekend.
I bought some fun new spring clothes today at H&M. Before this season, I'd never really distinguished spring clothes from the rest of my seasonal wardrobe. For whatever reason, this year I've had a fashion epiphany and decided to adorn myself in a very Gatsby-esque palate of white and pastels. (This will only last for about a week, since I now own...five "spring"-ish tops, but it's fun to pretend.) (I pulled off a snazzy ensemble last week, with slim-fitting khakis, a white Oxford, and a black-and-pink-striped tie coyly tucked between the buttonfolds of my shirt.) (Buttonfolds? You know what I mean.)
I've also considered undertaking yet another field of study--the Asian Studies minor. My Hinduism professor happens to be the chairperson of the organization, and she passed the propaganda-esque brochures out today, outlining the requirements. I'd like to extensively study South Asian literature--that of the diasporic cultures established in "Western" countries, and of the region itself. Wouldn't that rock?