The best teacher I had in high school was Diane Mishler, who taught such classes as "English Literature" and "Philosophy and Literary Criticism" (generally - and rightfully - considered the toughest class at Normal Community High School). My favorite class of her classes was "Stage and Screen," in which we learned about the best of, well, stage and screen. We explored theater and film from many creative, technical, and historical perspectives, and I learned an appreciation of these arts that I would never otherwise have gained. Better still, we watched a ton of movies.
So I have been sad the last couple days to hear about the deaths of famous and incredible filmmakers Ingmar Bergman and Michaelangelo Antonioni. Their films The Seventh Seal and L'Aventura, respectively, were not only beautiful, but allowed me as a senior in high school to escape into another world and another way of seeing, which is pretty much the biggest gift anyone could have given me at that point.
Thank you to them for their work and beauty, and thank you to the unique and challenging and wonderful teachers of the world who believe their students deserve the chance to learn about such things.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
it's the little things that make it interesting
Many people have asked me how I can possibly love baseball.
I'll be the first to admit that baseball's charm has a lot to do with the game itself, and also a lot to do with the friends you go to a game with, the hedonism of paying $6 for a warmish beer, the nostalgia of the game's history coming alive again almost every summer night under the lights in any big-league park.
If you loved Field of Dreams you know exactly what I'm talking about. If you hated it, just skip the rest of this.
One of the actual game-related reasons I love baseball is the endless wealth of bizarre possibilities and obscure rules. There are a lot of people and a lot of possible plays in a baseball game, and a lot of random streaks and stats to keep track of (so what if I nearly failed statistics in high school? That's what the internet is for).
Of the more exciting current streaks, A-Rod's (that's Alex Rodriguez, of the NY Yankees) quest to be the youngest player to hit 500 home runs is certainly one of the most closely-followed. And it took a really funky turn this week. He hit number 499 on Wednesday... or was it number 500? See, today he might hit #493, which would make the one two days ago #500. Baseball may be the only sport that's figured out time travel.
See, some people ward off Alzheimers by doing crossword puzzles and sudoku. I try to wrap my brain around baseball rules.
I'll be the first to admit that baseball's charm has a lot to do with the game itself, and also a lot to do with the friends you go to a game with, the hedonism of paying $6 for a warmish beer, the nostalgia of the game's history coming alive again almost every summer night under the lights in any big-league park.
If you loved Field of Dreams you know exactly what I'm talking about. If you hated it, just skip the rest of this.
One of the actual game-related reasons I love baseball is the endless wealth of bizarre possibilities and obscure rules. There are a lot of people and a lot of possible plays in a baseball game, and a lot of random streaks and stats to keep track of (so what if I nearly failed statistics in high school? That's what the internet is for).
Of the more exciting current streaks, A-Rod's (that's Alex Rodriguez, of the NY Yankees) quest to be the youngest player to hit 500 home runs is certainly one of the most closely-followed. And it took a really funky turn this week. He hit number 499 on Wednesday... or was it number 500? See, today he might hit #493, which would make the one two days ago #500. Baseball may be the only sport that's figured out time travel.
See, some people ward off Alzheimers by doing crossword puzzles and sudoku. I try to wrap my brain around baseball rules.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
slow news day
So there's this cat. Who sees dead people. Before they have actually died. Which is totally weird.
It's also funny that of course it must be clarified that "there [is] probably a biochemical explanation, rather than the cat being psychic." I doubt that will deter the people who will insist on getting into a tizzy over the psychic cat, but at least someone tried to head it off.
It's also funny that of course it must be clarified that "there [is] probably a biochemical explanation, rather than the cat being psychic." I doubt that will deter the people who will insist on getting into a tizzy over the psychic cat, but at least someone tried to head it off.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
doppelgangers deluxe
Travel can be a real eye-opener. (It can also be a real eye-closer, particularly at the end of it when you get a few nights of crappy hostel-sleep interrupted a thousand times by an impressive variety of languages whose common element is that they are being spoken far too loudly by drunk backpackers after a night of Guinness overload, and then live six hours of your life all over again by flying west, and then drive four hours from JFK to Vermont, and then try to go to work the next day. Just hypothetically speaking.)
One thing I've learned through travel, that has been reinforced on just about every trip I've taken not to mention nearer to home, is that I am, apparently, The Average-Looking Person. Everywhere I go people a) think we've met before, b) tell me I look exactly like their friend's sister or their cousin's girlfriend or their boss' mother-in-law's dentist's assistant, and/or c) ask me if part of my ancestry is from the country we're in or the country they came from.
I think this is actually pretty cool. I mean, for one thing, I'm comfortable with my lack of stunning beauty, but I figure that I also can't be too notably ugly if I look like, well, everyone. No one has told me that I look like their dog or their leperous mailman (not that they probably would actually tell me, but I take comfort nonetheless).
It's also nice to know that I fit in pretty well most places. I'd like to think that this is a product of not only my outward appearance but also my concerted effort to refrain from engaging in Ugly American behavior, which includes assuming that SHOUTING IN VEEEEERRRY SLOOOOOOOWWW ENGLISH will make oneself understood by non-English speakers and being the first to speak (loudly, of course) in any conversation.
It also includes the charming practice I saw all over Ireland of giving money to buskers, museum entry collections, and other good causes in the form of the U.S. dollar. We're so generous and excited about your lovely violin-playing or incredible museum exhibits that we'll give you a crappy exchange rate and more work! Because we're too damn lazy to pay you in YOUR CURRENCY.
These were, no doubt, the same people who I saw yelling at the Irish National Museum staff for closing the aging staircase for a safety inspection rather than risk it collapsing under visitors' weight, because damn it! We came all this way to appreciate the artifacts and mourn the passing of ancient civilizations! Now what are we supposed to do - McDonalds doesn't open for another hour!
I do hope, in fact I'd use the words "fervently pray" (and I don't use those words lightly, believe you me), that I bear no resemblance to such people, but rather much more to the relatively quiet, respectful travelers of the world. If you want to know what we look like, look for us walking around for hours and hours, often alone or with just one or two other people, gazing silently at beautiful views or impressively old buildings, perusing the stacks at the local second-hand bookshop or forcing down tea with copious milk and sugar because, while it actually tastes fairly disgusting, it's what the locals do (I never did force down a rasher, though).
And if that doesn't help, I guess you could just look for people who look like me. They are, apparently, everywhere.
One thing I've learned through travel, that has been reinforced on just about every trip I've taken not to mention nearer to home, is that I am, apparently, The Average-Looking Person. Everywhere I go people a) think we've met before, b) tell me I look exactly like their friend's sister or their cousin's girlfriend or their boss' mother-in-law's dentist's assistant, and/or c) ask me if part of my ancestry is from the country we're in or the country they came from.
I think this is actually pretty cool. I mean, for one thing, I'm comfortable with my lack of stunning beauty, but I figure that I also can't be too notably ugly if I look like, well, everyone. No one has told me that I look like their dog or their leperous mailman (not that they probably would actually tell me, but I take comfort nonetheless).
It's also nice to know that I fit in pretty well most places. I'd like to think that this is a product of not only my outward appearance but also my concerted effort to refrain from engaging in Ugly American behavior, which includes assuming that SHOUTING IN VEEEEERRRY SLOOOOOOOWWW ENGLISH will make oneself understood by non-English speakers and being the first to speak (loudly, of course) in any conversation.
It also includes the charming practice I saw all over Ireland of giving money to buskers, museum entry collections, and other good causes in the form of the U.S. dollar. We're so generous and excited about your lovely violin-playing or incredible museum exhibits that we'll give you a crappy exchange rate and more work! Because we're too damn lazy to pay you in YOUR CURRENCY.
These were, no doubt, the same people who I saw yelling at the Irish National Museum staff for closing the aging staircase for a safety inspection rather than risk it collapsing under visitors' weight, because damn it! We came all this way to appreciate the artifacts and mourn the passing of ancient civilizations! Now what are we supposed to do - McDonalds doesn't open for another hour!
I do hope, in fact I'd use the words "fervently pray" (and I don't use those words lightly, believe you me), that I bear no resemblance to such people, but rather much more to the relatively quiet, respectful travelers of the world. If you want to know what we look like, look for us walking around for hours and hours, often alone or with just one or two other people, gazing silently at beautiful views or impressively old buildings, perusing the stacks at the local second-hand bookshop or forcing down tea with copious milk and sugar because, while it actually tastes fairly disgusting, it's what the locals do (I never did force down a rasher, though).
And if that doesn't help, I guess you could just look for people who look like me. They are, apparently, everywhere.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
verdict
Dublin may well be the coolest big city in the world. Of the big cities I've visited, anyway.
I've spoken as much Spanish here as English, and made friends just now with two Belgian guys in a bar, after spending the day museum-ing and just walking walking walking. I sat in the sunshine reading "Dubliners" (yes, I brought it with me for just this occasion. yes, I am a dork.) and then took a nap lying on the grass in St. Stephen's Green.
I'm on the internet (for free in the beatiful main public library) because really, nothing happens in Ireland between 5:30 and 9:00pm. Tonight I'm going in search of music. For now, I'm enjoying my Guinness buzz and the perfectly clear, sunny weather.
Tomorrow it's off to the Kilmoehnam (I'm butcherin the spelling there) Jail and more museums, and hopefully more music, and definitely buying dance shoes. And further searching for the Rodrigo y Gabriela CDs that I can't get in the U.S. Saturday it's an early bus to Limerick, where I'm hoping to wander for the afternoon and find another session as well as a cheap hostel. There's no reason to pay much, since I'm hoping to be out late and I have to be at the airport at 7:30am Sunday. This is going to be a really tough trip to come home from.
(But you know what? I miss Vermont. That's a really nice feeling, too.)
I've spoken as much Spanish here as English, and made friends just now with two Belgian guys in a bar, after spending the day museum-ing and just walking walking walking. I sat in the sunshine reading "Dubliners" (yes, I brought it with me for just this occasion. yes, I am a dork.) and then took a nap lying on the grass in St. Stephen's Green.
I'm on the internet (for free in the beatiful main public library) because really, nothing happens in Ireland between 5:30 and 9:00pm. Tonight I'm going in search of music. For now, I'm enjoying my Guinness buzz and the perfectly clear, sunny weather.
Tomorrow it's off to the Kilmoehnam (I'm butcherin the spelling there) Jail and more museums, and hopefully more music, and definitely buying dance shoes. And further searching for the Rodrigo y Gabriela CDs that I can't get in the U.S. Saturday it's an early bus to Limerick, where I'm hoping to wander for the afternoon and find another session as well as a cheap hostel. There's no reason to pay much, since I'm hoping to be out late and I have to be at the airport at 7:30am Sunday. This is going to be a really tough trip to come home from.
(But you know what? I miss Vermont. That's a really nice feeling, too.)
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
this is me blogging from ireland
This week is amazing beyond description. WOW.
A few things I love:
1. singing for hours and hours every day, and not getting tired of it
2. harmony
3. the weirdest time signatures I've ever seen
4. wonderful people of all ages and several accents, including...
5. a fabulous Scottish woman named Alynn who has wonderful stories and a warm and adventurous spirit, and who I want to be someday
6. taking 45 minutes to myself every day (well, almost) to run the unbelievably narrow back roads. Today I crested a hill and saw the ocean in the distance
7. sunset at 10:00pm; actual darkness around midnight
8. sessions (i.e. people playing Irish music in every little bar in every little village in Ireland while other people - at this time of year mostly tourists, to whom, because some of our group are Irish, we are of course considering ourselves entirely superior - drink Guinness or whiskey and soak it in)
Speaking of which... it's time to go!
A few things I love:
1. singing for hours and hours every day, and not getting tired of it
2. harmony
3. the weirdest time signatures I've ever seen
4. wonderful people of all ages and several accents, including...
5. a fabulous Scottish woman named Alynn who has wonderful stories and a warm and adventurous spirit, and who I want to be someday
6. taking 45 minutes to myself every day (well, almost) to run the unbelievably narrow back roads. Today I crested a hill and saw the ocean in the distance
7. sunset at 10:00pm; actual darkness around midnight
8. sessions (i.e. people playing Irish music in every little bar in every little village in Ireland while other people - at this time of year mostly tourists, to whom, because some of our group are Irish, we are of course considering ourselves entirely superior - drink Guinness or whiskey and soak it in)
Speaking of which... it's time to go!
Friday, July 6, 2007
wild blue yonder
I am racing to finish... well, not really finish, but make sufficient headway on... the many many things I need to do before leaving work this afternoon and driving to JFK airport (four hours away, and yet somehow the most convenient for this trip) to fly to Ireland!
For the next week, I will be here doing this. This is terrifically exciting. I haven't sung in an organized group since I moved to Vermont in March, and I've certainly never sung in a group like the one I will be with next week. An impromptu, intense, co-ed, multinational chorus. I'm hoping for a week of getting to know current friends much better and making some amazing new friends.
Side note: the thing that always truly amazes me most about the world is how many wonderful people and potential friends there are in it. Do you ever think about that? I'm also absurdly lucky to keep having the opportunities to find these people and sense the potential out there.
The week after the workshop I plan to go where the wind blows me and look for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
All this will likely keep me quite busy, and I don't plan to be blogging or checking email until I return to the U.S. Though if I find the gold, I promise to post a picture of it. Unless the leprechauns steal my camera.
Have a wonderful mid-July!
For the next week, I will be here doing this. This is terrifically exciting. I haven't sung in an organized group since I moved to Vermont in March, and I've certainly never sung in a group like the one I will be with next week. An impromptu, intense, co-ed, multinational chorus. I'm hoping for a week of getting to know current friends much better and making some amazing new friends.
Side note: the thing that always truly amazes me most about the world is how many wonderful people and potential friends there are in it. Do you ever think about that? I'm also absurdly lucky to keep having the opportunities to find these people and sense the potential out there.
The week after the workshop I plan to go where the wind blows me and look for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
All this will likely keep me quite busy, and I don't plan to be blogging or checking email until I return to the U.S. Though if I find the gold, I promise to post a picture of it. Unless the leprechauns steal my camera.
Have a wonderful mid-July!
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
the great american inventions
I strongly believe that the two greatest things to come out of the United States of America are blues dancing and s'mores (well, and baseball, obviously). I'm not entirely sure that s'mores are originally American, but come on, how could they not be? Who else would have thought to melt cheap corn syrup sugar, put it on top of cheap chocolate sugar, and sandwich that between wafers of cinnamon and sugar? It's truly brilliant, this country of ours.
Add to these: fireworks. A) Because they're truly awesome, in the literal sense of the word.* B) Because no matter how many times you see them, they're just as amazing the next time around. And you have to go out and see them: walk to the park with your fellow citizens, or set up shop in squeaky chairs on a friend's front lawn. There's no phoning it in on this one. C) Because no matter how hard it's raining, they can still be lit up and incredible. Believe me. We just tested this theory.
So, happy birthday America. We do have a lot to appreciate in this country, and standing in the pouring rain under a sky exploding in artificial colors and booming noise makes me feel more patriotic than I probably will until, well, next fourth of July. And while I wouldn't mind blues dancing and eating some s'mores right about now, I can sit pretty comfortably with this feeling for at least one night.
*though have you ever wondered why that word isn't "aweful"? Like, "full of awe"? If English, which luckily we can blame the British for, actually made sense, it seems like "awful" would be a stronger way to say "awesome," right? Some awe vs. full of awe? Whatever... welcome to my brain, and my nerdy wordy writer/editor family.
Add to these: fireworks. A) Because they're truly awesome, in the literal sense of the word.* B) Because no matter how many times you see them, they're just as amazing the next time around. And you have to go out and see them: walk to the park with your fellow citizens, or set up shop in squeaky chairs on a friend's front lawn. There's no phoning it in on this one. C) Because no matter how hard it's raining, they can still be lit up and incredible. Believe me. We just tested this theory.
So, happy birthday America. We do have a lot to appreciate in this country, and standing in the pouring rain under a sky exploding in artificial colors and booming noise makes me feel more patriotic than I probably will until, well, next fourth of July. And while I wouldn't mind blues dancing and eating some s'mores right about now, I can sit pretty comfortably with this feeling for at least one night.
*though have you ever wondered why that word isn't "aweful"? Like, "full of awe"? If English, which luckily we can blame the British for, actually made sense, it seems like "awful" would be a stronger way to say "awesome," right? Some awe vs. full of awe? Whatever... welcome to my brain, and my nerdy wordy writer/editor family.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
a dollar says...
that when I go to the neurologist this afternoon, he says I have to get more tests (my guess would be an MRI) and then come back and see him again. (Hopefully next time I'll be able to get an appointment on one of the days he's in Brattleboro, and not have to drive 45 minutes to his office in New Hampshire like I do today.)
Why? Because that's what doctors do. It's what the orthopedist did last week.
Because that's what was wrong with my life. Not enough co-pays.
Why? Because that's what doctors do. It's what the orthopedist did last week.
Because that's what was wrong with my life. Not enough co-pays.
the end of innocence
For the past several months I've been settling into this new job, and while I've kept busy, I always had this feeling of there being more I was supposed to be doing but just not knowing what that stuff was. People would ask me how it was going, and I'd say "great, except I wonder if that's just because I don't know what I'm not doing right!"
The nature of my work is very cyclical on both a semester and year basis. I'm just supposed to know that in June, I have to call the travel agency about confirming group flights, I'm supposed to be collecting final reports and paperwork from the Academic Directors of my programs around Latin America, etc., etc. There are a trillion details, and frankly, it takes a while to get a handle on them.
Well, I'm proud to say that tin the past couple weeks I have been feeling more like I "get it." I don't have to check my manual or yearly timeline quite as much, or remind myself 20 times of that one thing that someone mentioned offhand that, oh yeah, absolutely has to be done by July 15th or the program will collapse and cease to exist (I'm only slightly overdramatizing). I have a better sense now of what I should be working on and how urgently things need to be done.
And that sucks.
Why? Because I'm leaving the country this Friday night to spend two weeks in Ireland on vacation (Ireland! Vacation! Yippee!) and this is a lousy time to gain sudden clarity about the mountain of work in front of me, much of which truly must be finished before the end of July.
It has to get done, and it will get done, but I have no idea how or when (wow, saying that makes me feel like I'm in college again).
Ignorance really is bliss.
The nature of my work is very cyclical on both a semester and year basis. I'm just supposed to know that in June, I have to call the travel agency about confirming group flights, I'm supposed to be collecting final reports and paperwork from the Academic Directors of my programs around Latin America, etc., etc. There are a trillion details, and frankly, it takes a while to get a handle on them.
Well, I'm proud to say that tin the past couple weeks I have been feeling more like I "get it." I don't have to check my manual or yearly timeline quite as much, or remind myself 20 times of that one thing that someone mentioned offhand that, oh yeah, absolutely has to be done by July 15th or the program will collapse and cease to exist (I'm only slightly overdramatizing). I have a better sense now of what I should be working on and how urgently things need to be done.
And that sucks.
Why? Because I'm leaving the country this Friday night to spend two weeks in Ireland on vacation (Ireland! Vacation! Yippee!) and this is a lousy time to gain sudden clarity about the mountain of work in front of me, much of which truly must be finished before the end of July.
It has to get done, and it will get done, but I have no idea how or when (wow, saying that makes me feel like I'm in college again).
Ignorance really is bliss.
Monday, July 2, 2007
seriously, people?
I implied that Hillary Clinton and Harriet Miers might be the same person and no one has a single comment?
Readers, I am disappointed.
Readers, I am disappointed.
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