Acknowledgments
So I wanted to give thanks for all those whom I consulted in my apple-purchasing process. Lina, Katy, and others I've probably forgotten.
After being severely rebuked for failing to acknowledge their help (I've received death threats and sundry messages such as "I can't believe it. I read your blog today and you talk about buying the Apple and how you've been researching for weeks and who in the hell is not mentioned? I thought I mattered, but clearly, when compared to a young, cute, somewhat nerdy (he works in the Apple Store. Even if sexy, he must have something of the nerd in him!) salesperson named Christopher, I pale in comparison. And that hurts. Although it was hard to pick myself off the floor today due to my weeping, I somehow made it to work" -- Anonymous), I figured this is the least I can do.
It's sad to realize that good looks really do go a long way; they make you forget the things that truly matter. Like friends who needle you into expressing your gratitude.
1.31.2006
1.30.2006
Lose Control, Gain Command
I have news!! I'm getting a new apple!
After moping uselessly at home and lamenting the fact that I had to stay late to write emails or blog, I did a bunch of research on macs, and finally decided to take the plunge. I looked into all the statistics, spoke to a guy from our tech support team at work about what kind of RAM and hard drive space I'd need, and religiously followed updates from the recent Apple expo thing in San Francisco. By the time I got into the apple store in Soho, I was prepared with a long, highlighted list of technical specifications I needed and questions I wanted to ask. Yes, I am a micro-manager (see, office life has paid off -- I'm expanding my vocabulary).
The apple store is a palace of wonder, and I say this in the same vein as Mugatu describing the center for ants to Derek i.e. with bulging eyes and a breathy voice. All the shiny objects, the coldplay in the background, trendy people poking gently at white keyboards... Plus it helped that the guy I spoke to was friendly, helpful, not pushy, and generally charming and cute. Yup, I lusted after the apple tech guy. The nicest thing about him was that he didn't suggest that I buy the most expensive equipment out there, and even steered me away from making too many upgrades in hardware and software. If my sister hadn't been hovering protectively in the background, I may well have confessed my adoration and thereby created another one of those 'why am I an inept git?' moments to rue for the rest of my days.
Anyway, I'm now going to have a shiny new laptop just for me, me, me. Plus I have the 3 year protection plan, which is about as comforting as having a terrific sexual partner and a 3 year pregnancy/STD-free guarantee. It's the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.
So, I'd like to announce that as of sometime next week, I will once again be a functioning member of society. I'll fail to respond to friends' emails, be too lazy to blog, and forget to read the news online -- but at least you and I will know that it's because I won't rather than because I can't. And that's a carefully developed distinction I like to maintain.
I have news!! I'm getting a new apple!
After moping uselessly at home and lamenting the fact that I had to stay late to write emails or blog, I did a bunch of research on macs, and finally decided to take the plunge. I looked into all the statistics, spoke to a guy from our tech support team at work about what kind of RAM and hard drive space I'd need, and religiously followed updates from the recent Apple expo thing in San Francisco. By the time I got into the apple store in Soho, I was prepared with a long, highlighted list of technical specifications I needed and questions I wanted to ask. Yes, I am a micro-manager (see, office life has paid off -- I'm expanding my vocabulary).
The apple store is a palace of wonder, and I say this in the same vein as Mugatu describing the center for ants to Derek i.e. with bulging eyes and a breathy voice. All the shiny objects, the coldplay in the background, trendy people poking gently at white keyboards... Plus it helped that the guy I spoke to was friendly, helpful, not pushy, and generally charming and cute. Yup, I lusted after the apple tech guy. The nicest thing about him was that he didn't suggest that I buy the most expensive equipment out there, and even steered me away from making too many upgrades in hardware and software. If my sister hadn't been hovering protectively in the background, I may well have confessed my adoration and thereby created another one of those 'why am I an inept git?' moments to rue for the rest of my days.
Anyway, I'm now going to have a shiny new laptop just for me, me, me. Plus I have the 3 year protection plan, which is about as comforting as having a terrific sexual partner and a 3 year pregnancy/STD-free guarantee. It's the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.
So, I'd like to announce that as of sometime next week, I will once again be a functioning member of society. I'll fail to respond to friends' emails, be too lazy to blog, and forget to read the news online -- but at least you and I will know that it's because I won't rather than because I can't. And that's a carefully developed distinction I like to maintain.
1.19.2006
Return of the Prodigal
The whole 'no computer at home' tale has been a huge drag - no blogging, no emailing, no managing private affairs. But I hate not being able to write this stuff down somewhere, so here's the jump-cut rundown:
Why We Go Downtown
1. The two days before I left for the conference in Texas were pretty awful. Work exploded with two of my bosses out of town and tons of material that needed to be prepared for the next board meeting. I wasn't even fighting surges of panic; they were rolling around me and I was busy collapsing in a pool of self-pity and fear. Not to mention the fact that I very stupidly decided at the last minute to go to a book/art party in the city on a Monday night, mostly because the book is just so very cool -- one of the few scholarly books that is actually rather glam. Anyway, the opening reception was held (the book is about the downtown art scene in NY, from 1974-1984) in a gallery at Washington Square. It was amazing; lots of young, artsy people rubbing shoulders with the authentic hipsters from back in the 70s, when everything below 14th street became the ground for experimentation and outsider artists. Not my favorite period art-wise, but I'll admit I'm seduced by the idea of "downtown NYC, c. 1978" -- it's not just a location, it's an attitude, seemed to be the general cry.
2. Went to a very quirky bar called LIT afterwards, with the perfect crowd. Dorky, young, artsy, grungy. Artfully disheveled men and women, stroking their Rolling Rock beers and stroking one another. Almost (but not quite!) CBGB. Afterwards, Heath, Clara, Linda & I trooped around Alphabet City and pub-crawled with some weird guy called Noah who was engaging in an awkwardly-executed courtship with Clara. I don't know how many bars we went through - I do remember kind of liking the KGB bar, but at about 1 we drove back to Princeton and rose for work with burning eyes.
Don't Mess with Texas
3. Off to San Antonio! The verdict on Texas? Big hats, big boots, big 'tude: loved it. Loved it. It didn't hurt that they complained about 72 degree-weather as being chilly, or that my editor took me out to dinner every single night, thereby allowing me to splurge my stipend on turquoise accessories from a Navajo arts and crafts group. San Antonio is a small-ish city, which makes it easy to navigate. We went to the Alamo, the Riverwalk, El Mercado, La Villita, etc. I've got to say, I wasn't tremendously impressed by the Alamo. I know it's supposed to be this icon of American heroism, but the whole thing reeked more of the legend of Zorro than anything else...with less charming lead characters. Plus, given the context of San Antonio grandly boasting its Texan/Mexican mixed heritage at every turn, the Alamo struck me as being more than a little ironic. But it is interesting to see how Mexican culture has saturated the "American outpost" in so many ways.
4. Got asked out by sketchy professor on lunch date. Graciously (I was in shock) declined, and proceeded to run to the loo every time he reappeared in the conference hall. Ate Southwestern & Mexican food like it was going out of style and found the best margaritas ever. I even determined to purchase a rhinestone cowgirl hat so as to have a prop when I came home and sang,
Home at the End of the World
6. Back home to find Sarah and Caroline sitting in my room already, watching Gilmore Girls. Having shamelessly invited themselves over, they proceeded to share the most fun vacation with friends I've had in a really long time. We giggled like idiots, watched girlie movies while Caroline burrowed under the covers in embarrassment, baked 48 cupcakes, ate about 39 of them, took cheesy candid photos in Target, and went on a mini-road trip to New Hope, PA.
The best thing about Caroline and Sarah is that they share my obsession with food, and religiously ensured that we had chocolate and pastry integrated into each day's routine. I didn't want them to leave because they managed to get my mind off work, which I've almost never done since I first started. They even made palatable a second screening of Pride & Prejudice with Keira Knightley. Mostly it was nice to reprimanded by people I love when I whined about work, romance, and money. Nothing like the words "You realize I'm going to beat you in a minute" to curb one's mournful tendencies.
That's about it. For now it seems like I'm heading back to the "same ol', same ol'" refrain for a little while. Minus the fact that this means there's so much work to do that I get nauseous, I'm not sorry to have an interlude. This weekend I really want to see Match Point. A.O. Scott has a tantalizing review out in the Times, and now that six degrees of separation has asserted itself (one of my colleagues knows his mother), I've reached two conclusions:
1. A.O. and I are tight
2. It's my duty to see Woody Allen's latest. I mean, next to vulgarity and schadenfreude, tennis is my raison d'être. ;)
The whole 'no computer at home' tale has been a huge drag - no blogging, no emailing, no managing private affairs. But I hate not being able to write this stuff down somewhere, so here's the jump-cut rundown:
Why We Go Downtown
1. The two days before I left for the conference in Texas were pretty awful. Work exploded with two of my bosses out of town and tons of material that needed to be prepared for the next board meeting. I wasn't even fighting surges of panic; they were rolling around me and I was busy collapsing in a pool of self-pity and fear. Not to mention the fact that I very stupidly decided at the last minute to go to a book/art party in the city on a Monday night, mostly because the book is just so very cool -- one of the few scholarly books that is actually rather glam. Anyway, the opening reception was held (the book is about the downtown art scene in NY, from 1974-1984) in a gallery at Washington Square. It was amazing; lots of young, artsy people rubbing shoulders with the authentic hipsters from back in the 70s, when everything below 14th street became the ground for experimentation and outsider artists. Not my favorite period art-wise, but I'll admit I'm seduced by the idea of "downtown NYC, c. 1978" -- it's not just a location, it's an attitude, seemed to be the general cry.
2. Went to a very quirky bar called LIT afterwards, with the perfect crowd. Dorky, young, artsy, grungy. Artfully disheveled men and women, stroking their Rolling Rock beers and stroking one another. Almost (but not quite!) CBGB. Afterwards, Heath, Clara, Linda & I trooped around Alphabet City and pub-crawled with some weird guy called Noah who was engaging in an awkwardly-executed courtship with Clara. I don't know how many bars we went through - I do remember kind of liking the KGB bar, but at about 1 we drove back to Princeton and rose for work with burning eyes.
Don't Mess with Texas
3. Off to San Antonio! The verdict on Texas? Big hats, big boots, big 'tude: loved it. Loved it. It didn't hurt that they complained about 72 degree-weather as being chilly, or that my editor took me out to dinner every single night, thereby allowing me to splurge my stipend on turquoise accessories from a Navajo arts and crafts group. San Antonio is a small-ish city, which makes it easy to navigate. We went to the Alamo, the Riverwalk, El Mercado, La Villita, etc. I've got to say, I wasn't tremendously impressed by the Alamo. I know it's supposed to be this icon of American heroism, but the whole thing reeked more of the legend of Zorro than anything else...with less charming lead characters. Plus, given the context of San Antonio grandly boasting its Texan/Mexican mixed heritage at every turn, the Alamo struck me as being more than a little ironic. But it is interesting to see how Mexican culture has saturated the "American outpost" in so many ways.
4. Got asked out by sketchy professor on lunch date. Graciously (I was in shock) declined, and proceeded to run to the loo every time he reappeared in the conference hall. Ate Southwestern & Mexican food like it was going out of style and found the best margaritas ever. I even determined to purchase a rhinestone cowgirl hat so as to have a prop when I came home and sang,
"Like a rhinestone cowgirl;but thought better of it at the last minute. I'm not into self-immolation, even if it comes with a shiny hat.
Riding out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo"
Home at the End of the World
6. Back home to find Sarah and Caroline sitting in my room already, watching Gilmore Girls. Having shamelessly invited themselves over, they proceeded to share the most fun vacation with friends I've had in a really long time. We giggled like idiots, watched girlie movies while Caroline burrowed under the covers in embarrassment, baked 48 cupcakes, ate about 39 of them, took cheesy candid photos in Target, and went on a mini-road trip to New Hope, PA.
The best thing about Caroline and Sarah is that they share my obsession with food, and religiously ensured that we had chocolate and pastry integrated into each day's routine. I didn't want them to leave because they managed to get my mind off work, which I've almost never done since I first started. They even made palatable a second screening of Pride & Prejudice with Keira Knightley. Mostly it was nice to reprimanded by people I love when I whined about work, romance, and money. Nothing like the words "You realize I'm going to beat you in a minute" to curb one's mournful tendencies.
That's about it. For now it seems like I'm heading back to the "same ol', same ol'" refrain for a little while. Minus the fact that this means there's so much work to do that I get nauseous, I'm not sorry to have an interlude. This weekend I really want to see Match Point. A.O. Scott has a tantalizing review out in the Times, and now that six degrees of separation has asserted itself (one of my colleagues knows his mother), I've reached two conclusions:
1. A.O. and I are tight
2. It's my duty to see Woody Allen's latest. I mean, next to vulgarity and schadenfreude, tennis is my raison d'être. ;)
1.08.2006
Sweet Dreams are Made of This
Flavorpill @ The Guggenheim
Came into the office this weekend. I leave for a conference in San Antonio on Wednesday, which means that I'm trying to clear things up a little for the next few weeks. I can't help but feel the mournful (albeit dramatic) echo of Sidney Carton's "'Tis a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done" speech in the background, but hey, I'm just a publishing scrub who was once in the ignominious position of being called "Blackie" by a homeless man in Philly. Wow, don't know where that came from. The point being that though NO ONE else is here at work, there's too much to do, and I have to suck it up.
So, of course, here I am blogging.
Vanessa's birthday was this past week. I made her a big birthday door -- rather silly, I know, but I liked it -- and stuck 33 candles on a cake. We then went out to "Soonja Cafe" for Japanese food. On Friday, I bolted from work and ran for the train to the city. Anthony, Vanessa, Rich, Echo, and yours truly got together for a rather busy meal in Chelsea. The atmosphere was nice, but it got a bit stressful, what with all the wine ordering, and shuffling around of plates. We got to the Guggenheim at 12 -- two hours later than projected, but it was amazing!
Flavorpill is this great company that one of Vanessa's friends, Sascha, started a few years ago. For the first friday of the past few months, they've been hosting a huge party at the Guggenheim, wherein a DJ spins on the floor, wealthy hipsters get to relive the crazy 80s, and everyone else explores the galleries with techno/island/house/tribal/R&B reverberating in the rotunda.
View From Above
V & Me
Although there was no dancing on my end, it was a really fun evening. We were originally on the VIP list, but it turned out that even the "Royalty" had their own endless queue. Just as the five of us planted ourselves at the rear of the line, I saw a girl from Columbia walking around, and gave a small wave. Five minutes later, armed with paper bracelets, we swooped past the outraged people in line and entered like the real royal family...I've got to say, though neither that girl (bless her!) nor I knew one another's names and liberally called each other "sweetie," I felt a bit like a rock star.
But it was when the DJ (Diplo) spun "Blue Monday" that I decided the party unequivocally rocked. People were break-dancing and cheering, and it was just amazing to see preppies, hipsters, and eurotrash collide. It made me feel good to be young, good to be part of some kind of NYC collective. But Annie Lennox gets the last word, just as she did on the dancefloor:
Flavorpill @ The Guggenheim
Came into the office this weekend. I leave for a conference in San Antonio on Wednesday, which means that I'm trying to clear things up a little for the next few weeks. I can't help but feel the mournful (albeit dramatic) echo of Sidney Carton's "'Tis a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done" speech in the background, but hey, I'm just a publishing scrub who was once in the ignominious position of being called "Blackie" by a homeless man in Philly. Wow, don't know where that came from. The point being that though NO ONE else is here at work, there's too much to do, and I have to suck it up.
So, of course, here I am blogging.
Vanessa's birthday was this past week. I made her a big birthday door -- rather silly, I know, but I liked it -- and stuck 33 candles on a cake. We then went out to "Soonja Cafe" for Japanese food. On Friday, I bolted from work and ran for the train to the city. Anthony, Vanessa, Rich, Echo, and yours truly got together for a rather busy meal in Chelsea. The atmosphere was nice, but it got a bit stressful, what with all the wine ordering, and shuffling around of plates. We got to the Guggenheim at 12 -- two hours later than projected, but it was amazing!
Flavorpill is this great company that one of Vanessa's friends, Sascha, started a few years ago. For the first friday of the past few months, they've been hosting a huge party at the Guggenheim, wherein a DJ spins on the floor, wealthy hipsters get to relive the crazy 80s, and everyone else explores the galleries with techno/island/house/tribal/R&B reverberating in the rotunda.
View From Above
V & Me
Although there was no dancing on my end, it was a really fun evening. We were originally on the VIP list, but it turned out that even the "Royalty" had their own endless queue. Just as the five of us planted ourselves at the rear of the line, I saw a girl from Columbia walking around, and gave a small wave. Five minutes later, armed with paper bracelets, we swooped past the outraged people in line and entered like the real royal family...I've got to say, though neither that girl (bless her!) nor I knew one another's names and liberally called each other "sweetie," I felt a bit like a rock star.
But it was when the DJ (Diplo) spun "Blue Monday" that I decided the party unequivocally rocked. People were break-dancing and cheering, and it was just amazing to see preppies, hipsters, and eurotrash collide. It made me feel good to be young, good to be part of some kind of NYC collective. But Annie Lennox gets the last word, just as she did on the dancefloor:
"Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something..."
1.06.2006
Shout Out Louds
Who doesn't love this band? Anyway, I'm taking a minute out of work to give praise to a few of my favourite people:
1. Katy, for getting into grad school before any of us ever suspected the admissions department were ungluing those tense envelopes. After all those hellish weeks of editing and re-writing, looks like our tears, rage, and heroin addictions really paid off. I'm so happy for you!
2. Vanessa, whose birthday was yesterday, and who is the coolest 33-year-old yoga diva I know. Who else would gamely pick the wax off their own birthday cake after all the candles collapsed in a hideous mess?
3. Lina and Laura, who hosted me in their basement over New Year's, and who thoroughly delighted me by forgetting all about the wretched ball drop and countdown. What with the all the chick flicks and serious conversations about Martha's "Weddings," I felt like part of the Wells clan. And in some people's minds, that's tantamount to German royalty.
Who doesn't love this band? Anyway, I'm taking a minute out of work to give praise to a few of my favourite people:
1. Katy, for getting into grad school before any of us ever suspected the admissions department were ungluing those tense envelopes. After all those hellish weeks of editing and re-writing, looks like our tears, rage, and heroin addictions really paid off. I'm so happy for you!
2. Vanessa, whose birthday was yesterday, and who is the coolest 33-year-old yoga diva I know. Who else would gamely pick the wax off their own birthday cake after all the candles collapsed in a hideous mess?
3. Lina and Laura, who hosted me in their basement over New Year's, and who thoroughly delighted me by forgetting all about the wretched ball drop and countdown. What with the all the chick flicks and serious conversations about Martha's "Weddings," I felt like part of the Wells clan. And in some people's minds, that's tantamount to German royalty.
1.03.2006
After I left MLA, I hoofed it over to Lina's house to set my bags down and generally collapse. Working at conferences is really demanding -- not only do you have to be "on" all the time, but for me, the lit. marketplace pulls on the emotional heartstrings, and it overwhelmed me to find myself not only back in the arms of academia, but right at its most well-trafficked center. Still, it was great to stay in DC over new year's. Lina and her family were away on my first day, so I cuddled with Percy the cat and Lizzie the dog, and slept 12 hours. The next day I decided to wander around and visit all the national monuments. I went to DC years ago to visit universities, but wasn't terribly impressed. This time, however, I just fell in love with it. All those Georgetown houses and the amazing architecture everywhere reminded me so much of certain places in Paris.
Here are some of my notes on the whole experience. I'm no brilliant commentator, but in squiring my notebook around with me and diligently taking down impressions, I felt like one of those 19th century chaps who toured the continent, documenting their observations in private journals.
"The glory and romance of our history are here preserved in the chronicles of those who conceived and builded the structure of our nation." -- The National Archives building, Western wall.
Freer Gallery, exhibition on "Freer and the Ideal of Feminine Beauty."
Am struck by the frames, the cool aqua colours of this room. The frames are rich and golden, thick and embellished - almost encrusted - with details. They make the women within them seem like mythic creatures.
Dewing, "The Blue Dress" -- an immediate psychological tonality within the painting. It's harder to connect with Thayer's women; they're monumentalized, dressed in Classical costumes, but the nobility seems too forced. Why didn't he just paint them as they were? Dewing makes one think of Leonardo, all that sfumato and lyrical shading. There are small, knowing portraits - such a contrast with the vast, impressionistic landscapes featuring women in motion. I love quotation in art history - whether a pose, a gaze, a gesture, a setting.
Whistler. Maze-like rooms, flowers projected baldly against a flat ground, women with delicate face draped in oriental dress. Bizarre to see a kimono live with color set against the moist background of London barges on the Thames. "Arrangement in Black and White": Can a painting be this musical? The long, graceful lines of her gown silhouetted against the black room has its own harmony. Love the verticals of this piece; the curves of her body offset by the frame's strong lines. "Nocturne": what is it about dusk that's so attractive to us? A liminal time of colour and light, when they suddenly begin to matter, when they articulate tiny fluctuations in the atmosphere.
A Chinese bottle (13th century) with the resist decoration of a flowering plum branch: asymmetry on one of the most symmetrical and perfectly closed objects. Ironic to have something "flower" on a static creature. A frozen flowering...I like the idea. Urns, vases, bowls are such complete and impenetrable beings. They seem so charged - I'd love to run my hands along them, gliding my palm over the plump contours and closing my fingers around their sudden, slight necks.
Here are some of my notes on the whole experience. I'm no brilliant commentator, but in squiring my notebook around with me and diligently taking down impressions, I felt like one of those 19th century chaps who toured the continent, documenting their observations in private journals.
"The glory and romance of our history are here preserved in the chronicles of those who conceived and builded the structure of our nation." -- The National Archives building, Western wall.
Freer Gallery, exhibition on "Freer and the Ideal of Feminine Beauty."
Am struck by the frames, the cool aqua colours of this room. The frames are rich and golden, thick and embellished - almost encrusted - with details. They make the women within them seem like mythic creatures.
Dewing, "The Blue Dress" -- an immediate psychological tonality within the painting. It's harder to connect with Thayer's women; they're monumentalized, dressed in Classical costumes, but the nobility seems too forced. Why didn't he just paint them as they were? Dewing makes one think of Leonardo, all that sfumato and lyrical shading. There are small, knowing portraits - such a contrast with the vast, impressionistic landscapes featuring women in motion. I love quotation in art history - whether a pose, a gaze, a gesture, a setting.
Whistler. Maze-like rooms, flowers projected baldly against a flat ground, women with delicate face draped in oriental dress. Bizarre to see a kimono live with color set against the moist background of London barges on the Thames. "Arrangement in Black and White": Can a painting be this musical? The long, graceful lines of her gown silhouetted against the black room has its own harmony. Love the verticals of this piece; the curves of her body offset by the frame's strong lines. "Nocturne": what is it about dusk that's so attractive to us? A liminal time of colour and light, when they suddenly begin to matter, when they articulate tiny fluctuations in the atmosphere.
A Chinese bottle (13th century) with the resist decoration of a flowering plum branch: asymmetry on one of the most symmetrical and perfectly closed objects. Ironic to have something "flower" on a static creature. A frozen flowering...I like the idea. Urns, vases, bowls are such complete and impenetrable beings. They seem so charged - I'd love to run my hands along them, gliding my palm over the plump contours and closing my fingers around their sudden, slight necks.
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