Saturday, October 31, 2009

Saturday's soliloquy

Often while attempting to accomplish a task I think of another task that also needs accomplishing. In an effort to not forget to accomplish this other task, I leave the initial task to tend to the next task. This thought process then happens again, leaving two or more tasks unfinished in an attempt to finish others. Because I'm multiply tasking, this could be considered multitasking, except I have trouble fulfilling the "concurrent" implication of multitasking's definition (except with work, I'm actually and thankfully an adept multitasker while in copyeditor mode).

In noncopyeditor mode I seem to really do only one task at a time. I'll pull up the subway map online with the purpose of mapping a route, but while the map's loading I'll go get the ID out of last night's pants pocket to put in my purse, but when picking up my pants I realize the pile of folded clothes on the floor should really be put away, then while putting the socks in their disheveled drawer I begin to undishevel the drawer and come across some new tights that need to be taken out of their packages, then while placing the cardboard packages in recycling I decide the recycling should be taken out, then I'll set down the recycling to pick up the shoes that have accumulated in the doorway, then while taking those shoes to their designated spots walk by my computer with the subway map fully displayed. So, I set the shoes down and map my route, finally accomplishing my initial goal but creating four new unaccomplished chores in the process.

I'll then begin to take the shoes to the bedroom, come across my ID I threw on the bed, set down the shoes, and pick up the ID and put it in my purse. Task 2 done. Then while walking over to the open sock drawer trip on the shoes on the floor, pick up the shoes, and put them away. Task 5 done. Then I'll close the sock drawer, leave the clothes folded on the floor, and return to the map to make sure I've got the route right in my head. Three out of five is a good batting average, especially harboring the fear that once I start organizing the sock drawer I'll need to do yet something else.

I don't think this behavior is completely abnormal or has severe psychological implications. (You'd want to say attention deficit, but I'm a copy editor, so obsessive-compulsive tendencies would be more accurate.) Fear of commitment? I can give you a few people to call who will support you on that one; that is, if I still had their numbers.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Friday frustrations

Girls who wear weather-inappropriate clothing just because they want to look trendy. Subway riders who don't move in away from the doors after entering train. Cowardly Democrats. Clothes launderers who take up four washing machines and then four dryers (two loads of clothes fit in one dryer). Snarky hipsters who define themselves by what they hate and who they don't want to be more than what they like and who they want to be. Noncomformists in their noncomformist uniform therefore making themselves more conformist than conformists in our J. Crew and Old Navy. Finding maple candy but not maple sugar candy at the greenmarket. People who think God loves them more.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Thursday thoughts

I ran alongside the Hudson from 121st St. to 11th St. today. It was a gorgeous day and the scenery past the Pier i cafe was new to me and I just felt a little like Forrest Gump. This was just a little over 5 miles, but in NYC this is enough to pass through different worlds. Morningside Heights to Upper West Side to Midtown West and past the Intrepid Museum to Chelsea to West Village. Then I went to a bakery and bought a cupcake.

So I guess I didn't really share any thoughts, but "report" doesn't start with "th."

P.S. My blog entries are posting a day late. This one seems to be okay. But don't worry, I would never warble on a Thursday.

Wednesday warblings

(I hope you are enjoying my alliterative titles. I may be pushing my luck with today's title, but I do consider my writing to be a melodious succession of low, pleasing sounds.)

Because of what I do for a living, I could argue that I read new writing constantly, on topics ranging from acquiring graphic novels for libraries to psychotherapy for college students to religion and spirituality in social work. However, editing and reading are two different tasks. I'm actually embarrasingly out of touch with current literary fiction* and creative nonfiction. I've decided to begin changing this status.

Like many people, I don't have a lot of time to read for fun . . . and I want to watch Glee and Lost and 30 Rock and football and go to a play and a museum and a bar and for a run and for baked goods. So, more accurately, I don't choose to spend a lot of my free time reading for fun. Since moving to New York City, though, I've consciously acquired more so-called free time, and starting today I will use more of it to read. In fact, I've just applied for my New York Public Library card. Once I finally finish Love in the Time of Cholera, having made it 29 years in life without reading this book, I'm going to start reading new books, new to me at least. I'll aim for contemporary but won't limit myself. I've decided to start reading books about or set in New York City (indulging obsessions isn't always unhealthy). First up, which I want to buy because the main character is a proofreader, is No Lease on Life by Lynne Tillman, "the chronicle of one ordinary woman's day in the East Village." I'll wait until the week of November 15-21 and buy it from an independent bookstore for Independent Bookstore Week NYC.

I'll, as always, keep you posted.


*And I especially don't know anything about popular fiction. Like music, if I don't like it I don't pay attention to it, even for scholarly value or street cred. Pop fiction just doesn't do it for me. Refer back to my discussion on how I like character more than and sometimes to the detriment of plot. I would own up to being a literary snob if this were the case, but it's not - if I liked pop fiction I'd unashamedly like it, and I score far too poor on literature questions in trivia games to ever be considered a snob. But I do hope someday to add "literary snob" to the list of reasons I'm unpleasant to be around.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Tuesday triflings

Though Almost Famous holds court as my favorite movie, it's not because I can identify with the movie's rock writer hero, however much I'd like to identify with a rock writer who has Lester Bangs as a mentor (I'm far better suited to be a Band-Aid). In college I liked to think of myself as an amateur new-music connoisseur, mostly because I was - dork alert - the entertainment chair of the activities programming board.* As it turns out, I wasn't a music connoisseur of any level. I liked music, and was aware of genres, themes, trends, and even a little history, but I lacked the passion to really pursue music knowledge beyond reading Rolling Stone and listening to music I immediately liked.

Turns out, the music I like best is singer-songwriter fare, folk, indie pop (epecially the Britpop), and music that would fall under the umbrella of alt rock. Yes, I am white. This doesn't mean I don't like or appreciate other forms of music, except for screamo. In my younger years I had a deep affection for jam bands, but I think this was a result of my proclivity for summer concerts and sitting in the lawn and not really needing to pay attention to the music. Now I need more structure (sorry jazz), more story. To explain it a different way, right now my Pandora Radio stations are the Mountain Goats, Brandon Patton, Vampire Weekend, Antje Duvekot, Alexi Murdoch, R.E.M., and the Frattelis. Actually, looking at this list, it makes me seem way cooler than I am. Rest assured that I'm not cool when it comes to music; you can come over and I'll show you the CDs I own, including Mariah Carey and Jewel. I would actually really like to learn more about good rap, but I'd desperately need someone to hold my hand and guide me. I realize that if I succeed in this venture I will look like Michael Bolton driving into work in the beggining of Office Space, but so be it.

The music I listen to often becomes so precious to me that I go for very long periods of time without caring about or seeking new music. It's kind of like saying, "I don't need anymore friends, thanks." Ellis Paul will get me through life just fine. To combat this, today I decided to visit NPR's Song of the Day and added about a month's worth of songs of the day to my NPR playlist. As a result, I'm happy to report that I've added Wussy to my "possibly to buy from iTunes" list. Their first album came out three years ago, but they are new to me, so congratulate me.

So if you've learned nothing from these Tuesday triflings, which is likely, then I'll leave you with this: I am not the person to ask about music, new, old, or otherwise. For my part, I promise not to bring it up in real-life conversation unless I have a good and specific reason, because it's impossible to talk about music and not sound like an a-hole.


*The secret is that this position was better than a backstage pass. The ways in which I enjoyed this position I'll leave up to your imagination.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Monday musings

This past weekend I traveled back to my hometown and home UMC Conference to attend a Board of Ordained Ministry meeting. The content of this blog post is not necessarily a reflection of the board or its meeting - I support the board and its purpose (otherwise I would not be a member of it) and I even support the polity of the United Methodist Church (otherwise I would not be a member of it) - but I can't help but think, all of the time, that the church/Church is wholly irrelevant to any positive changes in society. This frustrates the hell out of me.

I'm the token "young adult" on the board. I'm okay with playing this role. Young adults of the Church in general are often sequestered and held accountable for coming up with the solutions to save the Church. The problem is the definition of "church." If you're as lucky as me, you've sang "a church is not a building, a church is not a steeple, a church is not a resting place, the church is a people . . ." and then you went to the trustees meeting to make sure we had enough money to put new carpet down, buy new candlesticks, and fix the roof and the furnace and the dishwasher and the padding on the pews. So, one step toward a solution to "save the church" is to have fewer buildings.

Another, far more important step, is to be a part of positive change, not a hindrance to it. Even better, be a leader of positive change, not an entity who joins change already in progress and then congratulates itself on how forward-thinking, earth friendly, and accepting it is when the secular charitable/humanist organizations have treated the earth and people better than the general church for basically all of modern history.

The term "organized religion" has gained - and earned - a nasty connotation. I'm pretty sure I've said this before, but the keyword is "organized." It's a horrific shame that this organization has been used for all classes of evil, but it has, can be, should be, and must be used for all classes of Good if it is to survive as a church of any defintion. I remain a part of this United Methodist beast because I hope that this organized group of people can effect positive change, and to get it to do so I must be a part of it from the inside. By positive change I mean recognition of gay equity, health care for all, education for all, food for all, and poverty and war for none.

Since I've moved away from my hometown and Conference, however, I've taken a step back from my church involvement. I attend worship at a church I like a lot, though I haven't even gone every Sunday. There are so many Good people and organizations in the world that have nothing to do with religion, and in these past two months I've found myself wanting to scream at the Church "Get the hell out of the way so we can do God's work!" But I haven't gotten seriously involved with any of these organizations either. I like being able to name Jesus as part of my motivation, because I believe in God and I hate, hate, hate what Christianity in today's society means and care enough to want to change what it means. But I'm at a crossroad. And I'm religion-tired, or unmotivated. I'm afraid to commit because I'm afraid of burnout and even more of disenchantment.

I'm just beginning to settle in my new home. I need structure and routine more than the regular person (I'm a copy editor for Pete's sake), so taking the time to establish this has been more important than figuring out how I'm going to help save the world. (On top of this, I'm selfish and a bit of a chickenshit.) I've been exploring the city, visiting museums and parks and plays, meeting new people, and literally taking time to smell the roses. In a city that's supposed to make me hard and cynical I've found my walls becoming thinner. I've found myself more centered and open and, dare I say, faithful. I thank God for where I am, in every sense of that phrase.

I'll figure out my role in the grander scheme. In this moment I'm content to be a busy copy editor supporting her smart, good husband who is motivated and who is on the path to help save the world by educating the world. (He couldn't be doing this without me, of course.) It's clear that this is a time in my life for me just be patient and listen, to slow down and shut up and listen. Will I be able to do this? We'll see. I'm so ready to try.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Watch out for the whimsy

A few posts ago I talked about walking around the West Village on a whim one afternoon. It has since become one of my favorite things to do. Since we recently had our camera fixed, I decided to take it with me yesterday morning. Here is what I see.


The Magnolia Bakery. There are Magnolia Bakeries closer to me than this one, and a fantastic Hungarian pastry shop a few blocks away, but I like this particular bakery. Location, location, location. And the dude leaning on the mailbox.



Used book store. I did not go in, and thus have at least some money left to my name.



I took this picture mostly because I want the blue bike. So, added to the book store photo, it seems my photo journal is also my Christmas list.



Perry Street. My favorite street. Many streets all over New York City look like this street, especially in the West Village and Brooklyn, but I've decided that Perry is my favorite.



This is Hudson River Park, at which I sit on the picnic table and work (or not). This is a view back toward the street. The two tall glass buildings are on the corner of Perry Street and West Street. All-glass buildings may be my least favorite type of building (probably because I like to throw stones), but I love these apartments. What you can't see in this photo is inside these buildings. From what I can tell from being a gawker - which I don't feel so bad about since the buildings are made of glass I can see through - the apartments are multilevel, open, postmodern lofts and have a sweet spiral staircase. The view of the river from these apartments must be grand. So, once Tim becomes a public school teacher and we can afford an $18,000 a month mortgage payment, we'll move there. And once Miramax discovers this blog and pays me the billions it's worth to turn into a movie, we'll move to the unit with the spiral staircase. These are also the buildings in front of which I saw two paparazzi sitting, so I'd have a famous neighbor. Tina Fey? Steven Tyler? (It's probably better if I don't find out.) However, since I get mistaken for Charlize Theron all of the time, the paps might get annoying.



Here's my cupcake, my proofreading job, the river, and New Jersey. The end.

Friday, October 09, 2009

Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig sighting

Because I paid for it and went to their play, A Steady Rain. Haha - gotcha *makes hands into the shapes of guns and alternates shooting you with each. Pew pew.*

Yesterday morning I went down to 45th street to "rush" A Steady Rain. This means I waited in front of the theater to buy student rush tickets (deeply discounted tickets to Broadway shows for students). I got there at 8:00 and was the first in line, joined about 10 minutes later by a fellow rusher. The line slowly grew after that. For two hours I sat on the lovely sidewalk, leaned against the building, and waited, proofreading two full chapters and watching Broadway wake up.

For this show student tickets were the last row of the mezzanine, which didn't hurt my feelings since I was getting Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig for $30.00. Much to my straight-female delight, the seats were good because the theater was small. We were in the center by the aisle, the premium student-rush seats awarded to the first in line (who could have slept in a little longer and still gotten tickets). Even in the back we could still see Joey's (Daniel Craig) eyes shift, see Denny's (Hugh Jackman's) (fake) tatoo, and see Hugh Jackman's angry face - my favorite Hugh Jackman face. And his character swore a lot, which was hot.

When given the option between character or plot, I'll always choose character. Ninety-two percent of the time I don't care what people do but why they do what they do. So, knowing that this play was just two dudes sitting in chairs and telling us a story, I was looking forward to a character-driven play. However, the story they tell is mostly plot-driven - they are cops after all, society's bastions of who cares why they did just that they did it and we can prove it. Joey and Denny's tellings of the story(ies) reveals character, of course, but because they tell us right out what motivated them to do what they did. What's the fun in that? Dear writer, let me figure it out so I can feel smart and intuitive! Joey's choices lent to some speculation, and Lenny's verbosity contained some subtext (dear writer, I love subtext), but it wasn't too hard to smoke out.

No writer is obligated to write complicated characters because not all characters are complicated, so my desire for more to "figure out" about Joey and Denny in A Steady Rain is more a reflection on me than on the writer. The play was not simple, though my postplay reflections probably make Denny and Joey more complicated than the writer intended. (But they are mine now, dear writer; you gave them to me. I may even throw in some homoeroticism.) But when reading a story or watching a television show/movie/play, I don't spend so much time wondering whether or not characters will have sex or kill someone or graduate high school but why they do or don't do these things. That's the fun part. I know, I'm so deep.

As expected the acting was astral, of the stars. (See? So deep.) James Bond didn't show up for a second. Daniel Craig was great as Joey, shoulders slumped, a higher voice, weak eyes. Hugh Jackman did a better job of remembering us up in the balcony, but this could be because Denny was more showy. Yeah, let's go with that. Wolverine didn't show up per se, but Denny had fits of anger worthy of Wolverine but far less complicated and minus claws. Yes, Wolverine/Logan's anger is more complicated than Denny's, but Hugh Jackman's angry face is the same. Yessss. I liked the directing (my favorite being when Denny stood in the dark while Joey talked), the lighting, and the few backgrounds that were used as the story progressed. I liked that it was a straight, no-intermission, ninety-minute show. I liked that twice the audience gasped in unison. I liked Denny's colorful descriptions of the world's bad things and people. I liked the Chicago accents they both successfully donned (epecially Daniel Craig). I liked the play. I'd watch it again.

In theory I'd actually like to see it played by American, not distractingly attractive actors, for what the deep people call verisimilitude. If they play were cast this way, however, on Broadway it would not be. If in real life I'm going to see it again, I'm going to watch Hugh and Daniel on Broadway. Now to figure out where can I cut $30 from next month's budget . . .

Monday, October 05, 2009

Photo bombing

Being a cultured bunch, my high school graduating class and I decided to take a day trip to an amusement park for our senior trip. We rode roller coasters, ate park food, went down water slides, but we had the most fun taking turns getting into the background of other people's photos. This was the late 1990s, before digital cameras were prevalent and affordable (and still required floppy disks), so the camera of choice was disposable camera, containing film that needed to be developed in order to view the pictures, making our appearances in these photos all the more surprising and hilarious, in our minds. What we didn't know, was that this was called photo bombing, an activity I encourage.

The Internet is full of amusing photo bombs. The funniest photo bomb I've ever witnessed was my brother standing behind a sparsely branched and decorated Christmas tree with his ass hanging out while family photos were being taken on the other side of the tree. Not until said photos were printed out for Christmas cards was my brother noticed. Great success.

Why am I bringing this up? New York City offers great opportunity for photo bombing. Our part of the city doesn't offer as many photo bombing chances as Times Square or the Empire State Building, but we do have some tourist attractions (and drunk undergrads who want to do group photos at the bar). I vow now to not let opportunities to drop a p-bomb pass me by. Yes, I know I'm old and not very spontaneous or funny, but I will be that girl in the background more than once before a year passes. I encourage you to do the same.

(Not That Scary) Adventures in New York City

I survived the haunted house. Once again, my imagination of what it could be was far worse than what it was. I had a glass of wine before we went, went to the bathroom when we got there, and looked the first vampire right in the eyes when he jumped out at me from the corner, mostly because he came right up to me and looked me in my eyes. I jumped a lot. I was a good audience member. By the third or fourth room it became just as much fun to taunt the scaries as it was for them to taunt you. Good bloody fun. Barring a Nightmare: Cockroaches or Nightmare: Enclosed Spaces, I'll go again.

Friday, October 02, 2009

Forget about the frog



Glenn Beck learns to never actually try and prove that what he says is true. We'll never forget about the frog.