Just in time for Halloween, the DecaAwesome list rises from the dead!! It's not exactly the Zombie DecaAwesome list, but that's a good idea for a themed list later in the month. This is a list of things I just plain like. It's been a stressful month so I think it's a good idea to remember some of the simple joys in life. Also, I watched Amelie last night and I always feel so inspired and whimsical when I watch that movie. Damn you and your irrepressible charm, Audrey Tatou!!
1. Reading a magazine backwards. Sure, I start out by reading it front to back, but soon I turn to the back cover and page through it backwards. I still read articles in order of course, but the paging is done back-to-front. I don't know why I do it, but it makes me happy, so there.
2. Being finished with grading. I love seeing that stack of newly graded papers, each one marked up and ready to be returned to its owner. I spent hours earlier today grading a midterm and I can't explain that wash of joy when the last paper was graded and out of my hands. Accomplishment!
3. The Daily Show. I get a lot of news from the Daily Show, I'm not ashamed to admit. TDS makes me laugh and throws down some facts. Also, Jon Stewart's comic rage is pure genius. This week, TDS is on a break. *sigh*
4. Reading a book that goes down easy. Sure, Proust is worth the effort, and Dostoevsky will break your head while it's breaking your heart, but it's nice every once in a while to read something that doesn't, you know, challenge so much. A book that you eat up like a plate of cookies. I'm reading a book like that right now, and I'm enjoying it very much. Proust is in the on-deck circle.
5. Chocolate. True chocolate lovers will call me a poseur since I don't like dark chocolate, but those people can jump in the lake. I bought myself a Cadbury Caramello on Saturday and I've spent the last few nights eating pure chocolate-caramel joy, three squares at a time. YUM.
6. Trader Joe's. It's not my normal grocery store since I have to drive a ways to get to a decent one, but last night I decided it was time to go and get those products exclusive to Trader Joe's. I won't bore you with a list-within-a-list of what was purchased, but I will tell you that after my roomie and I returned from TJ's, he made a kick-ass salmon dinner that was paired beautifully with a $7 Riesling. Ah, TJ's.
7. Binder clips. It's wrong how into office supplies I am, but there we are. Staples now has this paper clip station wherein you can fill a tub (small, medium, or large) with binder clips, paper clips, fasteners, and the like. I filled a medium tub with whimsical and practical clips (some are shaped like G clefs!) for school. The clip I most often use is the red one with the "X" on it. I put my to-be-graded papers in it. When they're graded, the papers get transferred to the green binder clip with the check mark on in. That's how you know they're done!
8. Glade Scented Oil Candles. They come in a pretty tin, which, is pretty much all I need; I love tins. Anyhoo, you burn these little candles and they smell wonderful without being too strong or cloying. The tin is reusable, and you can get refills for the candles. My recommended scent: Clean Linen. Pretty much says it all. You get the smell of laundry without actually having to do any. WIN!
9. Half.com. I just bought some DVDs I've been putting off buying because they were never going on sale. You can get things both new and used, and it's part of eBay so you know you can trust it. I now own all of Samurai Jack, and season 4 of Supernatural. Take that, Target, for not putting it on sale. Now some independent seller in Minnesota gets my money and you get the shaft! (I'm just kidding, Target. We cool.)
10. Fall weather. The weather over here is a little bipolar at the moment, but that's okay. We have experienced beautiful fall weather intermittently. I'm no fan of winter, and I know that's what fall leads into, but it is such a wonderful thing to walk around in the crisp autumn air, wearing a sweater or a jacket. Fall means crunching leaves when you walk, watching TV at night with a blanket tucked around your feet, buying fresh apple cider at the supermarket, deciding on a Halloween costume, roasting pumpkin seeds, and making holiday plans. It's lovely.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Confessions of a Quidditch Player
I never played organized sports as a kid. Not really. I suppose you could count gym class and some catch and stickball with my Dad and sister, but that's about as far as it went. I have one trophy from my first eighteen years and it's for choir. Yeah, I'm that girl. I played intramural soccer and volleyball in high school, but that was more of a joke than anything. Sometime during college, I got it into my head that I was going to play on the softball team, but one introductory meeting later I realized I couldn't make the time commitment. After college I studied martial arts, but team sports were still definitely missing from my resume.
Last weekend I saw Whip It, the roller derby movie starring Ellen Page. It's a fun movie, perhaps a bit long and formulaic at points, but still a rollicking good time. It made me want to join a roller derby team, and I was heartened by the portrayal of players who were still rolling at my age. I probably won't join a team since I work so damn much (and if I find something else to take me away from writing, my head might explode). But still, that sense of camaraderie and girl power and ass-kicking fun is so tempting. Driving home from the movie, it occurred to me that I had participated in some similar ass-kicking fun.
I've played Quidditch.
Readers of the Harry Potter series and viewers of the movie will at present protest that Quidditch is a magical sport, impossible for Muggles, impossible without brooms, enchanted bludgers, and the golden snitch. Magical Quidditch is indeed impossible, but Muggles have come up with ways to play it (yes, there are multiple versions) and I have had the honor to play four times. Each time I played it was while attending a Harry Potter convention. The first was in Orlando about six or seven years ago when we were still working out how to play Quidditch. We played inside the hotel in a ballroom. On this occasion, I didn't play on a team, per se; I was a snitch-carrier. Since our snitches didn't fly, we had to run with them while the seekers chased us. There were a few snitch carriers and we carried either decoy snitches or the real deal.
A few years later, I played Water Quidditch at the Harry Potter convention in Las Vegas. My team was The Giant Squids (we called ourselves the "Squiddies") and we played and practiced in the gorgeous pool at the hotel. I was a beater on this team, but I substituted as a keeper for one of our games. I liked Water Quidditch a lot, but my favorite kind of Quidditch is Mud Quidditch.
It was October of 2005, in Salem, Massachusetts. The Saturday of the Quidditch tournament dawned gray and chilly. All of the teams in the tournament met at the House of the Seven Gables for a special breakfast. My team: the Punctuation Pixies. Our logo features a tough-as-nails pixie giving y'all the finger (the British version). We had met the previous day in person for practice and strategizing, but we'd all met months ahead of time on the interwebs. All of us are writers and/or artists so the physical part of the game was not our strong suit. Where we owned was in the attitude.
For some reason, the Pixies had a reputation as a badass team right off the bat, even though all of our people were nerds and dorks. We probably had one real athlete on the team, but there we were, with a huge cheering section. Our fans screamed the loudest and threw glitter on us as we took the field. We chanted "Mud and Blood" to get psyched up before our matches, and when people took our picture we gave 'em the finger (the British version). The rain that came down even before we started the tournament couldn't dampen our amazing pixie-ness. Or maybe it was just the sugar; we chugged pixie sticks throughout the game. We played our little dork hearts out. We played in the mud as hard as we could. Did we score? Not a single point. Not once. In either of our games. But we were ebullient anyway. After our final defeat, we dove headfirst into the mud on the pitch and rolled around, laughing and screaming and having an awesome time.
The Fizzing Whizbees ended up winning the Quidditch Cup that day, but guess which team made the front page of the Oracle (the daily paper for the convention) under the headline "MUD AND BLOOD!!" That's right, the Punctuation Pixies scored the place of honor. In addition to that, on the way from the park back to the convention (the tournament was played in a public park nearby) people began stopping us--for our autographs. Yes, the losingest, muddiest team in the tournament signed so many autographs on the way back to the hotel that the mud on our bodies hardened into a cement-like substance. Not only that, but NPR interviewed us as did some local television show. At the leaving breakfast at the end of the convention, the Fizzing Whizbees got the Quidditch Cup, but the Pixies got the most applause.
Two years after that I had the opportunity to play for the Pixies again in New Orleans. We played in a park on the banks of the Mississippi. We lost again, but once again, we didn't care because it was ass-kicking fun.
This is a frame-grab of me playing Quidditch in New Orleans. This was the moment after I made my only save of the day. It's from a video that MTV News shot (I still can't believe they managed to film my only athletic move ever). It's still up on the web, and this is the thumbnail that advertises the story. I think that's pretty cool.
Thousands, probably millions, of kids have played soccer and little league. My team sport? Quidditch. How many people can say that?
Last weekend I saw Whip It, the roller derby movie starring Ellen Page. It's a fun movie, perhaps a bit long and formulaic at points, but still a rollicking good time. It made me want to join a roller derby team, and I was heartened by the portrayal of players who were still rolling at my age. I probably won't join a team since I work so damn much (and if I find something else to take me away from writing, my head might explode). But still, that sense of camaraderie and girl power and ass-kicking fun is so tempting. Driving home from the movie, it occurred to me that I had participated in some similar ass-kicking fun.
I've played Quidditch.
Readers of the Harry Potter series and viewers of the movie will at present protest that Quidditch is a magical sport, impossible for Muggles, impossible without brooms, enchanted bludgers, and the golden snitch. Magical Quidditch is indeed impossible, but Muggles have come up with ways to play it (yes, there are multiple versions) and I have had the honor to play four times. Each time I played it was while attending a Harry Potter convention. The first was in Orlando about six or seven years ago when we were still working out how to play Quidditch. We played inside the hotel in a ballroom. On this occasion, I didn't play on a team, per se; I was a snitch-carrier. Since our snitches didn't fly, we had to run with them while the seekers chased us. There were a few snitch carriers and we carried either decoy snitches or the real deal.
A few years later, I played Water Quidditch at the Harry Potter convention in Las Vegas. My team was The Giant Squids (we called ourselves the "Squiddies") and we played and practiced in the gorgeous pool at the hotel. I was a beater on this team, but I substituted as a keeper for one of our games. I liked Water Quidditch a lot, but my favorite kind of Quidditch is Mud Quidditch.
It was October of 2005, in Salem, Massachusetts. The Saturday of the Quidditch tournament dawned gray and chilly. All of the teams in the tournament met at the House of the Seven Gables for a special breakfast. My team: the Punctuation Pixies. Our logo features a tough-as-nails pixie giving y'all the finger (the British version). We had met the previous day in person for practice and strategizing, but we'd all met months ahead of time on the interwebs. All of us are writers and/or artists so the physical part of the game was not our strong suit. Where we owned was in the attitude.
For some reason, the Pixies had a reputation as a badass team right off the bat, even though all of our people were nerds and dorks. We probably had one real athlete on the team, but there we were, with a huge cheering section. Our fans screamed the loudest and threw glitter on us as we took the field. We chanted "Mud and Blood" to get psyched up before our matches, and when people took our picture we gave 'em the finger (the British version). The rain that came down even before we started the tournament couldn't dampen our amazing pixie-ness. Or maybe it was just the sugar; we chugged pixie sticks throughout the game. We played our little dork hearts out. We played in the mud as hard as we could. Did we score? Not a single point. Not once. In either of our games. But we were ebullient anyway. After our final defeat, we dove headfirst into the mud on the pitch and rolled around, laughing and screaming and having an awesome time.
The Fizzing Whizbees ended up winning the Quidditch Cup that day, but guess which team made the front page of the Oracle (the daily paper for the convention) under the headline "MUD AND BLOOD!!" That's right, the Punctuation Pixies scored the place of honor. In addition to that, on the way from the park back to the convention (the tournament was played in a public park nearby) people began stopping us--for our autographs. Yes, the losingest, muddiest team in the tournament signed so many autographs on the way back to the hotel that the mud on our bodies hardened into a cement-like substance. Not only that, but NPR interviewed us as did some local television show. At the leaving breakfast at the end of the convention, the Fizzing Whizbees got the Quidditch Cup, but the Pixies got the most applause.
Two years after that I had the opportunity to play for the Pixies again in New Orleans. We played in a park on the banks of the Mississippi. We lost again, but once again, we didn't care because it was ass-kicking fun.
This is a frame-grab of me playing Quidditch in New Orleans. This was the moment after I made my only save of the day. It's from a video that MTV News shot (I still can't believe they managed to film my only athletic move ever). It's still up on the web, and this is the thumbnail that advertises the story. I think that's pretty cool.Thousands, probably millions, of kids have played soccer and little league. My team sport? Quidditch. How many people can say that?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
...And Together We'll Be Fine
It is indeed a blessing that there are different personalities in the world and that there are people who like and excel at different kinds of things. I just spent the last six working days in jury duty, and during that time I watched lawyers and judges hustling through downtown with their file folders. Suits and shiny ties on the men, suits and painfully high heels for the women. I watched these folks going through their day-to-day jobs and I thought to myself, 'If I had to do this every day, I'd end it all.' It's not the suits so much, I wear them myself sometimes (although I prefer jeans and I refuse to wear heels unless it's a really special occasion). It's not the research that bothers me either. I love research. And libraries. No, it's the rest of the job. I don't have the stomach to argue every day. When I talk to groups of people the only thing I want hanging in the balance is knowledge, not someone's fate. I also lack the command of logic that I think might be necessary for lawyering. I assume it's necessary since that's what the LSAT tests. I'm decidedly illogical and often silly. I'm just glad those lawyers and judges do their jobs, and perhaps love doing their jobs, because lawyering and judging are not the jobs for me.
Likewise, I don't think I could work in an office 9-5 every day. I worked in an office all through college and afterwards. A few summers ago I temped for an agency that sent me out as an executive assistant for bigwigs in television production. I hated it. I hated making copies and setting up meetings. I hated rolling calls. I hated being told what to do all the time. I hated being "on-call" for someone else. It's not an existence I am comfortable with. But there are people who excel at such things, who pride themselves on their organization, their ability to predict what will need to be done, who thrive on the pressure to get things done right now. And I salute those people, because I am not one of them.
The job I feel most comfortable in is teaching. Unlike the office jobs that seemed a bit unreal to me at the time--why am I doing this? who is this helping? I never see or meet anyone affected by my work--teaching always seems so real to me. It's happening right now. It's alive and unpredictable. Teaching means interacting with people. In some ways, it's performing. I suppose that's one reason why people might not want to have my job. It requires public speaking, the ability to ad-lib and think on your feet. Patience is not a requirement, but it sure does help. I love doing it because the gratification is almost instant, and the payoffs are huge.
When jury duty was finally over yesterday, I sighed with relief. I didn't have to return to the courthouse again. I could get back to my life and back to the job that I am supposed to have. It was good to see how other people live, though. Good to see bailiffs, judges, attorneys, clerks, court reporters, and police officers all doing their jobs. Even though I'm not at the courthouse today, it's business as usual over there. Juries are being selected, the unwieldy vehicle that is the American justice system rolls on. But I'm here and I don't miss being there.
Besides, they'll call me back for a visit soon enough.
Likewise, I don't think I could work in an office 9-5 every day. I worked in an office all through college and afterwards. A few summers ago I temped for an agency that sent me out as an executive assistant for bigwigs in television production. I hated it. I hated making copies and setting up meetings. I hated rolling calls. I hated being told what to do all the time. I hated being "on-call" for someone else. It's not an existence I am comfortable with. But there are people who excel at such things, who pride themselves on their organization, their ability to predict what will need to be done, who thrive on the pressure to get things done right now. And I salute those people, because I am not one of them.
The job I feel most comfortable in is teaching. Unlike the office jobs that seemed a bit unreal to me at the time--why am I doing this? who is this helping? I never see or meet anyone affected by my work--teaching always seems so real to me. It's happening right now. It's alive and unpredictable. Teaching means interacting with people. In some ways, it's performing. I suppose that's one reason why people might not want to have my job. It requires public speaking, the ability to ad-lib and think on your feet. Patience is not a requirement, but it sure does help. I love doing it because the gratification is almost instant, and the payoffs are huge.
When jury duty was finally over yesterday, I sighed with relief. I didn't have to return to the courthouse again. I could get back to my life and back to the job that I am supposed to have. It was good to see how other people live, though. Good to see bailiffs, judges, attorneys, clerks, court reporters, and police officers all doing their jobs. Even though I'm not at the courthouse today, it's business as usual over there. Juries are being selected, the unwieldy vehicle that is the American justice system rolls on. But I'm here and I don't miss being there.
Besides, they'll call me back for a visit soon enough.
Monday, September 28, 2009
What A Mind Looks Like
A few years ago I saw an unremarkable movie called Dreamcatcher. It's based on an unremarkable book by Stephen King (I love some of King's books; this one was okay--not great, but okay). The one thing about the film that really stuck with me, though, is the representation of a particular character's mind.In the course of the film, this character--Jonesy--is invaded by an alien parasite. The alien wants to find out specific information from this character and reads his mind. But Jonesy's mind is like a warehouse with file cabinets, and he is able to hide the "file" the alien is looking for. The scenes in the mind were my favorite and they got me to thinking about what the inside of my mind might look like.
I can tell you this: it's probably sloppy. Sloppy, but organized. I have a system, but only I know how it works. I'm thinking that it's like the attic of an old house. Some slats in the roof are missing, so a decent amount of light streams in, but there are plenty of dark, dusty corners too. I'm guessing that there are probably file cabinets in there, you know, to keep the facts straight. I imagine a file cabinet full of all the stuff I learned in elementary school. I have a file for the times tables, a file for all the religious stuff I learned in Catholic schools like Holy Days of Obligation, the Seven Sacraments, the Seven Deadly Sins, etc. There's a file full of mathematical formulas like the Pythagorean theorem, BaseXRate=Part, the quadratic equation (I can't see that last one real well. I think this part of the attic has water damage).
In a brighter corner, there's a big basket full of songs. It's not organized in any way, but everything is easily accessible. I imagine that each song looks like an Atari cartridge, and that each day, a different cartridge gets shuffled into the song player. There is always music playing in my head. My mind's ear is a high-tech piece of equipment. It plays my mind's soundtrack, which is probably the most interesting thing about my mind. Bits of remembered conversations, movie lines, song clips, and things I want to say (or didn't say), all vie for air space. And my mind's ear has the ability to play back lots of different kinds of things on command. Everything from entire musicals to my mother's voice to the sounds of different instruments to the part of Family Guy that made me laugh last night. The mind's ear helps me remember things and allows me to do voices and impressions. It's probably the best-kept part of my brain.
There's a dusty screen up there that acts as my mind's eye. It's not that great a set-up. It works, but it's not very detailed. It's pretty good with faces, but not that great with locations. In fact, the channel that supplies me with information on how to get places is pretty much out all the time. I think squirrels chewed through the cable.
Then there's the stuff I use every day. I imagine that this stuff is in tote bags hanging on pegs. In real life, I keep my life organized by having different bags for different things. I have a bag for work, a bag for church choir, a bag for tutoring jobs, a bag for the radio show. When I'm leaving the house, I choose the bag(s) I will need for the day and take them with me. In each bag are the important objects, information, and books I need for each job. Inside my mind, I imagine that all of the facts and skills I need for a certain task are in the tote bag for that task. The teaching tote bag, for example, has musical facts, anecdotes, classroom management skills, ideas for projects and homeworks, mnemonic devices, and a buttload of patience.
Finally, and most importantly, are the organ-grinder's monkey and the Tinkerbell-ish fairy. My mind isn't a still-life. It's full of activity. The monkey runs around and pulls files out of cabinets. He overturns the music basket, pulls the tote bags off their pegs and generally causes a ruckus. He makes me funny. He makes me say random things. He shows me a funny cartoon that causes me to laugh out loud in the supermarket. The fairy, on the other hand, makes me creative. She flies around the attic, looking at different things, finding ways to make new things out of them. She helps me turn ideas into stories. She's the one who suggested I write this blog about the inside of my mind. She sprinkles fairy dust on ordinary stuff, turning it magic.
What is your mind like? Think about it. Take a picture of it. Is it an attic or a basement? A wide open field or a small room? Is it light or dark? Does it look just like your desktop wallpaper? Or your screensaver? Is it a place that you avoid? Or the most comfortable place in your life. My mind may be dusty and cluttered, and it may have a slightly hyper monkey running around in it, and weird music playing 24/7, but it is the finest palace imaginable.
I can tell you this: it's probably sloppy. Sloppy, but organized. I have a system, but only I know how it works. I'm thinking that it's like the attic of an old house. Some slats in the roof are missing, so a decent amount of light streams in, but there are plenty of dark, dusty corners too. I'm guessing that there are probably file cabinets in there, you know, to keep the facts straight. I imagine a file cabinet full of all the stuff I learned in elementary school. I have a file for the times tables, a file for all the religious stuff I learned in Catholic schools like Holy Days of Obligation, the Seven Sacraments, the Seven Deadly Sins, etc. There's a file full of mathematical formulas like the Pythagorean theorem, BaseXRate=Part, the quadratic equation (I can't see that last one real well. I think this part of the attic has water damage).
In a brighter corner, there's a big basket full of songs. It's not organized in any way, but everything is easily accessible. I imagine that each song looks like an Atari cartridge, and that each day, a different cartridge gets shuffled into the song player. There is always music playing in my head. My mind's ear is a high-tech piece of equipment. It plays my mind's soundtrack, which is probably the most interesting thing about my mind. Bits of remembered conversations, movie lines, song clips, and things I want to say (or didn't say), all vie for air space. And my mind's ear has the ability to play back lots of different kinds of things on command. Everything from entire musicals to my mother's voice to the sounds of different instruments to the part of Family Guy that made me laugh last night. The mind's ear helps me remember things and allows me to do voices and impressions. It's probably the best-kept part of my brain.
There's a dusty screen up there that acts as my mind's eye. It's not that great a set-up. It works, but it's not very detailed. It's pretty good with faces, but not that great with locations. In fact, the channel that supplies me with information on how to get places is pretty much out all the time. I think squirrels chewed through the cable.
Then there's the stuff I use every day. I imagine that this stuff is in tote bags hanging on pegs. In real life, I keep my life organized by having different bags for different things. I have a bag for work, a bag for church choir, a bag for tutoring jobs, a bag for the radio show. When I'm leaving the house, I choose the bag(s) I will need for the day and take them with me. In each bag are the important objects, information, and books I need for each job. Inside my mind, I imagine that all of the facts and skills I need for a certain task are in the tote bag for that task. The teaching tote bag, for example, has musical facts, anecdotes, classroom management skills, ideas for projects and homeworks, mnemonic devices, and a buttload of patience.
Finally, and most importantly, are the organ-grinder's monkey and the Tinkerbell-ish fairy. My mind isn't a still-life. It's full of activity. The monkey runs around and pulls files out of cabinets. He overturns the music basket, pulls the tote bags off their pegs and generally causes a ruckus. He makes me funny. He makes me say random things. He shows me a funny cartoon that causes me to laugh out loud in the supermarket. The fairy, on the other hand, makes me creative. She flies around the attic, looking at different things, finding ways to make new things out of them. She helps me turn ideas into stories. She's the one who suggested I write this blog about the inside of my mind. She sprinkles fairy dust on ordinary stuff, turning it magic.
What is your mind like? Think about it. Take a picture of it. Is it an attic or a basement? A wide open field or a small room? Is it light or dark? Does it look just like your desktop wallpaper? Or your screensaver? Is it a place that you avoid? Or the most comfortable place in your life. My mind may be dusty and cluttered, and it may have a slightly hyper monkey running around in it, and weird music playing 24/7, but it is the finest palace imaginable.
Monday, September 21, 2009
The 15 Commandments
I was waiting for someone on Saturday, and whilst waiting I was reading a story in the New Yorker about Zappos. You know, the shoe company. Zappos has a really intricate customer service policy and a pretty neat mission statement. Well, even though I've done mission statements in the past (they're great for a bulletin board!), I was inspired to think up some rules for myself. You might find some of them useful too. Call them my 15 Commandments. Because sometimes, 10 just isn't enough.
1. Visit New York at least once a year.
NY is where my family lives, so this one means go and connect with family. Remember who you are and where you came from. Also, drink and laugh with the people who made you.
2. Talk to family at least once a week.
No matter where I am in the world, no matter what I'm doing, it's a good idea to talk to parents, sister, or grandmothers. Which reminds me, I forgot to call my grandmas yesterday. Must do it today.
3. Don't lose sleep for work.
Work will be there in the morning. It's better to call it a night and start fresh in the morning than lose a night's sleep over work. Losing sleep is not healthy for me, and the repercussions last longer than a single night. Besides, sleep is where I'm a Viking.
4. Be open to new ideas.
I don't want to be one of those set-in-her-ways people. I reserve the right to reject an idea after I've given it some thought, but being open to new ideas, things, and people is definitely a good plan.
5. Don't be afraid to let old ideas go.
If it ain't working, get rid of it. It's better to admit that it's wrong than to waste time and energy trying to make it right. You can waste a lot of time, energy, money, etc. on such things. Believe me, I know.
6. Be truthful whenever possible.
This is a new one for me. I'm not saying I'm a liar, but it has in the past been my modus operandi to say I'm ok when I'm not, or to agree to something when I wasn't 100% convinced. I'm trying to be more truthful about my feelings and opinions, especially with loved ones. I'm pretty honest at work. It's just in the social life where I roll with the punches maybe a bit too often.
7. Make time for a friend.
I originally wrote "Make time for a meal with a friend" because nothing is better than sitting down to breakfast, lunch, or dinner with someone you love. Catching up is important and it's worth the time. Sure, you can grab lunch in 15 minutes at a drive through, but do you get to reminisce about that time we did that crazy thing? Do you get to drink a glass of wine? Do you get to laugh? I changed it to "Make time for a friend" because some of my friends live far away and a meal is pretty impossible. But I can make a phone date and catch up.
8. Write as often as possible.
For me, this is hard because writing takes a backseat to my other jobs. I do it when everything else is done. And guess what, everything else never gets done. So I just have to prioritize. Blogging every week seems to help this so at the very least, I'll do that.
9. Focus your energy on important tasks.
I am a laser beam sometimes. When I was writing my dissertation, I was a laser beam. I was focused and disciplined, and it was one of the most productive times in my life. I don't always find this focus nowadays. My energy is diffused in too many directions, but I plan to streamline a little bit so I can get some of that focus back.
10. Keep a journal.
Absolutely essential for me. Keeps me honest with myself. Should only be published after my death. And the deaths of everyone that's in it.
11. Be kind and fair.
Probably the thing I find the easiest to do.
12. Allow yourself a break now and then.
Probably the thing I find most difficult. It's like I have two settings: I'm either productive, getting stuff done, or I'm lazy and useless. There's only a sliver of ground between these now. It's a challenge to turn the computer off and stop working. It's hard for me to just sit, but I've been cultivating mindfulness, and it's been miraculous. If only I could just do it more often.
13. Visit at least one new place a year.
It's a big planet, and I haven't even seen the pyramids yet. I've gone a lot of places so far, but I think that it's a good idea to aim for a new destination every year. Ireland, Amsterdam, hell, I've never been to Chicago. The experience is always going to be worth the time and the money.
14. Be generous with your time and talent, but save some for yourself.
You can give so much away that you become empty, but only if you don't take care of yourself. I have to keep enriching myself and feeding myself so that there's always something to share. If I do that, I'll never run out.
15. Use anger as a fuel, not a weapon.
You're pissed off, right? Annoyed at something? Let it spur you to action. Let it be the combustion that drives your engine. Do something about it. Or just do something. Go for a run, start a campaign, talk it out with someone, vote, blog, rescue a kitten, donate some money, draw a picture, organize a committee, write a letter, seek out a hug, cry and then dry your tears and think of something you can do about it. For God's sake, don't yell at people, hit anyone, drive unsafely, destroy inanimate objects, waste time with blame, or just let it seethe. Anger is powerful so USE it to light up a city.
And a bonus one:
Laugh.
At most things. At things that are overly serious. At the driver who's making you late. At the way things appear to be falling apart. At yourself. In the grand scheme of things, it'll probably be okay. So take a step back and see the ridiculousness. You'll live longer.
1. Visit New York at least once a year.
NY is where my family lives, so this one means go and connect with family. Remember who you are and where you came from. Also, drink and laugh with the people who made you.
2. Talk to family at least once a week.
No matter where I am in the world, no matter what I'm doing, it's a good idea to talk to parents, sister, or grandmothers. Which reminds me, I forgot to call my grandmas yesterday. Must do it today.
3. Don't lose sleep for work.
Work will be there in the morning. It's better to call it a night and start fresh in the morning than lose a night's sleep over work. Losing sleep is not healthy for me, and the repercussions last longer than a single night. Besides, sleep is where I'm a Viking.
4. Be open to new ideas.
I don't want to be one of those set-in-her-ways people. I reserve the right to reject an idea after I've given it some thought, but being open to new ideas, things, and people is definitely a good plan.
5. Don't be afraid to let old ideas go.
If it ain't working, get rid of it. It's better to admit that it's wrong than to waste time and energy trying to make it right. You can waste a lot of time, energy, money, etc. on such things. Believe me, I know.
6. Be truthful whenever possible.
This is a new one for me. I'm not saying I'm a liar, but it has in the past been my modus operandi to say I'm ok when I'm not, or to agree to something when I wasn't 100% convinced. I'm trying to be more truthful about my feelings and opinions, especially with loved ones. I'm pretty honest at work. It's just in the social life where I roll with the punches maybe a bit too often.
7. Make time for a friend.
I originally wrote "Make time for a meal with a friend" because nothing is better than sitting down to breakfast, lunch, or dinner with someone you love. Catching up is important and it's worth the time. Sure, you can grab lunch in 15 minutes at a drive through, but do you get to reminisce about that time we did that crazy thing? Do you get to drink a glass of wine? Do you get to laugh? I changed it to "Make time for a friend" because some of my friends live far away and a meal is pretty impossible. But I can make a phone date and catch up.
8. Write as often as possible.
For me, this is hard because writing takes a backseat to my other jobs. I do it when everything else is done. And guess what, everything else never gets done. So I just have to prioritize. Blogging every week seems to help this so at the very least, I'll do that.
9. Focus your energy on important tasks.
I am a laser beam sometimes. When I was writing my dissertation, I was a laser beam. I was focused and disciplined, and it was one of the most productive times in my life. I don't always find this focus nowadays. My energy is diffused in too many directions, but I plan to streamline a little bit so I can get some of that focus back.
10. Keep a journal.
Absolutely essential for me. Keeps me honest with myself. Should only be published after my death. And the deaths of everyone that's in it.
11. Be kind and fair.
Probably the thing I find the easiest to do.
12. Allow yourself a break now and then.
Probably the thing I find most difficult. It's like I have two settings: I'm either productive, getting stuff done, or I'm lazy and useless. There's only a sliver of ground between these now. It's a challenge to turn the computer off and stop working. It's hard for me to just sit, but I've been cultivating mindfulness, and it's been miraculous. If only I could just do it more often.
13. Visit at least one new place a year.
It's a big planet, and I haven't even seen the pyramids yet. I've gone a lot of places so far, but I think that it's a good idea to aim for a new destination every year. Ireland, Amsterdam, hell, I've never been to Chicago. The experience is always going to be worth the time and the money.
14. Be generous with your time and talent, but save some for yourself.
You can give so much away that you become empty, but only if you don't take care of yourself. I have to keep enriching myself and feeding myself so that there's always something to share. If I do that, I'll never run out.
15. Use anger as a fuel, not a weapon.
You're pissed off, right? Annoyed at something? Let it spur you to action. Let it be the combustion that drives your engine. Do something about it. Or just do something. Go for a run, start a campaign, talk it out with someone, vote, blog, rescue a kitten, donate some money, draw a picture, organize a committee, write a letter, seek out a hug, cry and then dry your tears and think of something you can do about it. For God's sake, don't yell at people, hit anyone, drive unsafely, destroy inanimate objects, waste time with blame, or just let it seethe. Anger is powerful so USE it to light up a city.
And a bonus one:
Laugh.
At most things. At things that are overly serious. At the driver who's making you late. At the way things appear to be falling apart. At yourself. In the grand scheme of things, it'll probably be okay. So take a step back and see the ridiculousness. You'll live longer.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
3-2-1 Contact!
I found chemistry and physics impenetrable subjects in high school. In college, I stuck close to medical anthropology and left bio, chem, physics, and astronomy to the science heads. But that doesn't mean I'm not interested. In fact, I'm a big fan of science shows on TV. Nova, The Universe, Planet Earth, How It's Made, Mythbusters, are always welcome on my TV, but my love of all those shows started with a program that aired when I was a child. It all started with 3-2-1 Contact.
3-2-1 Contact aired on PBS in the 1980s. Every week had a theme like food or gravity or computers (laughable in the 80s). At the beginning of its run, 3-2-1 Contact episodes featured vignettes with three college-aged buddies: Marc, Trini, and Lisa who would perform science experiments at their hangout and sometimes go out and visit scientific places. Trini went to a lab with an electron microscope, Lisa got to take an enviable hot air balloon ride, Marc went to a speech therapy lab. They panned for gold. They helped out a glass-blower. It was awesome.
At the end of episodes, there would be an episode of the Bloodhound Gang--a filmed multi-day mystery that could be solved using such science-y things as a pinhole camera or disappearing ink. One mystery hinged on finding out what kind of wood does not float (hint: it's ironwood). Also, the Bloodhound Gang had an awesome theme song that I will be happy to sing on request. Oh! One more thing! The kids who called themselves Bloodhound Gang (Vicki was their leader) worked for the never-seen Mr. Bloodhound. When the phone rang, one of the kids would answer, "Whenever there's trouble, we're there on the double. Mr. Bloodhound isn't here."
Have I mentioned that I LOVED this show??
As the years went by, Marc, Trini, and Lisa (and their hangout) were replaced. The new kids sometimes hung out at a diner. They still visited labs, doctors' offices, and observatories, but the weekly themes got more ambitious. In fact, one week-long theme took 3-2-1 Contact to Antarctica. We got to see a penguin rookery (where I learned the work "rookery") and saw some of the scientific research done at the South Pole. The kids would invariably have a "friend" in the place where they visited--a friend who would take them around, translate, and show them everything they needed to know. This spawned a joke between a friend and me when, many moons ago, my friend Michele planned a Chinese New Year party. In order to obtain authentic food and treats for the party, we went shopping in NYC's Chinatown. Among the signs written only in Chinese characters, we were at a loss as to where to go, or even what shops would have what we needed. I can't remember who said the following, but I suspect it was me. "You know what we need?" one of us said, "we need to suddenly meet up with out friend Ling who will take us to all the right places." Sadly, Ling never materialized, but a store selling pork buns was discovered, and the party ended up being great.
When the "new" 3-2-1 Contact was on, I was probably about 12 or so. It was a spongy age. I watched those shows and absorbed everything. I didn't know it was happening. I just knew I loved the show. Oh, I wish I had had a DVR back then! I subscribed to 3-2-1 Contact Magazine for far longer than I probably should have. (I was old.) One week featured a series of shows that was a particular favorite. It was a series on Malaysia. At the time, I wondered if I'd ever make it halfway across the world to this fascinating place. Well, crazily enough, I got to go this summer. I didn't get to see a native Malaysian forge a Kris dagger (like I did on the show), but I did get to see Malaysia's oldest rubber tree.
The strange fact is that this little show had a huge effect on me. I still think about it a lot, about the time Trini made a boat out of clay, or the time Marc got to put numbers on bees and watch them do their wiggle dance, or the time we learned how much stuff someone at the South Pole has to wear to keep warm. And every damn time I see a hot air balloon, I think of Lisa getting to take that magical trip. I didn't end up a scientist, but I did end up curious about everything, which is, I suppose, is even better than knowing everything.
Back to Work
I can't believe it's been more than two months since I last posted. In my defense, a lot has been going on, including--but not limited to--a new niece, a conference in Malaysia, and a visit home. But it's time to get into the lovely comfortable routine of Back-to-School (and that also means getting back into the Blog-A-Week thing). I'm actually looking forward to a little bit of routine because I've spent the last two months in constant motion, and it'll be a relief to go to the same place every day for a while. Besides that, I like my job a lot and that's what this particular blog entry is all about. I actually wrote the following while in Malaysia, but this is the first opportunity I've had to type it here.
Almost every job has some sort of hidden perk. I say 'almost' because there's just nothing redeeming about a telemarketing. Boring jobs, for instance, can be great for catching up on crossword puzzles. Einstein's boring job at the patent office allowed him a lot of time to conduct what he called "thought experiments." Lovers of post-it notes, file folders, and paper clips (you know who you are) may have office jobs where such things are available for pilfering. Any job can offer such unadvertised benefits as free ill-gotten photocopies or even mortgage incentives from the company credit union. But the hidden perks are not the kinds of things that come up in the final interview. They are the kinds of things that you only find out about on the job.
I have been constantly surprised at the hidden perks at my job. The unconcealed perks are quite good too: wonderful supportive colleagues, amazing students, an office of my own, a steady paycheck, medical and dental insurance, a parking spot, and vision coverage that allows me a new pair of glasses every two years. As I start my fourth year as a full-timer, what I've noticed is that the hidden perks were also completely unexpected.
Being a music teacher--specifically a teacher of voice--I am there at the beginning of musical careers, and therefore involved in a bustling music scene. Sometimes I get to participate in musical events. One of my former students is a songwriter, and he asked me to sing back-up on some of his songs. With him, I've had the chance to play gigs in cool little clubs and bars, something I've always wanted to do. I'm getting my chance now, and I never expected that. How fun is that?
For the last two years, one of my standard assignments has been a CD review. It's designed to get my voice students to think and write critically about their vocal models. The unexpected consequence is that I learn about musicians I might never know otherwise. Some of my discoveries have been new and cutting edge acts, and some have been composers and performers of the past. My students have introduced me to Susannah McCorkle, Tegan and Sara, the Pharcyde, Mindless Self Indulgence, the Bloodhound Gang, and Blossom Dearie, among others. For the presence of this new music in my life, I am eternally grateful.
Finally, my job allows me to meet a hundred new people every semester. The majority of those folks come and go, but every once in a while I'll make a friendly connection with a student that lasts after the class is over, and maybe even after they've moved on to another school or another opportunity. I've made three or four really good friends over the last couple of years. Believe me, it's not something I expected. I certainly expected to make friends with my colleagues--and I have, but I never imagined that I would meet some of my closest buddies for the first time by calling their name on the roll sheet. But that's what's so delightful about it.
The unexpected things are sometimes the most fun. My job may be difficult, and teachers these days may have to do a lot with a little, but the hidden perks of the job make it more than worthwhile. After all, there's no supply closet at work; I have to buy my own post-it notes. But that's okay because I've got rhythm, I've got music, and I've got my friends. Who could ask for anything more?
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