A few moments ago during a coffee run (we have a Starbucks on the lot), the girl in front of me ordered (for one of her superiors) a "decaf latte, with 4 shots." I immediately laughed and said, "What's the point of asking for decaf? Isn't that a little weird?" Neither the no-nonsense barista (female) nor the assistant (who seemed frightened, even out of earshot of her bosses) seemed to find any humor in my statement. In fact, the barista gave me a look of death and said something curt in defense of the order. Then I stepped up and ordered a light frappucino with whip cream (not for me), but decided not to share the humor in that with the humorless barista.
Their reaction to my statement made me take pause. I wondered if, in fact, I have been mistaken (all these years) in thinking that espresso shots contain caffeine. After I placed my orders, I sidled up to the assistant and said, "Shots have caffeine, right? Is he just asking for decaf to delude himself, or what?" She looked up at me from squeezing her orders into her carry-out tray, then shrugged. "I don't know." She was reading the coffee orders from an email that said, "Please deliver to floor 6," so I wondered if she even knew the guy. She was probably intern, and that probably wasn't the weirdest order she'd ever filled.
But when I got back, I told two friends, just to check. They thought it was weird.
And then I Wikipedia'd "espresso": "While there can be significant variation, on a per-volume basis, espresso contains approximately three times the caffeine content of regular brewed coffee (1.700 g/l (50 mg per fluid ounce) of espresso versus 0.50–0.75 g/l (14–22 mg per ounce) for brewed coffee). Compared on the basis of usual serving sizes, a 30 ml (1 fluid ounce) shot of espresso has about half the caffeine of a standard 180 ml (6 fluid ounce) cup of American-style coffee, which varies from 80 to 130 mg."
I guess the strangest part of the whole encounter was that nobody stops to laugh at (or question) all the funny little things like that that happen every day. Or maybe people don't notice? Or care?
This inspires me to share two quick coffee-related stories.
A few months ago I went on a (fairly unremarkable, kind of bad) coffee date, at a Coffee Bean. During the good part (the part before we'd really talked much), we sat down at a table that was already littered with tiny espresso mugs (I love miniature crockery). A few minutes later a barista-janitoress asked if we were done with our coffee. We laughed and said yes, none of this was ours. Imagine if we'd imbibed all of that caffeine! The barista told us that she never jokes or makes judgments, because you never know... Out of curiosity, we asked her the maximum number of extra shots anyone has ever ordered from her. She said that somebody had asked her for FOURTEEN shots in one drink. We concluded that said person must have been a recovering drug addict, looking for an angry fix. Nobody else could handle that kind of buzz.
Least of all, me. This past summer Cole and I took a UCLA Extension one-day seminar, at UCLA (which is not a total duh because they have classes all over, I think). On the morning of, we arrived in Westwood a bit ahead of schedule, and decided to drop into a Peet's Coffee, because we don't generally go to Peet's. Neither of us being major coffee people, we ordered Chai Lattes, which turned out to be undrinkably spicy. I didn't want to just throw a $5 drink in the trash and walk out, so I asked the baristas if I could have something else. At first one of them gave me attitude about how everybody knows that Peet's is stronger than other places (my response: Um... I didn't), but another one (who seemed to side with me that the Chais were gross) took pity on us. Cole was planning on suffering through his latte, but the barista offered to make new drinks for both of us. I don't remember what happened, but something went wrong with drink #2, and I finally ended up getting some sort of coffee drink-- but forgot to order it decaf. At that point I just wanted to get out of this cursed shop, so we left.
Cut to: 10 minutes later, my heart is beating like a hummingbird's. I always drink decaf because my family drinks decaf, and because I generally have a lot of energy to begin with. I didn't actually think that caffeine was something that would mess with me, other than making me have to pee more or something. But wow, caffeine is not my friend. I felt like I was taking crazy pills, FOR REAL. I was laughing and sweating and shaking. And about to enter an 8-hour lecture.
So... those are some tales from the coffee crypt. I ended up including LA's Big 3 (Starbucks, Coffee Bean, Peet's) without even trying. While drinking a good Chai Latte (a rare treat; I usually don't order). (But when I do order... now that I order for multiple people at once, I always give myself a fake name, because even though I love the fake name game it's too weird to do an obvious fake name for just myself. Today I was Bill. Last time I was Wanda.)
Monday, March 9, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Thanks, But No Thanks
This morning Cole brought in a few recent issues of Rolling Stone. I grabbed the one with Sean Penn on the cover, eager to read anything having to do with his performance in "Milk." After finishing that article, I happened to keep reading the very next one, about Ray Kurzweil (the link is a pdf of the article).
That article freaked the shit out of me, in a way that I can't describe to you other than to say that if you read the article, you will know what I mean. I felt sick after reading it. It sets up that Kurzweil is a little batty, but also that he has accurately predicted many technological advances. Then it outlines his newest prediction, The Singularity, which is just about the most disturbing thing I've ever read. Basically, he predicts that in 2045, robots are going to live inside of us, backing up our brains like computers--well, among other things. (The other things are too numerous and strange to go into here--like I said, read it and weep.)
At this point I looked up and said to Cole, "I really don't think it's possible to back up your brain like you back up a hard drive." Cole said that it's quite possible that I am wrong, and he's right-- but I personally don't like to think that the brain is something that we can fully understand. I like that human thoughts and how they work are a sort of unknowable mystery, overall. At least to me. Cole says that anything could be broken down by science, but I honestly think that the idea of taking someone's thought and then being able to accurately reconstruct it sounds more like science fiction.
I think as a person who likes to write and tell stories, the idea that the contents of a brain can just be uploaded and printed out kind of spells the end of storytelling and writing as we know it. I mean, by the time that happens the world will be a very different place anyway. Maybe I should worry about this when it gets closer to being real.
The thing is-- I think every person who wants to write wishes that s/he could articulate his/her ideas in a deeper and more expressive way, but I have a feeling that just being able to read a brain's thoughts in analog or whatever wouldn't necessarily enhance the beauty of a thought as expressed with the perfectly chosen words. I don't know, I feel very inarticulate right now. I don't have any robots helping me.
One particularly disturbing moment: "By scanning the contents of your brain, nanobots will be able to transfer everything you know, everything you have experienced, into a robot or a virtual-reality program. If something happens to your physical body, no problem. Your mind will live on-- forever."
I honestly think that sounds like the freakiest thing possible. A disemodied mind, living in a computer? Kill me now, right? Kurzweil also says that eventually robots will keep us from aging, and he takes 150 pills a day to keep himself young enough to live until that day. Oookay.
The thing is, as much as nobody wants to really think about his/her mortality, I don't think that any of us would want to choose to NEVER die, or to live as a sort of hazy half-person. We aren't prepared to die, but I think we're even less prepared to live forever.
Anyway, although the article builds up the possibility of Kurzweil's future being possible, the author eventually reveals the opinions of a few other top scientist types, who pretty much say that Kurzweil is crazy.
But the most reassuring (in terms of, oh wait, this is guy is probably totally deluded)/freakiest part of the article is the very end, where Kurzweil admits that he's creating these nanobots as a means to reanimate his father, who died in the 1960s. He wants to bring his father back as some sort of robot that has all of his father's memories, thanks to nanobots rooting the memories out of his (Ray's) brain. He says that the first thing he'd tell his father is that he really did get to create music from computers, just as his father hoped he would. That's the part where the story starts to sound like a disturbing movie cliche of a boy who just wants to make his father proud, with a very Frankenstein-y twist. As long as Ray lives he's going to be pushing to develop the technology to make the future he wants possible, and that's just-- disturbing. Scary. On a lighter note-- in the process he has invented a whole bunch of useful devices for the blind, etc.
The thing is-- I wonder what Ray's father would think. I think that an aversion to death and the deaths of others has to do with fear of death-- but once it happens, it happens. I have a feeling that this dead father is okay with being dead by now. Ray wants to create a world where nothing is unknown, where life is the only possibility. But there have to be unknowns in life, I think. There has to be death. I don't want to live in a hyper-technological world. Reading this article almost made me want to go off the grid, or at least go cavort with Mother Nature more often. Seriously.
Well, I'm hoping that the people who said that this isn't really as possible as Ray thinks are right. Maybe in four hundred years from my robot body I'll be posting some sort of retraction to this entry, using videos of my memories as illustrations. Hopefully not, though.
Or maybe I'll come around to it. If nanobots are running around (and Ray Kurzweil is still alive), I might not have a choice.
That article freaked the shit out of me, in a way that I can't describe to you other than to say that if you read the article, you will know what I mean. I felt sick after reading it. It sets up that Kurzweil is a little batty, but also that he has accurately predicted many technological advances. Then it outlines his newest prediction, The Singularity, which is just about the most disturbing thing I've ever read. Basically, he predicts that in 2045, robots are going to live inside of us, backing up our brains like computers--well, among other things. (The other things are too numerous and strange to go into here--like I said, read it and weep.)
At this point I looked up and said to Cole, "I really don't think it's possible to back up your brain like you back up a hard drive." Cole said that it's quite possible that I am wrong, and he's right-- but I personally don't like to think that the brain is something that we can fully understand. I like that human thoughts and how they work are a sort of unknowable mystery, overall. At least to me. Cole says that anything could be broken down by science, but I honestly think that the idea of taking someone's thought and then being able to accurately reconstruct it sounds more like science fiction.
I think as a person who likes to write and tell stories, the idea that the contents of a brain can just be uploaded and printed out kind of spells the end of storytelling and writing as we know it. I mean, by the time that happens the world will be a very different place anyway. Maybe I should worry about this when it gets closer to being real.
The thing is-- I think every person who wants to write wishes that s/he could articulate his/her ideas in a deeper and more expressive way, but I have a feeling that just being able to read a brain's thoughts in analog or whatever wouldn't necessarily enhance the beauty of a thought as expressed with the perfectly chosen words. I don't know, I feel very inarticulate right now. I don't have any robots helping me.
One particularly disturbing moment: "By scanning the contents of your brain, nanobots will be able to transfer everything you know, everything you have experienced, into a robot or a virtual-reality program. If something happens to your physical body, no problem. Your mind will live on-- forever."
I honestly think that sounds like the freakiest thing possible. A disemodied mind, living in a computer? Kill me now, right? Kurzweil also says that eventually robots will keep us from aging, and he takes 150 pills a day to keep himself young enough to live until that day. Oookay.
The thing is, as much as nobody wants to really think about his/her mortality, I don't think that any of us would want to choose to NEVER die, or to live as a sort of hazy half-person. We aren't prepared to die, but I think we're even less prepared to live forever.
Anyway, although the article builds up the possibility of Kurzweil's future being possible, the author eventually reveals the opinions of a few other top scientist types, who pretty much say that Kurzweil is crazy.
But the most reassuring (in terms of, oh wait, this is guy is probably totally deluded)/freakiest part of the article is the very end, where Kurzweil admits that he's creating these nanobots as a means to reanimate his father, who died in the 1960s. He wants to bring his father back as some sort of robot that has all of his father's memories, thanks to nanobots rooting the memories out of his (Ray's) brain. He says that the first thing he'd tell his father is that he really did get to create music from computers, just as his father hoped he would. That's the part where the story starts to sound like a disturbing movie cliche of a boy who just wants to make his father proud, with a very Frankenstein-y twist. As long as Ray lives he's going to be pushing to develop the technology to make the future he wants possible, and that's just-- disturbing. Scary. On a lighter note-- in the process he has invented a whole bunch of useful devices for the blind, etc.
The thing is-- I wonder what Ray's father would think. I think that an aversion to death and the deaths of others has to do with fear of death-- but once it happens, it happens. I have a feeling that this dead father is okay with being dead by now. Ray wants to create a world where nothing is unknown, where life is the only possibility. But there have to be unknowns in life, I think. There has to be death. I don't want to live in a hyper-technological world. Reading this article almost made me want to go off the grid, or at least go cavort with Mother Nature more often. Seriously.
Well, I'm hoping that the people who said that this isn't really as possible as Ray thinks are right. Maybe in four hundred years from my robot body I'll be posting some sort of retraction to this entry, using videos of my memories as illustrations. Hopefully not, though.
Or maybe I'll come around to it. If nanobots are running around (and Ray Kurzweil is still alive), I might not have a choice.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Destiny Sucks, or Sensitivity Calls
A few days ago I overheard some of my co-workers talking about the viral ad campaign for the new season of "Lost," and questioning whether the fake billboards for Ajira Airways were really going to pull oblivious non-viewers into watching the show. I didn't really think about it, because I don't watch the show.
I first noticed the fake logo on the side of one of the trucks here at the lot. The only reason I made the connection to "Lost" was because a) The logo seemed fake to me, and b) The logo was framed by the tagline "Destiny Calls." Up until this week, the truck had a picture of the cast of "Lost" framed by the same tagline, so I put two and two together.
I noticed my first Ajira Airways billboard on my way to work today. Same tiger, same "Destiny Calls."
Now, whatever. Viral marketing, fake companies, it happens. So far I have only seen one scrawly red "Who Watches the Watchme..." spray-painted as if it were legit graffiti on a wall, and I can understand the sort of freaky appeal of fiction creeping up on our real lives. When I saw that graffiti I wasn't sure at first if it was some excited fan or some corporate ad campaign, and it definitely made me want to email my friends who worked on it and/or are big "Watchmen" fans.
The thing that really bothers me is the idea of "Destiny Calls" vis-a-vis a show that is centered around a plane crash (and I know, I know, this ISN'T the same airline as the fake airline that crashed in the first season of this show--but still). Somehow this says to me, "Come ride our fake airline, for your Destiny is to be in a plane crash." And something about that seems very wrong, in light of the recent miracle-crash on the Hudson and the tragi-crash in Buffalo. The Hudson incident was such a triumph that the Buffalo crash felt all the worse, I think. We crashed back down to earth, in more ways than one. If destiny is what called all of these people to die so tragically, then destiny sucks. Destiny sucks ass.
I watched the "60 Minutes" interview with captain "Sully" Sullenberger, and in one segment where he met the passengers, a man said to him, "My brother died on 9/11, and I don't think my family could have handled another blow like this. Thank you for saving my life." When I recounted that story to my family over Thai food last weekend, I was nearly in tears. It is just... beyond cruel that Beverly Eckert died in a plane crash while traveling to Buffalo to commemorate her husband who died on 9/11. This plane was like a "Who's Who" of good people, of people who were trying to make a difference. I'm not saying that these people were better than other people who died in plane crashes. I'm just saying that it sucks to lose people, and it especially feels strange not to know that these interesting people existed until a circumstance happens that makes them cease to exist.
I think a lot of my taking issue with this lies in how one defines the word "destiny." It can be a good thing or a bad thing-- "I was destined to find this wedding dress," etc. BUT this is a show centered around a plane crash, so I'm going to venture to say that perhaps they are wanting us to make the fly this airline/get-in a-crash connection.
The Oxford English Dictionary defines destiny (n.) as "The power or agency by which, according to various systems of philosophy and popular belief, all events, or certain particular events, are unalterably predetermined; supernatural or divine pre-ordination; overruling or invincible necessity; = FATE." Following that thread, "fate" is defined as, "The principle, power, or agency by which, according to certain philosophical and popular systems of belief, all events, or some events in particular, are unalterably predetermined from eternity. Often personified," but further definitions break it down into "doom"... "death, destruction [and] ruin."
I guess I just find it to be in bad taste on the heels of several airplane crashes to have an ad campaign featuring a fake airline, accompanied by words implying that--should you fly this airline-- your doom awaits, most likely via airplane crash. As Cole and I like to say, "Too soon! Too soon!"
I first noticed the fake logo on the side of one of the trucks here at the lot. The only reason I made the connection to "Lost" was because a) The logo seemed fake to me, and b) The logo was framed by the tagline "Destiny Calls." Up until this week, the truck had a picture of the cast of "Lost" framed by the same tagline, so I put two and two together.
I noticed my first Ajira Airways billboard on my way to work today. Same tiger, same "Destiny Calls."
Now, whatever. Viral marketing, fake companies, it happens. So far I have only seen one scrawly red "Who Watches the Watchme..." spray-painted as if it were legit graffiti on a wall, and I can understand the sort of freaky appeal of fiction creeping up on our real lives. When I saw that graffiti I wasn't sure at first if it was some excited fan or some corporate ad campaign, and it definitely made me want to email my friends who worked on it and/or are big "Watchmen" fans.
The thing that really bothers me is the idea of "Destiny Calls" vis-a-vis a show that is centered around a plane crash (and I know, I know, this ISN'T the same airline as the fake airline that crashed in the first season of this show--but still). Somehow this says to me, "Come ride our fake airline, for your Destiny is to be in a plane crash." And something about that seems very wrong, in light of the recent miracle-crash on the Hudson and the tragi-crash in Buffalo. The Hudson incident was such a triumph that the Buffalo crash felt all the worse, I think. We crashed back down to earth, in more ways than one. If destiny is what called all of these people to die so tragically, then destiny sucks. Destiny sucks ass.
I watched the "60 Minutes" interview with captain "Sully" Sullenberger, and in one segment where he met the passengers, a man said to him, "My brother died on 9/11, and I don't think my family could have handled another blow like this. Thank you for saving my life." When I recounted that story to my family over Thai food last weekend, I was nearly in tears. It is just... beyond cruel that Beverly Eckert died in a plane crash while traveling to Buffalo to commemorate her husband who died on 9/11. This plane was like a "Who's Who" of good people, of people who were trying to make a difference. I'm not saying that these people were better than other people who died in plane crashes. I'm just saying that it sucks to lose people, and it especially feels strange not to know that these interesting people existed until a circumstance happens that makes them cease to exist.
I think a lot of my taking issue with this lies in how one defines the word "destiny." It can be a good thing or a bad thing-- "I was destined to find this wedding dress," etc. BUT this is a show centered around a plane crash, so I'm going to venture to say that perhaps they are wanting us to make the fly this airline/get-in a-crash connection.
The Oxford English Dictionary defines destiny (n.) as "The power or agency by which, according to various systems of philosophy and popular belief, all events, or certain particular events, are unalterably predetermined; supernatural or divine pre-ordination; overruling or invincible necessity; = FATE." Following that thread, "fate" is defined as, "The principle, power, or agency by which, according to certain philosophical and popular systems of belief, all events, or some events in particular, are unalterably predetermined from eternity. Often personified," but further definitions break it down into "doom"... "death, destruction [and] ruin."
I guess I just find it to be in bad taste on the heels of several airplane crashes to have an ad campaign featuring a fake airline, accompanied by words implying that--should you fly this airline-- your doom awaits, most likely via airplane crash. As Cole and I like to say, "Too soon! Too soon!"
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Auto-Tune This
While I was at home this weekend, I stumbled upon this article in Time magazine, about the now-ubiquitous use of Auto-Tune. I have been thinking about it ever since (well, on and off-- not obsessively), because overall it's a totally fascinating concept. Having been involved in sound last year, I am kind of bummed that I never got a chance to play around with Auto-Tune, just to see what it's like to sing into a device and hear it perfect my pitch in crazy space robot-esque manner. I really think that there needs to be some sort of mass market Auto-Tune toy. I would love to play with it all day (and utterly annoy everyone around me, I'm sure).
But-- as the article states-- it is kind of sad that anybody can run their voice through a subtle Auto-Tuning. There is something to be said for imperfections. I have heard that some older people are bothered by the fact that CDs don't have that scratchy turntable imperfection that records used to have. I guess our generation will look back wistfully on a time when voices were voices, perfect or not.
This also creates an environment where anybody could record a song, for better or for worse. (Well, if they're really out of tune the Auto-Tune can only go so far. Remember Kim from Real Housewives of Atlanta? Yeah.) Is this opening up the field in a positive way, or is it just allowing mediocrity to reign?
On a positive note, now there is a chance that I could someday record a hit song.
And I have Real Housewives on the brain because season two of the New York cast premieres tonight. I have realized that I love watching drama on TV and keeping the dramz out of my real life. I don't know if those two things are related somehow-- like if people who don't get drama from their entertainment seek it in real life. One of my friends was telling me about her life and asking how a certain event in her life would have played out, if it took place in a story that I was writing (or I guess a TV show-- a lot of times in my short stories people just sit around and make vague, bleak statements).
I said, "Look-- if it were a story I'd want things to happen that would fan the drama flame. But in real life relationships, not so much." It was the first time I'd really articulated the fact that stories are not the same as real life, and why. I was kind of proud of myself, for knowing the difference. I mean, I'm not saying that all stories are or should be drama on the high seas. But, you know.
My other friend, R, noticed this about me. She was complaining that so many of her friends come to her with problems that they want her to solve, and said that the reason she likes chatting online with me (we both work at computers most of the day) is that I'm not looking for a shoulder to cry on.
R: I like that you want no therapy [from me]
R: I like that you're relatively problemless
R: It makes you easy to love
While my drama-free attitude makes me easy to love in real life, my willingness to dish on other peoples' drama makes me a good chat-friend. She and I love talking about celebrities' gossip and problems because those people are basically not real to us. They are not seeking our free therapy.
Note: I am probably not problemless so much as I try not to spin things into problems.
Next time I think I will write about my many-splendored views on love.
But-- as the article states-- it is kind of sad that anybody can run their voice through a subtle Auto-Tuning. There is something to be said for imperfections. I have heard that some older people are bothered by the fact that CDs don't have that scratchy turntable imperfection that records used to have. I guess our generation will look back wistfully on a time when voices were voices, perfect or not.
This also creates an environment where anybody could record a song, for better or for worse. (Well, if they're really out of tune the Auto-Tune can only go so far. Remember Kim from Real Housewives of Atlanta? Yeah.) Is this opening up the field in a positive way, or is it just allowing mediocrity to reign?
On a positive note, now there is a chance that I could someday record a hit song.
And I have Real Housewives on the brain because season two of the New York cast premieres tonight. I have realized that I love watching drama on TV and keeping the dramz out of my real life. I don't know if those two things are related somehow-- like if people who don't get drama from their entertainment seek it in real life. One of my friends was telling me about her life and asking how a certain event in her life would have played out, if it took place in a story that I was writing (or I guess a TV show-- a lot of times in my short stories people just sit around and make vague, bleak statements).
I said, "Look-- if it were a story I'd want things to happen that would fan the drama flame. But in real life relationships, not so much." It was the first time I'd really articulated the fact that stories are not the same as real life, and why. I was kind of proud of myself, for knowing the difference. I mean, I'm not saying that all stories are or should be drama on the high seas. But, you know.
My other friend, R, noticed this about me. She was complaining that so many of her friends come to her with problems that they want her to solve, and said that the reason she likes chatting online with me (we both work at computers most of the day) is that I'm not looking for a shoulder to cry on.
R: I like that you want no therapy [from me]
R: I like that you're relatively problemless
R: It makes you easy to love
While my drama-free attitude makes me easy to love in real life, my willingness to dish on other peoples' drama makes me a good chat-friend. She and I love talking about celebrities' gossip and problems because those people are basically not real to us. They are not seeking our free therapy.
Note: I am probably not problemless so much as I try not to spin things into problems.
Next time I think I will write about my many-splendored views on love.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Tug-of-War
I am in a tug-of-war between wanting to write on my memory-packed Xanga and wanting to start afresh here. I don't like letting go of sentimental things.
My problem with Xanga is not so much that it's memory-packed, but more that it's Xanga. I prefer Blogspot, but I'm sure if I move here I'll want to relocate once again, when something more appealing comes along. In search of the perfect blog-host.
I am also constantly debating how much to really share about myself. As I get older and information gets more and more easy to come by, I find myself valuing my privacy. It's kind of a surprise because I never saw myself as a particularly private or mysterious person, but now I kind of want to be one. I see that I used to drop a lot more information in my Xanga entries, and now I am a lot more hesitant. I didn't even do that 25 things questionnaire that went viral on Facebook. Although now that it has come to light that Facebook has devised a plot to own everything that we post there, I'm starting to wonder if the creators weren't just trolling for interesting ideas for stories and characters. But I feel like people who blatantly steal other peoples' content for profit are probably not storytellers at heart.
So yeah, laying it all out for everybody to see vs. buttoning my lip. I feel like this must be a common struggle for people who want to write. There are a lot of writers who somehow seem to manage to seem totally confessional and be fairly private, all at once. Smoke and mirrors.
I bought a new shampoo and conditioner and today my curls look a little curlier and more structured, despite the rain. And yes, I am still using the same after-shower hair products.
The clouds are haulin' it across the sky, post-sideways crazy rain. I'm sure there will be more rain shortly.
My problem with Xanga is not so much that it's memory-packed, but more that it's Xanga. I prefer Blogspot, but I'm sure if I move here I'll want to relocate once again, when something more appealing comes along. In search of the perfect blog-host.
I am also constantly debating how much to really share about myself. As I get older and information gets more and more easy to come by, I find myself valuing my privacy. It's kind of a surprise because I never saw myself as a particularly private or mysterious person, but now I kind of want to be one. I see that I used to drop a lot more information in my Xanga entries, and now I am a lot more hesitant. I didn't even do that 25 things questionnaire that went viral on Facebook. Although now that it has come to light that Facebook has devised a plot to own everything that we post there, I'm starting to wonder if the creators weren't just trolling for interesting ideas for stories and characters. But I feel like people who blatantly steal other peoples' content for profit are probably not storytellers at heart.
So yeah, laying it all out for everybody to see vs. buttoning my lip. I feel like this must be a common struggle for people who want to write. There are a lot of writers who somehow seem to manage to seem totally confessional and be fairly private, all at once. Smoke and mirrors.
I bought a new shampoo and conditioner and today my curls look a little curlier and more structured, despite the rain. And yes, I am still using the same after-shower hair products.
The clouds are haulin' it across the sky, post-sideways crazy rain. I'm sure there will be more rain shortly.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Kids, Adults, and In Between
Whenever I start writing after midnight, I usually end up pulling an unintentional all-nighter, which pretty much wipes me out for the following day. Tonight I wasted a perfectly good night of sleep to write a long blog entry. A blog entry. I should be working on my "real" writing. Sigh.
I don't know if I've addressed this here, but I've talked about it recently with friends....
When I was a kid, I used to look at adults and think that they really had it together. I thought that on some distant and unfathomable morning I would wake up and somehow be secure in the knowledge that I was an adult.
But that's not really how it seems to be working out. Sometimes I feel like a grown-up, and sometimes I feel totally unprepared. Maybe once I have an income again, I'll feel more mature. Sometimes I just need to dress the part to feel it. Maybe a lot of being an adult has to do with feeling like an adult. Not that you can't still be young at heart.
It's crazy how everything is relative. I remember being in kindergarten and seeing the sixth graders and thinking that they were big, tall adults who could squish me under their feet. Now I see sixth graders and think that they are...well, twelve years old.
By a similar token, I will occasionally see a really hot guy and find out that he's in high school...like, 5 years younger than me...and feel like a total perv. Because I mistook a teen for an adult.
It's also funny to think about age gaps between couples. If I am 21 and date a 27-year-old, that's acceptable. But when he was 21 I was (I can't do math)...15-ish...that would have been a scandal. Or if a man marries a woman the same age as his daughter or something...we don't really want to start thinking about that math.
When I was 18, I went on a date with a 30-year-old, and my funny friend, Mike, made a huge list of "when he was doing this, you were doing that" to illustrate the age difference. We figured out that my date could theoretically have been my elementary school teacher. So to all you elementary school teachers, keep an eye out for potential future dates/spouses/f-buddies. It's a waiting game, for sure.
I don't know if I've addressed this here, but I've talked about it recently with friends....
When I was a kid, I used to look at adults and think that they really had it together. I thought that on some distant and unfathomable morning I would wake up and somehow be secure in the knowledge that I was an adult.
But that's not really how it seems to be working out. Sometimes I feel like a grown-up, and sometimes I feel totally unprepared. Maybe once I have an income again, I'll feel more mature. Sometimes I just need to dress the part to feel it. Maybe a lot of being an adult has to do with feeling like an adult. Not that you can't still be young at heart.
It's crazy how everything is relative. I remember being in kindergarten and seeing the sixth graders and thinking that they were big, tall adults who could squish me under their feet. Now I see sixth graders and think that they are...well, twelve years old.
By a similar token, I will occasionally see a really hot guy and find out that he's in high school...like, 5 years younger than me...and feel like a total perv. Because I mistook a teen for an adult.
It's also funny to think about age gaps between couples. If I am 21 and date a 27-year-old, that's acceptable. But when he was 21 I was (I can't do math)...15-ish...that would have been a scandal. Or if a man marries a woman the same age as his daughter or something...we don't really want to start thinking about that math.
When I was 18, I went on a date with a 30-year-old, and my funny friend, Mike, made a huge list of "when he was doing this, you were doing that" to illustrate the age difference. We figured out that my date could theoretically have been my elementary school teacher. So to all you elementary school teachers, keep an eye out for potential future dates/spouses/f-buddies. It's a waiting game, for sure.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Motor Memory
Sometimes when I'm typing a website into my internet explorer, my left hand will trip out and my right hand will type on regardless, which results in my trying to go to "google.om." I think that .om would be a great domain (if that's what it's called) for spirituality-related (especially Buddhist) websites.
Does it ever totally amaze you to think of how smart our brains and muscles are, that we can process what we're thinking and be able to type words, without even really thinking about it? I know that I will often be talking or looking away while I type, but still my fingers/brain can handle it. That's one of the miracles/mysteries of the universe. Also, the way our brains process language is sort of astounding to me, especially when we trip up and show our mental processing cards a bit. For example, sometimes I type "our" instead of "are" and vice-versa. My brain obviously knows the difference between those two words, but something makes it confuse homophones when I type. Crazy crazy.
Speaking of our fascinating brains, I have started a new blog at www.remembermethis.blogspot.com. It's dedicated to memories of things that never really happened, or memories of probably real events that only one person claims to remember. Email me if you have one of those types of memories--I want it to be a sort of PostSecret/Overheard in NY of wacky or poignant false memories. I only have a few of my own, and I don't want it to be all, me me me.
Does it ever totally amaze you to think of how smart our brains and muscles are, that we can process what we're thinking and be able to type words, without even really thinking about it? I know that I will often be talking or looking away while I type, but still my fingers/brain can handle it. That's one of the miracles/mysteries of the universe. Also, the way our brains process language is sort of astounding to me, especially when we trip up and show our mental processing cards a bit. For example, sometimes I type "our" instead of "are" and vice-versa. My brain obviously knows the difference between those two words, but something makes it confuse homophones when I type. Crazy crazy.
Speaking of our fascinating brains, I have started a new blog at www.remembermethis.blogspot.com. It's dedicated to memories of things that never really happened, or memories of probably real events that only one person claims to remember. Email me if you have one of those types of memories--I want it to be a sort of PostSecret/Overheard in NY of wacky or poignant false memories. I only have a few of my own, and I don't want it to be all, me me me.
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