On "Grey's Anatomy," there has been until recently a shameful neglect of Dr. Miranda Bailey. Finally she is getting a chance to lead again. Her leadership provides me some assertiveness training reinforcement from time to time.
Well, Shonda Rhimes (sister of LeAnn and Busta) is already doing her predictable deflation-of-any-character-who-shows-any-strength-whatsoever thing on Dr. Bailey, and tonight's episode provided me with some food for thought.
First, an old high-school friend showed up to provide a heaping helping of what some call cake. (By the way, Lesley, write your book already. Yes, boys can understand the concept, though probably not immediately and probably never perfectly. In my seven years as a recovering cakeboy, I would claim I have been less cruel to women than before I learned the vocabulary. Sometimes still cruel, of course, but less cruel than before.) And Bailey demonstrated just how powerful an old but life-defining adolescent relationship can remain long after you were supposed to be an adult.
So far, all good, messy, life-situation defining fun.
But then Bailey starts to complain to the local recovering cakeboy (McDreamy), which I approve, and she talks as if the most defeating characteristic of her high school life was wearing a band uniform, and I cannot approve of this one bit.
Why does suddenly membership in the band connote lasting shame into adulthood in our culture? Is this the influence of the "American Pie" movies? Is it really so damaging to think of oneself as a former band geek? I've seen this many places, and it is getting to be an awfully unfair cliche.
My wife claims that this shame varies from school to school, or from region to region. But I would claim that band members should have fewer lasting effects from high school geekitude than other kinds of high school geeks.
Yes, at the time I was occasionally ashamed of my membership in the band rather than in other, more prestigious, high school cliques. In high school, I felt like a geek for enjoying the band so much. But in retrospect, the band was a relatively healthy community that instilled self-respect and leadership ability and plenty of friends and support for its members. And the ability to play an instrument is something to enjoy later in life, not be ashamed of.
(Maybe doing a pronounced "glide stride" during the parade at my son's music class was something to be embarrassed about. I don't know. Other people seemed to be laughing at me.)
And at least I wasn't in the orchestra.
Lunch today was red beans and rice from a cheap mix. With lots of saltines, extra spices, and water. And then I cooked a whole 'nother meal for supper to cover up the smell, due to lingering trauma from an unfortunate olfactory incident during my wife's pregnancy.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Friday, November 9, 2007
autumn
Today the leaves have faded a bit. The other day they were yellow like banana peels. Today they are more like Post Toasties.
I made a point of walking a bit extra on my way to work. I parked in my usual place, but chose to walk all the way around the block instead of going directly in the door. And I enjoyed the weather.
It's a wellness thing.
For breakfast today my toddler Grant and I made muffins and cornbread. They tasted so good because they were made with pedagogy.
I made a point of walking a bit extra on my way to work. I parked in my usual place, but chose to walk all the way around the block instead of going directly in the door. And I enjoyed the weather.
It's a wellness thing.
For breakfast today my toddler Grant and I made muffins and cornbread. They tasted so good because they were made with pedagogy.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
right now stuff
1. Because of a new health plan, I went in for my first ever annual physical yesterday. During the physical, the doctor started chatting me up. Mind you, this is a doctor I have seen dozens of times with my wife or my kids. This may be the first time I ever met with him by myself. He opened up about himself and his family much more than he ever has before when I've been there with my wife. Which made the rubber glove component all the more awkward.
2. This morning the sidewalk outside my office was covered with bright yellow leaves. The tree there has nearly emptied itself, and I got to shuffle through, feeling like a toddler again.
3. I don't know whether I should mow my lawn one more time or not. It's beginning to freeze at night, which I understand is dangerous for the grass. But the grass is just barely tall enough that I would have mowed it last weekend if I had had time.
4. I failed to remember the Fifth of November until Len on "Dancing with the Stars" mentioned fireworks day. I am intrigued by Guy Fawkes Day: Why do we want to remember this? (Unless we happen to be anarchists.)
5. I am wearing really warm socks. But I still feel cold. Maybe I should put on a second pair.
6. I feel guilty telling stories like the above to my blog before I tell my wife, but we keep falling asleep really early on the couch.
7. For lunch yesterday, I had a Burger King spicy chicken sandwich, cheesy tots, and then half an hour later a full butterburger basket from Culver's with green beans and Diet Coke mixed with red Hi-C. I had been fasting.
2. This morning the sidewalk outside my office was covered with bright yellow leaves. The tree there has nearly emptied itself, and I got to shuffle through, feeling like a toddler again.
3. I don't know whether I should mow my lawn one more time or not. It's beginning to freeze at night, which I understand is dangerous for the grass. But the grass is just barely tall enough that I would have mowed it last weekend if I had had time.
4. I failed to remember the Fifth of November until Len on "Dancing with the Stars" mentioned fireworks day. I am intrigued by Guy Fawkes Day: Why do we want to remember this? (Unless we happen to be anarchists.)
5. I am wearing really warm socks. But I still feel cold. Maybe I should put on a second pair.
6. I feel guilty telling stories like the above to my blog before I tell my wife, but we keep falling asleep really early on the couch.
7. For lunch yesterday, I had a Burger King spicy chicken sandwich, cheesy tots, and then half an hour later a full butterburger basket from Culver's with green beans and Diet Coke mixed with red Hi-C. I had been fasting.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
feliz dia de la muerta
One of my favorite computer games ever is "Grim Fandango"--a graphic adventure where you play a grim reaper trying to function as a travel agent for the recently deceased. You attempt to sell people deluxe packages for their travel through the next stage of the afterlife, and their currency is based on their good deeds on earth. It's all the sort of thing that Martin Luther would have written some theses about, but it's presented very amusingly.
The graphic style is based on Central American native cultures and on recent Mexican Day of the Dead popular art. And I am hooked. I am endlessly fascinated with the Aztec culture of death, the pan de los muertos, the toys and folk art of "skinny ones" (i.e., skeletons) doing everyday silly things. It seems much more healthy to me than our norteamericano avoidance of the whole subject.
And I remember a poem from a book I gave away about a boy whose mother took him to cemeteries a lot. The last line was something like, "The more time you spend with the dead, the less you have to say."
I need to spend some time in a cemetery this week.
Lunch today was leftover pizza from a Halloween party. Cheese pizza from Godfather's.
The graphic style is based on Central American native cultures and on recent Mexican Day of the Dead popular art. And I am hooked. I am endlessly fascinated with the Aztec culture of death, the pan de los muertos, the toys and folk art of "skinny ones" (i.e., skeletons) doing everyday silly things. It seems much more healthy to me than our norteamericano avoidance of the whole subject.
And I remember a poem from a book I gave away about a boy whose mother took him to cemeteries a lot. The last line was something like, "The more time you spend with the dead, the less you have to say."
I need to spend some time in a cemetery this week.
Lunch today was leftover pizza from a Halloween party. Cheese pizza from Godfather's.
Monday, August 27, 2007
defensive driving
I like to pretend that there is an invisible car on the road. Maybe it's the influence of a Herbie movie or certain comic books, but I never completely trust my perceptions enough to rule out the possibility of a car that I cannot see.
So I use my turn signals even when my car is all alone on the road. And I try to slow down before I reach intersections, to give the invisible car in front of me time to move out of my way. I move slowly in parking lots, and try to keep from driving through parking spaces, just in case an invisible car is parked somewhere at the edges of the parking lot. I figure it's their own fault if the invisible car is parked in a place I would actually want to park.
This method of driving didn't suit me all that well when driving in heavy traffic, but then I expect that invisible cars wouldn't travel much in such conditions.
But someday I just know that I will be changing lanes too quickly or pulling up to a stop-light and experience that sickening crunch that says my car will need expensive body work. And I'll be pretty angry if that other car is invisible. It'll be their fault, right? But regardless I will have spoiled their secret mission, and I'll probably feel guilty.
Lunch today was Culver's take-out. A butterburger with cheese and everything else, with a basket of fries, ketchup and a Diet Coke. I wanted a fried cheese curd, but I never asked for one. So that's my own fault.
So I use my turn signals even when my car is all alone on the road. And I try to slow down before I reach intersections, to give the invisible car in front of me time to move out of my way. I move slowly in parking lots, and try to keep from driving through parking spaces, just in case an invisible car is parked somewhere at the edges of the parking lot. I figure it's their own fault if the invisible car is parked in a place I would actually want to park.
This method of driving didn't suit me all that well when driving in heavy traffic, but then I expect that invisible cars wouldn't travel much in such conditions.
But someday I just know that I will be changing lanes too quickly or pulling up to a stop-light and experience that sickening crunch that says my car will need expensive body work. And I'll be pretty angry if that other car is invisible. It'll be their fault, right? But regardless I will have spoiled their secret mission, and I'll probably feel guilty.
Lunch today was Culver's take-out. A butterburger with cheese and everything else, with a basket of fries, ketchup and a Diet Coke. I wanted a fried cheese curd, but I never asked for one. So that's my own fault.
the unknown underworld
We occupy a sacred space. We have separated ourselves from the earthy, the dirty, and the profane far more effectively than the ancient Israelites. We need to touch nothing that has not already been cleansed, disinfected, or even irradiated for our sake. And mysterious forces carry away all that is polluted, filthy, and unclean from us.
I am talking about modern plumbing, and modern distancing from reality.
I make use of plumbing all the time. Several times a day. And usually, it requires no attention from me whatsoever. A year ago, though, I became a homeowner in a house with a basement. The pipes are visible, and there are so many of them. My personal restroom is down there among the pipes. And every once in a while, twice in this house, once catastrophically in an apartment I rented, sewage or sludge backs up in the pipes and overflows into my life.
And I call the plumber, and the problem goes away. But how do I prevent it? How could I fix it myself? What will happen to my lovely pipes when the revolution comes and there are no more plumbers?
I am a generally well-educated person. I have some experience with construction. I could tell you a bit about wiring, or how a car works. I could explain much of the engineering of the Hoover Dam, probably. But ask me about this cleansing river that flows underneath my home, and I have to throw up my hands and call somebody.
A hundred years ago, when my grandmother was growing up, a flush toilet was a conversation piece. And it didn't work that well. And now, it may be the invertion I could least imagine living without. Gasoline engines, air conditioning, information tech: I'd trade it all for a good flush--after experiencing a nasty broken public restroom or two.
And yet it might as well be magic to me. What makes the water flow? How much water pressure is in the pipes? In the toilet basin? How much clean water passes into the sewer? Could the sewage still flow properly if we all used extremely low-flush tanks and recycled our other water? How far does the sewage flow before it is treated? Does it need to flow downhill? How can we have toilets on the third floor? What would happen if we tried to dig a sub-basement with a bathroom below the sewer system pipes?
I don't know the answer to these questions. And I have been seduced by apathy into believing I don't need to know the answer to these questions. The plumber and the city manager can take care of it.
But when the gunk flows backward, our faith in society comes into question. Can they truly guarantee me a sewage-free life? Can I really trust others to take care of my shit for me? Or do I need to get more involved? Will I be fleeced by greedy plumbers? Will an ignorant electorate put into place leaders who do not care for our civic infrastructure, flooding entire cities with human waste when hurricanes or earthquakes visit? Will I have no capacity to handle the smells and the dirt of existence if I have to face it without my affluent bubble of disinfectant?
I need to do some reading.
Supper tonight was leftover KFC chicken: a mixture of Extra Crispy and Original, now with a different, healthier kind of fat. Also, some of my kids' leftover pizza and macaroni.
I am talking about modern plumbing, and modern distancing from reality.
I make use of plumbing all the time. Several times a day. And usually, it requires no attention from me whatsoever. A year ago, though, I became a homeowner in a house with a basement. The pipes are visible, and there are so many of them. My personal restroom is down there among the pipes. And every once in a while, twice in this house, once catastrophically in an apartment I rented, sewage or sludge backs up in the pipes and overflows into my life.
And I call the plumber, and the problem goes away. But how do I prevent it? How could I fix it myself? What will happen to my lovely pipes when the revolution comes and there are no more plumbers?
I am a generally well-educated person. I have some experience with construction. I could tell you a bit about wiring, or how a car works. I could explain much of the engineering of the Hoover Dam, probably. But ask me about this cleansing river that flows underneath my home, and I have to throw up my hands and call somebody.
A hundred years ago, when my grandmother was growing up, a flush toilet was a conversation piece. And it didn't work that well. And now, it may be the invertion I could least imagine living without. Gasoline engines, air conditioning, information tech: I'd trade it all for a good flush--after experiencing a nasty broken public restroom or two.
And yet it might as well be magic to me. What makes the water flow? How much water pressure is in the pipes? In the toilet basin? How much clean water passes into the sewer? Could the sewage still flow properly if we all used extremely low-flush tanks and recycled our other water? How far does the sewage flow before it is treated? Does it need to flow downhill? How can we have toilets on the third floor? What would happen if we tried to dig a sub-basement with a bathroom below the sewer system pipes?
I don't know the answer to these questions. And I have been seduced by apathy into believing I don't need to know the answer to these questions. The plumber and the city manager can take care of it.
But when the gunk flows backward, our faith in society comes into question. Can they truly guarantee me a sewage-free life? Can I really trust others to take care of my shit for me? Or do I need to get more involved? Will I be fleeced by greedy plumbers? Will an ignorant electorate put into place leaders who do not care for our civic infrastructure, flooding entire cities with human waste when hurricanes or earthquakes visit? Will I have no capacity to handle the smells and the dirt of existence if I have to face it without my affluent bubble of disinfectant?
I need to do some reading.
Supper tonight was leftover KFC chicken: a mixture of Extra Crispy and Original, now with a different, healthier kind of fat. Also, some of my kids' leftover pizza and macaroni.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
tagged by mosup a long time ago
In the interest of writing *anything*, I have decided to do a meme. The rule is to say six weird things about yourself. I choose to ignore the rule about tagging six people to do the same, since I don't know any bloggers who are not already tagged or participating.
1. I seem to be shrinking. I started losing weight when I watched "Super Size Me" and stopped drinking sugar drinks, since I did not want to be a hummingbird. But that was a long time ago, and I continue to lose weight. I hope I don't have a tapeworm. More likely, my metabolism has changed, likely due to improved circumstances of life. I think that happiness is making me thin. (And yes, I know that males should never talk about weight loss.)
2. I almost never buy recorded music. I love music, and spend much of my life thinking about music. I enjoy listening to new music, especially obscure music, and I even write music. I subscribe to Rolling Stone. Yet I have bought more hymnals and sheet music than CDs. I sometimes request music as a gift, but people don't seem to know what to buy me. I probably come across as a snob. But truly, I am a cheap, ignorant musician (aside from what I can learn by reading).
3. I am not an insomniac, because I could sleep at almost any time. Naps work just fine when I try them. But I almost never go to bed when I should. I simply choose to stay up until I am absolutely exhausted.
4. I can change diapers really fast. Sometimes I time myself.
5. Certain rooms I keep messy as a barricade against visitors. I really want to keep these rooms to myself, so I make them unwelcoming. I started doing this long before I knew why I was doing it.
6. I like to end counted lists in the mode of The Count from Sesame Street. Six! Six weird things! Six! Ah! Ah! Ah!
My lunch today was two cheeseburgers made on our new but well-used gas grille. Perhaps one burger was too rare. Also, Diet Coke and many white round Tostito's corn chips. How many adjective does a chip really need?
1. I seem to be shrinking. I started losing weight when I watched "Super Size Me" and stopped drinking sugar drinks, since I did not want to be a hummingbird. But that was a long time ago, and I continue to lose weight. I hope I don't have a tapeworm. More likely, my metabolism has changed, likely due to improved circumstances of life. I think that happiness is making me thin. (And yes, I know that males should never talk about weight loss.)
2. I almost never buy recorded music. I love music, and spend much of my life thinking about music. I enjoy listening to new music, especially obscure music, and I even write music. I subscribe to Rolling Stone. Yet I have bought more hymnals and sheet music than CDs. I sometimes request music as a gift, but people don't seem to know what to buy me. I probably come across as a snob. But truly, I am a cheap, ignorant musician (aside from what I can learn by reading).
3. I am not an insomniac, because I could sleep at almost any time. Naps work just fine when I try them. But I almost never go to bed when I should. I simply choose to stay up until I am absolutely exhausted.
4. I can change diapers really fast. Sometimes I time myself.
5. Certain rooms I keep messy as a barricade against visitors. I really want to keep these rooms to myself, so I make them unwelcoming. I started doing this long before I knew why I was doing it.
6. I like to end counted lists in the mode of The Count from Sesame Street. Six! Six weird things! Six! Ah! Ah! Ah!
My lunch today was two cheeseburgers made on our new but well-used gas grille. Perhaps one burger was too rare. Also, Diet Coke and many white round Tostito's corn chips. How many adjective does a chip really need?
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