Vote

"Bad officials are elected by good citizens who do not vote."
Nathan, George Jean American editor and drama critic (1882-1958)

from Toothpaste for Dinner-

All Hallow Dreaming

I had the worst dream last night. It wasn't a nightmare, but I am going to argue it was worse than a nightmare, because there was no sense of relief when I awoke. I dreamt I needed to get an oil change, and then I woke up and realized I did, in fact, need to get an oil change. Practical dreaming! Horrid!

Neglect

Awesome- Interview with Sharyn-the-playwright, righting all our wrongs!

3Graces presents a GraceNotes workshop production of NEGLECT in repertory with NICKEL AND DIMED.
NEGLECT is written by Sharyn Rothstein, winner of this year's Samuel French Original Short Play Festival, and is directed by Catherine Ward. Based on the 1995 Chicago heat wave that claimed the lives of over seven hundred elderly residents, mostly African-Americans who lived in social isolation, NEGLECT is the story of an elderly woman, Rose, and her young neighbor, Joseph, who come together on the first day of the heat wave to escape the unbearable heat and their own feelings of loneliness. A story of social responsibility, NEGLECT is an often funny, deeply moving play about what holds us together and what keeps us apart.
Directed by Catherine Ward
Dramaturgy by J. Holtham
with Geany Masai* and William Jackson Harper*featuring Ange Berneau*
GraceNotes is 3Graces' forum for studio theater and experimental works, including solo shows, one-acts, and works-in-progress. Co-artistic directors Elizabeth Bunnell and Annie McGovern call it an "artistic playground," where company members, guest artists and audiences share in the delight of developing and performing new works.
NEGLECT will run October 10 - 25 at the Bank Street Theater, located at 155 Bank Street.
Performances: Tuesday, Wednesday, Sunday at 7pm.
Tickets for NEGLECT are $15 and are on sale through Ticket Central at http://3graces.pmailus.com/pmailweb/ct?d=CHLeqwCHAAEAAAgXAADM2w or 212-279-4200.
For more information, visit http://3graces.pmailus.com/pmailweb/ct?d=CHLeqwCIAAEAAABpAADM2w.

* Appearing courtesy of Actors Equity Association

Too Hot to Handle

This is the kind of thing that freaks me out about becoming a teacher:

"...Ms. McGee, 51, a popular art teacher with 28 years in the classroom, is out of a job after leading her fifth-grade classes last April through the Dallas Museum of Art. One of her students saw nude art in the museum, and after the child’s parent complained, the teacher was suspended." (from New York Times).

An art teacher getting suspended because there happens to be some nude art at the museum? The child whose parent complained is going to grow up with some unfortunate complexes about nudity. The statue at left is one of four of the "offending" sculptures. Of course, now that this case has made the news the pictures of these nude sculptures are being shown on the news (with the anatomy blacked out- thank God), so even the schoolchildren that didn't go on the field trip can get offended. Considering the lives American children lead nowadays, with their internet access, video games with scantily clad women spurting blood, and the music videos shown on tv, getting upset about some classic art may be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.

(Sculpture pictured- Shade, Auguste Rodin)

haha

Failed t-shirt idea from Toothpaste for Dinner:

Hot day, Summer in the city

I went to a coffeeshop the other day. As I was waiting impatiently for some iced coffee concoction, I listened to the sort of nervous-looking middle-aged guy in front of me request his order, a frozen coffee drink. The woman behind the counter nodded and turned to make it, then asked, "do you want whipped cream?"
The man, all awkwardness, quickly replied, "Not for the coffee-" paused for a while, then added, "or anything really."

Domesticated Apes

A wacky quote from the New York Times article, "Nice Rats, Nasty Rats: Maybe It's All in the Genes";

His strategy is to cross the tame rats with the ferocious rats and then score the progeny for how much of each trait they inherit. He hopes to identify 200 sites along the genome at which the tame and ferocious rats differ. If one or more of the sites correlate with tameness or fierceness in the progeny, they will probably lie near important genes that underlie one of the two traits.

The genes, if Mr. Albert finds them, would be of great interest because they are presumably the same in all species of domesticated mammal. That may even include humans. Richard Wrangham, a primatologist at Harvard, has proposed that people are a domesticated form of ape, the domestication having been self-administered as human societies penalized or ostracized individuals who were too aggressive.

Case Work

I encourage you to check out this article on New York Times online. The article, entitled "The Case of Marie and Her Sons," was the lead in the Sunday magazine this past weekend. I happened upon it today online and it "gave me the heebie-jeebies" as my mom put it, as it was exactly the job I was doing the year before last, child protective casework, in the nearest office to where I was doing it, and the case worker they focus on started around the same time I did. I wrote about it before here. It's a job I quit, but still think about frequently, wondering how my clients are doing- how their stories played out, if they're okay. The work forever changed my perspective on how lives are lived in America, and how people are affected by their family. It's a job I'm incredibly glad I don't have anymore, for my emotional well-being, but part of me wants to go back and do it over again, perfectly. Which, as the article shows, is not possible.

School Project Time

Anyone feeling magnanimous can head over to this site and follow the directions...
Thanks!
(if you're not feeling magnanimous, I understand. It is Wednesday, after all)

Epalpebrates!

Where Words Go To Die

I guess I was in a morbid (morose, gloomy, melancholic, sinister, macabre, gruesome) mood today, as I have spent significant time pondering death- the demise of words, that is--

You too can delve into this otherworld of words (The Phrontistery), and ponder what has become of:

alabandical
adj
1656 -1775
barbarous; stupefied from drink
His behaviour after the party was positively alabandical.

And

foppotee
n
1663 -1663
simpleton
What a pitiful foppotee he was, always oblivious to our jeers!

Did we outgrow them? Grad school is going to lead me to need the word “alabandical” (RIP 1775) and “foppotee” (RIP 1663). Why would these gems fade out and others like “inebriated” and “moron” remain? Perhaps answers to all our philosophical queries can be found in these lost words… especially words like epalpebrate and stiricide:

(I include this one because I liked the sentence):
cacatory
adj
1684 -1753
accompanied by loose bowels
For the diners, the effects of the chicken cacciatore, alas, were cacatory.

epalpebrate
adj
1884 -1884
lacking eyebrows
If you don't stop plucking, soon you'll be epalpabrate!

jobler
n
1662 -1662
one who does small jobs
We've found a great jobler who takes care of our repairs quickly and cheaply.

murklins
adv
1568 -1674
in the dark
She stumbled murklins about the house until she found the light switch.

pigritude
n
1623 -1656
slothfulness
Despite the college student's pigritude, he continued to maintain a 'B' average.

stiricide
n
1656 -1656
falling of icicles from a house
The untended tenement was very dangerous in winter due to stiricide.

uglyography
n
1804 -1834
bad handwriting; poor spelling
Your uglyography conceals the cogency and brilliance of your ideas.

Subaru Time

(picture from Natalie Dee)

As it turns out, Subarus are the official car of the Hudson Valley, so my car and I are fitting right in from the getgo with this return to country living. Ways I am not fitting in includes expecting something, ANYTHING, to be open past eight o'clock at night.

Strange aspects include the bleating pygmy goat that has suddenly appeared in my backyard ("Not in my backyard!" I cried, when it chewed on my bicycle), and the fact that all I have to do with myself is sit around reading on the porch.

Stephen Colbert Interview on the 10 Commandments

I know more commandments than this dude, and that is certainly not saying much.

David Hasselhoff - Hooked on a Feeling

The pop bubblegum favorite... performed by David Hasselhoff for some German video.

Poignant Blues in India

1. According to wikipedia, the Ramayana is an epic which tells the story of a prince whose wife is abducted by a demon. The story "contains the teachings of the ancient Hindu sages and presents them through allegory in narrative and the interspersion of philosophic and devotional."

2. In other wikipedia info, Annette Hanshaw was a flapper and a blues singer of the 1920s.

3. Lastly, Nina Paley is an animation filmmaker living in New York.

The amazing thing is that combining these three things has created something wonderful. Nina Paley is in the process of creating a 72 minute animation film of the Ramayana from Sita's perspective. It's called Sitayana, or Sita Sings the Blues. Paley is using Annette Hanshaw's stunning blues songs as the background for each beautifully crafted scene. It's like a graphic novel come to life, with a great soundtrack. You can and should watch completed parts of it here: http://www.ninapaley.com/Sitayana/

Nina Paley came to combine these two disparate cultural icons through personal upset, as she was dumped by her husband over email after their marriage fell apart in India. She identified with Sita from the Ramayana and listened to Annette Hanshaw to overcome this, and it lead to this art.

An' the livin' is easy...

"Summer afternoon- summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language." -Henry James

Winter barges in with a snowstorm, then leaves for a bit, then returns and overstays its welcome. Spring wavers in and out with nice days and rainy days and the refusal to make the world green soon enough. But summer- summer just glides in, right on time for Memorial Day barbeques.

I've been spending my time honoring its arrival, with walks, fruits, beers, canoeing, and just hanging out. It's an intense combination of activities, specifically designed to maximize appreciation for the heat and greenness of the outside world.

As much as I love New York, I am also soaking in being in the country. My friend's mom told me she was surprised I was living in the city, and as I went to respond, I realized I was too. We were talking outside after just having walked up from the lake, and the air smelled fresh, and for a second I wondered what the hell I was thinking dwelling amidst all those buildings. But, as she and I concluded, everything is a trade-off. So now I trade for six months in the country... we shall see.

Diplodocus

I told Adam who told Paul who emailed it to Overheard in New York, so here you go... dinosaur disbelief is now famous.

Death of a Goldfish

Dust in the Wind

Crinkle has left one bowl for another.

As his life is flushed away, let us reflect fondly on his brief sojourn in a bepebbled orb in the living room. Crinkle was hardly able to use his three seconds of memory in his short, sweet life. But he swam well & died bravely. Not long for this earthly world, we can only thank him for making our days a little more golden... if only for a moment, then the moment's gone.

In lieu of donations, Adam has placed a note in Crinkle's bowl that states: Gone Fishin?

All mimsy were the borogroves...

To go along with yesterday's bird theme, I happened to look at this, a work in progress by David Troupes called The Renaming of the Birds. I liked it yesterday, but since looking at it my appreciation has only grown to the point that I keep reflecting on it & I think I will start calling pigeons "brave ladyfriends" and bluejays "noisy blue jerks."

Have you ever thought about what you would name things if you were assigned naming responsibilities? That's a weighty task. I think names are hugely powerful. I don't believe a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet- if roses were called grackles, they would not enjoy the popularity they have today. Peonies would have surpassed them a long time ago. I also think politicians usually win based on who has the better name. Seriously.

Sincerely,
Hortense D. Terwilliger

True Life Story

A couple of weeks ago Steph, Julie, and Julie's parents met an elderly woman while waiting to cross the street in New York City. This lady, well-dressed and leaning on a cane, turned to this amenable crowd to say, "Is there something on my back?"
Unfortunately for this individual, some fresh bird droppings had come to adorn her black jacket.
"Eww, yes... but it's not too much," replied Julie's mom.
"Yes," said Steph, in a cheery voice. "It looks like a bird had its way with you!"
The walking signal clicked on, and the old lady got a strange look on her face as she replied. "That's one way of putting it."

Fuck Betsy Ross

This NY Times article, about a trip around the world in 90 days, brought to mind Nellie Bly, a reporter who took a trip around the world in 72 days in the year of 1889. Nellie Bly is the kind of female historical figure we should have learned about but didn't, because history books were too busy going on about Betsy Ross (how many times can you go over the fact that she sewed the flag (unless it was Frances somebody or another- BIG controversy!)? who cares?). Anyway, Nellie Bly is a different story... I learned on wikipedia (not in those Betsy-Ross-loving history textbooks) that she got her journalism career started at 18 (in the 1880s, when there were few women in that type of work, and when she had to use a pen name, as a woman's name in the newspaper wasn't socially acceptable) when she wrote a response to a sexist editorial which proclaimed girls were only good for getting married and raising children. Her response, which she signed "Lonely Orphan Girl" was published in the newspaper. She met with the newspaper editor as a result, and told him she wanted to write articles about ordinary people, and got the job.

As a result of those pieces, advertising was pulled from the newspaper and they then tried to reassign her to fluffier things- she refused, and went to Mexico and wrote about politics and the like there for 6 months, until she was thrown out of that country. She eventually ended up in New York, and wrote a piece on going undercover in a lunatic asylum that caused a grand jury investigation and provoked an additional million dollars funding. The piece was called "Ten Days in a Mad House," published in 1888. You can read it here (complete with an advertisement for Madame Mora's corsets), it's really intriguing and also horrifying. Here's an excerpt:

I always made a point of telling the doctors I was sane, and asking to be released, but the more I endeavored to assure them of my sanity, the more they doubted it. 'What are you doctors here for?' I asked one, whose name I cannot recall. 'To take care of the patients and test their sanity,' he replied. 'Very well,' I said. 'There are sixteen doctors on this island, and, excepting two, I have never seen them pay any attention to the patients. How can a doctor judge a woman's sanity by merely bidding her good morning and refusing to hear her pleas for release? Even the sick ones know it is useless to say anything, for the answer will be that it is their imagination.' 'Try every test on me,' I have urged others, 'and tell me am I sane or insane? Try my pulse, my heart, my eyes; ask me to stretch out my arm, to work my fingers, as Dr. Field did at Bellevue, and then tell me if I am sane.' They would not heed me, for they thought I raved. The insane asylum on Blackwell's Island is a human rat-trap. It is easy to get in, but once there it is impossible to get out.

Ah horsefeathers!

I'm not trying to just beat my gums here when I tell you that life is feeling copacetic as I'm about to get a wiggle on out of this joint... that's right- I'm giving work the bum rush. Come Friday I'll be donning my glad rags and slurping some giggle water. Time to get spifflicated and live like an egg before I return to school and this tomato turns into a pill; a regular Mrs. Grundy.



Slang of the 1920's

Applesauce- an expletive same as horsefeathers, As in "Ah applesauce!"
Balled Up - confused, messed up
Bank's Closed - no kissing or making out - i.e. - "Sorry, Mac, the bank's closed."
Bearcat - a hot-blooded or fiery girl
Beat one's gums - idle chatter
Bee's Knees - An extraordinary person, thing, idea; the ultimate
Beeswax - business, i.e. None of your beeswax."
Berries - That which is attractive or pleasing; similar to bee's knees, As in "It's the berries."
Bird - general term for a man or woman, sometimes meaning "odd," i.e. "What a funny old bird."
Bum's rush - ejection by force from an establishment
Carry a Torch - To have a crush on someone
Cash - a kiss
Cat's Meow - Something splendid or stylish; similar to bee's knees; The best or greatest, wonderful.
Cat's Pajamas - Same as cat's meow
Check - kiss me later
Copacetic - Wonderful, fine, all right
Dapper - a Flapper's dad
Darb - An excellent person or thing (as in "the Darb" - a person with money who can be relied on to pay the check)
Don't know from nothing - don't have any information
Don't take any wooden nickels - Don't do anything stupid
Drugstore Cowboy - a guy that hangs around on a street corner trying to pick up girls
Dumb Dora - a stupid female
Egg - a person who lives the big life
Fire extinguisher - a chaperone
Flat Tire - A dull witted, insipid, disappointing date. Same as pill, pickle, drag, rag, oilcan
Get a wiggle on - get a move on, get going
Giggle Water - An intoxicating beverage; alcohol
Glad rags - "going out on the town" clothes
Goofy - in love
Hair of the Dog - a shot of alcohol
Handcuff - an engagement ring
Hard Boiled - a tough, strong guy
Horsefeathers - an expletive ; same usage as applesauce
Hotsy - Totsy - Pleasing
Jack - money
Jake - OK, as in , "Everything is Jake."
Jalopy - Old car
Jane - any female
Java - coffee
Juice Joint - a speakeasy
Mrs. Grundy - A priggish or extremely tight-laced person
"Now you're on the trolley!" - Now you've got it, now you're right!
Orchid - an expensive item
Ossified - a drunk person
Palooka (1) a below-average or average boxer (2) a social outsider, from the comic strip character Joe Palooka
Piker - (1) a cheapskate (2) a coward
Pill - (1) a teacher (2) an unlikable person
Rag-a-muffin - a dirty or disheveled individual
Real McCoy - The genuine article
Ritzy - Elegant (from the hotel)
Rubes - money or dollars
Sap - a fool
Sheba - A woman with sex appeal (from the move Queen of Sheba) or (e.g. Clara Bow)
Sheik - A man with sex appeal (from the Valentino movies)
Spifflicated - Drunk. The same as canned, corked, tanked, primed, scrooched, jazzed, zozzled, plastered, owled, embalmed, lit, potted, ossified or fried to the hat
Spiffy - An elegant appearance
Stuck On - Having a crush on
Swanky - Ritzy
Tomato - a female
Wet Blanket - a solemn person, a killjoy

Leave it at, Leaving the Wild

I've been mulling over this New York Times article, Leaving the Wild, and Rather Liking It, all day. It's an amazing thing to reflect on:

SAN JOSÉ DEL GUAVIARE, Colombia — Since time immemorial the Nukak-Makú have lived a Stone Age life, roaming across hundreds of miles of isolated and pristine Amazon jungle, killing monkeys with blowguns and scouring the forest floor for berries.
But recently, and rather mysteriously, a group of nearly 80 wandered out of the wilderness, half-naked, a gaggle of children and pet monkeys in tow, and declared themselves ready to join the modern world.
....
The Nukak have no concept of money, of property, of the role of government, or even of the existence of a country called Colombia. They ask whether the planes that fly overhead are moving on some sort of invisible road.
They have no government identification cards, making them nonentities to Colombia's bureaucracy. ...
Are they sad? "No!" cried a Nukak named Pia-pe, to howls of laughter. In fact, the Nukak said they could not be happier. Used to long marches in search of food, they are amazed that strangers would bring them sustenance — free.
What do they like most? "Pots, pants, shoes, caps," said Mau-ro, a young man who went to a shelter to speak to two visitors. Ma-be added, "Rice, sugar, oil, flour." Others said they loved skillets. Also high on the list were eggs and onions, matches and soap and certain other of life's necessities.
"I like the women very much," Pia-pe said, to raucous laughs.

I cannot even begin to imagine what it would be like to enter a civilization as wacky as our own in 2006. Reading about the fact that these newcomers love skillets makes me want to drop everything and move to that town in Colombia to meet them and ask- what is so great about skillets?

However, the Nakuk-Maku peoples sudden decision to leave their previous lives and lifestyle behind is strange. After all, it couldn't be more different- their old lifestyle involved living deep in the forest with virtually no possessions, moving every few days. The New York Times states it is unclear why they decided to leave, and mentions the possibility of the drug war pushing them out. However, a quick look on the Internet about the issue brought up many articles that portray the Nakuk as refugees. For example, an article on Survival International called Nomads killed, and others flee as fighting rages, serves as a negation of the optimistic tone of the Times article concerning the Nakuk's situation. The United Nations website has this to say:

...In a related development, the UN issued the latest in a series of warnings today that Colombia’s indigenous communities are threatened with extinction because of the country’s four decades of civil conflict and the violence associated with the cocaine drug trade.

The Nukak Maku’s population has declined by almost 60 per cent in the last 20 years and today they number less than 500 members, of whom more than half have been forcibly displaced from their homes, the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) said.

The Nukak, who live in small nomadic groups of six to 30 and speak only their own language, have fallen victim to malaria and flu since their first contact with outsiders in 1988, and now their lands have been occupied by coca growers and parties to the conflict.

So now I am left feeling depressed, for the threatened Nakuk population, and regarding the Times' oversimplified, overly upbeat, reporting on the Nakuk, which is, incidentally, the most emailed article of today.

How Opal Mehta Fell From Grace

I read "How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life," just because I can't believe a Harvard student was stupid enough to plagiarize from numerous currently popular sources to create this bestseller, that has now been pulled off the shelves for that very reason. The author, Kaavya Viswanathan, now a sophomore at Harvard, stole entire paragraphs- changing only the name of the characters or small details- from Megan McCaffrey's coming of age series. Unfortunately for this student, it was the Harvard newspaper that broke this story, and it was picked up everywhere else. Anyway the similarities to a few different written works have been extensively discussed, but I haven't heard much of anything about the fact that she stole scenes and plot points from Tina Fey's movie, Mean Girls. In the book, just like the movie, a clueless but pretty girl enters the upper echelon of high school society, by joining into a false friendship with 3 mean (2 blondes, 1 other) but ever so popular girls with their own set of grooming rules- you can only wear your hair down, etc (the girls are called the Haute Bitchez, in the plagiarized version, the Plastics in Mean Girls). The scene in which one of the mean girls complements a wannabe on an item of clothing, then disses it when it she walks away, is in both the movie and the book, as is the clueless girl wearing a tight dress at her own party. Also, the idea that the clueless girl messes up things with her true crush by becoming popular is a major part of the plot in both, and the link between one of the other popular girls and that crush. So anyway, it's quite obvious that the author stole from the movie, and she even mentions the movie itself and Lindsey Lohan in her book. So why isn't this such an issue as are all the instances of taking the scenes from books? Are movies not respected as creative property in the same way as novels, or are they not subject to the same copyright laws?

Let them eat cake

It's always nice when people acknowledge your birthday, but it was a little odd to get an email from myself. If you go on futureme.org, you can write an email to be delivered to yourself sometime in the future. So, apparently, on June 10th of last year, I was sitting around with nothing to do, and wished myself a happy birthday for this year (I also told myself to buy something "on me"- what a dork). But anyway, even though it is tough to know what pronouns to use in addressing yourself, it is a cool idea. Users can also choose to make their emails public, so you can read how other people talk to themselves- it's a real mix, from those that berate, encourage, chide, belittle, or express sympathy to themselves. A lot of people tell themselves they hope they're not dead- which is counterintuitive if you ask me. Anyway, after reading a few public ones, this one was the best I stumbled across:

hey you! YOU BETTER BE A SWEET ASS NINJA BY NOW! AND BE TRAVELLING THE WORLD!!!

(written Fri Dec 23, 2005, to be delivered Sun Dec 31, 2006)
http://www.futureme.org/public.php?id=169228

It's A Wonderful Pope

Has anyone else noticed a striking resemblance between the Pope and Clarence Oddbody (the hapless angel from It's a Wonderful Life (click on the link to see a 30 second version of the movie, with bunnies))? I realized this when the Pope was featured (first one below) as one of those odd pictures that some news places collect into a slideshow.
And, if I'm not mistaken, the Pope rings bells. Hmmm.....

The Pope

Clarence (on left)

The Pope

Clarence

WWFSMD?

I have to link to this page, Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, because it is hilarious, involves pirates, and because I find the design of the Flying Spaghetti Monster monstrously appealing, aesthetically. The Monster is just beautiful, and will definitely be making an appearance on October 31, 2006 in the guise of Me. Anyway, see excerpts below of the letter written by Bobby Henderson, concerned citizen, although you should read the whole thing on the webpage. This sentence "We feel strongly that the overwhelming scientific evidence pointing towards evolutionary processes is nothing but a coincidence, put in place by Him" reminds me of my previous discussion on those who don't believe in dinosaurs.

I am writing you with much concern after having read of your hearing to decide whether the alternative theory of Intelligent Design should be taught along with the theory of Evolution. I think we can all agree that it is important for students to hear multiple viewpoints so they can choose for themselves the theory that makes the most sense to them. I am concerned, however, that students will only hear one theory of Intelligent Design.

Let us remember that there are multiple theories of Intelligent Design. I and many others around the world are of the strong belief that the universe was created by a Flying Spaghetti Monster. It was He who created all that we see and all that we feel.

I’m sure you now realize how important it is that your students are taught this alternate theory. It is absolutely imperative that they realize that observable evidence is at the discretion of a Flying Spaghetti Monster. Furthermore, it is disrespectful to teach our beliefs without wearing His chosen outfit, which of course is full pirate regalia. I cannot stress the importance of this enough, and unfortunately cannot describe in detail why this must be done as I fear this letter is already becoming too long. The concise explanation is that He becomes angry if we don’t.

You may be interested to know that global warming, earthquakes, hurricanes, and other natural disasters are a direct effect of the shrinking numbers of Pirates since the 1800s.

Stiff Neck Girl

I woke up this morning with a terrible crick in my neck, and it persists. I have to avoid turning my head to the right. It goes a bit, hurts, then refuses to go any further. What a wimp! I tell my neck. You can do it! I say. Unfortunately my inspired peptalks are failing and I end up jerking my head in a Frankenstein-esque manner. The pills I took are also failing, and have left me sleepy beyond compare and wishing I could pull a George Costanza and curl up under my desk and nap. But instead, I ignore the painful stapeling (stapling?) "work" piling in my cubicle and write here.

I also googled my condition, which 9 times out of 10 is a bad idea, due to the fact that something scary comes up with everything. With the internet and a little imagination, a bruise can become thrombocytopenia. With this type of thinking I found I could have a subarachnoid hemorrhage, (which sounds like an underworld spider bleeding disease) or I could have slept on my neck wrong. Or, it could be a stapeling (stapling?) induced injury, which neglected to come up in my googling, but is pretty likely.

Back to life, back to reality...

Flying back into JFK airport after a lovely vacation in Vieques, Puerto Rico, I was pleased to realize I had missed not only my cat, roommate, and the plethora of New York food options, but also Manhattan itself. This first dawned on me as I watched from the sky as the sun set over the panorama of buildings, but it really hit home when I directed the cab driver to my apartment by saying, "drop me off towards the end- on the right side of the
street- you can just pull up right in front of those police officers arresting my neighbor. Thanks!"

Of course, New York City is also a bit of a shock after spending the week being roused by roosters, on a rural island similar in size, and in nothing else, to Manhattan. Vieques doesn't have one stop light, and, as of 2000, had 69.5 persons/km2, whereas Manhattan has 25,800 persons/km2. However, for a small, sparsely populated place, Vieques has a tumultous and interesting history, and an incredible amount of beauty (unfortunately, I can't even begin to describe the awesome-ness of the bioluminescent bay- you just have to go & see it for yourself).

Picture below is of a person making a snow-angel in water lit by dinoflagellates in the bioluminescent bay.

Vieques appears to be perched vicariously at the edge of more transformation- from a sleepy, affordable beach destination to a more crowded resort area. As of now there is plenty of tourism, with a range of hotels and restaurants to accomodate. However, a big W resort goes up in 2007, and ten years from now, the landscape may be unrecognizeable. After all, it's a cheap and easy flight away from New York, and it is just gorgeous. The reason resorts haven't taken over yet is because the Navy occupied Vieques until 2003. They used Vieques as a testing ground for bombs and the like, until the people of Vieques were able to protest enough to get them out. Their occupation left a large expanse of the island (about 2/3) unpopulated, and in general, slowed the tourism process back 40 or 50 years I'd say. So now plenty of land is available, which many Americans are buying up as I write, for time-shares, summer homes, retirement homes, and the like. Vieques natives are once again objecting. However, although the people of Vieques managed to get the Navy out, the American landbuyers may prove to be more difficult to overcome. When I was visiting there was a lot of anti-American-buyer graffiti in Vieques, asking Americans to take their money home, or simply stating "foreigners go home." This may intimidate some, but I think in the end, the place is just too pretty for its own good, and the land will go.

My hope is just that, as it develops, the pressure to change in an ecologically sound way also increases, and Vieques becomes a destination known for preserving a rural, environmentally-friendly character. With its wild horses, loud roosters, and large ex-Navy unpopulated areas, it distinguishes itself for its nature and its beaches-sans-high rises. As it grows in popularity that should continue to be a focus of its tourism, as it is of its beauty.

Speaking of change:
This is an article from the New York Times from March 2003 (when the Navy still occupied Vieques), and here is one from April 2006.

Dinosaurs? Or "Missionary Lizards"?

Yesterday, coming out of Starbucks, I heard a woman turn to her friend and say, "Well, I don't believe in dinosaurs." This odd statement has been resounding in my head ever since, so I decided to google "belief in dinosaurs" today. I found it to be a much more controversial subject than I ever imagined. Apparently some people consider dinosaurs to be a "dinosaur myth" that is perpetuated by the "dinosaur industry." To quote my source here, Dinosaurs: Science or Science Fiction, "This article will discuss the possibility that there may have been an ongoing effort since the earliest dinosaur "discoveries" to plant, mix and match bones of various animals, such as crocodiles, alligators, iguanas, giraffes, elephants, cattle, kangaroos, ostriches, emus, dolphins, whales, rhinoceroses, etc. to construct and create a new man-made concept prehistoric animal called 'dinosaurs'." From what I gather from this site, the fact that paleontologists and scientists are the ones to generally find dinosaur bones should be taken as evidence that it's a hoax- because these are people with a vested interest in dinosaurs. Now there is a fine example of "evidence" that makes the opposite of sense. Paleontologists are the ones finding them, because they are the ones looking for them. Was it only manufacturers of plastic dinosaurs finding dinosaur "evidence" then I might get in this whole conspiracy theory bandwagon. But no- it's educated, interested individuals doing a job in a specific location using excavation tools and technology. So anyway, at the end of all this very logical information the website forwards a hypothesis on the motivation behind the elaborate dinosaur myth:

The pro-evolutionary bias is evident with this organization promoting dinosaur discoveries.

As mentioned earlier, motivations for the possible invention of the dinosaur include trying to prove evolution, trying to disprove or cast doubt on the Bible and the existence of God, trying to disprove the young-earth theory, and trying to disprove creationism. Of course, the devil's ultimate goal is to cast doubt on the deity of Jesus Christ and prevent people's eternal salvation.

The name of Devils Canyon Science and Learning Center may possibly provide good insight to the real source of the dinosaur concept.

Now I also found that there appears to be plenty of people that think dinosaurs existed, but not millions of years ago- instead, they existed at the same time as humans- Adam and Eve, specifically. For this concept, much pictorial evidence is offered.

Now, if you think I'm creating some elaborate disbelief hoax, you can read further in a book called The Great Dinosaur Mystery: Solved! which can help you to, "learn how to effectively use dinosaurs as “Missionary Lizards.”"
Anyway, if dinosaurs were some wild hoax, they would be a fucking awesome hoax, because how cool are dinosaurs?!

Romantic Acceptance

Picture from the New York Times.

Mentally handicapped individuals face a truly difficult barrier in effecting change regarding their status or circumstances: relatively few are capable of advocating for themselves, or understanding what changes
should be made and how to make them. This voicelessness has contributed to allowing mentally handicapped people to be treated despicably in the past, when they were packed into institutions, abused, and viewed as sub-human. Horrific stories abound from this treatment- for example at one typical school of the 1960s in Massachusetts, "Conditions... were appalling for those with Down syndrome, cerebral palsy and other true physical or mental conditions. Given little treatment or training, they were often straitjacketed or tied to chairs and left soaked in urine and feces."

Workers were not equipped to deal with their mentally handicapped clients, and a sad marriage of cruelty and power, rather than empathy and understanding, dictated the way in which these institutions were run. This same phenomenon was famously distilled in a simple classroom exercise of separating out the blue-eyed from the brown-eyed kids to demonstrate racial prejudice:

That spring morning 37 years ago, the blue-eyed children were set apart from the children with brown or green eyes. Elliott pulled out green construction paper armbands and asked each of the blue-eyed kids to wear one. “The browneyed people are the better people in this room,” Elliott began. “They are cleaner and they are smarter.”

She knew that the children weren’t going to buy her pitch unless she came up with a reason, and the more scientific to these Space Age children of the 1960s, the better. “Eye color, hair color and skin color are caused by a chemical,” Elliott went on, writing MELANIN on the blackboard. Melanin, she said, is what causes intelligence. The more melanin, the darker the person’s eyes—and the smarter the person. “Brown-eyed people have more of that chemical in their eyes, so brown-eyed people are better than those with blue eyes,” Elliott said. “Blue-eyed people sit around and do nothing. You give them something nice and they just wreck it.” She could feel a chasm forming between the two groups of students.

I think there are some similarities between this experiment and establishing an IQ cut off point and treating all the people below as completely inferior. It is dissimiliar, in that this classification is not arbitrary, but there is a likeness concerning the notions of power. Establishing this IQ point demarcates those below as those without power, just as the blueeyed children were, and just as the guards were in the Stanford Prison Experiment.

As changes in the way mentally handicapped people are treated shows, their abilities lie on a spectrum and not solely on the other side of an IQ boundary (or precipice, as it was once considered). This type of more inclusive thinking has quickly and radically changed the perspective on mentally handicapped people, and the circumstances provided for them to live their lives. Now developmentally disabled people are provided with assistance in order to live with as much independence as possible, often earning money, making their own choices, indulging in their own interests and hobbies, and attending social events with their friends. Group home residents have individualized action plans specifically designed to foster their independence and socialization, curtailed to their personality, abilities, and interests. Disability rights activists worked hard to get society to this point, and as an article printed in the Times today shows, they are now working on taking it to another step.

This article, Learning to Savor a Full Life, Love Life Included, concerns allowing mentally handicapped individuals to pursue physical romantic relationships. Educating mentally handicapped people about romantic partners, allowing them to exercise their right to have a partner, and valuing their ability to form romantic attachment, takes their rights to a logical yet impressive level of acceptance.

A generation ago, young adults like Ms. Graham and Mr. Ruvolo were generally confined to institutions, with no expectation of a normal life. All that changed in 1975, when a court order closed the notorious Willowbrook State School on Staten Island and moved its residents, and others like them across the country, into community settings to live as fully as their limitations allowed.

That could include attending neighborhood schools and holding salaried jobs. Now many men and women in their 20's and 30's, encouraged from childhood to be independent, expect the same when it comes to expressing their romantic and sexual needs.

...Far safer, Dr. Levy said, is allowing such needs to be met in the group home, after a consent evaluation by a psychologist. That evaluation tests knowledge of birth control and disease prevention, the need to limit sexual activity to private locations, the difference between legal and illegal sexual acts and how to avoid exploitive situations.

Oh the places you'll go

The map above is from a website called World66 that lets you check off countries you've visited and then it makes a pretty map and tells you what percentage you've been to. Pretty cool. The website in general takes the whole readers-edit-it-wikipedia-idea to the travel guide genre.

Happy Easter Aftermath

Eggs in Three Baskets

Holidays like Easter leave someone without a religion a little at a loss. It still matters, it is still an exceptional day, but it's difficult to say how much or why. Like most holidays, it usually boils down to a seasonally expected combination of food dishes and family gathering. With Easter, I think of lots of chocolate, something good baked by my mom, and some limp ham, rolls, and mashed potatoes we used to eat at my Granny's place. Which was then followed by lots of chocolate: Irish tradition dictated more desserts than people at the table. The excitement of these desserts, and the loveliness of a basket of goodies, consistently overwhelmed my curiousity of the particularities of a day devoted to celebrating a large bunny with a preference for pastel eggs. To be honest, I still don't get the logic, and I am still more interested in whatever my mom baked.

Then in college I got the chance to celebrate Passover with friends. Celebrating Passover is a wonderful experience, I think in general, but also from the perspective of an atheist. Passover has a script! Unlike Easter, which surely takes some understanding derived from countless Sundays spent in pews, Passover has a great narrative, tells you what to say and when and explains each part. It even tells you when to drink, and tells you to drink often enough, that you end up drunk by the end. With that drunkenness also comes a strange satisfaction that I don't experience with Christian holidays; a feeling of having fully completed a celebration; of having reached a destination, with fellow revelers, to the end of the story.

Attempting both celebrations whenever possible may seem like enough for one atheist, until I stumbled upon a third way to honor the season today. Apparently, Norwegians celebrate Easter by gorging themselves on... crime stories. According to this article:

Sales of crime books jump around 500 percent in the week leading up to Easter, estimates bookshop chain Tanum, while television and radio programmers schedule back-to-back thrillers over the Easter break, which in Norway lasts 5-1/2 days.

...Nobody knows when the Norwegian tradition of crime telling at Easter began, but their warrior ancestors -- the Vikings -- were renowned for raiding trips to the British Isles.

On their return the Vikings would settle down with flasks of mead, an alcoholic drink made from honey, and recount tales of murder and pillage to their women and children.

So, admittedly, this is a bit creepy. But still a celebration I can easily participate in- so excuse me while I go get a crime novel, some chocolate, some matzah, and some cheap red wine- it's holiday time.

Elevator Mindset

I pushed my way into a packed elevator following lunch today. The fellow anonymous businesspeople and I all scrambled to push our specific floor buttons and step into an egalitarian personal space arrangement. The machine rose and conveyed us silently upwards. Everyone was demure and mindful of moving out of the way appropriately for those disembarking.
When it was my turn, as I crossed the threshold, I opened my mouth to yell: "SEE YA!!!! WOULDN'T WANT TO BE YA!!!!!!!" But instead I smiled and told the receptionist it was nice outside as the doors clicked shut behind me.

The Bidding has Opened

Sharyn is in this playwrighting group called Youngblood that came up with the wacky but brilliant idea to allow people to bid on the opportunity to get their life turned into a play. Click on ebay link below to bid for YOUR 15 minutes (plus) of fame (as promised by Andy Warhol):


http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=6620300570

From the New York Times
On Your Life Story Onstage

All those people who have always thought their lives more scintillating than that of the average Joe or Jane can now bid on the chance to have it recreated onstage. A collective of emerging playwrights known as Youngblood and working under the aegis of the Ensemble Studio Theater will happily do the writing. Starting today, bidding begins on eBay for "True Life Story of [Your Name Here]," a play yet to be written. The winning bidder will meet with a Youngblood team, have their story adapted to the stage and be exposed in front of audiences at the Brick Theater in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, as part of the $ellout Festival, beginning June 2. This will not be a play about a procrastinator, though: the auction ends in 10 days.
STEVEN McELROY

Madlibs- The State of the Union is dim!

Jen unknowingly contributes:

STATE OF THE UNION

KARYN:
Furry evening, distinguished baby mamas, ripe senators, members of the Supreme pimp (aka steve), my fellow muffins. I am cantankerous to announce that the state of our union is hot!

JEN:

Burnt evening, distinguished leaves, crisp senators, members of the Supreme banana, my fellow chairs. I am light to announce that the state of our union is bright!

STEPH:

Gloomy evening, distinguished peanut butter sandwiches, colorful senators, members of the Supreme sailboat, my fellow monkeys. I am sparkly to announce that the state of our union is red!

JULIE:

Sanguine evening, distinguished snots, oversized senators, members of the Supreme astronaut, my fellow crocodiles. I am hairy to announce that the state of our union is dim!

AMANDA:

(So) scandalous evening, distinguished balloons, red senators, members of the Supreme pocket, my fellow zebras. I am soft to announce that the state of our union is noble!

How to Criticize Advice

Today I stumbled upon Wiki how to lists- a rapidly growing database of how to advice. Some are interesting (How to Buy Your Own Private Island- cue Adam clicking so fast he almost sprains his wrist), some odd ones (How to Make a Rice Sock) and many geared toward teens. Regarding those, I think that it's amazing how many times people will give the advice to just "be yourself." For example, Step 1 of "How to Be the Type of Nerd That Girls Love" is to be yourself. It is Step 7 in how to be Miss Popular.

I hate to say it, but to "be yourself" is not necessarily good advice. The truth is, some people should probably not be themselves. Some people are assholes and would be better off as someone else entirely. Other people
are quite nice and should mostly be themselves, but to mask a couple traits, should master some features of someone else. There, that's my advice.

Now, to help Amanda out, here are some tips from Wiki ehow on How to Get Gothic in 1 Month:

1. Get a journal.
2. You don't immediately have to start wearing black. Nor does it have
to be all black, or at all times. Dark purple, blue or grey are
acceptable alternatives to plain black.
7. Read Robert Browning, Lord Byron, and other Romantic poets.
Dostoevsky will also aid in establishing a suitable life outlook.
9. Being Goth isn't about being cool, it's about being one with yourself
and LOOKING cool.
10. Dye your hair black. Or purple, or red, or blue. If you're a little
worried about the parents, just put in streaks.
12. Listen to your personal music device [ipod/walkman etc.] with the
volume up all the way.
16. Get a pet and be oddly attached to it. eg a mouse or rat that you
take everywhere. Other suitable animals are black or grey cats, frogs
and bats if you get one. Madagascar hissing cockroaches are great too;
be sure to show your little buddy to teachers. Dogs are seldom Goth,
although greyhounds have some potential, being so skinny and all.

Orchids!

Pictures taken by Ali, Bird and I at the New York Botanical Gardens Orchid Show- incredible!