"What’s This? What’s Happening? What’s Going On Here?"
After an intense, speech-ifying four days on the news networks, we conclude the week with the announcement of a lifetime:
Karen Walker is running for President! Just wait until she fills the cabinet with her boys: Jose, Jim, the Glen brothers, etc.
Only it’s not really Karen Walker, and she’s not officially slated for the top spot – just second. Check out this blog entry: Vice President Anastasia Beaverhausen for comments that closely echo my own thoughts.
I had one of those “gee, duh” conversations today. One of those exchanges that verbalizes all the sentiments that seem so elusive to language. Somebody else was able to tell me, in my own words (that I didn’t know I had), exactly what I’ve been feeling and, most importantly, they were able to tell me that what I’m feeling is ok. A key revelation: ”When you move in with someone and start a new life, your lives are going to be more closely intertwined in ways you didn’t realize were possible. You’ll have to sacrifice some of your independent streak, or at least re-distribute it throughout other aspects of your life.” You’d think that was obvious. But it wasn’t, and I’m glad someone was able to explain it to me.
On a totally separate note, I was told by yet another person that they think of me synonymously with the movie When Harry Met Sally. Obviously, I’m not objecting, as that film and its dialogue have been ingrained within my constitution for over a decade. But it’s still amusing. I haven’t seen a romantic comedy as smart and witty as that in a very long time (thank goodness for Will & Grace, but even that show has since left a massive void). Juno, which I loved in its own right, almost counted as a smart romantic comedy, but it had too much of a story – it wasn’t just about the basic ways in which people relate to each other (the darn baby thing always seems to get in the way).
Maybe I’ll go see the new Woody Allen flick this weekend. I’ve never been a big fan of his movies, but it’s always fun to see Javier Bardem in his varied incarnations (How does one make the transition from the creepy Anton Chigurh to the seductive Juan Antonio?)
Speaking of getting along…
Check out this PSA:
Not sure if this video was made in response to the reactions surrounding the film Tropic Thunder, but it sends an appreciable message regardless of the timing of this video’s release. Last time I posted, I couldn’t wrap my head around all that was wrong with the world. Today, I’m going back to appreciating all the things that are right. (Don’t hormones do the darndest things?)
What The World Needs Now
Last night I rode the waves of a mental roller coaster trying to come to terms with what my high school biology teacher referred to as “the current world situation”: not necessarily the status of social, political, and/or economic events on the global stage, but primarily what the world looks and feels like from my own point of view (says a lot about the typical student in his classroom).
After sifting through all my thoughts, weighing the pros and cons of not being employed full time, living away from my family, getting serious about my faith, and adapting to life as a Chicagoan (which has proven to be a remarkably challenging task), I finally fell asleep and later woke up with a kink in my neck.
I would normally agree that the dark exaggerates all our fears, insecurities, and anxieties. This morning, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not so much the absence of light that stirs our subconscious, but the absence of distraction. The past two weeks I’ve been so engrossed with reading that I’ve almost gone 15 days without relapsing into my “woe is me – I’m not in California” mood. Thanks to others’ memoirs and novels of the hardships of civil war, I’ve forgotten all about how difficult it’s been adjusting to the midwest because it’s really not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things…
The upshot is my life now seems just peachy by comparison. The difficult thing to bear is that my recent source of escapism is a ridiculous place to seek emotional solace. Knowledge is a powerful thing, and the more I learn about the histories of Sierra Leone, Sudan, Afghanistan, Tibet, El Salvador, Myanmar, drug addiction, corrupt corporate practices, and stories of parents who cannot (Uganda) or will not (USA) vaccinate their children, the more frustrated I get with how dysfunctional our global family is (Check out the UN’s list of Human Rights Issues).
The world’s troubles are so overwhelming. I’m no idealistic-world-peace-toting hippy, but I do wonder why we can’t all just get along…I guess there will always be something worth fighting for. Unfortunately, as long as the word “fight” is in there, we’ll never get to that “something” completely.
Under Pressure
According to Wikipedia, the city of Chicago and its surrounding areas lies within the “humid continental climate zone” at approximately 586 feet above sea level where summers are “warm & humid,” “winters are cold, snowy and windy,” and “spring and fall are mild with low humidity.” From a textbook point of view, I fully comprehend the phenomenon the rest of the non-Mediterranean climate world appreciates by way of experiencing “true” and separate seasons. What the Wikipedia article doesn’t mention, however, is the incredible degree of variance in barometric pressure that is observed in the Great Plains/Midwest area.
Having lived my first two months in a climate with a distinguishable “rainy season”, I’ve become rather disillusioned with a couple of things.
First, the sinus headache is how the Native Americans and fishermen of lore could tell rain was coming. In Chicago, it’s really not that hard if your sinus cavities are especially susceptible to changes in pressure. When combining a sudden drop in pressure with the direction the wind is messing up my hair, I can tell you that rain is coming from the west just as well as the next Dancing Rain or Timid Bear Claw. Thank goodness for pseudophedrine (when it does work). Now I can be as ignorant about weather patterns as I used to be when living in Santa Barbara (“What? Water falling from the sky? Since when?”). It was so much cooler to read books about Native Americans and their understanding of Mother Nature and the unique relationship people in tribal communities are able to cultivate with the lands they inhabit (see: The Mutant Message, a story about Australian Aborigines), than to experience my own painful ways of understanding natural phenomena. I’d be more than ecstatic to leave the weather predicting to the Ojibwe and wait for less accurate reports from Weather Bug than have my own biological climate sensor, which makes my eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of their sockets (like they do right now, as there’s supposedly a 30-40% chance of rain right now, thunderstorms predicted for tonight and tomorrow…etc.).
Second, I’ve become disenchanted with the smell of drying asphalt after a good rain. This was much appreciated in Southern California, where it rains twice a year (once in October and once in February). It used to be that “taking the good with the bad” with regard to rain meant that if you wanted to smell drying asphalt, be prepared to clean up some mudslides, too. Now, if you want to smell the clean air that comes right after a good rain, you’ve got to hurry up and enjoy it quick because the amount of rotting leaves between the car that hasn’t move for street cleaning in two months and the curb it’s parked in front of will produce a pretty fetid stench.
After talking Doug’s ear off last night (more like having a one-way “discussion” about how I was feeling about everything from the idea of parenting to pronunciation of the word “man” in Chinese), I realized I can blog about a lot more than just weekly summations of events that have occurred within recent days, which actually leaves out quite a bit, since most of what happens to me doesn’t seem particularly blog-worthy (like the laundry card fiasco that happened yesterday – but laundry drama could claim its own blog entirely). That way I can get things off my chest without Doug risking the need for aural rehabilitation.
So here’s a bulleted list of the kinds of things running through my mind at the moment, which represents only a fraction of the number of thoughts I can’t help having throughout the course of any given week:
- I’m currently testing out a new blogging position – on the couch with my feet propped up on the coffee table. It’s a huge improvement from the desk set up, which is far from ergonomically correct, but because my iTunes library is stored on an external hard drive, I can’t play music while I write, which is a major drawback. Within the next few days, Doug and I will decide on whether or not to buy a new Mac (well, we always want to buy a new Mac, so that’s not the issue…), so that one will come with tons more hard disk space which will eliminate the need for an externally stored library. Basically, it’s becoming more and more of a pain having a Mac that doesn’t run on an Intel processor. Not only is my current laptop getting maxed out, but Doug would like to be able to work from home without having to lug his computer back and forth on the train.
- Recently, a great opportunity has come up for me to experiment with tech writing. The project is relatively flexible, supervision is minimal, the position is part-time, and the learning possibilities are endless. What more could you ask for? I get to play around with RoboHelp, learn new software programs, and be way more productive with my time. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve applied to several jobs and haven’t gotten any response, despite the voice messages and emails I’ve left (incredibly discouraging…). At least admissions councils at school operate according to timelines and they’re committed to giving you news, good or bad, by a certain date. Another reason why academia is preferable to the real world… Anyhow, in a few days I’ll begin updating and creating help documentation for a software program I don’t know anything about at the moment, so I welcome the chance to learn something new and do something different.
- Cookie the betta is doing very well. Quick update: the tiger barb experiment didn’t go as planned. A particularly aggressive fish killed two of its tank mates, so we returned the remaining pair before the number of casualties increased. It was quite a depressing experience. We exchanged the barbs for a single red betta, who was referred to as “fishy face” for a couple of days before we decided Cookie was a suitable name. Cookie likes to hang out at the front of the tank, watching Doug and I walk back and forth from the kitchen or bedroom to the living room. Reminds me of a certain individual who enjoys the view of the parking lot and always wants to know where you’re going, where’s your car, or who’s going to pick you up. Plus, Cookie likes to smack the plants with his tail as he swims by…
- It’s so disappointing when you read three good books in a row – and the fourth one’s a stinker. I haven’t been able to get past page 11, and it looks like I’m not going to. Knocks you off your reading high like a good smack across the face. At least I’ve got the latest issue of The New Yorker and Wired magazine to hold me over until the library is able to recall the other titles I’ve requested.
- Apparently, August is the month to initiate construction projects around here. Within a 2 block radius (including a walk-up across the street), four demolition projects began this week. It’s been dusty and loud and our building manager got super irate today at the contractors and construction workers parking their trucks in the loading zone in front of our building. She even called the police, who came by, shook their finger at the construction personnel as a warning, and told her to take down license plates in the future instead of calling next time. There are no signs saying that the loading zone is for 2738 N. Pine Grove only, so I guess there must be some rule somewhere that says loading zones are for vehicles serving the immediate premises? In any case, I’m glad however anyone looks at it, I’m allowed to put my car in the loading zone in front of my building when I come back from a Trader Joe’s run.
- The Cho Show premieres tonight. I’m excited to see what it’s going to be like. I haven’t watched VH1 since they first came out with the I Love the (insert decade here) series and The Best Week Ever, which I stopped watching after the first couple of best weeks. And on a completely separate note, I watched about 10 minutes of some random episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Except for a handful of comedies and maybe even Nanny 911 (which is like Cesar Milan’s Dog Whisperer for kids!), television needs a major overhaul. (I can’t believe I enjoyed watching Nanny 911. Must have been the accents.)
- I’m working on my Chinese. Reading, writing, the whole nine yards. Yes, of course it’s because of the Olympics. And, quite frankly, I’m getting tired of people asking me if I know the language. At least now when I answer yes, they won’t ask me to “say something.”
"How do you know it’s called the ‘El’"?
Doug’s brother, Jake, makes a good point: “How do you know it’s called the ‘El’ if there aren’t any signs?” Why do we know it’s called the Elevated Train, and not, for example, AirTrain or some other creative moniker that somehow describes our transit system on tracks? I’m new here – so as far as I know, it’s anyone’s guess.
On Sunday, we took a cab to the Shedd Aquarium and saw our lives flash before our eyes – a few times. Our driver did not believe in lanes, laughed in the face of assigned directions for moving traffic (he may have gotten his first driver’s license in England), ignored traffic authority personnel at major intersections, and blatantly disregarded traffic lights and speed limits. We arrived at the aquarium in record time, with all our body parts. Amazing.
The most entertaining set of events occurred on our way home from the aquarium (with the exception of the single family from Podunk, USA who believed that every larger specimen in an exhibit was placed there for the sole purpose of eating all the smaller species also present in the tank…how’s THAT for aquarium exhibit sustainability practices?).
First, we did the tourist-y thing and rode the water taxi from the aquarium to Navy Pier. But it was so much better because the Chicago Air and Water Show, celebrating it’s 50th anniversary, was concluding while we were on the water, so we were treated to several rounds of deafening Blue Angels’ mid-air antics overhead. So in addition to the fact that our military safeguards our liberties here and abroad, they can also perform some really badass maneuvers just for kicks. Hooray for our service men and women!
Second, we stopped at Argo Tea, my new favorite non-Starbucks. This was, unfortunately, my first (and hopefully only) bad experience. The barista made my drink halfway, got frustrated with the process, and set it aside! Almost 20 minutes later, the order slip was inadvertently thrown away and my order was forgotten, all the while Doug waited at the pick-up counter watching the utter failure of the execution of my order. Needless to say, the drink felt thoroughly unsatisfying at the completion of its consumption. I have no doubt that particular barista will not remain an Argo employee for much longer.
Third, I stopped at J. Crew at the 900 N. Michigan shops to pick up some flip-flops to replace the ones I currently have, which are falling apart. After searching the store high and low, I finally asked someone if they carried them. ”Oh, it’s August,” she said, practically rolling her eyes and giving me this “Duh…what were you thinking?” look, “We sent them back.” You sent them back? What do you mean, you sent them back? It’s still summer, it’s going to be around 90 degrees for at least another couple of weeks, and you sent back flip flops? Were they selling so badly in the middle of summer that a store like J. Crew on the Magnificent Mile couldn’t move something as simple as flip flops through their inventory? By “we sent them back,” clearly you mean you sent them to the stores in California, where they sell flip flops year-round. And for those who agree with the store’s policy of sending back flip flops in mid-August, I would like to point out that once summer is over, which isn’t for another couple of weeks, Chicago supposedly boasts a pretty spectacular fall climate, which calls for more flip-flop wearing. Not to mention all the weekends of doing laundry in the winter, when I’m sure I wouldn’t want to lace up my snow boots to walk down one flight of stairs to the laundry room. Flip-flops are perfectly good laundry-doing attire, no matter what time of the year it is outside. You sent them back. As soon as I got home, I went online to buy my precious, out-of-season-in-the-middle-of-August flip-flops and coughed up an arm and a leg not only for sales tax, which I could have gotten covered with a 10% in-store discount with my Cal ID had the store not “sent them back,” but also for shipping. All because it’s August and they sent them back.
Lastly, our kitchen had been in dire need of a vegetable peeler (although its lacking presence has forced me to practice more culinary-inspired ways of removing the outer layers of certain foods), which we bought just before catching the bus to go home. Doug decides to take out the peeler on the bus, after I warned him not to because I sensed it would provoke unwanted exchanges with a certain other passenger on board, but it was too late. Doug, Jake, and I were treated to a 15-minute monologue from a seriously disoriented Crocodile Dundee-wannabe on how to peel carrots and other vegetables, how you can join a rock band when you’re 18, learning everything as you go along (he explains while playing a harmonica extremely poorly), and explain how he plans to go home and take a nap before going to work (which begs the question of what type of employment this individual has). Let me say for the record, before this description gets out of hand, that I do not believe this person suffered from any major mental health issues. He was simply eccentric, and perhaps a bit lonely.
The Adventures in the City continues!
Olympic Fever
Every four years, I suddenly become motivated to get in better shape – for about two weeks, until I’m reminded there’s a reason why only certain individuals make the Olympic Games.
Don’t have much in the way of an update this week, but just wanted to post a few thoughts on a couple of recurring themes from recent days.
1. To the writers and producers of NBC’s Olympic Games coverage: it’s not all about Michael Phelps (and yet here I am mentioning his name yet once again). Commentators, I realize you have your reporting instructions from the higher-ups, but it’s rather disrespectful to the athletes when you’re talking about someone else during an event in which he is not a competitor. For example, Katie Hoff swam some amazing races and is a phenomenal athlete. Would it be too much to ask to focus on her and her accomplishments during the couple of minutes she’s in the pool, not her ubiquitous teammate? Same goes for Jason Lezak, whose incredible performance as anchor relay will be replayed over and over for days to come. I was shocked to hear the commentators refer to his finish first and foremost as “keeping alive hopes for Michael Phelps’ gold medal run.” How about first congratulating Jason Lezak for doing a fantastic job, for himself, for his team, etc.? He finished that swim with the best relay split in history, answered verbal drama with athletic performance, and pulled off an amazing feat for the United States. I don’t think Lezak’s motivation to win the relay was just to benefit a certain individual’s goal to break a personal Olympic Games record…although that’s how the commentators seemed to portray it. Heck, they even talk about MP during women’s gymnastics…*sigh* Celebrate Michael Phelps when he competes well, and give the other athletes the attention and respect they deserve during their respective competitions.
2. Strollers were not designed to be used as weapons in crowded venues. Here I caution new parents who decide to introduce their children to busy environments: Prepare to move at the same pace as the rest of the people in any given venue. At the zoo? Park? Museum? These public places are for the enjoyment and education of all people who visit – not just your children. No one should have to think twice about whether or not they want to spend the day at the natural history museum for fear of bruised and battered calves, shins, and heels due to aggressive stroller-steerers who see nothing wrong with ramming into other people to relieve frustration and impatience with crowds. Chicago is a big city – there are always a lot of people. Be prepared to meet certain obstacles in navigation when venturing out with a stroller. Bashing people left and right in their lower quarters is not acceptable.
3. Kudos to Alon Mendel for setting a record after obtaining a hard-earned spot on the Israeli Olympic Team and coping with a family tragedy.
Green, But Not With Envy
Doug’s younger brother Sam came to visit on somewhat short notice this past weekend. Originally, Doug and I had planned to spend the couple of days recovering from the weekend before in Michigan, but we’re going to have to wait until next weekend to do that (kind of – he’s got a lab meeting on Saturday).
For being so tired, we actually had a blast. Since Sam arrived late on Friday, we went for Gino’s deep dish pizza and called it a night. We spend Saturday at the Museum of Science and Industry, where we got a tour of “Chicago’s Greenest Home”. The most impressive feature of the house was its built-in computerization, allowing remote control of household functions via the web and completely customizable settings upon entry and exit of the house (including an entrance theme and lighting scheme). Its modular design, although an incredible feat of efficiency when it comes to labor and materials, gave me the feeling of living in an Ikea-inspired cubicle. It also severely restricts architectural creativity. The tour guide was extremely informative and very entertaining, so props to her for providing an enlightening tour. However, the bottom line (isn’t there always a bottom line?) is this: the estimated base price for construction of a 2,500 square foot home is around half a mil. Then you have to factor in all the nice components that make it inhabitable: hardware, sinks, tubs, toilets, floor coverings, not to mention furnishings, decor, and the household automated computer system to boot. The tour guide claimed they didn’t know the actual price of the model we toured (the computer system, fixtures, furnishings, and decor were all donated), but continued to stress that eco-friendly living was attainable today with the $500,000 price tag for basic construction and transportation of the modules. So…you can build a house, you just won’t have anywhere to put it or any way of actually living in it.
Top 3 reasons why I didn’t bite:
1. The better features of the house include its system for collecting, storing, and heating water (mostly rainwater). It doesn’t really rain in southern California (like I would buy a house anywhere else? Ok, maybe Riverside Drive. But that wouldn’t be a “house.”)
2. I can’t see myself living in an IkeaBox.
3. Most definitely not earthquake-safe (refer to California comment in #1)
Top 3 innovations I would use in my future house (to be built in southern California):
1. Nanawalls - They’re double-paned French doors that pull to the side, accordian-style. Way cool.
2. EcoSmart Vent-free fireplace – ’nuff said.
3. Home automation system – 3G in da house!!!
The three of us also saw Cirque du Soleil’s “Kooza” – which thoroughly knocked our socks off. They never disappoint.
Lastly, our apartment is the new home of Juan Carlos, Pablo, Ernesto (aka Ernie), and Little Ricky, four Tiger Barbs who are livin’ it up in style, thanks to Marineland and TopFin.
Thus ended two days full of walking; I’m surprised my feet haven’t fallen off. I’m looking forward to a comfy chair and a few good books…
