Supermassive Black Hole
The Millions is a great blog for a whole host of reasons. Recently, this article made me think about the books I’ve read and the books I haven’t read, and the books I’ll probably never get around to. The question posed was: “What is the biggest, most glaring gap in your lifetime of reading?”
My reading list has a ton of gaps. The most glaring? I’m not so sure…but my first inclination is to name the science fiction genre. Next, I have very little patience for short stories, which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense since they don’t take a lot of time to read. I like becoming invested and engrossed in a story. I don’t like it when I finally get settled with the characters only to find the story’s done. I feel like I’ve been cheated out of a fictional experience.
This morning I spent some time at the Harold Washington Library, which is officially one of my favorite places. I was there early enough not to have to wait in line for a practice room (yay for free access to pianos!), and then perused the 7th floor until I had to leave for a scheduled meeting. I ended up checking out 3 books by Thomas Hardy: Tess of the D’Ubervilles, The Return of the Native, and The Mayor of Casterbridge. Granted, I’m not straying very far from my token era of literary comfort (ah…the glorious 19th century!), but there’s just so much good stuff from this time period. Hey – at least I’m reading works by someone other than Austen or Dostoevsky. I guess I’ll work on filling the gaps some other time…
Don’t Stop Me Now
Just made myself a cup of hot cocoa and about to sit down to another intense session of computer work. Although a poor substitute for good weather(for many, many reasons), sitting in front of a brightly lit screen, busily typing, copying, and pasting takes my mind off this dreary Midwestern climate enough for me to feel functional.
I’ve recently decided to rearrange some of my most pressing priorities, and this has helped me manage some unwarranted stress and anxiety. Except for the part about having to go outside in order to visit the library, I’m liking the idea of stocking up on books again for some self-enforced reading therapy. Even if it’s a book I’m not really into, there’s a kind of escape available within the physical pages of a volume that I can’t get by reading blogs, newspapers, or other periodicals. There’s an entire alternate universe in novels that you can’t experience any other way.
So I’m putting in more hours for work in concentrated doses instead of spreading it out and looking forward to attacking the 1001 books I’m supposed to read before I die with more fervor (although I disagree with a great number of the selections on the list, so I’m taking some liberties…)
Just my computer and me – with the help of the library, we’re going to conquer the winter. I’m going to call it the Great Literary Hibernation.
City Life
It’s been six months since I’ve moved to Chicago. I still tell people I just moved here.
When I first got here, Chicago was a hot and humid place, where the lake took over every breath and washed over me whenever I opened the windows or stepped outside. In what seemed like a matter of weeks, while I was busy trying to navigate narrow streets, crowded boulevards, and getting used to public transit, Chicago had morphed into a freezing block of ice, concrete, and brick.
How can I adjust to a place when the place itself keeps changing? As soon as I resigned myself to the discomfort of summer, winter rushed around the corner (note: the fall season was pretty nonexistent…) and I’ve been feeling cold ever since.
I’m tired of being cold. I don’t like spending 5 minutes preparing to go on 10-minute errands. I’ve pulled so many muscles and strained just about every ligament trying to avoid slipping on the ice and navigating snow banks. I haven’t been pain or ache-free for weeks. My nose is perpetually drippy and half the time I can’t feel half my fingers. Most of all, the city is dark and dirty.
I want 74 degree weather with slight breezes, no sudden gusts of wind, and sunshine that’s warm. I want clean sidewalks and streets wide enough to fit two cars traveling in opposite directions without having to slow down or stop. I want to go somewhere and not have to wait in line.
I Will Be
This morning I checked my application status. It was listed as complete.
I spent all day working nonstop in order to avoid thinking about the waiting game I’ll have to endure over the next couple of months.
Please let it work out this time. Please.
Speechless
My inability to communicate by speaking without coming off as harsh, bitchy, or antagonistic is frustrating. Sure, I can write up a politically correct storm when I need to draft proposals, reports, etc. But when faced with the prospect of maintaining a civil conversation about certain topics, right now I’m better off keeping my mouth shut. It’s hard to do because I’m no good at practicing patience or restraint.
Too many times I’ve squandered opportunities to educate my peers about something I’m passionate about. No, I’m nowhere near being an expert on these subjects, but I do have some experience and I know what I know. I just don’t have enough practice expressing my knowledge dispassionately. It’s been suggested that I keep in mind specific “tried and true” ways to phrase my points to avoid confrontation, but each conversation is unique and I don’t trust myself to make any sense if I’m regurgitating my own talking points, so to speak, instead of responding specifically to what is being said. I’m not looking for a heated exchange; whenever I’m presented with an alternative view or interpretation of the same set of facts or circumstances, I’m aware of the opportunity to refine my own stance, strengthening the arguments that remain viable and moving away from my less substantiated views.
One of these days I’ll be able to participate in a spoken debate without risk of flying off the handle. Until then, I’m going to have to tread carefully.
Play That Funky Music
This morning, I found the love of my life: AirFoil.
It has been well documented that I am a hybrid entity: I am powered by a combination of solar and acoustic power. Without sunshine and music, I simply cannot function properly. That said, it has been frustrating coping with the fact that I have been engaged in an affair with Pandora Radio without my iTunes knowing, and the illicit relationship has gone unconfirmed for a long time because my wonderful speakers, connected via AirPort Express, never peeped a sound related to my Pandora-related activities and remained true to my iTunes alliance only.
For $25, I have officially merged listening allegiances (music polygamy?) by purchasing a license for AirFoil, which not only allows me to outsource all audio from my Mac through external speakers (not just iTunes music), but also syncs the audio output to multiple speaker outlets and allows any other mac/PC in the vicinity to serve as an audio output as well. If I had an AppleTV, it would be connected, too. YouTube in surround sound, anyone??
Ah, ’tis music to my ears.
One Red Thread
When beginning a holiday, Jewish custom dictates that sundown begins when you can’t tell the difference in color between a red thread and a black thread on the occasion it’s cloudy and you can’t discern three stars in the sky. Then let the celebration begin!
It’s finally sinking in that I will be among the hordes of people crazy for a piece history on January 20, 2009. We leave for DC on Sunday and return on Thursday. When we elected Barack Obama, all I knew was that I felt elated that we could finally pick someone who seemed competent and intelligent. Although the historical and cultural implications didn’t escape me, they weren’t necessarily the major factors behind my excitement. To be honest, I am thankful that I am relatively ignorant when it comes to racially-affected thinking and race-based attitudes. This past year, I experienced a culture shock similar to the time when I enrolled at UC Berkeley and discovered that I am, indeed, Asian. It’s not that I’ve been totally oblivious to the struggle for civil rights in our country (and in other nations as well), but that I have never tried to view the world through the eyes of someone who currently subscribes to racial prejudices. Consequently, I just don’t understand racism, sexism, or discrimination based on any other way people choose to differentiate others from themselves. It seems like a silly thing to say, but I just don’t get it. I don’t get why we have to place mandatory labels on people, on communities, on ideas based on where they come from, what they look like, or where they live. It seems too arbitrary, and with little or no constructive purpose. Let us assign our own identities in order to highlight something about ourselves for which we are proud, whether that something is about our heritage, current lifestyle, or otherwise. As social creatures, we need to be able identify ourselves, to establish both individuality and collectivity, but the point is that we are identifying ourselves, not others.
Most of the frustration I feel nowadays with regard to current events, politics/policies, and ideas stem from the fact that I have difficulty comprehending why and how faulty systems and institutions continue to operate in blatantly discriminating ways. I realize that human beings will never cease to be hypocritical or prejudiced, but with so much work to be done, surely we can improve at least a little.
I didn’t realize I was Asian until college because being Asian was never an issue growing up – not only was it not an issue because no one talked about it, but no one talked about it because it never occured to anyone that I was different in ways that mattered. And because race and ethnicity never played a role in shaping my self-image or world view growing up, race and ethnicity never factor into my consideration today whenever I consider world I live in now. It doesn’t occur to me unless someone else brings it to my attention. Obama talks about being colorblind with respect to race relations – his words took me by surprise because I had never thought about putting the concept in words before – I had been doing this along and never thought twice about it. So this is what I’ve been pondering lately: Is someone “color blind” when they still see color but just choose not to act discriminatingly based upon what they see? And if not, how do we go about teaching others not to see color in the first place? If this happened, would this be good or bad?
Even if people in our nation decide to transform this country into a “post-racial America,” that is still a conscious choice, a way of thinking that will require some effort. How long will it take until our country is post-racial in the sense that I know – unconsious color blindness? Here’s a paradox: how do we teach the next generation not to see color? How do we advocate for diversity without harping on the differences involved? When will we be able to take for granted that racial and ethnic prejudice is something reserved for history books and no longer a reality in the world we live in today?
Cold Cold Heart
My car wouldn’t start this morning.
It needed to be jumped, which was the strangest thing because the car and the battery are just over two years old, not old by any means. We ended up starting the day an hour later than planned, frustrated and freezing.
Needless to say (and yet here I’m saying it anyway) – this probably wouldn’t have happened in Santa Barbara. I think it was so cold my car battery froze to death.
In the wise words of Carl Reiner: “A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.” The roads are a mess, the sidewalks are un-walkable, and the salty crap gets all over my boots, pants, and floors. What a mess. I can’t wait until I never have to deal with weather anymore. Weather is highly overrated.
