The new season of 30 Days starts tonight. I love this show.

Brian Greene writes an eloquent argument on why you need to "Put a Little Science in Your Life":

But here’s the thing. The reason science really matters runs deeper still. Science is a way of life. Science is a perspective. Science is the process that takes us from confusion to understanding in a manner that’s precise, predictive and reliable — a transformation, for those lucky enough to experience it, that is empowering and emotional. To be able to think through and grasp explanations — for everything from why the sky is blue to how life formed on earth — not because they are declared dogma but rather because they reveal patterns confirmed by experiment and observation, is one of the most precious of human experiences.

The whole thing is worth reading, especially if you're science-phobic.

If you have HBO, Recount is definitely worth watching. The film is about the chaotic aftermath of the 2000 presidential election, aka, the era of the chad. This is a well-crafted political thriller--twists and turns abound, even if we already know the ending. The film strikes the right balance of pointing out the absurdities of that election in a serious way and also incorporating many humorous elements. The writers and actors have some fun impersonating the individuals involved, especially Laura Dern with an over-the-top Katherine Harris, yet the film doesn't devolve into caricature. Kevin Spacey excellently captures the mix of cynicism and idealism of Ron Klain, leader of Al Gore's post-election fight. Gore and George W. Bush are portrayed only in passing and in voice impersonations; they aren't central characters, which I think was a wise decision. I was surprised at how many times I was left in suspense as I was watching this, my memory of 2000 getting a little spotty, which just goes to show why films like these are necessary. Recount is a well-executed and relevant analysis that never gets boring.

- The NY Times reports on a "miracle fruit" that "rewires the way the palate perceives sour flavors for an hour or so, rendering lemons as sweet as candy." I don't know, I think I'd be scared to try this.

- In another Times article, David Byrne outfits an abandoned building with an "architectural organ":

Besides being fitted with several motors, which produce the bass sounds by vibrating a set of girders that once supported a stained-glass skylight in the 40-foot-high ceiling, the organ is attached to a pump that blows air through a tangle of hoses. These hoses snake into the huge room’s old water and heating pipes and conduits, making primitive flute sounds. And then there are more than a dozen spring-loaded solenoids, attached like woodpeckers to the columns and even to a linebacker-size radiator that emits a surprisingly sonorous tone when struck in just the right place with a metal rod.

There's a video of it with the article. Way cool and makes me wish I were a New Yorker so I could go see it.

Change is good

I decided it was about time to change the blog template. What do you think?

Birthday dinner

Thanks to my three regular readers for the birthday wishes. You all are very kind.

For my birthday gift, my dad took me, a few family members, and a friend to one of the trendiest/most expensive restaurants in El Paso. I'm generally not a food or restaurant snob. I don't mind eating at cheap places. But just once, I wanted to see what the "best" was, and possibly relive a tiny bit of the restaurant experience I had in New York City.

So off we went to enjoy an amazing meal. For my first and second courses, I had fried crab with a sauce that had bacon and avocado in it and a fillet of toothfish (whatever that is) with spinach and red seaweed tendrils on top of it. It was good, though the portion size of the fish was a bit large and the flavors were really strong, so I could only finish half of it. Two of my dinner companions ordered a salad that was placed on a bowl with several live goldfish in it. Whoa, now that's not something you see at Red Lobster. One relative ordered a "lobstertini," like a shrimp cocktail but with lobster, that came with a tiny bottle of vodka on the side. For me, though, the highlight of the meal was dessert, an amaretto creme brulee. The waitress had to show me how to puncture the top of it and pour the amaretto sauce in it. It was sooooo yummy. I also ordered a cup of coffee with dessert and it honestly was the most perfect cup of coffee I've ever tasted. It came with two biscotti, a tiny white ceramic creamer, and a long white tray with sugar cubes and tiny stirring spoons.

It was definitely a memorable experience, but as I remarked to my friend who came with me on this food adventure, I don't think I'll be going back anytime soon. The bill was, predictably, huge, and in the end it seemed ridiculous to spend that much on one meal. The pretentiousness of it all got to me, too. Do I really need an army of waiters to present my food? Do I need these exotic ingredients I've never heard of? Mostly I think we all felt sort of out of place there; my family members and friend and I all acted sort of hushed and different from our usual loud and lively selves just because we were at that particular restaurant. Still, it was good to try something new on my b-day, and if I was judging purely on the food, it's certainly the best restaurant I've been to in this city.

Today really should be a national holiday

Or at least a blog holiday--it's my birthday today! I'm 26.

In the Shadow of the Moon is an excellent documentary about Apollo astronauts' journeys to the moon, narrated by the astronauts themselves. The footage is amazing, clearer than I've ever seen it, and I like how the documentary focuses mainly on these men's experiences rather than on technical or historical details of the moon landings, which have been covered in a lot of other documentaries. It's fascinating to hear the astronauts reflect on a truly unique and awe-inspiring experience, how it changed them and made them see our world in a new way. Watch it and you will surely look at the moon and the earth a little differently afterwards.

Weird article in yesterday's NY Times: "Serge Hefez, a practicing psychiatrist, has identified a new mental illness among the French: obsessive Sarkosis, an unhealthy fascination with the French president, Nicolas Sarkozy." Seems pretty silly to me, but it is interesting to consider how celebrities can reflect/affect the public psyche. The accompanying photos, which originally appeared in the French newspaper Liberation, are also a trip.

Happiness is a new pair of running shoes.

One week into summer break and I'm already itching to work again. I have goals and projects for the summer, but ah, whatever, every day still lasts forever. The perils of unemployment. Plus the heat is stifling, even in May.

Yesterday I assembled a barbecue grill for my mom. It was kind of fun screwing things together and attaching the little wheels. I was so proud of myself for assembling the thing, until I realized I attached the top of the grill the wrong way. Whoops.

My birthday is less than a week away. Maybe I'm childish for caring at the almost-age of 26. Still, I'm excited and I'm cooking up some plans for the day.

Some great tips for moving on Hygge House. I like "2. When packing use no peanuts." and "6. Don’t ask friends unless you are broke ass. I say this because moving is no fun." True. I hate moving.

Local anchorman Gary Warner retires. I always thought he was the most professional local news anchor. I like what he says about his job in the El Paso Times article:

"I like the feeling that, at the end of the day, I've given people information they should know in a professional manner," he said. "The copy was written well, and it had an impact on the viewers.

"It's like any other profession, such as a lawyer or doctor. If a doctor writes a wrong prescription, someone can get hurt. If we mess up and give the wrong information, there's the possibility that someone can get hurt."

Now there's an attitude I think some others in the news business need to adopt.

M. LeBlanc on Bitch Ph.D. gives a right-on assessment of Sex and the City:

You know what? I think Sex and the City actually has a few redeeming qualities. Cinematically it's awful, especially with the whole "Carrie-typing-and-wondering-aloud-punny-questions" theme that appears in every single episode. Several of the characters (esp. Samantha) are pretty flat. It's an odd show, because at times it's clear that some of the characters aren't at all realistic (again, see Samantha), but then it tries to present problems of love, sex, relationship, fertility, illness, careers in a nuanced way. The show's a bit schizophrenicconfused in that way, like it's not sure whether it's a comedy or a drama, realism or high-exaggeration kabuki.

Recommended

Sister of My Heart by Chitra Divakaruni. It edges into chick lit territory, but it's still pretty magical.

On Teaching

Reflections on the end of two semesters of teaching freshman composition:

First of all, "teaching" is a misnomer. It implies that I can make students learn, that teaching is a process of transmitting my knowledge directly into my students' minds." I wish that were the case, but you can't make people do anything, learning included. I define teaching as "influencing students to learn on their own." My job as a teacher is to influence, and it's not easy considering how much competition I have for students' attention. I'm competing for their attention with other professors, families, friends, jobs, cell phones, video games, etc., but to be a good teacher I must wield that tiny sliver of influence I have in the most effective way possible to get students to take responsibility for their own learning.

It surprised me over and over how inefficient the process of teaching is. How, of the many things I would say in front of the class, I would guess-timate that students remember about 10% of it. The "good" students would remember a little more, the "bad" students would remember less. I'm sure someone has done a real study on this, but my estimate comes from realizing that if you want students to remember something, you'd better say it ten times. And then have them practice it ten times. Then they'll remember it. Maybe.

As a teacher, I got used to disappointment. I would grade quizzes only to discover that only one person read the assignment. Editing student drafts, I would find out that my lesson on commas taught them absolutely nothing. The girl who sits in the back is absent again? I sighed whenever second drafts of essays were identical to the first ones. In those moments I felt like a failure. You put a lot of effort into teaching and it feels like you have made no difference. You want to give up. But you just have to forgive yourself for not being Hilary Swank in Freedom Writers. Some students you will never reach. And you just have to accept it. Like I said before, your influence as a teacher only goes so far.

But then, just when you want to give up, something amazing happens. You're reading a student's essay, and it's so much better than the first draft. He read my comments! You read on--wow, this kid's got good ideas! He cited his sources correctly. Some of the comma errors are still there, but they're not too bad. This kid, the kid who sits in the back texting while you're lecturing, the kid who you thought never paid attention, this kid can write a college paper! *Choirs of angels sing hallelujah* It worked! I "taught" them something! As a teacher you live for those moments. As satisfying moments go, those rank right up there.

In a way, this job has made me understand a little better what it must be like to be a parent, another job where you influence rather than control. Now I understand how frustrating it must be when your child doesn't listen to you and makes a wrong decision. Why don't they get it? You want to tear out your hair. But then there's the other side of the coin, the good side that almost makes up for the frustration: when your child does something well and your heart overflows with pride and you want to brag to everyone who will listen that you had something to do with it.

I did grow attached to my students in a way I would describe as maternal. Not a day of teaching would go by when these (mostly) sweet and goofy and interesting people wouldn't surprise me. I'd laugh at the things they'd say and sometimes think all day about things they said during class. I found it odd and flattering how they put me on a pedestal. The teacher-student relationship is pretty interesting: it's strange and amazing how each of my students has a little of my knowledge (along with my sparkling personality) resonating inside their minds, and vice versa.

Overall, I would say this was a rewarding learning experience, but somehow I don't think this is the career for me. The frustrations are too high. Teaching is part popularity contest, and I don't have the charisma that makes for a teacher that students love. And to be completely honest, there are things I want to figure out besides how to make that 10% number go up. As a teacher, I think that's your constant goal. How can you extend your influence? It's an uphill battle.

Still, I'll never forget this. It has really changed my view of myself knowing that I can stand up in front of room of people and command some of their attention for an hour. I still think if you showed me a videotape of myself teaching, I wouldn't believe it was me. I never though of myself as a leader, but being a teacher has shown me that I can be bossy and authoritative and make some tiny bit of difference in these students' lives. Of course, there were things I could have done better, but I gave it my best and I think I influenced some students to learn how to write better, and for that I'm really, really happy.

Finals Week

I had my very last class today and cleaned out my desk :=(. Is this really the end? Well, not technically, since I'm not graduating, but the only "class" I have left to take for my degree plan is my thesis. It's stunning, really. No more syllabi and books to buy, no more lectures. Actually, maybe it's more like :=), now that I think about it.

The past week has been nonstop deadlines: projects, seminar papers, and grading, all converging in one crazy week. I haven't slept well or eaten well. Piles of journal articles and books are all around me. I complain to everyone that I'm exhausted, but I think I secretly love the chaos and the constant motion. In all honesty I haven't felt so alive in a long while.

New York photos

Check 'em out, on Flickr:

www.flickr.com

Apologies for not posting for awhile. I've been (and still am) swamped. Part of what has kept me busy for the past week was a 20-page report mostly on the subject of blogs. The more I think about blogs, the more I don't know what to make of them. Empowering explorations of identity or inconsequential exercises in narcissism? I guess it depends. I think the main thing I've discovered is that I'm no good at theorizing.

It's the end of school and I'm getting emotional about it. It's all too much to think about right now. Despite my often saying I'm so sick and tired of school, I know I am going to miss it like crazy. It's going to be such a shock going from working nonstop to having nothing but free time this summer.

More later when there's time...

Bored

Today is the first Saturday in a long time (weeks? months?) that I can actually say I am bored. I have no essays to grade, I have another week to work on seminar papers, and I'm fairly caught up with housework. Ack, what to do? There's My So-Called Life Disc 3 (oh so good with "Life of Brian") and a couple of books I could read. Maybe I could even listen to one of my CDs that I haven't listened to in ages. I guess. For some reason I have the urge to buy a large Slurpee and just stare into space.

Randomness

So I've got a cold again. I tried to deny it for awhile and tell myself it was just bad allergies, but alas, it is not. I'm generally a healthy person, so I freak out a little when I get a cold and its accompanying fever and headaches and grogginess. I also hate to think how I might be infecting someone else with this affliction every time I breathe and/or touch something. Tomorrow is going to be an especially bad day to have a cold, since I'm scheduled to be talking for literally hours. Great.

Only a few more weeks until school is out. The weather already feels like summer. I turned the A/C on today and just basked in its coolness for awhile. Somehow hot weather doesn't appeal to me as much as it once did. I used to love everything about summer, but now I feel like I'd just as soon stay with the 80-degree weather we've been having than move on into the 90- and 100-degree weather I know is coming up.

Lately I've come down with a case of insecurity. Last night I gave a presentation and stared out at my classmates and saw no reaction whatsoever to what I was saying. I wondered if they thought I was speaking nonsense or if they were just tired. Just tired, I hope. Maybe this is why I'm a writer--so I don't have to see my audience face-to-face.

New York!

So it has taken me long enough to get my pictures back from New York. I was waiting to post this recap until I got them back. Anyway, I wrote most of the following a few days after I got back from my fabulous New York adventure:




New York, New York. Maybe like all of us, before I went there I had a sense of what kind of city it was, a pastiche of everything I had ever seen on TV or in movies or read about (actually, now that I look at it, mostly on TV). The New York of Friends, Law and Order, Sex and the City, Saturday Night Live, When Harry Met Sally, The New York Times, Felicity, Project Runway, reruns of Taxi, and even the first book I ever read that was set in New York, a special installment of the Baby-Sitters Club. Etc., etc., of course. My sense of the city was trendy and artsy, fast-paced and exciting, a little mean and unforgiving with a cozy cafe on every corner and yellow taxis roaming up and down the streets. When I thought of New York, it was always night, and the background music was always jazz.



You almost forget that the city is a physical place and not a concept, a narrow island conveniently gridded out into numbered streets. There's a big park in the middle of it, trains running under it, and water surrounding it. And the sun shines there; it's not always night. Surprise. It was kind of fun to see which of my conceptions held up and which were illusions.

One of the first things I noticed was that life does move a little faster in New York. People in NY don't kid around when it comes to going places. My first impression of New Yorkers was taking a taxi from the airport and being rushed through a line for taxis by a woman with a thick New York accent. Walking the sidewalks with my sister, I noticed how people walk way faster on the streets of New York than they do in El Paso. They don't ever wait for the "WALK" sign to come on; a second after traffic comes to a stop, they're rushing across the street. If you're waiting in a line for a museum or a restaurant, you'd better know exactly what you want when you get to the counter. Sauntering around aimlessly is not the New York way. Either keep up or get out of the way.

In many ways the city was less glamorous than I expected. Take the subways, first of all. I thought the stations all smelled like a public restroom. I kept asking my sister why the city didn't clean them or upgrade them, spray them with Clorox occasionally, at least. She shrugged. "Well, they're always open, so I guess they really don't have time for that." Makes sense, but still, in a city with so much money, why can't they come up with some kind of solution? At the same time, street performers perform astoundly professional live music at the subway stations (yes, jazz, but one day I even heard some opera down there). It's strange.

The museums also surprised me: the Museum of Modern Art, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the American Museum of Natural History (outside of which the picture above was taken). Well, first of all, because they are so grand and so huge. You start seeing works by the big-name artists, the Picassos, the Warhols, the Van Goghs, the Monets, and your jaw drops, but even more surprising to me was how out in the open these pieces of art were. The museums were swarmed with people, but the pieces weren't roped off or otherwise restricted, for the most part (though a couple of pieces did have sheets of glass in front them). Museum monitors were stationed in every corner, but they only intervened if a person got way too close. Non-flash photography was allowed. I thought that was cool. These museums really are for the "masses," not just for art snobs.

Really, the openness of the city to anyone and everyone is what suprised me the most, in the museums and elsewhere. There were so many different types of people in the city. Everywhere we went, we would encounter people speaking different languages--French, Chinese, Italian, Russian, Spanish, German--and it seemed like everyone belonged there equally. There were really no "outsiders" in New York; it's a true cosmopolitan city.

The food in New York was, of course, amazing. There are a huge number of restaurants. A Starbucks is located on every corner, which is kind of unfortunate, but there were thankfully few McDonald's or Burger Kings in the city. Bagel shops are plentiful. My sister and I ordered eggs on a roll a couple of times. The rolls were fresh and covered with poppy seeds and absolutely delicious.

Apparently my sister V. is a bit of an expert on restaurants. It seems this is her "thing" in NYC: trying out new restaurants every weekend. One night she gave me a tiny taste of the trendier side of New York by taking me to a restaurant called Rayuela, where we ordered dishes like red snapper ceviche topped with what looked like kiwi seeds; chicken sweetbreads with bacon; fried shrimp, octopus, and potatoes in a spicy mustard-type sauce; a papaya stuffed with duck; and a platter of three custards (lemon, caramel, and cinnamon), each in a tiny ceramic cup. Yeah, I know, these sound weird, but believe me, they were delicious. I had never had food as artful as this before. This, to me, seemed very "New York."

On my final day of touring the city, V. and I went on the NBC Studio Tour at Rockefeller Center (the outside of which is pictured above). OK, so as I mentioned earlier, I like my TV, maybe a little too much, and I was really excited to see where the Today show, the NBC Nightly News, Saturday Night Live, and Late Night with Conan O'Brien were filmed. On the tour, our group got to stand in the actual studio where Brian Williams reads the news most nights. We got to see the control room where the NBC signal is monitored. We saw where Saturday Night Live is performed. Wow. But, of course, it was Conan's set that I couldn't believe I was actually seeing. I couldn't believe I was actually sitting where the audience sits when watching the show.

After we sat down, the tour guide asked the group, what's the first thing you notice? "It's so small," is what most of us responded. Indeed it was. Conan's monologue is performed in a very small cube of space. It amazed me that the band could all fit on the stage, much less the wall of space they play in. And finally, Conan's wooden desk, the blue seats the guests sat in, and the round coffee table looked so small I almost had to laugh. They seemed almost child-sized. Our guide told us the reason Conan never sits with his legs under the desk when interviewing guests is because he literally can't comfortably fit into it. I actually felt sorry for Conan for having to use this studio for 14 years. Even for average people, this space seems small, but for a tall person, it must seem hobbit-sized.

In the end, I think it's that kind shattering of illusions that sums up my experience in New York. It's strange how the real New York is smaller than it is on TV and movies, but not in a disappointing way. In fact, it's a relief that anyone, even a person as un-trendy as me, can go right up and touch it. There's nothing mythical about New York. The streets are definitely not made of gold; the people aren't gods and goddesses. In fact, the best thing about New York is that anyone can go there and partake of world-class art, music, food, and entertainment for a relatively low price. Anyone can ride the subway and walk the streets. Anyone can pass by skyscrapers and stroll through Central Park. It's truly a city for everyone, and that's what I loved about it.

John Mayer, "From the Heart....":

This is about a level of self consciousness so high in my generation, that it's actually toxic...For as badass and unaffected as we try to come off, we're all just one sentence away from being brought to the edge of tears, if only it was worded right...

We were spoken to by name through a television. We were promised we could be anything that we wanted to be, if only we believed it and then, faster than we saw coming, we were set loose into the world to shake hands with the millions of other people who were told the exact same thing.

And really? Really? It turns out we're just not all that special, when you break it down. Beautifully unspectacular, actually. And that truth is going to catch up with us whether we want to run from it or not.

Damn, that is some insightful stuff.

I've been meaning to link to this story by Pico Iyer about the Dalai Lama that was published in TIME several weeks ago. Iyer gives an insightful report on a man he apparently knows personally:

As soon as you start talking to the Dalai Lama, as I have been doing for 33 years, you notice that his favorite adjectives are logical and realistic and the verbs he returns to are investigate, analyze and explore. The Buddha was a "scientist," he said the last time I saw him, which means that a true Buddhist should follow the course of reason (recalling, perhaps, that anger most harms the person who feels it)....

Always stressing that the Buddha's own words should be thrown out if they are shown by scientific inquiry to be flawed, the Dalai Lama is the rare religious figure who tells people not to get needlessly confused or distracted by religion ("Even without a religion, we can become a good human being"). No believer in absolute truth—he eagerly seeks out Catholics, neuroscientists, even regular travelers to Tibet who can instruct him—he is also the rare Tibetan who will suggest that old Tibet may have contributed in part to its current predicament, the rare Buddhist to tell foreigners not to take up Buddhism but to study within their own traditions, where their roots are deepest.

I think I'm officially out of inspiration. I'm doing a million things at once at the moment, none well.

Poptext is back. Interesting blog about music and other stuff. I've added it to the sidebar.

Michael Kinsley essay in TIME about the economy:

We don't need a conversation about race. At least not now. What we need is a conversation about money...This time we start with a huge government deficit and record private debt, all run up when times were good and we should have been storing up acorns. This is one that begins with people losing their homes, which is usually the last act of the drama. This is one that is bringing back stagflation--that poisonous combination of economic slowdown and eroding currency we cured at a terrible cost back in 1981. When that red phone rings in the middle of the night, it probably won't be the National Security Adviser saying Osama bin Laden has struck again. It will be the Treasury Secretary reporting that markets have opened in the Far East and the dollar has become worthless.

Venting

I don't get "no-shows." Maybe because I'm a person who, when she says she'll meet a person at a specific time, will be there on time down to the minute. Maybe because my life has largely been governed by the word "should." Being stood up is frustrating, but I guess it doesn't surprise me much anymore. Unfortunately.

Spent the afternoon/evening visiting relatives. I felt bad since I didn't get to see them on Easter due to being in New York. This was the first Easter I haven't spent with family, cracking cascarones and eating Easter candy.

School starts again on Tuesday. I've had such a good break I don't know how I'm going to go back...

Seven sins

Gandhi's seven social sins:

• politics without principles
• wealth without work
• pleasure without conscience
• knowledge without character
• commerce without morality
• science without humanity
• worship without sacrifice

Back home

I'm back from New York today. It was AWESOME. Life-changing, even. Every day brought new wonders and amazements, and I'm still pretty shocked that I saw the things I did. I will post pictures and a lengthy recap of what I did as soon as I can.

EP is home, though, always. I'll be happy to sleep in my own bed tonight, and after the chilly weather of NYC, I am enjoying the heck out of the 80-degree weather here on my return.

More later. Yay for spring break. I finally have time to do some real writing here. My fingers are just itching to produce some lengthy posts...

This has to be one of the most interesting things I've read in grad school. All I can say is Donna Haraway combines feminist theory, socialist theory, technology, and biology in an amazing way: "Though both are bound in the spiral dance, I would rather be a cyborg than a goddess." Wow.

There's an interview with Tina Fey in this month's Reader's Digest. A couple of excerpts:
RD: How do you deal with it if you must write some comedy material and you're just not feeling funny?
Fey: I put on an I Love Lucy costume [laughs].

RD: Today's comics seem a little more type A, a little less self-destructive, than the previous generation. Why do you think that is?
Fey: There have always been different types of people if you look at great comedians. You have John Belushi and Richard Pryor, who lived dangerously. Then you have Jerry Seinfeld and Bob Newhart, who are happily married, mild-mannered guys. And their humor doesn't come from a place where they need to almost die to make comedy.
RD: It seems like you fit in the latter category, that you're well-adjusted.
Fey: Yeah, I think so. Jerry Seinfeld once said you don't have to be crazy to make comedy. To make comedy, maybe you just have to work hard and be funny.

Can I do it? Can I grade all the essays, finish my paper, and do all the stuff I need to do before I leave for NYC on Thursday? It's going to be a close call.

I found out today that my car has a major oil leak. I got home and it was leaking drops of oil like big drops of blood. The engine was smoking below the hood. Not good.

I started looking at maps of New York today. Eerie how I can actually see a picture of my sister's apartment building using Google maps. It's funny, but somehow I don't even think of New York as a real place. It's almost like a fantasy to me, I guess because it's so different from here. The farthest east I've been is Chicago, and that was certainly shocking to me. I have a feeling I'll be very surprised at what I find when I get there. You can try to imagine what a place is like, but it's not like actually being there.

I recommend...

- If you hadn't noticed, I recently added Tales from the Lake Shore to my sidebar. The blog is updated with one thought-provoking and/or visually interesting and/or funny photo per day from Chicago, a city that is endlessly photographable. Ooh, Chicago, I want to go back. Cool idea and great photos.

- A blog I've rediscovered recently is Intersections, which I would say is about 200 percent more rad now that its author Daniel Hernandez is based in Mexico City rather than Los Angeles. It's a fascinating look at a culture I've always been curious about, complete with awesome photos and stories that make me wish my life were that exciting.

- And I can't not mention my blog friend Stu's Mystery Music March on feeling listless. He has pledged to "churn out thirty odd pieces of writing about music" this month, of which he's nearly halfway through. The musical works written about so far have been very eclectic, ranging from Beethoven's Fifth Symphony to the American Graffiti soundtrack to Nelly Furtado's "I'm Like a Bird," and the posts themselves are, as always, a delightful mix of critical and personal reflections.

Monday night report

I don't know what it is about Monday nights that inspires me to blog. It's my longest day of the week: teach from 11:30-1:30, drive home and read like mad from 1:30-4, then go back to class from 4:30-9 p.m. But here I am, bleary-eyed and fairly exhausted, typing something.

Reading for today was a book called Maus II. It was amazing. It makes me realize how little I know about art. That's not how I usually look at the world. I'm not inspired to draw very often. Sometimes I wonder if I had more training or education in it, it would come more naturally to me. I don't know.

There's a student in my class who draws at every free moment. While he's listening to me lecture on how to write research papers, he's drawing. When he's supposed to be doing group work, he's drawing. And these aren't just doodles; they're really good drawings. Realistic human forms, mostly. On one hand I'm annoyed because, well, he's not paying attention to a word I'm saying. On the other hand, I wish everyone could find something they're that passionate about. Who am I to discourage that? Maybe I'm too lenient and I should tell him to put it away. But I don't.

Personal time

On Thursday I took some "personal time" after I completed my office hours. Having spent the previous three days grading essays like a machine, I felt like I deserved it. I went to the mall and dropped into a hair salon to make an appointment to cut my hair, since it had started feeling like frayed rope at the ends. So much for growing out my hair. I felt like it was overtaking my face. While I waited for my appointment at 1 p.m., I decided to buy a sandwich at a nearby cafe.

The woman taking orders was busy preparing something behind a metal counter off to the side of the main counter. "Can I help you?" she asked. She was an older woman, in her mid-40s about, and she seemed like a foreigner, from Germany, maybe, from the way she spoke. I went over there and placed my order for a turkey panini. I wasn't sure that she heard me, so I stood around and gave her a puzzled look until she finally said, "I am preparing it." The only other people in the cafe were a couple of Asian guys. It looked like they were waiting, too, and were in line ahead of me. From the woman's slow demeanor, I had a feeling it was going to take a looong time to get my food.

It was 12:35 when I sat down at an aluminum cafe table. The cafe had glass walls and so you could see out into pink-tiled mall. Two teenage couples with babies passed by. A woman in white pants, a white sweater, and black sunglasses passed by, looked at the cafe hopefully for a second, then walked past in a rush. I looked up at the white beams converging in the center of the ceiling, sunlight coming through in between the beams through translucent white glass. Ah, sunshine. But I felt bummed. Can I ever not be grumpy? I thought to myself. Finally, I was free. No work to do, no homework looming ahead. Here I was sitting idly in a nice cafe, but I still felt like a grumpy old lady. Maybe I still felt machine-like from the activity of the past few days. Maybe I was annoyed at having to wait for an overpriced sandwich. Maybe I was ashamed of sitting in a restaurant alone. Again. This happens all too often.

A family came in for gelato, further distrupting my sandwich getting made. I considered cancelling my order, but then the two Asian guys finally got their orders, also paninis, a hopeful sign. Finally, the lady delivered it to me: a turkey panini on round focaccia bread, marked with brown waffle-like marks from the griller. It turned out to be delicious, with two round slices of smoked turkey, feta cheese, and roasted red peppers. A side salad consisted of leafy greens, croutons, cheese, and spicy dressing. Everything seemed to be fresh. Thank God--if I had waited 20 minutes for a bad sandwich, I was really going to be angry. By this time it was 12:55, so I ate in a bit of a rush to meet my hair appointment.

Summary of the rest of the afternoon: I got my hair shampooed, cut, and styled by a guy that I am going to guess is gay. I bought three shirts at Sears, and the total price was $16 (what a steal, really). I went to Wal-Mart to buy candy and some personal items.

It was a pleasant afternoon, after which I felt less like a grumpy old lady and more like my usual occasionally grumpy but cautiously optimistic self. I think this is one of the things I like most about my job, being able to spend an occasional Thursday afternoon on myself when I find it necessary. True happiness may not be tied directly to pleasure, but it sure is nice to take a break to go out and buy a bunch of stuff for myself once in a while.

Nerd basketball

Caltech's basketball team is really bad, according to this article in TIME:

The team just finished 1-24 and, for the 23rd straight season, failed to win a game in the Southern California Intercollegiate Athletic Conference.
...
There are signs of improvement, if not a quantum leap. Four years ago, the team lost by an average of 60 points, dropping games with scores like 108-16 and 127-32. This season Caltech lost by 29 points per game, took two league opponents into overtime and, for the second consecutive year, won a nonleague game (the team bounced Gallaudet in December).

My nomination for quote of the week:

"We've had two straight winning seasons," brags Haussler, before correcting himself. "O.K., two seasons with a win." He laughs. "The paradigm is just different around here."

For more, rent Quantum Hoops.

It seems I was wrong.

I Voted

After a long internal debate, my vote in the Democratic presidential primary went to Hillary Rodham Clinton. I like her plan on health care better than her opponent's, I think she is better prepared for the job than her opponent, and I like her pragmatic approach to passing bills in the Senate. Also, the fact that she's a woman and would be a powerful advocate for women's equality doesn't hurt. Too bad her loss in the primaries is pretty much a foregone conclusion...

I made it through February! Woo hoo! And I bought my plane ticket to NYC! Even more good news.

Used books

It's funny sometimes to see the notes of a previous owner of a book. I love to see things highlighted with corresponding notes in the margin: "Wow!" or "Exactly" or even "Duh", or better yet a brilliant pointing out of something that was obviously overlooked in the text, i.e. "What about Native American women?" in a paragraph about women's voting rights. However, I would say most of the used books I've bought have been unmarked (perhaps with the intention of selling it after the class is over), or marked at the beginning but sparsely later on, evidence of early good intentions.

On my latest round of book-buying, I found a book whose previous owner was apparently annoyingly neat and organized. Witness the following note on the title page, which looks like a note you'd find in a textbook explaining how to study for a test. Additionally, it seems like every other line in the book is highlighted in yellow, with many less-than-brilliant summary notes in the margin. Overkill. Still, you have to admire the effort. I didn't know students like these actually existed.

I spent a few hours this weekend preparing a presentation for today only to have it postponed until next week. I don't know whether to feel irritated or relieved. Both, I guess. I have enough work to keep me busy for the foreseeable future, with stacks of student essays to read and more articles about postmodernism to decipher, not to mention preparing lesson plans. And I'm supposed to be writing a thesis somewhere in there, too, but let's be honest, that's not happening. My life is turning into a plate-spinning act.

Interesting comment thread on 19-year-old college student/entrepreneur Ben Casnocha's blog post about not wanting kids. I would say I share his view--having children has never been a life goal of mine. Parenting requires sacrifices that I'm not sure I'd be willing to make, a true giving up of the self, if you're a good parent. But then again, never say never.

Merit-based pay for teachers?

This TIME cover story by Claudia Wallis looks at performance-based pay for teachers:

Before ProComp, Betz had reached the top of the district's pay scale at $53,500 and, despite high marks from her bosses, was looking at nothing more than an annual cost-of-living raise (currently $260) for the rest of her career. "I've worked in hard-to-serve schools my entire career," says Betz. "I make home visits. I make phone calls. I'm looking at ProComp as compensation for the things that are above and beyond." Betz didn't expect performance pay to change anything about how she does her job but says it has made her even more driven. "Now I refuse to let kids fail," she says. "I'm going to bulldoze whatever the problem is and solve it." The bonus money is simply a just reward. "I'm not a money grubber. Most teachers aren't. But people in other professions get raises," she says. "Why shouldn't we?"
_________________________________________

It's a good goal for an entire nation in need of better-quality teaching. As U.S. school districts embark on hundreds of separate experiments involving merit pay, some lessons seem clear. If the country wants to pay teachers like professionals—according to their performance, rather than like factory workers logging time on the job—it has to provide them with other professional opportunities, like the chance to grow in the job, learn from the best of their peers, show leadership and have a voice in decision-making, including how their work is judged. Making such changes would require a serious investment by school districts and their taxpayers. But it would reinvigorate a noble profession.

This seems like a good idea to me, if done well. "Like factory workers logging time on the job"--I think that describes pretty well the current state of how America treats teachers. Which is sad, considering that teaching actually takes a lot of time and effort to master. According to the article, "It takes at least two years to master the basics of classroom management and six to seven years to become a fully proficient teacher."

Also interesting is the sidebar article describing the teaching profession in other countries.

All teacher candidates in Finland, Sweden, Norway and the Netherlands, for example, receive two to three years of graduate-level preparation for teaching, at government expense, plus a living stipend. Unlike the U.S., where teachers either go into debt to prepare for a profession that will pay them poorly or enter with little or no training, these countries made the decision to invest in a uniformly well-prepared teaching force by recruiting top candidates and paying them while they receive extensive training.

- The weather today is cold, cloudy, and windy. Yuck, something to further deepen my already bad mood. Then I got to my office and my co-worker started singing quotes from the "Marge vs. the Monorail" episode of The Simpsons, which forced me to laugh.
- It's decided: I'm going to New York City next month. Anyone have any ideas on what to do there? I've got the Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, museums, etc., of course, but any ideas on some more out-of-the-way places?

Celebrating the Semicolon. I like semicolons.

Our house/Is a very, very, very fine house

A little over a month ago my mom came home on a Sunday afternoon and said, "Guess what?"
"What?" I said, although I knew what the answer might be, given her big, mischievous smile.
"I bought a house!!" I knew she had been looking for houses, but I didn't know it would be this soon that she would find one that she liked, much less buy it, all in one day.

It has been a little over a month since that bomb was dropped. Things have happened fast, and as of this weekend my mom and sister and I are moved into the new house. It's a great house, really, a brand-new house on the "fancy pants" Westside of town. Moving back to the Westside from the Northeast part of town had been a lingering idea ever since we moved out to the Northeast three years ago to be closer to Mom's work. It's something my family talked about constantly. We missed our friends and our church and the neighborhoods we grew up in, as well as the perks that go with living in a nicer part of town. Not that the Northeast is so horrible, but, well, it is a little dingier than the Westside. A dollar store on every corner. Huge potholes in the Albertson's parking lot near our house. Homeless veterans wandering the streets. One Starbucks, when the Westside has three. The Northeast has about four decent restaurants, one of which is Chili's, and another of which is Applebee's. The Westside, on the other hand, has a huge number of really great restaurants: Mexican, Italian, Chinese, Southwest, breakfast, ice cream, etc., etc. Yum.

You'd think I'd be jumping up and down to be moving back, but I wasn't. It's funny how once Mom announced that we'd be moving back, I just wasn't that enthused. Maybe it was that the task of moving seemed arduous to me, but I think I had also gotten used to the Northeast and its little quirks. I grew to appreciate its more working-class nature. I also liked how it wasn't as congested as the Westside. I liked being near the baseball stadium and being able to walk up the side of the mountain whenever I felt like it. I guess it was always in my mind that I'd leave the Northeast eventually, but when the day actually came and I was finally going back to the Westside, I just felt sad and like the rug had been pulled out from under me. I did spend two and a half years of my life at that house. I had gotten used to the commute, gotten used to the Wal-Mart and the library branch, gotten used to coming home at night and seeing the church across the street from the house lit up at my return.

Maybe more central to my surprising discontent is that I thought that the next time I'd move would be the time that I moved into my own house. "When I have my own place..." is something I've thought about quite a few times. My house will be Downtown. My house will be warm. My house will have terra cotta tile. My house will have character. It'll be just like Friends! Sure, this is a sparkly, new, beautiful house, a sun-filled house with tan walls and new appliances, but it's not mine. I'm back on the Westside, but not on my own terms.

Boo hoo, I know I should count my blessings and not complain about things. I know the day will come soon when I'll be all grown up and out on my own and most likely living in much poorer conditions. What's a house, anyway? I'm still me, Mom's still Mom, the dog's still the dog. The more I move from house to house, the more I realize how arbitrary a house is. Like a hermit crab, it seems I can get used to living anywhere, given enough time.

I hate Valentine's Day. Actually, I think I hate the whole month of February.

I was there. Still don't know whom I'm going to vote for, though.

Woo hoo, the UTEP women's basketball team is in the AP Top 25 poll. They sure played an awesome game against East Carolina on Sunday, a game that was televised nationally on ESPN2.

Exhibits

There are a couple of interesting exhibits are now at the Centennial Museum (which I visited today)--Bracero Memories and the Border Film Project, both of which you can read about here.

For those who don't know, the bracero program was a guest worker program that brought Mexican workers to the United States from 1942-64. Some photos from the bracero exhibit can be viewed here. It's a nicely put-together exhibit about a program that I think is often overlooked in America's history. My grandfather once employed braceros on his farm, and my dad told me he used to hang around with them as they worked the fields. It was interesting to put a visual to some of the things my dad has told me about.

The Border Film Project is a project by a group in Arizona that put disposable cameras in the hands of both Minutemen (volunteer border patrol groups) and Mexican migrants. They provided address labels and mailers so that the cameras could be returned to them anonymously. The photos in the exhibit are not the most artful, as they are obviously not professional quality, yet you do get a good idea of the culture of both groups. It's an interesting contrast, the white (mostly) guys sitting in their trucks watching for migrants, and the migrants walking through the desert, water bottles in hand, or sometimes in hotel rooms or on buses. Predator and prey, I guess you could say.

If you're in El Paso, these are worth a visit to UTEP to see. I was very pleased to see both of these exhibits, since I think both are such great fits for a border city museum.

- It's a little past seven and I'm waiting for a pizza for dinner. Pizza for dinner, generally not a good thing.
- I'm torn: Clinton or Obama?
- Today I taught my students how to use colons properly. Is that really so useful? I think it is just a huge pet peeve of mine when people use colons wrong, i.e. "The primary colors are: red, yellow, and blue." Aagh. That makes me crazy.

Candy fix

From last night's pack of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Even the cardboard underneath the PB cups now has advertising. I thought it was cute, though.

My so-called blog post

I forgot that I had added "My So-Called Life" to my Netflix queue. I've already seen most of the episodes, but OK, I admit I watched them all the episodes on Disc 1 again anyway and enjoyed every second of Angela Chase and her rebellious ways yet surprisingly thoughtful voice-over remarks. Actually, when I first saw the series I was 13 or 14 and thought Angela was stupid to hang out with losers and that she should just listen to her parents and maybe she wouldn't be so tormented about things. No, Angela wasn't who I related to. Brian, now, there was a character I could relate to. Nerdy. Loner-ish. Didn't break the rules.

Ah, the teenage years. We sure did a lot of sitting around and standing around in those days. Sitting in class, waiting for time to pass by until you could finally go home. Standing in the hall, talking with your friends (or so-called friends). I say this because it seems like every other scene involves one of the former, and unfortunately, I think it's all too true of how high school really is.

Ironically, I relate more to Angela Chase's adolescent angst now at 25 than I did at 14. Call me a late bloomer, but now I get why someone would want to dye her hair bright red. I get why you'd want to do something exciting just to feel alive, even if it's stupid. I've had a few Jordan Catalano-scale crushes in my life. No, I will not elaborate. But I guess the point is that I still relate to the adolescent experience, even though I am quite a few years past the age for it now. Does some of the teenager remain inside a person, no matter how old he or she gets? I think so.

Advice/lyrics from Boston

Take a look ahead, take a look ahead, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...

Now everybody's got advice they just keep on givin'
Doesn't mean too much to me
Lot's of people out to make-believe they're livin'
Can't decide who they should be.

I understand about indecision
But I don't care if I get behind
People livin' in competition
All I want is to have my peace of mind.

Take a look ahead, take a look ahead. Look ahead.

"Peace of Mind" by Boston

So yesterday I'm sitting at Starbucks talking with some friends. I'm nervously fiddling with the remnants of an iced mocha (caffeine always makes me nervous). Suddenly I drop the container. It lands on its plastic dome-shaped lid. Darn. Luckily only a few drops of coffee get on my sweater and pants. Good thing, since the pants are light tan-colored. And no one I was sitting with got splashed with coffee, thank God. I was lucky. But I guess the most remarkable thing is how I didn't freak out. I saw that there wasn't too much of a mess, said "sorry," picked up the plastic container, sopped up the coffee drops with a napkin, and threw the container away. Then I sat down and kept talking. I don't get super-embarrassed when I occasionally drop things. Sign of maturity?

In Ireland, you have to pay a 33-cent tax for every plastic bag you use. "Within weeks [of the law's passage], plastic bag use dropped 94 percent. Within a year, nearly everyone had bought reusable cloth bags, keeping them in offices and in the backs of cars. Plastic bags were not outlawed, but carrying them became socially unacceptable — on a par with wearing a fur coat or not cleaning up after one’s dog." via New York Times

Home from class. It's 9:17 and I'm tired. It feels so late to me, yet six months ago it was normal for me to be at work right now. It's strange what you get used to. I don't miss working at night much. Yet if I had to get used to it again, I think I could.

It's a sign of a good class when you feel stupid sitting there listening to the professor and everyone seems smarter than you. Wha-a-a-at? But feeling that challenge reminds me why I signed up for grad school in the first place. Food for the mind. I'm glad I'm where I am and not working some mind-numbing job.

Caroline Kennedy supports Barack Obama for president:
"I want a president who understands that his responsibility is to articulate a vision and encourage others to achieve it; who holds himself, and those around him, to the highest ethical standards; who appeals to the hopes of those who still believe in the American Dream, and those around the world who still believe in the American ideal; and who can lift our spirits, and make us believe again that our country needs every one of us to get involved."

The New York Times "strongly recommends" Hillary Clinton to be the Democratic presidential nominee: "Hearing her talk about the presidency, her policies and answers for America’s big problems, we are hugely impressed by the depth of her knowledge, by the force of her intellect and by the breadth of, yes, her experience...The next president needs to start immediately on challenges that will require concrete solutions, resolve, and the ability to make government work. Mrs. Clinton is more qualified, right now, to be president."

Pictures

Finally, a picture of the Sun Bowl game. It was a gorgeous day. I took about ten pictures and they all came out looking roughly the same as this one. Blame it on my crappy disposable camera.




Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia. My Chia head.




The sunset.

Once lived up to the hype. Sweet story, not a cliche in sight, with great music. Very nice.

Did the following today:
- Laundry
- Took not one, but two naps
- Read articles about postmodernism by Lyotard and Habermas. Interesting enough, but I thought both used overly difficult language to communicate relatively simple ideas. Is it a rule that philosophers have to make ideas hard to understand even when they're not?

Cellphone novels are the rage in Japan. Weird.

This morning I had a chai tea and a croissant for breakfast. Very international compared to my usual bowl of shredded wheat with milk.

I'm exhausted. I'm not used to waking up early, and teaching can be stressful, remember?

More in this space when I actually have something interesting to say.

Day 3 of school. Reading about postmodernism is warping my mind, and I don't really like night classes, but other than that I think I'm holding up remarkably well, sleepwise and freetime-wise. Of course, this is just the beginning; ask me how I'm doing in a month, probably a whole different story...

Cookie meltdown

Besides watching the aforementioned movie, on Saturday I also tried baking some oatmeal raisin cookies. My sister made dozens of these cookies for the Christmas holiday, all of which came out looking perfect and tasting delicious. I figured it would be easy--just follow the same recipe, right? So I got out all the ingredients, mixed together the batter, started dropping the dough...but somehow the lumps looked a little bit liquidy. I figured they were supposed to look like that, I just didn't know it, and they would come out looking like they were supposed to. Wrong. The cookies ended up melting together in two cookie sheets worth of oatmeal-raisin goodness. They came out looking like a hybrid of granola and peanut brittle. Cookie meltdown.

I called over my sister, aka, the Cookie Master, keeper of what my family calls Cookie Magic, to make a diagnosis. "Are you missing an ingredient?" she said. "No," I said. I had put in everything called for on the recipe: sugar, vanilla, eggs, oatmeal, flour... Then I looked a the recipe a little more closely. 1-1/2 cups of flour. One and a half cups of flour. I had misread it, thinking it was 1-1 1/2 cups of flour, so had only put in one cup. *slaps forehead* DUH. A simple but crucial mistake, proving my sister's diagnosis correct. I think I'm done with baking for awhile, as it seems like I can't handle baking anything where I have to add more than two ingredients...

So last night I watched Zodiac. Maybe this is not the best movie to watch before going to bed (couldn't fall asleep thinking about it), but I thought it was really well-done. The dramatizations of the "Zodiac killer" crimes are very scary, but in the end the investigation of the crime, with its many twists, turns, and dead ends, ends up taking center stage and being just as fascinating. I liked how the filmmakers decided not to sensationalize the details of the crimes. The movie is chilling and suspenseful enough without embellishing the details too much. Highly recommended.

More random lyrics: Fifty Years After the Fair

Fifty Years After the Fair by Aimee Mann
Fifty years after the fair
the picture I have is so clear
underneath the clouds in the air
rose the Trylon and the Perisphere
and that for me was the finest of scenes
that perfect world across the river in Queens

Fifty years after the fair
I drink from a different cup
but it does no good to compare
'cause nothing ever measures up
I guess just for a second we thought
that all good things would rise to the top

But how beautiful it was - 'tomorrow'
we'll never have a day of sorrow
we got through the '30's, but our belts were tight
we conceived of a future with no hope in sight
we've got decades ahead of us to get it right
I swear - fifty years after the fair

Fifty years after the fair
I live in tomorrow town
even on a wing and a prayer
the future never came around
It hurts to even think of those days
the damage we do by the hopes that we raise

But how beautiful it was - 'tomorrow'
we'll never have a day of sorrow
we got through the '30's, but our belts were tight
we conceived of a future with no hope in sight
we've got decades ahead of us to get it right
I swear - fifty years after the fair

I kinda like this random song lyric thing.
Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
Try to make ends meet
You're a slave to money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you
to the places where all the things meet yeah

No change, I can't change I can't change, I can't change
But I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold
But I'm a million different people from one day to the next
I can't change my mold
No, no, no, no, no

...

The weather was so nice today (in January!) that I was inspired to wash my car. As I was scrubbing, I noticed that there's a large scratch on the front hood, the side stripe is peeling off, and that there's a large spot where the paint has faded to gray on the trunk. The front bumper is spray-painted a different color blue from the rest of the car (don't ask), and there are tiny dark spots where the paint has chipped off all over the car. Maybe these are relatively minor things, but I still think I'd be pretty embarrassed if the lady I bought the car from two years ago saw the car today. She kept the car in immaculate condition. She kept a car cover over it when she wasn't driving it. The inside upholstery of the car was perfect (one thing I've actually done a good job of maintaining), and I'll never forget when she popped open the hood of the car and I saw that it was spotless. She cleaned under the hood of the car. Whoa. I wish I was that dedicated to keeping my car looking nice. Alas, I think my car spends far too many hours under the blazing sun in the UTEP parking lot.

Last night I finally finished putting together my syllabi for the upcoming semester. I'm teaching two classes. Dare I say that I'm excited for the semester to start? I'm infinitely more sure of what I'm doing this time around. Funny how teaching is a learning experience.

Random song lyric of the day:
Don't Dream It's Over by Crowded House
....

Now I'm towing my car, there's a hole in the roof
My possessions are causing me suspicion but there's no proof
In the paper today tales of war and of waste
But you turn right over to the T.V. page

Now I'm walking again to the beat of a drum
And I'm counting the steps to the door of your heart
Only shadows ahead barely clearing the roof
Get to know the feeling of liberation and relief

Hey now, hey now
Don't dream it's over
Hey now, hey now
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us
Don't ever let them win

My very adorable dog Bootsie

Today was the last day to pay tuition. I drove down to UTEP and the line to pay was nearly out the door. Thank God for the web, though--I got on the Internet and paid via webCheck and it took five minutes. It probably would have taken me at least an hour to get through that line. This is my second-to-last time paying tuition. Thank God for that, too.

As I'm typing this, I'm trying to eat the remnants of a bag of cotton candy I bought for a dollar yesterday. Not recommended.

I don't think I'll try running another poll for awhile. One person voted in my poll last time. A big thank you to that one non-resolution-making person, though.

Book review: The Last American Man

Reading like a tall tale with a large amount of psychoanalysis thrown in, The Last American Man (2002) is a fascinating profile of Eustace Conway, a man who creates a back-to-nature life light-years away from modern American society. A present-day Davy Crockett, Conway's life is closer to that of a 19th-century Native American than to that of a person born into late 2oth-century suburban America. Smart, funny, and wise author Elizabeth Gilbert (who also wrote 2006's Eat, Pray, Love) paints a picture of a man who is so frighteningly accomplished the reader is sometimes left wondering if he's real--long-distance hikes with bare-bones materials, record-setting horse rides, encyclopedic knowledge of the natural world, and success in real estate. The details of his rugged lifestyle are often jaw-dropping and illustrate just how different today's world is from the world of our ancestors.


Gilbert chooses a mostly light, humorous touch for the material in The Last American Man rather than entering the dark intensity of survivalist books like Into the Wild. The author delves into how Conway fits into conceptions of American manhood and compares him favorably with past pioneer heroes such as Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone. Throughout the book, Gilbert holds up Conway as an American icon, with many Americans saying they desire a life like his, but very few actually attaining any semblance of it. She also spends a good amount of time exploring Conway's trouble with relationships, finding some answers in his family background. Gilbert never hides the fact that she is writing this book about a friend, and I think her relationship with the subject adds to her ability to create this insightful portrait.


I enjoyed reading this book for what it says about America today, illustrating the conflict between our secret desires and reality. It allows the reader to visualize just what would happen if he or she dropped out of society and went to live in the woods, the way it sometimes seems tempting to do after a frustrating day of work. While Conway's extremism may be off-putting, I think most would agree that getting back to nature would do Americans a world of good. However, also implied in the book is that perhaps there is also something to be said for the "soft" relationship skills that have been free to develop along with modernization. Conway is a most deserving subject of a book, and Gilbert does a superb job of describing both his life and the cultural and psychological issues at play in it.

So the Tonight Show returned last night. Yay, though it wasn't quite as funny as usual. This guy even live blogged it. Wish I would have thought to do that.

Today I bought $100 worth of dress pants in preparation for the new semester. That's one thing I'll miss about being on vacation: wearing jeans every day. Ironing is not my favorite activity.

It was cold and cloudy today, exactly the type of day that makes me hate winter. The holidays are over. The days of idleness and constant blog posts about my random doings are fast coming to an end. Sad, I know.

End of the year

Some years I'd never want to live through again. 2007 wasn't one of those. I wouldn't mind living through it all again. Some damn good things happened in my life this year. What if 2008 turns out to be a dud?

I did end up going to the Sun Bowl game on the final day of the year. The weather was unbelievably warm, and Baby Bash performed at half-time. The second half turned out to be a disappointment. I was sitting next to some South Florida fans who left at the end of the third quarter. I don't blame them. I took some pictures of the game, which I'll probably be posting soon.

As for tonight, my invitation to a wild New Year's party got lost in the mail, so I'm probably going to change into my pajamas around 11 and watch the crystal ball drop and then go to bed. Geez, I am a boring person sometimes.

As an end to this post of randomness, this is a pretty cool CD.

New poll on the sidebar.

Resolutions

Here's how I did on last year's:

• Eat less junk food - Not so much
• Exercise more - Pretty much stayed constant, not more or less than last year
• Practice piano more often - Nope, practiced less than last year
• Write something cool - Two magazine articles, woo hoo
• Be more observant - Nope, still a big unobservant dork about a lot of things
• Read at least one great novel - East of Eden
• Do more outdoors things - Unfortunately not
• Make a career plan - *sighs* No
• Learn Spanish - Does Italian count?

Two out of nine, not a great track record. Nevertheless, here's my set of resolutions for 2008:

• Stop using emoticons
• Eat spicy food more often
• Stop using the words "you know" as nervous conversation-filler
• Travel to a foreign country
• Read another "great" book
• Read a newspaper every day
• Decide on a career (for real this time)
• Pray more
• Eat healthier food
• Finish school
• Do something totally unexpected

Copy from products that I received as Christmas gifts

From a registration card that came with my Chia Pet Cuddly (a stuffed animal that looks like a Chia Pet)
In the interest of continuing research and development to improve our products, we would appreciate your taking a few minutes to answer the following questions.

5. If received as a gift, why did the giver chose a Chia Pet for you? (check all that apply)
I wanted a Chia Pet Cuddly
I like Chia Pets
I like stuffed animals
I like the animal this cuddly is

7. Please indicate which attributes of this Chia Pet Cuddly appeal to you
It is soft and cuddly
It sings the Chia song
It is like a Chia Pet, only softer
It is a nice size
It is cute
I like the the carrying case

The very existence of a registration card for a Chia Pet Cuddly is just hilarious to me.


Copy on the back of my new hairbrush, brand-name So Gelous (named for its plastic-gel handle)
Get ready to create a new you that others will envy with So Gelous Hot Round Straightening & Curling Brush. Great for creating curl or straightening hair, simply by using direct heat from a blow-dryer. It features Ion Infused bristles to minimize fly-away hair and an open vented pattern that makes blow-drying wet or dry hair easy, manageable and fast. Make your hair shiny, glossy, and most of all frizz free!

Yes! Frizz is indeed my enemy.


English-language translation of some Italian-language copy on the back of a tube of Mimosa Moisturizing Bath & Shower Cream (from an Italian company called Elaria)
Little velvety spheres of gold, emerge between the thin green leaves, gently vibrating to the breath of the first spring breezes. It is the Mimosa that whispers a sweet song and colors the landscape with brushstrokes of light and happiness. With its strong, supple branches and fleeting clusters of flowers, it evokes an intriguing and elusive woman, rich in inner strength. The essence of Mimosa is one of the world's most ancient perfumes and with its warm and joyful notes, it strokes the skin like a delicate ray of sun...

"Evokes an intriguing and elusive woman, rich in inner strength." A mysterious woman with values--nice concept, but it might be a lot to ask of a shower gel.

I can't believe that people are actually paid to write this stuff.

TIME magazine chooses Vladimir Putin as its Person of the Year. Writes managing editor Richard Stengel (ever so eloquently, I might add):

TIME's Person of the Year is not and never has been an honor. It is not an endorsement. It is not a popularity contest. At its best, it is a clear-eyed recognition of the world as it is and of the most powerful individuals and forces shaping that world—for better or for worse. It is ultimately about leadership—bold, earth-changing leadership. Putin is not a boy scout. He is not a democrat in any way that the West would define it. He is not a paragon of free speech. He stands, above all, for stability—stability before freedom, stability before choice, stability in a country that has hardly seen it for a hundred years. Whether he becomes more like the man for whom his grandfather prepared blinis—who himself was twice TIME's Person of the Year—or like Peter the Great, the historical figure he most admires; whether he proves to be a reformer or an autocrat who takes Russia back to an era of repression—this we will know only over the next decade. At significant cost to the principles and ideas that free nations prize, he has performed an extraordinary feat of leadership in imposing stability on a nation that has rarely known it and brought Russia back to the table of world power. For that reason, Vladimir Putin is TIME's 2007 Person of the Year.

Winter vacation/Christmas

So it's great to be out of school, finally. Isn't it? I think it's great for the first week or so, as you rediscover the joys of sleeping late and watching movies during the afternoon. Then I'm like, OK, what now? I then become excessively aware of chores that need to be done, like cleaning the bathroom and washing the car, things I've neglected in the past month or so. Also, I remind myself of some schoolwork that needs to be completed over the break, tragic as that may sound. And a blog post or two may be in order, now that I have the time.

Tonight I helped my sister bake Christmas cookies. There's one Christmas tradition worth holding on to--pecan puffs, chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter cookies, and mini-muffins. Wow. I once heard someone say, "The best part of Christmas is the food." Well, I'm not exactly sure it's the best part, but surely one of the best. As I'm typing this, I'm surrounded by pretty Christmas decorations, courtesy of my mom. There's a beautiful Christmas tree in the living room in front of the window, garland above the fireplace, candles, red ribbons, and white Christmas lights. It's all very nice. Somehow it's very comforting, like a reminder that everything's going to be all right. There will be a time to be crazy busy again, but for now it's good to just be still and relaxed and grateful for what I have.

Speaking of Top 10 lists, there's a whole slew of them over on TIME.com. Check out the Top 10 underreported stories, books (nonfiction and fiction), breakups, buzzwords ("bacn" is a cool one), and quotes.

Chalk finally popped up on my Netflix queue, a few months after La Brown Girl recommended it. This is the funniest movie I've seen in a while, especially after my first semester teaching. I think it's also an interesting commentary on why so many new teachers quit during their first years of teaching (50 percent quit within the first three years, according to the film). If you like The Office-style mockumentary, you will love this movie.

Top 10 favorite lists, 2007

In keeping with the annual tradition I started last year, here are my Top 10 favorite lists for 2007. No, not all these works were released this year, but I did view or read them all this year. Here they are, in alphabetical order:

Books
Once again, the "classics" took a backseat to current and/or more lightweight stuff. I think I managed to read some interesting books this year, though.
Americanos (photo book) by Edward James Olmos, et al. - Lovely photos
The Assault on Reason by Al Gore - Al Gore = my hero
A Mighty Heart by Marianne Pearl - Great
C.S. Lewis by A.N. Wilson - Amazingly interesting bio of the writer
East of Eden by John Steinbeck - A true classic
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert - I joined every Oprah-watching, book-reading woman in America in reading this book this year.
Harry Potter, Books 5-7 - Got swept up in Potter mania this summer.
Little Earthquakes by Jennifer Weiner - Love anything by her
Love Monkey by Kyle Smith/About a Boy by Nick Hornby/High Fidelity by Nick Hornby/ (in order of how much I enjoyed them) -Aren't these all the same book? I think I've read enough about the male mind. Not encouraging.
The Meaning of Wife by Anne Kingston - Fascinating study of women's gender roles

Movies
Action movies are clearly not my cup of tea.
Becoming Jane
Knocked Up - Funny and true-to-life; love when they find Paul Rudd at the baseball club
The Lives of Others - Excellent
The Lookout
Marie Antoinette - Pretty to look at and surprisingly poignant
Michael Clayton
The Queen
Ratatouille - So cute
Russian Dolls
Waitress
Classics: The Commitments, Fandango, Ghost World, Labyrinth - Rent these!

Music
This is the most current of the music I listened to this year, amid the oceans of classic rock. I never thought I'd like any song by Fergie, but I have been proved wrong.
"Apologize" by Timbaland - Check out the video
Augustana (in concert) - Ah, "Boston."
"Big Girls Don't Cry" by Fergie
"I've Got a Feeling" by Ivy - As heard on "Felicity"
Self-titled album by Corinne Bailey Rae
Shiny Toy Guns (in concert)
"The Sweet Escape" by Gwen Stefani
"Sweetest Girl" by Wyclef Jean - Lyrics questionable, but I like the chorus.
Two fantastic older pop albums:
Everything's Different Now by Til Tuesday
Maybe You've Been Brainwashed Too by the New Radicals
Eternal classic:
Chopin: Favorite Works interpreted by Vladimir Ashkenazy - Probably the thing I listened to most this year. Good music for reading or doing homework.

TV
Lousy year for TV. Writer's strike and who has time, anyway? Oh well, there were a few things...
The Daily Show
Europe with Samantha Brown - Ooh, Europe.
Grey's Anatomy - Entertaining, if nothing else.
Mad Men - This is cheating, since I only watched half of two episodes. But the attempt to recreate the (non-PC) attitudes of the 1960s seemed pretty daring.
Mythbusters
The Office
Planet Earth - Whoa.
Prime Suspect on DVD - So hooked on this series; Helen Mirren is amazing.
Real Time with Bill Maher
Top Chef

Interesting article about attempting to recruit El Paso expatriates back to the city. Check out this survey if you are an ex-El Pasoan.

My lunch on Thursday inspired the new poll on the sidebar.

My first (and possibly only) Christmas card of '07

Thanks, Stu!

I miss The Tonight Show. Stupid writers' strike. Can't they just work it out already?

Actually, I think I'm about 20 percent more productive now that it's all reruns.

Snow pictures

As promised, pictures of the snow on Thanksgiving weekend:

"Deleting your Facebook is the new Facebook." LOL

Ever wonder what the lyrics to "In the Air Tonight" mean?

A great moment

Yay, I think I finally finished the paper I have been working on since the beginning of the semester. I am strangely satisfied with these 17 pages. Now I have to make peace with the fact that only one person besides myself is going to read it...

I'm a guest blogger!

My contribution to Stu's Review 2007 is up today over on feeling listless. Since the theme for this year's review is "Home," the post is about El Paso. It's the first time I've ever really written about this city in much detail. It was surprisingly emotional for me to write, since this city is so much a part of who I am. Anyway, go read it and see what you think.

It's a rainy Saturday morning. Did I mention that I hate this weather? I have yet to find a good way to deal with the winter months. Hibernation would be ideal.

Last night I watched The Lives of Others. It's a great movie, though very different from what I thought it would be. More romantic, less political, I guess. I took German in high school so I could understand about 10 percent of it without reading the subtitles.