The Age of Spoil

I just finished this book called "Oryx and Crake," by Margaret Atwood. It's sort of a post-apocalyptic/utopian novel. It opens on the only speaker, a man who calls himself Snowman, and his interaction with these Child-People he calls Crakers, named so after their apparent creator; whom, as we find out later, was a friend of Snowman's. Snowman lives in a tree and is always seemingly worried for his survival-- from the elements, wild animals, and starvation. As the book progresses, the current timeline is interspersed with visions from Snowman's past life, before he called himself Snowman. Before he was the only person left. Snowman gets hungry, gets drunk, fights off odd animal/animal mixes (pigoons, rakunks, that sort of thing), and interacts briefly with the Crakers as some sort of priest/diety mix. As he continues in his daily, survival-based existence, he recounts memories of Jimmy's life. His prior self, the pre-apocalypse person. So that's how that goes.

Anyhow, we learn that Crake was a childhood friend, his only real friend throughout his whole life. Even as a child, Crake was a hyper-intelligent, un-emotional being. Interested in mankind mostly as a study, and obsessed with idealism. He has no interest in sex, or jokes. He isn't cynical, it's just his way. He has interest only in thinking. He wants to fix the world, but not to save it. He wants to fix it, scientifically. Even in his own world, the world of Crake and Jimmy as teens, all diseases have been cured. The breakouts, Crake learns, are secret strains of disease contained within random samples of pills people pop to prolong life, or maybe just the illusion of youth. Skin supplements, and the like. Or sexual-ability enhancements. They exist so that the drug companies can continue to make profits, and the few people who discover this surreptitiously disappear.

As the lives of these two boys become the lives of men, they fall apart. Jimmy is a 'words person,' not a 'numbers person,' and Crake gets a job for one of the drug companies, researching, while Jimmy is stuck in a job copy-writing another company's advertisements. When they hook back up again, Crake is the biggest fish in the biggest pond, working on a project so secret that even his investors don't hold any information on it. He wants Jimmy to write the advertisements. His project is the Crakers, though he doesn't call them that himself. He has developed a new pill, BlyssPluss, which protects against all sexually-transmitted diseases, makes people super fucking horny, prolongs youth, and has one unadvertised function: instant sterility. The Crakers are the new children. After the entire world is sterile, they will buy these new children. The new people, humanity successfully erased from their neurons. Crake says he is studying immortality.

"...there were two major initiatives going forward. The first-- the BlyssPluss Pill-- was prophylactic in nature, and the logic behind it was simple: eliminate the external causes of death and you were halfway there.

"External causes?" said Jimmy.

"War, which is to say misplaced sexual energy, which we consider to be a larger factor than the economic, racial, and religious causes often cited. Contagious diseases, especially sexually transmitted ones. Overpopulation, leading-- as we've seen in spades-- to environmental degradation and poor nutrition." [Crake speaking]

Jimmy said it sounded like a tall order: so much had been tried in those areas, so much had failed. Crake smiled. "If at first you don't succeed, read the instructions," he said.

"Meaning?"

"The proper study of Mankind is Man."

"Meaning?"

"You've got to work with what's on the table." " p.345

Anyhow, that is his project, as Jimmy understands it. Sterilization, followed by eventual replacement of the original human species with Crakers. Crakers, we learn, have no sex drive. They mate as they go in heat, which happens every several years, at a rate which Crake determined necessary for proper species re-creation. They eat only vegetation, grazing, in fact, like animals, and their excrement is properly, and naturally recycled-- they eat it. It's gross. The piss of the men serves to ward off wild animals, and the pee in a circle surrounding their camp every morning. Crake thought they would need some special job since the women have child-bearing down pat. They are perfectly harmonized with their environment, and therefore will never build shelters. With nothing to pass down, there will be no heredity disputes, or fights over materials. They lack imagination, and jokes. The language centers in their brains are suited only for direct communication. They are the perfect animal. An interesting, yet useless, fact is that they still dream. Apparently Crake was unable to ever erase dreams, though he hated them. He said every subject went insane. They are incapable of conceiving of a god, though they are also designed not to care about things like that. They accept everything Snowman tells them about Crake, because apparently they do require some vague notion of their existence. Lastly, they keel over at 30. Just drop dead. They don't ever ask questions about death. But it happens naturally and automatically at that particular birthday, before old age comes to plague them.

""At first," said Crake, "we had to alter ordinary human embryos, which we got from-- never mind where we got them from. But these people are sui generis. They're reproducing themselves, now."

"They look more than seven years old," said Jimmy.

Crake explained about the rapid-growth factors he'd incorporated. "Also," he said, "they're programmed to drop dead at age thirty-- suddenly, without getting sick. No old age, none of those anxieties. They'll just keel over. Not that they know it; none of them has died yet."

"I thought you were working on immortality."

"Immortality," said Crake, "is a concept. If you take 'mortality' as being, not death, but the foreknowledge of it and the fear of it, then 'immortality' is the absence of such fear. Babies are immortal. Edit out the fear, and you'll be..."

"Sounds like Applied Rhetoric 101," said Jimmy.

"What?"

"Never mind. Martha Graham stuff."

"Oh. Right."

Anyhow, as the book culminates, we learn that Crake's plan wasn't sterilization after all. Jimmy advertises for them for an unspecifed period of time-- perhaps a few months, maybe a couple years, and then all of a sudden, a plague breaks out all over the world simultaneously. It erupts from the people everywhere who had been popping Crake's pills, but from there it spreads throughout everyone, transmitted in the air as well as the water. Jimmy is the only one sealed in with the Crakens, Crake had charged him earlier to take care of them if he is gone. Crake makes it back to the compound, but Jimmy shoots him. The three of them, Crake, Jimmy, and Oryx (though she is not relevant to this discussion), are the only humans who are immune to this disease that wipes out all mankind, though Crake slits Oryx's throat just before Jimmy shoots him. I have now officially ruined all of the surprises of the book, but the more exciting part, to me anyways, is always the writing and the details, so I hope you won't mind.

But, like I said, it intrigues me. Not merely the utopian concepts of the book. Not just questioning Crake's theories, though that is also somewhat interesting. What got to me, cuz I just finished this book, was that second quote I wrote in up there. The thing Crake says about immortality being the absence of the fear of death. That concept isn't all that hard, but it made me think.

Prior to reading that, I had sort of a theory of the ending of childhood. That one ceases to be a mere infant and becomes a human being, kinda leaving the age of innocence at the moment they realize that their parents are falliable. I read something somewhere once to that effect, one of the characters asks another whether they can remember that moment, and it stuck with me because I can. It was when I was 4, and I remember it clearly. But the above quote changed that. What if the end of innocence is, in fact, the moment one fears death? Both theories coincide with a sort of Blake-ian idea of innocence. Of his books of poetry, The Age of Innocence, and The Age of Experience, the innocent one is the more violent. On the surface there are saccharine pictures of lambs and flowers, but the chimney sweep poem is tragic, they all are. And anyone who has been around children knows that they aren't saccharine. Without fear of death, they have no fear of gore. They're bloodthirsty little fuckers. I think fairytales pretty effectively prove that. The original fairytales, not the "child-proof" versions we have today. The Brothers Grimm sort of shit.

What do you think? I can recall fearing death, as well, when I was about 5, and though I do have a very clear memory of the first moment I was scared shitless of it, I don't specifically recall the seeds being planted. I do know, however, that they were planted in sunday school. I think religious kids fear death earlier. At my church, at least, they put the fear of hell into us in order to scare us into "accepting Jesus into our hearts."

That's my question. Whether this interests you enough to respond is up to you. I know all the explanation of the book was unnecessary to the actual question, but I like to explain where my ideas pop up from. I like to put them into context.

It Must Be Something In the Water

Today, as I was making my daily rounds on Craig's List (as I have for 7 months now), looking for jobs to apply for, I came upon the above posting calling for a Part-time server. The post, since it's hard to see, says:

part time server wanted for busy weekend brunch.

must have experience.

please tell us a little about yourself and what kind of bike you have.

It is starting to seem very possible that everyone here is just insane.

Second-Hand Anecdotes

I was scanning around the blogs I subscribe to today when I happened upon one in which an old friend was giving fashion advice to the blogger in question. Part of the advice mentioned that you should NEVER wear clothing given to you by a female relative... mothers, aunts, anyone except a sister, this friend claimed. 

This advice reminded me of one of the many funny memories I have of my mother attempting to give me clothing. I published the following as a comment on the blog I was reading: 

"When I was 14, I came home to find my bed drowning in my mother's cast-off clothing. Apparently, she had been struck with a fit of overwhelming self-worth while I had been at school, and had decided that hot stuff like her didn't need to be weighed down by clothing like that. 

Unaware of this development, I questioned whether my bedroom had become the new dumpsite for the goodwill. Shooting me a smile overwhelming with generosity and excitement, she exclaimed: "Oh! No, honey! I found all those clothes in my closet! They were too big on me, so I thought maybe they would fit YOU!"

*cough*

...my mother was a regular 'ol size 9 at the time. Mathematically, at the very least, nothing too big on a 9 is ever going to have a chance on a size 0-1. I have, however, long suspected that my mother ascribes to an understanding of physics not realized in this dimension, so her overlooking of simple math wasn't a great surprise to me. Internalizing the necessary eye-roll, I decided to thank her anyway. 

Lesson learned: if your female relatives are anything like mine, take your dear friend's advice and STAY THE HELL AWAY from any and all cast-offs. :)"

Reading Like a Writer

Ok, I admit to slacking recently where my blog is concerned, but I have excuses, I promise!! 

Ha, actually, my only excuse is the sudden influx is great books on writing that have come my way. Having finally worked my way through "Becoming a  Writer" by Dorothea Brande, it seemed as if a world of possibilities opened up for me. So many insurmountable obstacles suddenly had footholds appearing all over them. It was rather spectacular. Finally, I am able to take advantage of all of the technical books on writing that were previously overwhelming to me. 

This new breakthrough has brought a rather unexpected dilemma to the forefront of my thoughts. Suddenly, I do not feel nearly as driven to go to grad school. Upon doing much research, both on schools and on books, I have discovered that most of the professors that schools consider their big "draw" have published books on writing. These books, upon closer inspection, are their famous writing classes, written down and published for all! Sure, I wouldn't be getting the personal emphasis with which they deliver their lectures, but neither would I be shackled with time constraints, or, for that matter, paying upwards of $50,000. 

The whole situation is rather reminiscent of "Goodwill Hunting." Is school, in fact, only in existence because we as people lack to drive to learn on our own? 

And learning on my own is something I have been spending a lot of time working on lately. These last few months since our move to Portland, I have been shifting my mentality from NOT learning at school (Lets face it, we're all there to get by with the highest grades possible with minimal effort. Most college graduates don't actually learn much, even inside their field because, honestly, it's too much trouble to test for EVERYTHING, so we just get by.) to ACTUALLY learning at home. It's been quite an experience. 

So now I become conflicted. Graduate school would deliver the much- coveted piece of paper that would allow me to teach later in life, should my writing career not pan out, and also it would offer educated peer evaluations of my works in progress at regular intervals... but it's so expensive! And do I really want to just go in order to have options should I fail? That seems a rather negative outlook. 

There I stand. Luckily, I have quite awhile to make my decisions-- and I'll probably just end up letting others make them for me. When next year rolls around, if I have something I think is good enough to submit to those terrifying admissions panels, I'll send it. And if I get in, I'll go. Almost all the schools offer full scholarships and stipends to their creative writing grad students, anyways. And why not? What school couldn't afford to when they only admit 6 students per year? Ah, the luxury of the establishment. 

Twenty Somethings and The Great Depression

This may turn out to be rather a depressing blog entry, but it is something that has been on my mind as of late. 

        

For me, as for most of my contemporaries, the decade of life known as 'the twenties' has been, so far anyways, a time of examining potential. A time for going to school, trying things out, and getting to the deep 'how-tos' of 'what do you want to be when you grow up?' In other words, most of us are NOT currently working out dream jobs. 

       

 This is where The Great Depression comes in. Now, when I read The Grapes of Wrath (which I'll just state right now I hated), I was focused more upon the plot than about the experiences of one particular age group. But, thinking back on it, what did happen to all of those people who moved through their twenties during the 1930's? All those people who were just graduating from college when the stock market crashed (go right ahead and insert obvious echoes of self-interest here),what happened to them? 

There was a huge shortage of jobs... and as far as the jobs that did exist, who would hand out these precious awards to young people with no experience? That would just be bad business when there were so many more qualified adults around. So did these people ever get the chance to follow through on their dreams? 

Probably not. With the mass starvation of that decade, I'm sure advancing as a successful bonds-salesman (or whatever) would take a back-seat to eating. Most definitely, most of these people just took jobs doing whatever it was they could get to do, and gave up on the dreams that would have been so graspable only a decade before. 

So what does that mean for us? The generation going through college, amassing gigantic student loans, and wondering if the same thing is going to happen to these loans as it did to loans in the 1930's. There is mass unemployment now, as before, who is going to hire us at a high enough salary to pay off the loans that come due 6mo following graduation? Us, rather than the 5,000-something people who got fired on our own black Friday and are now leaving New York in droves. 

Is this what the media is terming the "fear" and "panic" that underlie this election? According to wikipedia, there still aren't any overwhelming schools of thought concerning either the cause or the best way to have fixed The Great Depression of eighty years ago. Some people thought the government didn't do enough, some thought the 1.2 billion they paid into banks wasn't enough. Roosevelt's chairman of the Federal Reserve during this time, Marriner S. Eccles, thought that the best plan would have been to take their own bailout money ( $6 billion) and distribute it to the public through higher wages or lower prices, and that that would have staved off the depression itself. 

I know it is rather petty to worry about the dimming future of a particular sect of a generation when there are so many larger things at stake, but, as nothing horrifically major has happened yet, I think I'm allowed. Trust me, I'll shut up and help out when the time comes. Till then... would anyone mind hiring me, please? 

Why, History?

In browsing the internets for subject matter for this article, I came across some etymolygy that made me smile. 

Wikipedia tells us that the word "history" comes from the Greek historia, which means "an account of one's inquiries." In essence, then, the basis for history is distinctly dependent upon man's curious nature. If no one ever asked "why?" there would not exist this drive for transcription. In our historical accounts we answer questions, whether they be the questions we ask ourselves, or the questions we assume the generations of the future will need answers for. 

What, then, does it mean when we re-write history? Common knowledge would state that history is always written by the winner. Does no one ever ask about the losers? Or, since the winner of a philosophical debate is likely to have influenced the greatest margin of future thinkers, does the generation ahead simply look back upon the debates of the past for affirmation? In other words, do we only look back to make sure we're the heroes? 

This seems especially the case within American history. We wrote the stories of the violence and terrorism we enacted throughout The Revolution to reflect the outcome-- if we were currently subjects under Her Majesty's reign, I doubt we would have the same ideas regarding the correctness of violent riots and the destruction of hard-harvested leaf goods. 

We have also attempted to re-write the events of the communist era, though admittedly to a lesser effect. It's difficult to justifiably re-write McCarthy's mass witch trials, the similarity between his prosecution of Hollywood and the actions in the 1600s in Salem is mirrored so well it's sad. 

What I really want to know is whether the Great Depression of the 1930's was, in fact, so depressing that we have not made nearly enough inquiries. We hear that time is circular, and history repeats itself, but its hard to believe it is this inevitable. Is history in fact only circular until its lessons have been learned and we can escape its noose? It is logical to think that, were enough inquiries made, if enough people asked 'why?' and studied the stock market collapse, we would not have made the mistakes of the last twenty years. So why didn't we? Are we due for another red scare in thirty years? 

I wonder that evolutionary progression is dependent upon human curiosity. We've seen it in teenagers before, in a small scale. When they remain content and unchallenged before a television screen, their brains take on a distinct monkey-like appearance, even down to the grunting for food sometimes exhibited by the males of the species. It's sometimes a wonder how the nerdiest of them all manage not to throw feces. 

So I guess the real question is whether the technological progressions of our age have diminished our curiosity. With the constant presence of the internet (if you have an iphone, the internet is literally in your pocket) comes the constant availability of quick answers, and therefore a lack of real necessity for long-term learning. In other words, you don't really need to remember all the statutes of the Bill of Rights anymore, because they can be looked up instantly with a tap on a touch screen... and you are likely to forget the information a mere moment later, because you can always find it again. 

I wonder if we are going to lose our ability to concentrate, and therefore lose our ability to one day answer life's biggest questions. Most revelations require a lot of time and obsessive thought over one particular subject, but when is the last time you did that? There is hardly a need for it anymore, because there is no real need to fill time with thought-- there's always the internet to amuse you. And a child that is constantly amused and content is a child that doesn't ask questions. Will it become a child without history? If it is a child without history, how will it ever escape the tight inevitable noose that time will wind around it's neck without the countless experiences of it's forefathers? I guess we'll see.

Religion and Your Drug of Choice

I was watching the History Channel again today, and I began wondering how deep our religious background played into our cultural drugs of choice. 

Let me take a couple steps back for you-- the History Channel special I was watching today was entitled "Hooked: Illegal Drugs and How They Got That Way." I highly recommend it. On the list of History Channel programs that I have actually watched in my lifetime (a number which grows exponentially the more tired I grow of the dirtier and dirtier reality shows gracing my TV guide), this special ranks just behind "Rumrunners, Moonshiners, and Bootleggers," which was a compelling history of illegal alcohol manufacturing and trafficking in America. 

Marijuana and its history took up a startling chunk of the show. They began by explaining that cannabis (and poppies, but that's another story) has roots dating far back into ancient civilizations. In the Hindu religion, cannabis is viewed as a gift from the goddess Shiva. 

This startling link between a deity and a mind-altering substance got me thinking about the many and specific mentions of wine and drunkenness in the Judaeo-Christian tradition. There is the incident shortly after the Great Flood, in which Noah gets drunk and passes out in his tent, the long line of Nazirites (which included Samson and Samuel), and the incident where Jesus turns water into wine as one of his miracles. In fact, and brief (and very nerdy) google search will discover that the word "wine" is used over 200 times in the King James Bible. 

So what does this mean? Clearly religious background influences culture, and drugs are certainly cultural expression, but does it go any further than that? Alcohol certainly leads to far more violent behavior than cannabis, and there is a notable difference between, say... The Spanish Inquisition and Ghandi. 

Is the behavior of the western culture purely dictated by the harvests of 8,000 years ago? Grapes easily lead to wine, and grow well near Jerusalem. If the ancient Jews were just drunk all the time, the necessity of a violent and vengeful God to reflect and legitimize their own violent behavior is a simple evolution of thought. 

Whereas, until Manifest Destiny bore the first fruits of the British Expansion into India, that entire continent seemed rather low-key and peaceful. Granted, there was that horrible caste system they had to ascribe to, but hey; even pot-heads need some sort of social order to keep them busy. 

This entire discussion requires infinitely more research, and a great deal of compare and contrast, but it makes a compelling extension to Marx's famous remark that "religion is the opiate of the masses."

The Fairytale We All Deserved to Hear

(click on the poem's image to read it)

I know it's rather odd to equate so many things to episodes of Sex and the City, but this particular adult fairytale really reminded me of a scene from that show. Charlotte poses the theory that, deep down, what women really want is to be rescued, and it serves as the theme for that episode. 

Later, as Carrie is shown writing her column, she speaks to the camera, saying: "Is it true? DO women really just want to be rescued? Or would Sleeping Beauty eventually gotten up, scored a great job with a health care package, bought a home, and gotten a baby from her neighborhood sperm-bank?" 

Its quite a dilemma. In a way, don't all people want to be rescued? I mean, no one has the answers to life's great questions, and who in their right mind actually enjoys working so much harder than they have to? It just is not a mentality which should necessarily be assigned to women. I know many many men out there, waiting around for their sugar-mama. 

There's nothing inherantly wrong with the desire to be rescued from your measly human existence, I believe that the problem begins when the desire to be saved clouds your self-respect so much that you would listen to the frog hitting on you in the bar, go back to his castle, and agree to become his lifelong maid. That's the part of the story that truly could use some re-telling.

Wanna Smell Like a Country Music Star?

While watching television yesterday, it suddenly came to my attention that Tim McGraw was launching his own fragrance. Tim McGraw? Really? I mean, I'm used to the likes of Paris Hilton and Sarah Jessica Parker selling their signature smell to the world, but who wants to smell like a country music star? Am I missing something? 

Well, this sparked my interest. Suddenly, I decided to look around a bit and see what other people had decided to bottle themselves up. To my surprise, almost everyone is doing it these days! Like I said, Madonna I can handle, Beyonce, Jlo, even Prince. But Derek Jeter? David Beckham? Michael Jordan? These are some seriously sweaty men! Do we really want their disciples running around reeking of professional sports? But I suppose that isn't really the point, is it? 

The real point is that, apparently, you're not established in the world of fashion or celebrity until you have your name on a fancy bottle for everyone to see. What I really want to know is who is buying these things? Chanel no.5 I can understand, but even Hillary Duff makes no sense. Granted, at least Hillary Duff's fragrance would err closer on the side of innocence than on the side of "baby prostitute" (as some of the other scents have been dubbed). 

In a world where people complain about the price of gas, thousands of Americans are dying to smell like the Desperate Housewives. (I'm not kidding. Their fragrance its titled "forbidden fruit") Yay capitalism! 

On Creative Writing Programs

There have been a range of disagreements among authors over the years as to the usefulness of creative writing programs, with all their flaws. Mark Twain was famous for hating them, as he hated most everything, whereas some of the newer writers don't seem as opposed. 

So what's the deal? Will all creative writing teachers truly squash your creativity into the tiny box of their own taste? Probably not. I'd like to think that especially the graduate programs have evolved past that. 

If they are safe for writers, than what is the source of trepidation? Does it spout from that unspoken fear that entering a program is a subconscious admittance that your own ideas aren't good enough? That you aren't talented enough, and that you only hope to be published based off of the memorization and application of taught form? Probably. Is it true? Humph. 

I suspect that the true answer to this question cannot be found without first completing a Master's Degree. It's sort of like trying to figure out if you are allergic to peanut butter by reading the jar. But is it worth the risk? Will it be worth it to expend the time and effort (not to mention the great expense) for an unknown reward? Or, *gasp*, possibly for great detriment? 

I don't know, but I suppose I am going to find out. At worst, I hear they force you to write a whole lot, and to read your material out loud in front of an audience. That should at the very least quell my fear of public humiliation. Anyways, a fear of education is silly.  As you cannot lock your children in basements to preserve their purity, you also cannot prohibit yourself from learning anything because you are afraid of the results the knowledge may bring. If I don't approve of the writing methods that they may of may not teach me, I have to trust that I am intelligent enough not to be magically and subconsciously bound by those methods. 

Sometimes I that publishing houses would include an author's education on the book jackets. While I think it's great that the author is happily married, and living with their 12 dogs and 8 parakeets on a farm in Nebraska, it would be quite helpful to note that they received a Master's degree from Princeton. 

10 ideas if your ipod fails at the gym

If you're a gym regular like me, then you know that when your ipod goes kaplut while you're working out, it's bad times. So today, when the inevitable happened to me, I attempted to concoct a list of things to do while you're running aimlessly. 

1. Watch TV

    Now, there are several problems with this proposition. I mean, firstly, it's not like there's ever anything good on when you're at home, why should this devilish device agree with your whims when you're at your most desperate for entertainment? 

I'm not saying I haven't frequently fallen victim to the 'stare at the screen 'cuz it's there' phenomena. It just never leads anywhere good. I have now watched about ten more E special features than I ever desired (which was, um, none), and have been repeatedly grossed out by the media's obsessive over-coverage of murders and child abductions. 

2. Stare at the wall

Really, this is only good for about 10 seconds.

3. Make Grocery Lists

This is a great use of your time, provided you can trust yourself not to immediately forget the list upon introduction of some better form of entertainment... I cannot. 

4. Watch your fellow gym-goers

    Please do not do this. It's creepy. Very, very creepy. And really, it's only interesting for the first 30 seconds. Then you remember that they, too, are running in place for no apparent reason. 

5. Plan your next halloween costume

    Really. You'll come up with something amazing if you think long enough. I decided on a group costume-- "Things that would survive a nuclear holocaust," costumes include Mr. Twinkie, a Cockroach, Diet Coke, and possibly Larry King.

6. Plot world Domination

...of course, this may not be as much fun for you as it is for me. Because, you know, I will be reclaiming the world as my own once you successfully unite the peasants on my behalf.

7. Try to name all the candy in the impulse section of your grocery store

     Naturally, the detriment of this idea is that, after you're done working out, you'll want to go to the store to see if you got them correct, and this can only lead to eating more Reeses'. 

8. Name the starting line-up of your home baseball team

If you can do this easily, I recommend naming the entire bullpen, and then moving onto    other teams. So far, I can do all of the Giants, and almost all of the A's, Red Sox, Yankees, and Mariners. It is totally not impossible.

9. Decide which olympic sport you would compete in if a fairy came down and offered you gold-medal talents in one area and one area only.

     If you could go back in time, here are some rather odd activities you used to be able to compete in at the olympics:

            -live pigeon shooting (valid only in 1900 in Paris)

            -pistol deuling (1906)

            -solo synchronized swimming (1992. And don't ask me to explain it. Crazy '90s)

    -club swinging (1904, 1932. The club had ribbons on it. Men did this. Yeah.)

            -Tug of War (1900-1920)

            -Motor Boating (1908. With an actual boat. You Pervert.)

            -Running Deer Single Shot (1904-1936)

10. Create a new recipe in your head.

       This is much healthier than the candy one, as it involves you wanting to go straight home and cook something, instead of eating chocolate. 

So there you have it. Hopefully some of these will keep you entertained while you're mourning your decision not to check your battery before leaving the house. Although, I would like to recommend that you keep your headphones in your ears while you are doing all of this. People without headphones look shady, and god forbid you should actually have to interact with another human being. 

Long River, High Sky

Let me preface this post by saying that LINES ballet is my all-time favorite ballet company. Alonzo King is a genius, and there is still, even with how out of shape I am, nothing I wouldn't do for the opportunity to be in that company. Every single one of those dancers are gorgeous. 

                                                                                                                                                        

Now, down to the real stuff. I meant to post a review of the last ballet I saw LINES perform back in late May, just after I saw them, but---yada yada yada. Anyway, I'm doing it now. The title of the piece 

was "Long River High Sky," and it was a collaboration between LINES ballet and the kung fu monks of Shaolin Temple USA. Now, if that isn't enough to get you interested, I don't know what is. 

Though there wasn't a specific "story" to the piece per se, there were many recurring themes throughout, woven together to create something as typically beautiful as only LINES can promise. A zen setting was ingrained within each person's movement-- it was as if the dancers alternated between this world and the next, and occasionally the monks would achieve some sort of serenity whereby they could interact with the dancers. 

In contrast to the ethereal parts of the piece were sections during which the monks and the dancers seemed to interact on this plane. The dancers played normal humans, and many people occupied the stage--walking, dancing, and clearly seeing one another, though only a couple of the performers would ever dance together. 

To the oblivious bystander (ie. me), this ballet seemed to be a perfect window into what I imagine is the life of a storybook Shaolin Monk. It was amazing. If you ever get a chance to see 

e of a storybook Shaolin Monk. It was amazing. If you ever get a chance to see LINES perform at the Yerba Buena Center of the Arts in San Francisco, GO!

V is for Veggies, Is Good Enough For Me!

I know, I know, I'm behind the times. But what can I say? I don't have children, and, like the rest of my generation, I tend to get my news almost solely from the internet and/or The Daily Show. Therefore, I didn't hear about this new Cookie Monster phenomena until I read a post about Cookie Monster making an appearance on The Colbert Report, so-- shame on me. 

There seems to be much protest from the masses surrounding this nostalgic icon's movement away from childhood obesity. Everywhere you look (once you know to search for it, that is), another person seems to be protesting that Cookie Monster is "selling out." In fact, the tagline on the very same picture I have posted above read: "What is this crap?!" Popular theory seems to hold that this icon, and his obsession, were a symbol of our childhoods, and now his hydrogenated ideals are going the way of Strawberry Shortcake, who has become a big girl, and  traded in gumdrops for actual strawberries. Wait... is that supposed to be a bad thing?

Stephen Colbert addressed this whiny refrain from the children of the 80's satirically, naturally. He shouted out loud that "fruit is un-American!" Obviously mocking as this statement may appear, it actually seems to be the popular web opinion! Food Sites, thankfully, seem to retain their sanity and stand above the norm, supporting Sesame Street's desire to halt childhood obesity. The above link will lead you to "Serious Eats," where you can actually watch Stephen Colbert interview Cookie Monster, if you so desire.

 The British also seem to be in agreement with Sesame Street's new policy, the BBC\'s article on the matter actually points out that "almost one in 3 children in the US is overweight, as opposed to one in 25 in the UK," something that people clinging to nostalgia seem to overlook. 

I say, nostalgia be damned in this case. Sure Cookie Monster was great, but isn't proper education better? Wasn't it Cookie Monster's driving personality that attracted us to him in the first place? Whatever he ate, he ate with vehemence and spirit, and who's to say that his googly-eyed devouring of pineapples and bananas won't be as delighting to children as projectile chocolate chips were to us? Wasn't it Cookie Monster's love and interest in his nourishment, and his sadness when it was gone what made him a role model to be adored? 

Cookie Monster's new refrain is that he still loves cookies as much as ever, but that cookies are a "sometimes food," to be enjoyed after you have eaten your healthy meal. What's not to love in that? 

The sugary, substance-driven shouts of the carefree 80's have been laid to rest, for the good of the future. However, I too have nostalgic weaknesses, so here is an awesome poem I found when I was looking all of this information up. Thank you, Andy Bryan. 

To Geek or Not to Geek?

This is apparently what happens if you do a google search for Star Trek and then sit back and look at all the pretty pictures. I loved this picture, but it really made me think-- what side of that waiting room would I be on now?

I was a total nerd in high school... Actually I still am, I just learned to hide it better. So where exactly do I fit in now? All the friends of my best friends from high school always appear to fear me, and the kids my boyfriend plays MTG with stutter and drop their cards when I appear, even if my appearance is due to the fact that I too am playing magic and having inevitably lost in the last round, I must now play them. 

So what happens now? Is there some sort of retrograde order that governs the social circles once we get older? If so, I really feel cheated. I used to be one of the geeky kids that got looked down on, and now I'm one of those social people that the nerds privately mock. Does this ever reach an equilibrium or do I just have to accept the fact that I'm being mocked and I have the distinct pleasure of realizing it? Kinda makes you feel jealous of those kids that were popular in HS, they never did seem to figure out what vicious fun we always had at their expense... you know how public school teachers always say 'no question is a stupid question?' Yeah, they're just being nice. In fact, many questions are stupid questions, especially the ones that require the instructor to repeat something that was quite literally just explained. 

But that is beside the point. I want to know what happens to the nerds that woke up one day, stuck their heads out of their chosen corners, and realized, "Hey! Vogue isn't so hard after all!" I maintain that, in all seriousness, it takes a special sort of nerdiness in and of itself to devote yourself so fully to the demands of fashion. The time you have to spend scouring magazines, and online stores, vintage shops, and designers' web lookbooks... or maybe that's just me. Hey, what can I say? I'll always be a nerd. 

At this point, I'm just glad I didn't wind up getting that dragon tattoo encircled with an elvish inscription I wanted when I graduated... Ooops, did I just say that out loud?

Free Hat

They say the best things in life are free, but as someone who just spent the last 35min looking at all the things people are trying to give away via Craig's list, and I would have to respectfully disagree. I mean, I have nothing against a free mini fridge, but when the catch is that you must first clean out the green, oozing molded food, I'm thinkin it might not be worth it. 

There were mattresses galore, and a rubbermaid bin someone was claiming had been converted into a hot tub, though I never did manage to figure out how that had occurred. Free contact lenses-- the person listed their prescription. I guess that works, I mean it's not like they had been used...but bricks? Who wants free bricks? I mean, free dirt is one thing, and free firewood is nothing to be sneered at, but free bricks to be picked up in the castro? I don't even want to know. True to form, though, the most disturbing finds I came across were also the simplest-- the couches. You may think a couch is a couch is a couch, free or not, but these were specimens not to be reckoned with. Discolored, moldy, and tatty, these couches take the cake. 

So, if the invading aliens hire you as their interior decorator, by all means make your selections accordingly from craig's list. I have no doubt that you can find a multitude of furniture options that can effectively infect the evil race with the bubonic plague. In any other circumstance, please remember: viruses aren't toys.

Apocalypse

This recent ginormous, insane heat wave has gotten me thinking about the apocalypse... or perhaps it was the eerie red smoke clouds that have been lingering near my house as the county on either side of my house has taken to catching fire the last couple weeks. I don't know, I'm not a doctor. Either way, I decided to do some research. 

Traditionally, I have been a fan of preparation. As my mother's perpetually overflowing tote bag suggested throughout my childhood, if you brought absolutely everything with you, you could never have any excuse for making impulse purchases... which made for some incredibly unexciting vacations in my childhood, let me tell you. Who wants a warm waterbottle and a squished sandwich for lunch at the fair? Geez. Nonetheless, preparation is a nice skill to be familiar with. Doing your homework on time will keep you prepared for tests, buying the appropriate items while you're at the store will save you from the inevitable: "shit. These cookies need EGGS don't they..." and so therefore, reading apocalypse preparation guides will keep you prepared for the zombie attack, right? Right? 

Item #1: The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from The Living Dead by Max Brooks.

This is perfect. If you are afraid of a zombie invasion in the vein of Shaun of the Dead, this is the only book for you.

Item #2: How to Survive a Robot Uprising: Tips on Defending Yourself Against the Coming Rebellion. By Daniel H Wilson.

I have yet to read this book, but I imagine it would be infinitely useful in the event that The Terminator should be the way the end comes to pass. 

However, it was not until I found this book that I became truly excited: How to Build a Robot Army: Tips on Defending Planet Earth Against Alien Invaders, Ninjas, and Zombies. By Daniel H. Wilson. 

Going on the offense? Sounds perfect!! Who needs to sit around and wait for zombies and robots to overrun the world when we can build a giant robot army to begin with?! Wait... Those are the robots that turn against us, aren't they? Drat. Now what? 

Hmm well, I suppose there is always giving some Utah-ian drunkard tons of electronic supplies and hoping he actually can create a warp drive... 

At any rate, in the meantime I'll be reading, hoping, and keeping stakes in my home, hoping against hope that this weather will let up. 

Insanity frightens cats, too.

Were you aware that mountain lions are afraid of gigantic people flapping their coats? Because I wasn't. So I learned something new today. We received a public service announcement from the Scotts Valley Police department warning us that a mountain lion had been spotted in our area. It recommended that, in the event of contact with a mountain lion, we pick up small children and place them on our shoulders to appear larger. Also, it said, if we were wearing jackets we should unzip them and flap them around, all while yelling and maintaining eye contact with the lion. 

Now, I think was is most interesting about this recommendation is that we are not encouraged to save the children. We are, in fact, using the children to help ourselves. Now, if the announcement had said something like 'pick up small children and run your ass off' it may have actually made a valid point. However, isn't picking up children to appear larger something like shoving your friend down on the ground and hoping that the lion will be so distracted by eating them that you can get away in time? 

Note to self: If there is a mountain lion near your house, invite over only your shortest friends, and make sure to learn the hokey-pokey.