One of the reasons it's been so hard for me to keep up with the blog this year is that I don't like to acknowledge the things I don't know. My mother used to say that ignorance was nothing to be proud of, and it's been surprisingly hard for me to admit that I don't know certain things. There's a reason I own eight separate covers of the Jackson Browne song "These Days," which includes the line "Don't confront me with my failures; I have not forgotten them."
Also, the big things I don't know are things that fall outside what I'm willing to blog about. (Why am I still single? Why am I always broke? What the hell is my issue, anyway?)
We've got three weeks left to run on this incarnation of the blog, and I already know what next year's version is going to be. I won't announce it until the end of the month, but I will say that it's going to be something far less personal, and with luck far more entertaining for all of us.
In the meantime, though, I'll throw out one of the big unknowns today.
Yesterday Dizzy and I had a 4th of July dinner with the Bragdons, a fine time that included Dizzy's first taste of watermelon (he likes it).
The weather turned bad, though, and I wound up driving home when I really shouldn't have. It's very dark out in China, but I know that road well enough that it probably would have been okay, in decent weather. The combination of rain and dark, however, meant that I really couldn't see the road very well, and only dumb luck and St. Christopher got me home without incident.
The fact that my eye disorder (a form of retinitis pigmentosa) isn't catastrophic has let me pretend that it's not going to be life-changing, but that's coming to an end. I can't drive on country roads at night any more, and it's already starting to make me change and cancel plans.
So I'm going to have to move again, sooner rather than later, into a more urban environment.
I like it here. I hate the thought of leaving. I don't know where I'll go next. Suggestions and invitations are welcome.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Saturday, July 04, 2009
I don't know why Sarah Palin resigned.
I've generally avoided politics in this blog, because my family embraces a wide spectrum of strongly-held views, from my dad's devotion to Rush Limbaugh to my son's work as a field organizer for Barack Obama. Political discussions in this family never change anyone's mind, and inevitably end with all sides 1) agreeing to disagree and 2) baffled by how we wound up in the same family with such hopelessly unenlightened/unrealistic/gullible/cynical people.
That said, I gasped aloud when I walked into my credit union branch yesterday afternoon and saw the headline announcing Sarah Palin's resignation on a TV screen. Regardless of one's political affiliation, this is a true "What the hell?" moment.
Two and a half years, and she's done? Not running for reelection, so doesn't see the point of serving out her term? What about all the people who voted her in for a four-year term in 2006? If I were an Alaska voter, I'd be enraged.
Governor Palin said she didn't see the point of serving as a lame duck. I'd argue that lame ducks, especially at the state and local level, are ideally positioned to push their agendas through, because they don't have to worry about hedging their bets or burning their bridges. The commonwealth of Virginia doesn't let Governors run for reelection to consecutive terms, for this very reason. Tim Kaine's term is going to be up at the end of this year; is he just wasting his time, going into the office for the next five months?
Like her or not -- and I admit that I don't -- you can't deny that Sarah Palin has been one of the most unusual, most polarizing political figures in modern American history. Yesterday's announcement multiplies that by a factor of ten.
That said, I gasped aloud when I walked into my credit union branch yesterday afternoon and saw the headline announcing Sarah Palin's resignation on a TV screen. Regardless of one's political affiliation, this is a true "What the hell?" moment.
Two and a half years, and she's done? Not running for reelection, so doesn't see the point of serving out her term? What about all the people who voted her in for a four-year term in 2006? If I were an Alaska voter, I'd be enraged.
Governor Palin said she didn't see the point of serving as a lame duck. I'd argue that lame ducks, especially at the state and local level, are ideally positioned to push their agendas through, because they don't have to worry about hedging their bets or burning their bridges. The commonwealth of Virginia doesn't let Governors run for reelection to consecutive terms, for this very reason. Tim Kaine's term is going to be up at the end of this year; is he just wasting his time, going into the office for the next five months?
Like her or not -- and I admit that I don't -- you can't deny that Sarah Palin has been one of the most unusual, most polarizing political figures in modern American history. Yesterday's announcement multiplies that by a factor of ten.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
I don't know whether my leather sneakers can go in the dryer.
Sorry I've been gone for a while: combination of work demands, computer issues (the crippled spacebar is now a broken spacebar), and an unwillingness to infect the Internet with my weather-related malaise.
By my count, we had three sunny days in June. Three. It's not raining at this minute, but it's cloudy, it rained earlier and it will rain later. Current temperature: 61F, with a high of 71F expected.
My favorite pair of Sketchers got wet a week ago and are not dry yet, and I don't know whether I dare throw them in the dryer. The uppers are at least partly leather, and I don't want them to crack. Anyone have any suggestions?
I had hoped to escape south this week, but it's not going to happen: work to do, car repairs to pay for. The weather forecast promises sun for the weekend, and while I've never been one to blame the weatherman, I'm going to hurt someone if that turns out to be a lie.
Five Random Songs
"Burning Up," Ladytron. Dreamy, funky electronica. Most of the cool, modern stuff in my music list are gifts from friends, as this is.
"Manipulating Woman," Ladyhawke. My point: more cool modern music, another gift from my friend John (who does not only give me music by bands with "Lady" in their name).
"What's Her Name Today?", Elvis Costello with Burt Bacharach. I've been listening to this CD (Painted from Memory) too much lately, as it's perfect rainy day music. The problem is that it's just gut-wrenchingly sad, and I don't need the help. In happier news, my pal Scott Shumaker is giving a concert performance of this whole album in Washington, DC on July 17 at the Arts Club of Washington. Go see him.
"Hymn for Her," The Magic Numbers. Whew, something lighter, another lovely modern song, and another gift, this from my friend Tom.
"They Can't Take That Away from Me," Ella Fitzgerald. A song that reminds me of summer evenings in Washington, DC, sitting outside with a glass of wine and watching the fireflies. Cruel of iTunes to taunt me like this.
By my count, we had three sunny days in June. Three. It's not raining at this minute, but it's cloudy, it rained earlier and it will rain later. Current temperature: 61F, with a high of 71F expected.
My favorite pair of Sketchers got wet a week ago and are not dry yet, and I don't know whether I dare throw them in the dryer. The uppers are at least partly leather, and I don't want them to crack. Anyone have any suggestions?
I had hoped to escape south this week, but it's not going to happen: work to do, car repairs to pay for. The weather forecast promises sun for the weekend, and while I've never been one to blame the weatherman, I'm going to hurt someone if that turns out to be a lie.
Five Random Songs
"Burning Up," Ladytron. Dreamy, funky electronica. Most of the cool, modern stuff in my music list are gifts from friends, as this is.
"Manipulating Woman," Ladyhawke. My point: more cool modern music, another gift from my friend John (who does not only give me music by bands with "Lady" in their name).
"What's Her Name Today?", Elvis Costello with Burt Bacharach. I've been listening to this CD (Painted from Memory) too much lately, as it's perfect rainy day music. The problem is that it's just gut-wrenchingly sad, and I don't need the help. In happier news, my pal Scott Shumaker is giving a concert performance of this whole album in Washington, DC on July 17 at the Arts Club of Washington. Go see him.
"Hymn for Her," The Magic Numbers. Whew, something lighter, another lovely modern song, and another gift, this from my friend Tom.
"They Can't Take That Away from Me," Ella Fitzgerald. A song that reminds me of summer evenings in Washington, DC, sitting outside with a glass of wine and watching the fireflies. Cruel of iTunes to taunt me like this.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
I can't imagine how long it will take to unwind Michael Jackson's estate.
It's been two days and I'm still processing Michael Jackson's death. I was surprised by how sad it made me; Michael Jackson hadn't been part of my consciousness in many years, and I'd stopped listening to his music well before his trial.
Someone said that Michael Jackson's death had given us his music back, and that is sad but true. A few years ago, a snowstorm left me in New York overnight, and I spent the evening with my friend Maeve in a wine bar where they were playing Off the Wall.
It had been years since I'd listened to that record, which was the soundtrack for every one of my school dances between 1979 and 1982 (when it was overwhelmed by Thriller). I still think it's nearly a perfect pop album, and think it holds up even better than Thriller.
"Wow, I had forgotten how great this record was," I said, and Maeve said, "I know, remember when Michael Jackson was cool?" We agreed that it was a shame that the man's strangeness and possible badness had made it almost impossible to listen to the music any more.
Now he's dead, people are rushing back to buy the old records. I just Googled "Michael Jackson sales soar" on Google News and got more than 21,000 hits; some of those are probably old, but you get the idea. Confess: did you go out and buy some of the old stuff yesterday? (I would have, but I am flat broke and facing some expensive car repairs. Maybe next month.)
Anyway, all of those sales mean additional revenue to Michael Jackson's estate, and it's an estate that will need every penny it can get. Jackson's indebtedness was legendary, unimaginable; The Wall Street Journal reported earlier this month that his debts totaled approximately $500 million.
His assets appear to have exceeded that, though, and his earning power was still staggering. The series of concerts in London was supposed to earn him $50 million, and the WSJ article speculated that a world tour could net as much as $400 million.
I can't begin to estimate the number of people who relied on Jackson for a living, either directly or indirectly -- start with his children, his parents, his bodyguards and personal assistants, his nannies, his lawyers, his accountants, and the number may hit four figures.
Over the next months or even years, an army of reporters will be watching as the estate gets fought over and parceled out, and it may well turn into a modern-day version of Bleak House. The Jackson children, currently with Michael's mother Katherine (79 and reported to be frail), will be like the wards in Jarndyce, suspended in a world of uncertainty about their expectations, obligations, and opportunities. As weird as Michael Jackson's own childhood was, his children's have been an entirely different magnitude of weird.
Bubbles the Chimp is reportedly living a quiet, animal-appropriate life at a sanctuary in Sylmar, California. He, at least, is taken care of.
Update: Rumor has it that the chimp in Sylmar may not be the "real" Bubbles, and that the original Bubbles may be living on in some terrible immortality of his own. Jennifer Lechner sent me this link. Yikes...
Someone said that Michael Jackson's death had given us his music back, and that is sad but true. A few years ago, a snowstorm left me in New York overnight, and I spent the evening with my friend Maeve in a wine bar where they were playing Off the Wall.
It had been years since I'd listened to that record, which was the soundtrack for every one of my school dances between 1979 and 1982 (when it was overwhelmed by Thriller). I still think it's nearly a perfect pop album, and think it holds up even better than Thriller.
"Wow, I had forgotten how great this record was," I said, and Maeve said, "I know, remember when Michael Jackson was cool?" We agreed that it was a shame that the man's strangeness and possible badness had made it almost impossible to listen to the music any more.
Now he's dead, people are rushing back to buy the old records. I just Googled "Michael Jackson sales soar" on Google News and got more than 21,000 hits; some of those are probably old, but you get the idea. Confess: did you go out and buy some of the old stuff yesterday? (I would have, but I am flat broke and facing some expensive car repairs. Maybe next month.)
Anyway, all of those sales mean additional revenue to Michael Jackson's estate, and it's an estate that will need every penny it can get. Jackson's indebtedness was legendary, unimaginable; The Wall Street Journal reported earlier this month that his debts totaled approximately $500 million.
His assets appear to have exceeded that, though, and his earning power was still staggering. The series of concerts in London was supposed to earn him $50 million, and the WSJ article speculated that a world tour could net as much as $400 million.
I can't begin to estimate the number of people who relied on Jackson for a living, either directly or indirectly -- start with his children, his parents, his bodyguards and personal assistants, his nannies, his lawyers, his accountants, and the number may hit four figures.
Over the next months or even years, an army of reporters will be watching as the estate gets fought over and parceled out, and it may well turn into a modern-day version of Bleak House. The Jackson children, currently with Michael's mother Katherine (79 and reported to be frail), will be like the wards in Jarndyce, suspended in a world of uncertainty about their expectations, obligations, and opportunities. As weird as Michael Jackson's own childhood was, his children's have been an entirely different magnitude of weird.
Bubbles the Chimp is reportedly living a quiet, animal-appropriate life at a sanctuary in Sylmar, California. He, at least, is taken care of.
Update: Rumor has it that the chimp in Sylmar may not be the "real" Bubbles, and that the original Bubbles may be living on in some terrible immortality of his own. Jennifer Lechner sent me this link. Yikes...
Friday, June 26, 2009
I do not know how to make page numbers show up in this section of my Word document.
It hasn't been a good week, and it's not going to get any better in the next few days. I'm sorry. I'm working on a few things that are really, really challenging me, and I just haven't had the time to post. Computer problems continue as well, though they have backed off into the "incredibly annoying" category rather than the "completely disastrous" one.
If I work hard all the rest of the day, I might be able to post tomorrow. Maybe.
If I work hard all the rest of the day, I might be able to post tomorrow. Maybe.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I don't know why I feel entitled to an opinion about things I know nothing about.
I have never seen an episode of "Jon & Kate Plus 8" -- not one -- but yesterday afternoon I could not help having a conversation in which I expounded my elaborate theory about their relationship and what they really ought to be doing for the sake of their family (quitting the television show, recommitting to each other and the marriage, seeking meaningful therapy as a couple and also as a family).
What right do I, or does anyone, have to an opinion about what the Gosselins should do? One could argue that by making themselves public figures, they've invited everyone to have an opinion.
But this issue of having an opinion without any background knowledge goes way beyond reality TV. I do it all the time, in almost every aspect of my life. My friends know that I am liberal with advice about all kinds of things I have no personal experience of, and yet they continue to put up with my spouting off on stuff I know nothing about: marriage, child-rearing, career development, real estate, galactic domination...
On a good day, I pretend that my status as a noncombatant makes me an objective observer, much in the way that people go to priests for advice. But priests at least have some counseling training (not to mention that whole mission-from-God thing), and the power to confer absolution when necessary.
Then again, if I limited my conversation and opinions to things I actually know about, I wouldn't have much to say. Dogs are funny. Coffee is good. Macs are better than PCs, and Tide with Bleach really works.
Beyond that, it's all just a matter of arbitrary opinion... leave some of yours in the comments section.
What right do I, or does anyone, have to an opinion about what the Gosselins should do? One could argue that by making themselves public figures, they've invited everyone to have an opinion.
But this issue of having an opinion without any background knowledge goes way beyond reality TV. I do it all the time, in almost every aspect of my life. My friends know that I am liberal with advice about all kinds of things I have no personal experience of, and yet they continue to put up with my spouting off on stuff I know nothing about: marriage, child-rearing, career development, real estate, galactic domination...
On a good day, I pretend that my status as a noncombatant makes me an objective observer, much in the way that people go to priests for advice. But priests at least have some counseling training (not to mention that whole mission-from-God thing), and the power to confer absolution when necessary.
Then again, if I limited my conversation and opinions to things I actually know about, I wouldn't have much to say. Dogs are funny. Coffee is good. Macs are better than PCs, and Tide with Bleach really works.
Beyond that, it's all just a matter of arbitrary opinion... leave some of yours in the comments section.
Monday, June 22, 2009
I don't know what the guy did to fix my computer this morning.
My faithful MacBook, which was temperamental all last week, locked up on me completely over the weekend. Imagine my panic, especially since I can receive but not reply to emails through my iPod Touch (haven't been able to figure out the settings).
So I was at the Comdoctor in Chelsea when it opened this morning, and the nice man had me show him how the mouse button was frozen, and how the CD drive ground and spit out the CD I'd bought in an effort to install a wireless mouse.
"Did you try a USB mouse?" he said, and I said I had not. He plugged one in, and that didn't work, either. Then he knocked the mouse button to one side, and it seemed to unstick things. Presto, the computer was working again, Fonzie-style.
"Well, it's working for now," he said. "But you should probably bring it in and let us look at it, when you can."
I promised that I would, as soon as I turn in my three current projects. Clients are getting impatient -- understandably -- and I'm starting to get nasty emails. Which, fortunately, I can now respond to...
So I was at the Comdoctor in Chelsea when it opened this morning, and the nice man had me show him how the mouse button was frozen, and how the CD drive ground and spit out the CD I'd bought in an effort to install a wireless mouse.
"Did you try a USB mouse?" he said, and I said I had not. He plugged one in, and that didn't work, either. Then he knocked the mouse button to one side, and it seemed to unstick things. Presto, the computer was working again, Fonzie-style.
"Well, it's working for now," he said. "But you should probably bring it in and let us look at it, when you can."
I promised that I would, as soon as I turn in my three current projects. Clients are getting impatient -- understandably -- and I'm starting to get nasty emails. Which, fortunately, I can now respond to...
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