downLo

2003-11-20T21:01:00.000Z

STOP BU$H

Pre-March This was the crowd two hours before the march even began.
Sign 1 Creativity abounds...
Sign 2
Scary Protester Fred is so cute; if all the protesters looked like her, I doubt the crowd would have been very intimidating.
Entertainment This guy got up on a bus thingie and played drums for the marchers. Later he was on top of one of the fountains in Trafalgar Square. Impressive climbing skills.
Parliament This is what it was all about. Bush had tried to prevent the march from going by the Houses of Parliament. Protesters won out and responded by screaming at the building. (Note that it's 4:15, and dark. What a pain in the ass.)
The Man This guy cleverly dressed up as W and had these guys standing around him like secret service. There was a Tony Blair too.
Post-March I wish it wasn't so dark! This is from Trafalgar Square, looking back over the solid mass of people stretched to Big Ben and beyond. Crazy.
Statue Here's the giant paper-mache George Bush. I don't think you can see it, but he has a tiny Tony Blair in his pocket.
Toppling This was taken just a second too late. You can barely see him falling over. People were yelling so loudly - again, crazy.
Crowd Eh, this one didn't turn out too well. These are the steps just in front of the National Gallery, packed solid with people.
More Crowd And another, this time from the steps. But I think it's still too dark to see.
Me And here I am in the middle of it all.

2003-10-26T10:54:00.000Z

DEEP THOUGHTS

You know, I can't figure out why they went with "Bennifer" when "AffLo" was an option.

2003-09-28T22:42:00.000+01:00

PICTURES

Tate Modern
Us
David Blaine
Laughing at him
Lo in the Flat
Trafalgar Square
Vivaldi Concert

British Museum:
Confused
Realization
Great Court
Bizarre Phallus
Celtic Hat
Clock

2003-09-26T01:20:00.000+01:00

LONDON BABY

I'm quite excited to have things up and running here, but frankly Fred and I went to town with the Japanese beer at dinner, and I'm a bit too tired to do an interactive post. I'll screw around with the camera tomorrow and try to get some pictures up here (I promise, Mom).

It's been exactly five months since I've been to a class. So I'm a bit nervous heading off to my first meeting of Selected Themes in Baroque Art and Architecture this afternoon. There's that awkward moment at 10 of the hour when three of us are standing outside the door, unsure whether we'll interrupt something if we go in. I suggest we do anyway, and we do, and it's clear that all we're interrupting is the chatter of other students waiting for class to start. Inevitably, I end up sitting next to three other Americans. Great. This is why I crossed the ocean, to learn alongside the people I was with before I came. At least one of them is a boy. But I'm pretty sure he's gay. Regardless, we make disinterested small talk for a while, until we realize just how long it's been. One brilliant student walks to the main Art History office and returns to inform us that "The professor has been in hospital all week; class is cancelled until further notice." Make that five months and one day.

I'm a bit let down after getting myself academically pumped, so I take the opportunity to explore the Philosophy building and check the timetables for my classes there. I had tried to do this previously, but always found the door at 19 Gordon Square inexplicably locked. Today I discover a back alley, navigate it, timidly climb some rusty iron steps, and see a faded sign that points to a solid metal door with broken handle, which is the actual entrance to the Philosophy House. I'm still nonplussed at how everyone else seemed to know this from the start. I suppose they're English, and so assumed that unlocking the front door of a building is far too simple a practice, like driving on the right hand side of the road or using the Euro. I hang out a bit in the common room, curious if there's any other secret info I might pick up, and think about what kind of Philosophy I want to indulge in this term. Philosophy students are often a homely, distracted bunch; I've always imagined us to be only one or two rungs up the social ladder from Physics and Engineering students. I was, however, dead wrong. It would seem every good-looking man on the planet is first a part of the UCL Philosophy department. Seriously, Abercrombie and Fitch models have nothing on these guys - in the 10 minutes I stood in the hallway, I felt like I was watching myself star in my own twisted version of The Bachelorette. This improved my mood considerably, but will likely make concentrating on Hegel all the more difficult. So be it.

Finding myself with yet another beautiful London afternoon and basically no responsibility, I do what I've done with my other beautiful London afternoons, and set out for a walk in Regents Park. I walk past the private gardens into the southeast entrance, up the well-groomed path of flowers and fountains, smiling at the many other people who have escaped their daily grind to sit out in the sun. I head for the Inner Circle, a particularly serene and insulated area of the park, and snuggle into a partly-shaded bench near a fountain, where I've sat several times and so feel attached. I read for a couple hours, looking up occasionally to acknowledge passers-by and to raise an eyebrow at the three shirtless Englishmen on the bench across from me. Around 4:30 I get a text from Fred suggesting we meet up for a pint, which always seems like a good idea, so I vacate the bench and walk toward the tube. Just out of the park, I spot a sweet-looking dog, who I suppose has an owner at the end of its leash; I give it a smile, and he wags accordingly. Owner reveals himself to be one of those guys who uses his dog as an excuse to talk to women. Maybe it's not even his dog. I dunno, all I know is that now he's walking with me, trying to convince both of us that he's half as charming as his canine companion. "What are you studying?" "Art History and Philosophy." "Oh..." [This is the standard reaction. People realize they know nothing about either subject and are frightened at sounding stupid, and so leave it at Oh.] "...How long have you been in the country?" "Two weeks." "Yeah, I can tell." This is a markedly rude comment. For all the flack Americans take for being arrogant, at least we don't use our dogs to talk to people and then insult them. We're reaching a cafe now, and it becomes conversationally evident that he's going to ask me to join him for a drink. As much as I'd like to stay and discover cultural differences with this greaseball, the buzzing phone in my pocket indicates that Fred is already on her way to our meeting place, and so I make up some excuse to walk in the opposite direction. As a goodbye, he hands me a dog treat (which I'm certain he keeps in his pocket for exactly this purpose) and I offer it to the poor beast, while toying with the idea of loosening the leash so that he can run free. About five minutes later, a young English couple stops me to ask for directions to the London Zoo. Apparently my StUpiD AmERicAn sign is only evident to that git with the dog. At least I've got a story to tell when I get to the pub.

2003-09-04T04:57:00.000+01:00

A NEW YEAR, (FINALLY) A NEW POST

Upon occasion of my 21st birthday, I feel I should ease into my new adulthood by reflecting on the childhood I'm leaving behind. So, here are 21 thoughts, roughly from the years in which I had them:

1. Wwglllaaahhhh. Bright Light! Cold Air! This SUCKS!

2. Dude! Feet!

3. Underwear! This just keeps getting better!

4. Eh, the thrill is gone. I want a dog.

5. No fair. Bryan and Emily get to go to school while I sit here in my Big Bird nightgown.

6. Kindergarten! *squirming with excitment*

7, 8, &9. [Incomprehensible screeching, squealing, and giggling]

10. Sweet. Double digits.

11. Fifth Grade: I am hot shit.

12. Sixth grade: Please, please don't shut me in my locker.

13. Braces. Acne. Bangs. Vanity Fair, eat your heart out.

14. OmigodlikewhatareyouwearingtomorrowKristiandIarewearingourpleatedskirtsandblacksweatersWowNickissohotOkcallmelater.

15. One more year 'til I can drive.

16. Holy shit I can drive.

17. Lots of friends, lots of activity, little responsibility, Life is good.

18. Life sucks. SATs, ACTs, APs, applying to college, running school clubs. Get me far away from here.

19. I'm far away from home. Everything is new and different, and scary and overwhelming.

20. In the words of a very wise TV show, "There's a time and a place for everything, and it's called COLLEGE."

21. .... I should write a post about this.

2003-06-14T15:30:00.000+01:00

GIMMIE

After attending my first all-staff meeting and spending a week getting used to the bureaucratic bullsh*t that precedes all action in a government office, I'm becoming depressed at the somewhat dire state of the arts. The Philadelphia Museum of Art just laid off 35 people, The Met let go 10% of its employees, the National Museums have lost 25% of attendance. The Bush administration routinely laughs at our need for funding in between purchase orders for more Homeland Security. (Can't you see them whooping it up around the Oval Office water cooler..... "And THEN they asked US for money! For a MUSEUM! [laughes hysterically] Hey Bob, you gotta hear this one!").

I LOVE my summer job. Please help me to do it permanently someday. All of you, go to a museum this weekend. Buy something in the shop, or buy a soda, or just leave money in the box. Or donate that musty old Picasso you have lying around your attic. You've got the time... Harry Potter 5 doesn't come out for 7 more days.

2003-06-06T19:30:00.000+01:00

Now I'm Big and Important...

Whew. My dirth of posts might suggest some sort of sabotage a la Bryan's blog, but really the absence was due to my relocation. After a whole lotta packing, driving, stopping, driving, unpacking, and finding the nearest golf course, I am now situated and happily bringing you the downlo from our nation's capital. Before I left, all anyone had to say about DC in the summer is how hot it gets, but thanks to the never ending rain, we've only barely broken 70 since I arrived. Wonder how long that will hold out. Last night, however, we did enjoy F-16's flying at low altitudes as they practiced their drills for Homeland Security. After listening to that, I'm not sure how they could do anything but create large amounts of debris, which doesn't seem very safe. Not to mention that the drills had to be postponed to last night, because the night before it was raining, and apparently F-16's don't work in the rain. Let's hope terrorists stick to the Sunshine-Attack Plan.

2003-05-29T20:34:00.000+01:00

Had a weird thought today, and here's how I got to it, bear with me: I caught the end of Steel Magnolias, the scene in the cemetery where Malynn has a breakdown over Shelby's death. Daryl Hannah's stupid character Annelle tries to console Malynn with the traditional Christian dialogue: "Shelby's with her King....We should all be rejoicing" etc. Among these comments is "She will always be young, she will always be beautiful." Now, here's my question, and perhaps you see where I'm going; does this mean that if I live to be 90, I'll spend eternity as a crotchety old woman? No thanks! This movie isn't the only source that suggests this concept. James Dean and Marilyn Monroe are always depicted as "Forever Young" - isn't there even a song with that title?

I don't believe in afterlife, so I suppose it doesn't really matter, but on principle, living a long time on earth seems to be the raw end of the deal. I'd much rather kick it early here and party up in heaven than collect my social security but have to hobble around with eternal arthritis. Perhaps someone can offer a more theologically astute argument for the value of time spent on earth?

2003-05-24T15:57:00.000+01:00

Real Excited

The Franklin Park Conservatory, in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio, has just announced their plans for a six month exhibition this fall of Chihuly sculpture. Dale Chihuly, the amazing and creative glassblower, is one of my all-time favorite artists (if you haven't yet checked out his website under my links, i reccomend you do). He is arguably one of the most talented craftsmen of the 20th and 21st Centuries, and doubtless the most important to glass arts. Glassblowing is one of the oldest art forms, and unlike other mediums, its technique has changed very little in 3,000 years. Hugely difficult to create, Chihuly's pieces take teams of glassblowers, and they're stunning to see. Any museum worth its salt has his work among its collection, but if you're going to be in or near Columbus between October and March, the exhibit will be worth a stop. According to the linked article above, Chihuly will make new pieces specifically for this show.

Yay Columbus, way to care about something other than football for once.

2003-05-22T20:28:00.000+01:00

My A&E Prospects

I hate having my picture taken. For whatever reason, I never like the way they turn out, don't really think I look like myself in them, and because of that, I avoid being in front of the camera. Like my mom, though, I love biographies - and I always find myself entertained watching the show Biography on A&E. While we were watching an interesting episode on Cary Grant the other night, the thought occurred to me: if I ever end up doing something great, MY episode of Biography would be hindered by the fact that there aren't any pictures of me to be shown. All those great candids of Grant and his friends, Grant on the set, Grant and one of his 5 wives; all truthful and subtly lit, well composed - they seemed to reveal who he really was. Does my lack of photographs undermine my chances for posthumous remembrance?

I'm not going to take that chance. So from now on, I will fight my abhorrance of the camera and allow myself to be photographed in all sorts of jovial, prophetic, and serious circumstances: eating dinner, reading, playing golf, with the fam, asleep, soul-searching, shaking hands with people. They'll have a hard time choosing which ones to show. There will be a PLETHORA of LAURA.

Now I just have to do something worthy of Biography. Any suggestions? Hey, if I like yours, maybe I'll let you be in one of my pictures.....

2003-05-19T23:28:00.000+01:00

Homecoming Queen

I can't think of a better way to juxtapose the late nights, isolation, hard work, and miserable bitchslap of finals than with a weekend of beautiful weather and total recreation with people you love. I'd never been to Vermont, but I'm certainly willing to go back. Though our game looked like shite, and Bryan didn't win anything in the raffle, and my golfing outfit left me with half sunburned arms, the weekend was more fun than I've had in a long time. For readers of the Bryan Adams Blog: In the interest of honesty, and in vindication of my mother and myself, here's another tidbit from saturday's round:

Hole #16: After three of us attempt a long chip onto the green with less than stellar success (although I do believe mine was the ball ultimately used), Big BPA steps up to take a turn. With enough confidence to proclaim first "Alright, I'll show you how it's done right here," he takes a big swing.....*SMACK*...... the ball shoots out in front of him - perpendicular to where he was aiming - INTO the nearby cart, where it rattles around a bit, then emerges again on the grass, steps away from where it started. Play is delayed while we double over in fits of laughter.

36 holes in two days, and I probably could have kept going. Two days and a 15 hour drive later, I'm kicked back in a big old house, enjoying the comforts of cable, dog, home cookin', and no f'ing responsibility. At least not for another week. There really is no place like it.....

2003-05-14T00:49:00.000+01:00

Four little, Three little, Two little Indians....

Or a Scottish-Mexican and an American in this case. Wow, that song really isn't PC is it? Anyway, so long T and Anns - have fun and see you in 2004. :(

2003-05-12T04:24:00.000+01:00

Life's Mysteries #371

I packed and stored a bunch of stuff this weekend in preparation for my upcoming move. I was pretty proud of myself until about a half hour ago, when I wanted a can of soup and found myself with no bowls and no can opener. Shitballs.

As my hunger became starvation, I got to thinking: in order to aid actual starving people here and abroad, what do we send? Canned goods. Everyone and their mom has a canned food drive to help the needy, but is ANYONE collecting can openers? What good is this food doing people if they can't open their cans? Next Christmas THAT'S what I'm putting in the collection box.

Unrelatedly, and in the spirit of the day: I LOVE MY MOM!!!!!!!!! happy mummy's day. :)

2003-05-11T05:04:00.000+01:00

And then there were Four...

Goodbye Petra. Miss you already. :(

2003-05-09T22:53:00.000+01:00

Penny for your Thoughts

We encountered a moral dilemma at dinner the other night. I finished Ethics last week and have thus retired my Philosophy brain for a while, so I'll throw it out here.

In the place we always eat dinner, while others are scurrying about with their food and talking loudly, I notice that curled up on the floor, near a vacant table is a $20 bill. I sit down with my friends and say "Hey, there's a twenty on the floor over there." This instigated a conversation about the appropriate course of action. Twenty bucks isn't the kind of money you just drop and forget about (well, not if you're a college student. see the post from 4/27). I suggest we pick it up and take it to an employee on the off chance somebody comes back looking for it. This was pretty much dismissed, because there's no way of identifying the appropriate owner. Someone suggested I take it, on the "finders keepers" philosophy. For some reason this seemed wrong to me.

The funny thing is, we all agreed that if we found a $20 bill just lying in the street, it would be ok to take it. Hell, you do it with change right? This reminded me of those little tests we'd do in GATE (Gifted And Talented Education: a smart-people class) in elementary school - you know, what should you do if you find a bag of money in the street, etc. So, then, what are the limits on the amount of money you can pick up without feeling bad? Or, are there appropriate places (i.e. 'the street') in which it's ok to pick up discarded money? Or, is it irrelevant - take money whenever you find it, don't think twice.

We ended up losing interest in the conversation and leaving the money on the floor. I'm sure our apathy made someone $20 richer.

2003-05-07T07:26:00.000+01:00

Split End Relationship

My hair is getting altogether out of control. Occasionally we have a symbiotic relationship, but generally we just try to stay out of each other's way. These days, though, it's just becoming too needy. I can't eat my food, cut my fingernails, or sign my name without it being all up in my business. It just HAS to be the center of attention. I think maybe we need some space. This really just isn't working for me. I hope we can still be friends.

....but then we had a moment: at work, an acquaintance randomly approached me to say, "You have the prettiest hair. For a while, Shannon and I didn't know your name, so we called you That-Girl-With-The-Pretty-Hair..." Well hell. If it can earn me a title like THAT, maybe I should keep it around a while longer. Awww, reconciliation.

What has your hair done for YOU lately?

2003-05-02T00:27:00.000+01:00

Battle of Who Could Care Less

I hear the People Magazine "50 Most Beautiful People in the World" issue is about to come out, with Halle Berry on the cover. This tradition never ceases to amaze me, combining all of the best features of our society: commercialism, voyeurism, competition, materialism, elitism. I would love to sit in on one of the meetings for this issue. "Nah, this year Michelle Pfiffer is ugly." "Ever since the Grammys, Norah Jones seems so beautiful." There also must be meetings on how to make it seem like the list is open-minded and holistic. No doubt there's a quota for minorities and people over age 45. I also noticed SNL's Tina Fey is on the list this year. Now, she's certainly not ugly, and she's funny as hell, but she does have an obivous facial deformity. I'm sure People thought it would be "nice" to include her on the list. "See? You all think this magazine is shallow, but Beauty doesn't mean any one thing.... We say so."

Bravo, People, I applaud your rejection of the traditional iconography proposed by mainstream media. Now I'll turn to page 15 to see Sarah Jessica Parker in Prada at a charity gala and page 97 to find out how to get Britney's new look.

2003-04-29T06:25:00.000+01:00

I went for the chicken wings, I swear....

It was gorgeous today - nothing could have kept me from the golf course. So we rolled out there this afternoon, and found the course surprisingly empty. We go to pay for the round, and some unseen employee yells up from the back: "What are they wearing?!" With one eyebrow raised, I look at the guy behind the counter, who replies, "We're having a tournament here in about half an hour" -- as if this explains anything. Whatever, we start playing.

After a nice birdie on 3 and a killer drive on 4, I'm chipping onto the fifth green. Suddenly, I hear a cart zoom up behind me (What the hell? Can't you wait 'til we get off the goddamn hole?). Then, "Hey [giggle] you guys want anything to drink?" I glance up at Patrick, the guy I'm playing with, who is frozen - putter half out of his bag, eyes wide, jaw on the ground. I turn to see that the cart is being driven by two very buxom blondes in tiny orange shorts and skin-tight, low-cut tank tops. The Hooters Golf Tournament had begun behind us. Clearly, this was what they were waiting for in the clubhouse, and after a chuckle I informed these talented waitresses that we weren't part of the tournament.

Several times throughout the round, they would bounce (sigh, yes, bounce) across the fairway on their way to other holes. Generally, their passing was followed by "FORE!" - as some awestruck oaf found himself with more than one "wood" and in the way of someone's shot. I wonder how many of those men told their wives they were just going out for a round of golf with the guys.

Is this the kind of entertainment we can expect at the Chun Classic? ;)

2003-04-28T00:55:00.000+01:00

WiLL THiNK fOr FOoD

i have two dollars. forget the benjamins - i've got two crispy washingtons, and that's all. i will not part with these bills unless given a drastically compelling reason.

insult to injury: at present i owe money to Victoria's Secret to cover a bill, the library for some late reserves, that bitch english department secretary for photocopies, a friend for a cup of coffee.... while i'm also being hit up to buy shit in support of every club on campus, and the state of Pennsylvania chomps away at my paychecks. is there anyone who DOESN'T want my money?

my bryn mawr account is empty, my fridge is empty, my debit card is on fire, i need a new bar of soap and Qtips, and i'm kissing ass to get a grant.

WHAT?!? NO, you can't borrow $5!! and GET YOUR STICKY HANDS OUT OF MY POCKETS!!!!

2003-04-27T06:53:00.000+01:00

Hold the Insomniac all Night

it's late. writing about poverty and health care is becoming vexatious. my tiny little room is feeling exceptionally crowded. here are some places i'd much rather be:

Botswana
Provence
Kyoto
Scotland
Greece
Arizona
Sequoia National Park
Bora Bora

wanna come?

2003-04-25T03:26:00.000+01:00

Ethics

Professor Koggel: "Ok, we're looking at pornography today..." [bumbling, having startled herself] "well, we won't actually LOOK at pornography...maybe some of you would like to look at pornography...i mean, i'm sure you understand.....Oh hell, it's about FREE SPEECH!"

2003-04-24T03:59:00.000+01:00

Unrelated Thoughts

There's an excellent book, Wittgenstein's Poker, about an argument between Ludwid Wittgenstein and Karl Popper that took place at a little gathering at Cambridge- the only time the two philosophers met. Apparently, the argument ended with Wittgenstein waving a hot fire poker at Popper and then storming out of the room. Tonight I attended a philosophy colloquium with a number of other professors and students. We do this every few weeks; it's sometimes boring, often abstractly interesting, and occaisionally - like tonight - entertaining. The lectures always begin rather stiffly and formally, and are then followed by a question and answer session. Now, there is nothing more fascinating than a passionate philosopher, except maybe a few of them - arguing. Shortly into the Q & A, conflict began brewing and then became a loud confrontation between an expert in logic, a scientist, and two professors who were once students of Karl Popper (for BMC people: this is Weaver, Grobstein, Krausz and the lecturer Nattruno). There are probably only a handful of people anywhere who could follow the discussion they were having about logical positivism and the preservation of Truth, but listening to them bat around these ideas is enough to put you in your intellectual place. But it also got me thinking - if people as incredibly smart as this can so quickly transition from discussion to heated argument, do normal people - countries, let's say - even stand a chance at something like diplomacy? When you run out of justification for your position, what's left but violence?

On a lighter note, I went golfing today, despite having mountains of work and there being a 20mph wind outside (hey, everyone needs a study break). This is clearly the recipe for some really fun golf, and the soundtrack to today was something like this:

*SMACK*

Erin: Dammit!

*SMACK*

Lo: Son of a BITCH!

and so on until we were eventually playing in a pissed off silence. between the two of us, we hit 6 trees and a highway (yeah, the highway was mine). but of course, erin ended her round by chipping in from down a hill and i sank a 15ft putt. golf is such a tease like that.

I also screened Spike Lee's Bamboozled today for a film class. (by the way, does anyone know WHY all of his films are called "a Spike Lee Joint"?). It's remarkably well-made and unsettling - frighteningly, there's some excellent acting by Damon Wayans. I'm also now resolved to marry Savion Glover. It didn't look like it was going to work out for me and Paul Newman anyway. (Check out me and Paul here and here).

2003-04-23T01:23:00.000+01:00

WOMAN AT WORK

funny that i can procrastinate even here at the Cup, but the espresso man is fixing our machine, preventing me from opening. i've often thought that "espresso machine repair" would be a kickass job - i wonder if you need art history or philosophy degrees for that.

The Metamorphosis of the Lusty Cup

i'm always amazed at this place before we open. two people are studying silently at a table behind me, and the clicking of my keyboard seems loud and disruptive. i usually tip toe around getting things set up and then promptly at 8 i flip on the classic rock and bang around on the espresso machine just to let people know what's up (mind you, this is NOT why it needs to be fixed). that generally clears out the losers and makes way for the masses of people whose sole purpose in this building is to ask me when the cookies will be ready. i enjoy the coming and going of my regulars: the girl who works at the desk upstairs and whispers her order, the twins that i can never tell apart, the girl who tutors in here and always tips well, the creepy old guy who tips even better. soon it's loud and crowded and inevitably my friends have put off their work and come to congregate around the bar for the rest of my shift. then as quickly as it filled up, it clears out. it's like someone drops a little social bomb in here and then cleans up the debris. how very bryn.

meanwhile, the espresso machine repair man is breaking the silence with sporadic, loud, semi-erotic shouts at the machine. i'm a little freaked out and i'm starting to think this job might not be so cool after all.

uh oh. people are getting angry that we're not open. looks like i need to do a little damage control....

2003-04-22T00:22:00.000+01:00

Signs it's Almost Finals

it's that flingin' flangin' time again. i don't usually like to complain about bandwagon things, but NOTHING blows more than finals. there they are, looming on the horizon, tumultuously coming towards us; as Fred says, nothing you can do but bend over. here's a few tell-tale indicators that finals are on their way:

-lunches and dinners become shorter as you're constantly running off to finish a paper.

-classes/meetings are re-evaluated and attended under "must-go" circumstances.

-your mah jong habit is back, making it increasingly difficult to focus on work.

-EVERYONE bitches about work, under the assumption that she has more than everyone else.

-you haven't seen the surface of your desk in weeks, but are accumulating deep piles of books, CDs, empty food containers, old papers, and new papers, under which is the pen that you can never find.

-you have at least three square feet of tiny post-it notes up - defeating the purpose of having them at all.

-by necessity or choice, you become most productive in the 1am-4am time frame.

-your old Hard Rock tshirt and favorite jeans become a daily uniform.

-you start to value the small things, like peanut butter cookies, blogging and showers.

sigh. someday i'll get MY PhD, and have enough time to hang out with my significant other, complain about meetings, and perfect playstation. ;) but for now, back to work....

2003-04-21T05:34:00.000+01:00

"What, is this map in Fisheye?"

fun weekend in baltimore. here's a few freaky pics we took (backwards of how they happened because i'm dumb):

here i am in front of the baltimore museum of art.
aww em's (faux) first day of work

me making a crabby face because emily is making me decide what we do today.

em making a blank expression when i ask what she wants to do.

lo is happy after dinner.

oops - busted for tasting dinner before it's ready

self portrait, by me.

glamour shot of em modeling the fancy amaretto

candid shot of em.

well, not from this weekend, but also at em's - on the apartment hunt (guest appearance by mom).

missing is a hilarious picture of a truck we encountered in the ghetto, bearing the decal entitled "Redneck Special" and (count them) 4 confederate flags. we valued our lives more than the picture. you get the idea.

for some humorous stories from the weekend, check out emmit blog.

2003-04-21T04:36:00.000+01:00

A Lonely Atheist...on Easter

like the jew on christmas, atheists walk around on easter thinking "where the hell is everybody?" and being pissed that everyone else gets to eat ham. still, there are some perks for us. prof wants something posted by sunday at 8 and you get to say "gee... can we bump that back? you know, it's easter [big eyes, little shrug]". boom - an extra day for the paper. this is all probably offensive, but what the hell, it's my blog and the comments aren't working anyway.

an odd holiday, really, and one that society doesn't quite seem to know what to do with. some stores are open, some aren't. Ten Commandments is on tv (a tradition i still don't understand). joyousness for some, existential crisis for others. conflation of secular traditions with an essential religious practice. i don't get it. anyone who can explain how the bunny and candy got roped in with christ gets major bonus points from me.

i don't really feel any easter impact at all - most of my easter memories are of the new dress i'd wear - and the ressurection doesn't incite fear of the afterlife for me. still, it's not my place to step on the toes of believers. to the rest of us: L'Chiam!

2003-04-18T02:18:00.000+01:00

Did Billy Bob need Goodwill?

I was reading about Angelina Jolie's work as a United Nations Goodwill Ambassador. Apparently she's made a "plea" for Cambodia. Dude, if I'm Cambodian, I'm telling her to take that plea and shove it before I raid her tomb. Angelina Jolie's opinions on foreign relations are right up there with who Maculay Culkin is dating and JLo's diet regimen on the list of things I could give a shit about.

heading to baltimore* for the weekend for some quality bonding. check out the emmit blog for further details.

by the way, yeah it's april and the weather sucks, but bitching doesn't make the sun come out. have patience.

*I wanted to put a little euphamistic name here, like "the city of brotherly love" or "beantown" or "the big apple". what the hell is baltimore besides "city of lots of crime and kinda close to DC"? not so catchy.

2003-04-17T02:02:00.000+01:00

Look out.... Lo's got a blog. :)

just in time for a recent rant on relationships. this began as an email to a friend, and has developed through a few conversations......

i've decided drama is far too crucial to most relationships. for whatever reason, everyone wants his or her life to be like a movie. far more worrying, they don't just WANT their lives to be like movies, they EXPECT them to be that way. a little exposition, introduction of characters, plot complication, tension/suspense, and resolution. people meet each other and immediately try to make themselves seem more interesting than they actually are, so that the other person will continue to be attracted. this is obviously a bad plan, because eventually trying to be interesting will get too difficult, and then you're back at square one. if it does become "a relationship", dramatic episodes have to compensate the constant need for emotional stimuli. so people fight over stupid things or important things or whatever. the Fight, you see, is multi-functional, because it provides drama and also results in either "making up" (the much-promised happy ending) or "breaking up" (the tragic ending that leaves hope for a future "make up" or for the process to begin again).

this is all painfully absurd and pathetic, because in real life, people are generally boring. we're all boring, and the best you can do is look for someone who seems less boring and then enjoy yourselves as much as possible. the drama is both detrimental and undesirable.

this all seems to be epitomized in the traditional process of "getting married" - for lots of people (women anyway) the most narrative, sought after, drama-filled series of events in their lifetime. the whole process previously described is intensified by the prospect of this one being The One. so the relationship involves teleological emotions and events that will ultimately culminate in The Proposal and marriage. here again is the undeniable expectation of DRAMA, and here again it is equally as ridiculous, because it juxtaposes the enormous "let down" of normal life.

this is why i would never marry someone who proposed by means of:

1.) ring in a box, in a box, in a box, in a box, in a great big box.

2.) a highly embarrassing or public demonstration, i.e., scoreboard, skywriting, television/radio.

3.) some fancy, special dinner.

each of these fully supports and suggests the idea that the relationship MUST exhibit pre-determined super-special and excessive outpourings of emotion in order to matter. this is also why i'm likely to be single forever.

i realize my assessment doesn't carry much weight, and it is possible that i'm just a heartless mutant who's full of shit. after all, WHY would we choose to act this way? perhaps it's a neurological thing? are we just naturally drawn to anything that excites the emotions? does this somehow relate to Homer's epics? (doesn't EVERYTHING?)

an interesting caveat to this drama thing was added by Petra during a conversation about why women wear makeup. here's the physical act of putting on a costume, a mask - making yourself into someone else. i was never troubled by this until i read Simone de Beauvoir's The Second Sex, and felt extremely confronted by my social conditioning. clearly, we're not going to deconstruct the conventions that make women feel they have to wear makeup, but i think it must adversely contribute to our general perception of Life as a little show we star in.

the shitty part is, it's not like any of this makes us feel good. more often than not, the most dramatic relationships end badly (owing to their inability to maintain constant high levels of action). while it all seems important at the time, you look back on a specific fight or that bitch in california or that guy from last year and say, "What the hell was I thinking?". once the excitement dies down, it's a little embarrassing. still, we don't like the way the woman looks without makeup; maybe a little drama is necessary.

but from here on out, i'm all about low-drama relationships.

2003-04-16T21:06:00.000+01:00

This is a test. "Happy Birthday," Lo!