Well, it's official. Jeremy and I will never become ickthyologists, or even ickthyophiles. After two traumatic weeks of owning two goldfish, we have realized that we are not cut-out to join the world of pet owners. Our fish died while we were in SLC for Christmas, even though we did everything to ensure that they would be alright.
Who ever knew that owning goldfish would be so difficult? We spent quite a bit of money on fish medicine, aquarium accoutrements, water treatment, etc. In frustration, we have thrown most of the fish equipment away - we don't want to be reminded of our failure. If we can't even take care of goldfish, how are we going to manage with a baby?
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
Christa-Taylor clothes
I have recently become obsessed with this website, thanks to Kelly. I really like how this clothing line is dedicated to making modest clothes for women - AND these are really CUTE clothes. Plus, they are more affordable than clothes from JCrew or Anthropologie, which is good news for a destitute college student like myself. Practically all of my Christmas list has been formed from perusing this site.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
new additions to the household
J and I would like to welcome two new members into our home: Tom and Harry. We didn't really think about having pet fish until Sunday night, when we kinda-sorta won Harry (on the left) in a White Elephant exchange at the Maxfield's. The truth is, someone "stole" Harry from us during the exchange, and I must have looked so disappointed that at the end of the party the true winners handed the fish to us. Either that, or the winners decided they didn't want to deal with the hassle of a new pet.
So, after the party on Sunday we took Harry home. Being sans fish care equipment, we filled up a glass pitcher with water and placed Harry inside. He sunk down do the bottom of the bowl, looking like the most depressed fish in the world. More than one time we thought he was dead. He would glumly stare out the pitcher, only occasionally moving a fin as he gave a little sigh (I am now convinced that goldfish can sigh).
We felt like the worst fish owners in the world, and immediately started looking up all of this information about goldfish care. I didn't realize that goldfish were so complex - when I had a goldfish in high school, I just kept it in a bowl and fed it once in a while. Maybe we're subconsciously working out baby care anxieties by obsessing about Harry.
Evidence of our fish care anxieties can be seen in the photo. I've never gone as far as to buy a little aquarium or a filter or an air pump for a goldfish before. You can also see that we bought Harry a roommate (on the right). Harry is officially "my" fish, since I got him at the party, and Tom is J's pet. As soon as we put Tom and Harry in the new tank, Harry completely snapped out of his depression. He's been really animated and active ever since. He must be a people-fish. Either that, or he's just glad to be out of the pitcher.
Monday, December 10, 2007
'led' deficient
Today I wish that I was in London for this concert. One of the greatest moments of my life was seeing Paul McCartney perform live outside the Colosseum in Rome in a free concert. If I had $168,000 then I might be able to see Led Zeppelin play too.My love for Led Zeppelin began when I was a freshman in college. Katie, my best friend from high school, had been trying to get me to listen to them for a couple of years. I was a little wary. To me, Led Zeppelin seemed to attract groupies that were only "a step up" from the weirdos who wore "Grateful Dead" t-shirts in the school halls. "Stairway to Heaven" was the only song with which I was vaguely familiar, but that exposure was mainly through "Wayne's World" and listening to hopeful-guitarists messing around on their instrument.
But I was wrong about Zeppy. In our freshman bedroom, my roommate Zillah and I often reveled in "the Led" during the day and late into the night (well, "late" for me meaning about 10:00, when I would go to sleep and Zillah would continue to listen to her music with Kelly in the kitchen), thanks to some CDs which were lent to us by Britton Q. I realized the breadth of musicality which Led Zeppelin encompasses, and I began to see why the band was so influential.
My favorite Led Zeppelin songs, in more-or-less an order of partiality:
1. Over the Hills and Far Away
2. Thank You
3. Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You
4. Black Dog
5. What Is and What Should Never Be
6. Dazed & Confused
7. Immigrant Song
It will be interesting to see what kinds of reviews and comments are made about this concert. Part of me hopes that the concert is amazing, so that this band can receive the praise that its music deserves. However, I also jealously wish that the concert doesn't go so well, merely because I'll feel even worse at having missed out.
Addendum: Looks like it was a success. Good for them.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
gravidism
I think that most of the people who read this blog probably know (or at least have guessed) that I am pregnant. I actually haven't told too many people that I am expecting, and I've really had a fun time watching the news get publicized for me. Even when you tell someone in confidence that you are pregnant, there is always going to be a leak...somewhere. Tonight one of the grad students said, "So, I heard you're pregnant!" to me after class (he heard from someone at the Springville Museum of Art, where I used to intern before morning sickness took over my life) and basically announced my pregnancy to the whole grad department for me.
I think it's really funny when these announcements get made for me. Afterwards I always get pummeled the same question by everyone who was in earshot of the announcement: "Wait...you're pregnant???" Yep. Yep. Yep. I am. And, it's even funnier because the original person who made the announcement often doesn't realize that he/she has just made an announcement for me. For some reason, the announcer doesn't seem to realize that no one else in the room has been privy to this information. It's very amusing.
A couple of people have also announced my pregnancy for me too. The first time it happened I was a little bit shocked, and I had a hard time dealing with the pummeling of questions which followed. Now, however, I rather enjoy the announcements to be made for me. My cute sister-in-law felt bad when she mentioned my pregnancy in front of previously uninformed family friends, but by the time that happened last week, I didn't mind at all. When other people bring up the pregnancy, then I don't feel like I have to put on a superficial, hyped-up "We're so excited!" face. Don't get me wrong, I am excited for the baby to come, but I don't like putting on an over-excited demeanor and instantly commanding that the next ten minutes of conversation be all about me and my baby.
I'm actually quite interested to see what will happen at church this Sunday. We told Grandma Bowen last week about the news while we were out of town. Grandma Bowen's sister-in-law, Aunt Ellen, lives in the same ward as us, and we're pretty sure that Aunt Ellen sufficiently publicized the news while we were gone last Sunday. Excellent. Now I won't have to announce anything in Relief Society - especially because a pregnancy announcement in our ward immediately calls for the Enrichment leaders to throw you a baby shower. It's inevitable. I'd rather not feel like I'm asking for a baby shower...
P.S. The due date is June 10th.
Monday, November 5, 2007
standing ovation
The other night, J and I had a fairly long debate on what standard/type of cultural performance calls for a "standing ovation." The whole conversation began when I complained about the obligatory standing ovation which occurs at every BYU performance in the HFAC. If every performance gets a standing ovation, then what value and significance is imbued in the idea of standing up while clapping? I suppose in attempts to be "Christian" and "charitable," Mormon audiences always given standing ovations - even at sub-standard performances. I think that this not only desecrates the significance of a standing ovation, but it also is downright silly.
J thinks that standing ovations should not only occur at phenomenal performances, but they are also expected for historical performances by famous performers (e.g. the performer will never again perform a certain monologue, concerto, etc.). I asked him if he would give Led Zeppelin a standing ovation at their upcoming reunion-concert this December, and he said that 1) he'd already be standing for a rock concert (good point!), and 2) yes, he would give a standing ovation - not so much to the performance (we all know that Page and Plant aren't living their glory days anymore), but to the shadows of the great band that once existed. I guess I would agree with him.
However, I also think that standing ovations include something more than just showing respect and honor to a great performer. When I have been truly, deeply moved by a performance, I have physically been moved to stand up. It almost is as if my body is so exhilarated and moved that I have to stand up and clap as hard as I can, as if it is the only way to truly express how I feel. I think that the last time I felt the sensation of being lifted to my feet was when I heard the Queen of the Night aria in London, in the spring of 2003.
Has anyone else ever felt that way as well during a performance? I wonder if there are other motivations for standing ovations, besides my emotional motivation and J's historical motivation. Does a standing ovation mean something else to you?
J thinks that standing ovations should not only occur at phenomenal performances, but they are also expected for historical performances by famous performers (e.g. the performer will never again perform a certain monologue, concerto, etc.). I asked him if he would give Led Zeppelin a standing ovation at their upcoming reunion-concert this December, and he said that 1) he'd already be standing for a rock concert (good point!), and 2) yes, he would give a standing ovation - not so much to the performance (we all know that Page and Plant aren't living their glory days anymore), but to the shadows of the great band that once existed. I guess I would agree with him.
However, I also think that standing ovations include something more than just showing respect and honor to a great performer. When I have been truly, deeply moved by a performance, I have physically been moved to stand up. It almost is as if my body is so exhilarated and moved that I have to stand up and clap as hard as I can, as if it is the only way to truly express how I feel. I think that the last time I felt the sensation of being lifted to my feet was when I heard the Queen of the Night aria in London, in the spring of 2003.
Has anyone else ever felt that way as well during a performance? I wonder if there are other motivations for standing ovations, besides my emotional motivation and J's historical motivation. Does a standing ovation mean something else to you?
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
change in perspective
It's interesting how changes in your health can alter your perspective. Normally, I consider a good day to be one where I am able to be 150% effective. I wake up early, work for a few hours, volunteer in the community, get way more homework done than necessary, clean the house, exercise, make an awesome dinner, and still have time for pleasure reading. However, since I've been rather sick lately, I've had quite a change in perspective. I realized this yesterday around 6:00 p.m., when I triumphantly realized that I had kept a grilled cheese sandwich "down."
That was my big accomplishment for the day.
It's funny how feeling woozy can change your perception of what is important. Once I feel better, I'll probably take my health for granted again.
That was my big accomplishment for the day.
It's funny how feeling woozy can change your perception of what is important. Once I feel better, I'll probably take my health for granted again.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
wisdom
I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be "wise" in the scriptures. In some places, we are warned about the dangers of "thinking" that you are wise. Being involved in graduate school and the world of academia has really made me realize how dangerous it is to "think" that you are wise. I also have had a recent experience which has made me think a lot about true wisdom in relation to the gospel.
In the scriptures, it seems like there are also two definitions of the word "wise" right in the scriptures. The first definition of "wise" is a lot like the idea of "thinking" that you are wise - they are the people who are puffed up in their learning, wisdom, etc. (see 2 Nephi 9:42). It is explained here that these people must come down in the depths of humility or the Lord will not open the door to them.
Only the people who consider themselves as "fools before God" will be let in - which the Lord defines as true wisdom in the following verse (2 Nephi 9:43). These people are "wise and prudent," and the happiness which is prepared for them will be hidden from those that are puffed up in wisdom.
I never had connected wisdom with humility before. I have thought of wisdom in regards to prudence, temperance, and true knowledge, but I never had thought about humility. I don't know why I hadn't made the connection before, because I often think of humility as an opposite to "prideful wisdom." Therefore, it makes sense to me that humility should be part of true wisdom - in order for an individual to be truly wise, he must accept that he does not know everything, nor can he figure everything out. The logic and mind of God is far beyond the capacity of our mortal minds. We can only hope to one day attain that full knowledge and understanding.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
disappointed by David Letterman
I've attached below an email that I sent to CBS regarding David Letterman's interview of Paris Hilton last Friday. If you want to see the interview, click here.
To Whom it May Concern:
I am writing to express my disappointment and disgust at the way Paris Hilton was interviewed by David Letterman last week. It was obvious in the interview that Miss Hilton was invited onto the show to be ridiculed by Mr. Letterman's sarcastic questions regarding her jail experience. I felt that Mr. Letterman's refusal to stop pummeling Miss Hilton with questions regarding her time in jail was also rude and inconsiderate. Listening to the studio audience's howls of laughter during the interview showed me how distanced the American public is from common decency and respect. It obviously isn't right for the media to defame celebrities "behind their back," but it is even more appalling when television invites individuals onto their broadcast with the intention of mocking, scorning, and scoffing at the individual directly.
Although I do not support the actions of Miss Hilton, I feel that the exploitation of her life and experiences on Mr. Letterman's show were inappropriate. Not only has this experience made me decide to stop viewing the Late Night Show, it also has shown me that I do not want to be a person who laughs at people that make mistakes. Located in a country that was founded on Christian principles and behavior, I find that the American media should promote the idea that "pure charity is never glad when others go wrong" (1 Corinthians, chapter 13, Moffatt translation). Even for people who are not Christian in their belief, the idea of mutual respect should be an integral and fundamental part of any functional society. Instead of derailing and satirizing the guests on his show, I find that Mr. Letterman should uphold the principle of mutual respect in his interviews, since he has the opportunity to be a role model for the American public.
Thank you for your time, etc.
To Whom it May Concern:
I am writing to express my disappointment and disgust at the way Paris Hilton was interviewed by David Letterman last week. It was obvious in the interview that Miss Hilton was invited onto the show to be ridiculed by Mr. Letterman's sarcastic questions regarding her jail experience. I felt that Mr. Letterman's refusal to stop pummeling Miss Hilton with questions regarding her time in jail was also rude and inconsiderate. Listening to the studio audience's howls of laughter during the interview showed me how distanced the American public is from common decency and respect. It obviously isn't right for the media to defame celebrities "behind their back," but it is even more appalling when television invites individuals onto their broadcast with the intention of mocking, scorning, and scoffing at the individual directly.
Although I do not support the actions of Miss Hilton, I feel that the exploitation of her life and experiences on Mr. Letterman's show were inappropriate. Not only has this experience made me decide to stop viewing the Late Night Show, it also has shown me that I do not want to be a person who laughs at people that make mistakes. Located in a country that was founded on Christian principles and behavior, I find that the American media should promote the idea that "pure charity is never glad when others go wrong" (1 Corinthians, chapter 13, Moffatt translation). Even for people who are not Christian in their belief, the idea of mutual respect should be an integral and fundamental part of any functional society. Instead of derailing and satirizing the guests on his show, I find that Mr. Letterman should uphold the principle of mutual respect in his interviews, since he has the opportunity to be a role model for the American public.
Thank you for your time, etc.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
career change
I've been avoiding writing on your, dear Blog, because I haven't wanted to create some type of report about my trip to Brazil last month. However, I had the realization this evening that I am not obligated to write anything on here. And so, I won't really say anything about Brazil. If you really want to know, you should ask me. And please, let me know if you want the superficial reply, "Veni, vedi, vici!" or not. I recently waxed too loquacious when someone asked me about the trip, and I quickly realized that he didn't really care about my trip at all.
Anyhow, I want to announce here that I've decided to make a career change. This seems to be one of the most scary types of career change, because I actually haven't started any type of career yet at all (I would recommend graduate school to anyone who doesn't want to start a "real job"yet).
I've been thinking a lot about careers lately, especially since I'm starting my last year of graduate school now. I somehow thought that everything would work itself out when I prepared to graduate with my M.A. - I would suddenly know exactly what I wanted to do with art history, I would know if I wanted to start a family or work for a while, and I would know where J and I are going to move.
But no.
In some ways, I feel more confused now then when I started my degree. I realized that there is a lot of bad Brazilian art in the world (excluding my thesis topic, of course), and that I really wouldn't want to specialize in that (if I ever did get a Ph.D., which I still am not sure about). I don't know when I want to start having children. I don't know where we are going to move after graduation (I feel so anti-NYC after living in Bed-Stuy this summer). And, I don't know if I want to work in a museum anymore.
All that I do know is this: I want to teach.
After teaching 111 this spring, I really realized how passionate I am about teaching. I have always hoped to do something with teaching after graduating, but I always kept stringing the idea of museum work along too. However, I really feel like teaching is my passion. I love getting people excited about art history. I love explaining and verbalizing my own passion for art and why it is such a beautiful, visual representation of the past. I love converting students to the glory and drama of Caravaggio. I love showing people how they can make their own interpretations and conclusions regarding works of art. I love enunciating the most perfect (and sometimes ridiculous) adjectives to describe exactly how a work of art makes me feel. It's so rewarding and fulfilling.
After this realization, working in a museum doesn't seem quite right for me. Even my initial idea of curating and teaching part-time is not as appealing as it used to be. I've been interested in museum work because of the research that is involved, but I don't know if everything else would be fulfilling. Plus, I'm also realizing more and more how I appreciate going to see private collections instead of museums - I don't always like having an exhibition thesis shoved down my throat. And I don't know if I could survive if I spent the rest (wrest) of my life brainstorming and creating such theses.
So, teaching is the plan. Whether that involves a Ph.D. in the future, I'm not sure. Maybe I'll try A.P. Art History (I could be the next Mother Wood!) or a junior college for a while. Or maybe I just won't be able to resist the call of academia...
Anyhow, I want to announce here that I've decided to make a career change. This seems to be one of the most scary types of career change, because I actually haven't started any type of career yet at all (I would recommend graduate school to anyone who doesn't want to start a "real job"yet).
I've been thinking a lot about careers lately, especially since I'm starting my last year of graduate school now. I somehow thought that everything would work itself out when I prepared to graduate with my M.A. - I would suddenly know exactly what I wanted to do with art history, I would know if I wanted to start a family or work for a while, and I would know where J and I are going to move.
But no.
In some ways, I feel more confused now then when I started my degree. I realized that there is a lot of bad Brazilian art in the world (excluding my thesis topic, of course), and that I really wouldn't want to specialize in that (if I ever did get a Ph.D., which I still am not sure about). I don't know when I want to start having children. I don't know where we are going to move after graduation (I feel so anti-NYC after living in Bed-Stuy this summer). And, I don't know if I want to work in a museum anymore.
All that I do know is this: I want to teach.
After teaching 111 this spring, I really realized how passionate I am about teaching. I have always hoped to do something with teaching after graduating, but I always kept stringing the idea of museum work along too. However, I really feel like teaching is my passion. I love getting people excited about art history. I love explaining and verbalizing my own passion for art and why it is such a beautiful, visual representation of the past. I love converting students to the glory and drama of Caravaggio. I love showing people how they can make their own interpretations and conclusions regarding works of art. I love enunciating the most perfect (and sometimes ridiculous) adjectives to describe exactly how a work of art makes me feel. It's so rewarding and fulfilling.
After this realization, working in a museum doesn't seem quite right for me. Even my initial idea of curating and teaching part-time is not as appealing as it used to be. I've been interested in museum work because of the research that is involved, but I don't know if everything else would be fulfilling. Plus, I'm also realizing more and more how I appreciate going to see private collections instead of museums - I don't always like having an exhibition thesis shoved down my throat. And I don't know if I could survive if I spent the rest (wrest) of my life brainstorming and creating such theses.
So, teaching is the plan. Whether that involves a Ph.D. in the future, I'm not sure. Maybe I'll try A.P. Art History (I could be the next Mother Wood!) or a junior college for a while. Or maybe I just won't be able to resist the call of academia...
Friday, August 10, 2007
crime, punishment, and murderers
All of my close friends know that I am really interested in murders. It's not the gory aspects of murder that I like, but rather a more detached, intellectual, psychological aspect that fascinates me. How can a person get so detached from life and humanity that they are able to actually take the life from another human being? It boggles my mind to see the psychological deterioration of some murderers - and it's even more boggling when the people appear to be actually sane.
Such was my experience when reading "Crime and Punishment" this summer. It was fascinating to see the psychological workings of not only the protagonist, Raskolnikov, but also of Dostoevsky himself! irst of all, it is interesting to see how Raskilnikov truly believes that he is justified in murdering the old pawn broker with an axe - nay, he feels as if he has actually done a good deed by killing the old woman!
And...the crazy thing is...Dostoevsky writes in a way that the reader can actually sympathize and understand where Raskilnikov is coming from! It's such a strange psychological twist of events. You hardly seem to know if you should detest the murderer or give him a big hug (and obviously, Sonia doesn't know how to treat him either).
I loved the reoccuring theme of death in the novel, and how death was treated differently each time. For example, you first have the murder of the old woman, which is presented in a cold, heartless, unattached manner. Then you have Marmeladov, the drunkard who gets run over by a carriage. We witness his scene on his deathbed, with people crying and candles burning. We also read the death of a madwoman, Katerina Marmeladov, who dies of consumption with her "certificate of honor" by her side. Svidrigailov (who also was suspected of multiple murders) commits suicide after Dunya tells him that she can never love him. Each death is treated differently, and each death appears to have more meaning and substance because of the different identifications that the reader has with the character.
I found the book to be fascinating. And I loved the ending.
Such was my experience when reading "Crime and Punishment" this summer. It was fascinating to see the psychological workings of not only the protagonist, Raskolnikov, but also of Dostoevsky himself! irst of all, it is interesting to see how Raskilnikov truly believes that he is justified in murdering the old pawn broker with an axe - nay, he feels as if he has actually done a good deed by killing the old woman!
And...the crazy thing is...Dostoevsky writes in a way that the reader can actually sympathize and understand where Raskilnikov is coming from! It's such a strange psychological twist of events. You hardly seem to know if you should detest the murderer or give him a big hug (and obviously, Sonia doesn't know how to treat him either).
I loved the reoccuring theme of death in the novel, and how death was treated differently each time. For example, you first have the murder of the old woman, which is presented in a cold, heartless, unattached manner. Then you have Marmeladov, the drunkard who gets run over by a carriage. We witness his scene on his deathbed, with people crying and candles burning. We also read the death of a madwoman, Katerina Marmeladov, who dies of consumption with her "certificate of honor" by her side. Svidrigailov (who also was suspected of multiple murders) commits suicide after Dunya tells him that she can never love him. Each death is treated differently, and each death appears to have more meaning and substance because of the different identifications that the reader has with the character.
I found the book to be fascinating. And I loved the ending.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
things that have been done in New York
I have decided to record thus far the things that J and I have done in New York (in no particular order). I suppose this is more for my sake than anyone else's, but perhaps people will find it interesting:
1 - Went to the Met (saw Egyptian, Greek, Etruscan, Roman, Byzantine, Medieval and European Pre-Renaissance)
2 - Went to the Whitney (Psychedelic Art of the 60's exhibition)
3 - Went to the Met (again because Baroque - Modern art was closed the first time we went)). We avoided the American art section like the plague.
4 - Won front row seats for a performance of "Wicked"
5 - Read "Uncle Tom's Cabin" (M)
6 - Read "Pamela" (M)
7 - Discovered the entrails of the New York Public Library and learned about the inadequacy of the 17 year old workers that pull books for patrons (M)
8 - Planned to go to The Cloisters (branch of the Met) multiple times, but always got distracted
9 - Worked on free lance design projects for Andrew Maxfield (J)
10 - Grew a beard (J - obviously)
11 - Visited a really amazing rock 'n roll photo gallery with pics of Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, Beatles, etc.
12 - Ate the worst food in the world at a cheap diner (you really "get what you pay for" in NY)
13 - Ate lunch in Central Park
14 - Watched the NY Philharmonic play a free concert in Prospect Park (Brooklyn)
15 - Watched the NY Philharmonic play a free concert in Central Park
16 - Went to the Brooklyn Art Museum (where Judy Chicago's "Dinner Party" is found, as well as a LUCE Foundation Center)
17 - Went to the MOMA (Richard Serra exhibition and permanent collection)
18 - Went to Guggenheim Museum
19 - Ate dinner at N's and SJ's. Twice.
20 - Saw "Ratatouille" in an old, vintage movie theatre
21 - Visited Times Square and didn't like it (too many people)
22 - Shopped (M shopped while J waited)
23 - Took a ferry to Statton Island (and passed the Statue of Liberty on the way)
24- Worked as a receptionist for Bank of America's corporate offices (M)
25 - Watched 4th of July fireworks on the roof of Keenan and Koseli's apartment
26 - Received a visit in our studio aparment from a cuccaracha.
27 - Stubbed/ripped up big toe on sharp Brooklyn concrete (M)
Those are all of the things I can think of at present. As you can see, we've been rather busy.
1 - Went to the Met (saw Egyptian, Greek, Etruscan, Roman, Byzantine, Medieval and European Pre-Renaissance)
2 - Went to the Whitney (Psychedelic Art of the 60's exhibition)
3 - Went to the Met (again because Baroque - Modern art was closed the first time we went)). We avoided the American art section like the plague.
4 - Won front row seats for a performance of "Wicked"
5 - Read "Uncle Tom's Cabin" (M)
6 - Read "Pamela" (M)
7 - Discovered the entrails of the New York Public Library and learned about the inadequacy of the 17 year old workers that pull books for patrons (M)
8 - Planned to go to The Cloisters (branch of the Met) multiple times, but always got distracted
9 - Worked on free lance design projects for Andrew Maxfield (J)
10 - Grew a beard (J - obviously)
11 - Visited a really amazing rock 'n roll photo gallery with pics of Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, Beatles, etc.
12 - Ate the worst food in the world at a cheap diner (you really "get what you pay for" in NY)
13 - Ate lunch in Central Park
14 - Watched the NY Philharmonic play a free concert in Prospect Park (Brooklyn)
15 - Watched the NY Philharmonic play a free concert in Central Park
16 - Went to the Brooklyn Art Museum (where Judy Chicago's "Dinner Party" is found, as well as a LUCE Foundation Center)
17 - Went to the MOMA (Richard Serra exhibition and permanent collection)
18 - Went to Guggenheim Museum
19 - Ate dinner at N's and SJ's. Twice.
20 - Saw "Ratatouille" in an old, vintage movie theatre
21 - Visited Times Square and didn't like it (too many people)
22 - Shopped (M shopped while J waited)
23 - Took a ferry to Statton Island (and passed the Statue of Liberty on the way)
24- Worked as a receptionist for Bank of America's corporate offices (M)
25 - Watched 4th of July fireworks on the roof of Keenan and Koseli's apartment
26 - Received a visit in our studio aparment from a cuccaracha.
27 - Stubbed/ripped up big toe on sharp Brooklyn concrete (M)
Those are all of the things I can think of at present. As you can see, we've been rather busy.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
subway platform doldrums
I have decided that the subway platforms are the doldrums. At least, they will probably be the closest thing to doldrums that I will ever experience, since I don’t plan on living a sea faring life or finding doldrums simulacra at Disneyland in my lifetime (despite how successful Pirates of the
The smell of the subway platform always seems the same as well. I can’t quite make it out – it's body odor without the odor. Just body. Humid body.
But it isn’t just the smell of the air, it’s the air itself that contributes to the platform doldrums. The air doesn’t move. It’s rather phenomenal – you can try and fan yourself desperately with your hand, and you still won’t feel a thing. J and I tried it last night. Maybe there is some molecular change in the air when it gets to over 120 degrees underground (that’s another thing, it is always hot on the platform too); the air suddenly becomes physically heavier and sluggish, deciding to resist any type of movement whatsoever. If there was such a thing as “couch potato air,” this would be it.
And then…the train arrives. Oh wait, it’s the train for the other side of the platform. This is the moment where the air begins to stir slightly, as the train whisks by, but wait…it’s gone. Doldrums again. Stasis.
When your train finally does arrive, and the car doors swing open, it is as if fresh life has once again come. My lungs always crave the cool, air conditioned air that bursts out of the subway doors. My sails fill, and all of the sudden I can move again. Everyone else begins to move too. “Everyone” includes all of miniskirt clad women who immediately spring into action, trying to avoid the skirt-effect that Marilyn Monroe had with sweeping subway air in The Seven Year Itch.
As I step onto the train, I often have been thinking of
Friday, July 6, 2007
anonymity
I decided today that I would start a blog. Reading Z's blog has made me really think about all of the interesting things that I have to say. At least, I think that they are interesting. Maybe someone else would think the things I have to say are boring/strange/silly. And maybe they are.
I think that I will like the somewhat anonymity of writing on a blog.
Actually, ever since arriving in NYC, I've been thinking a lot about anonymity. There is a certain amount of responsibility that is revoked (or perhaps never was extant?) by being in a large crowd. Somehow, as an anonymous member of a crowd, people act like they can do whatever they want. Especially litter. I think it's really phenomenal that people escape the responsibility of throwing things away when there are 10+ people around (even if a trash can is two feet away). It boggles my mind.
However, I can't help but admit that the other day I prided myself on becoming a New Yorker, reveling in anonymity in my own little way. I was actually able to use a bathroom facility with someone else in a nearby stall - which I have to admit, is often hard for me to do. I hate having to hide in the stall, sitting and waiting for the stranger to wash their hands and exit. It's especially tedious if the woman stops to fix her makeup in the mirror before leaving. Anyhow, the other day, in the NYPL, I just didn't care. I knew that the person would never see me again and honestly, it doesn't really matter.
So, I guess I have experienced some freedom through anonymity here in NYC too, in a strange and silly way.
I think that I will like the somewhat anonymity of writing on a blog.
Actually, ever since arriving in NYC, I've been thinking a lot about anonymity. There is a certain amount of responsibility that is revoked (or perhaps never was extant?) by being in a large crowd. Somehow, as an anonymous member of a crowd, people act like they can do whatever they want. Especially litter. I think it's really phenomenal that people escape the responsibility of throwing things away when there are 10+ people around (even if a trash can is two feet away). It boggles my mind.
However, I can't help but admit that the other day I prided myself on becoming a New Yorker, reveling in anonymity in my own little way. I was actually able to use a bathroom facility with someone else in a nearby stall - which I have to admit, is often hard for me to do. I hate having to hide in the stall, sitting and waiting for the stranger to wash their hands and exit. It's especially tedious if the woman stops to fix her makeup in the mirror before leaving. Anyhow, the other day, in the NYPL, I just didn't care. I knew that the person would never see me again and honestly, it doesn't really matter.
So, I guess I have experienced some freedom through anonymity here in NYC too, in a strange and silly way.
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