Now that I'm up...

...and cranky...

...I'm going to ramble.

First of all, this needs to stop. It's not even funny anymore.

You know what is funny, though? This.

Anyway, moving on: I'm going to overanalyze the canvasser, or at least incorporate his intrusion onto my afternoon into my ongoing rant against roommate-- who has gotten better, so this is essentially academic.

Just like I didn't hold it against RM for trying to make conversation--but did wonder how someone at his age/stage of career could be so socially stupid--I don't hold it against canvasser for waking me up. Who naps in the afternoon, anyway? I was up late last night; I don't sleep past 6am; and I had a brunch to go to, okay? But I made it pretty plain that I wanted to return to my napping state and was in no mood to talk politics, so I have to wonder why he thought that, given my predisposition at that moment, I would be receptive to anything he said.

Am I giving people too much credit, or am I being too hard on them, or am I asking too much? I don't think so, but I have to wonder, especially after my fellow brunchgoers turned on me.

Here's what happened: Marisa and Beth invoked their crazy, stalkerish roommate, and I recalled Tasha and Marcela's crazy, litigous roommate, and I made a comment about whether after this lease runs out whether I should rethink this whole roommate concept. I was asked about the roommate, and I credit it to my even-handedness in the telling that all of the sudden people were taking his side. Comments ranged from 'he's probably lonely' to 'it's because you own the house and don't want to share.' My response to the first was unspoken: I don't care why he was doing it; to the second, I protested: "No, no, no, no. I've had a roommate for the last ten years. This isn't about sharing space."

It's not that I'm unwilling to question the reasonableness of my position; it's that, they're wrong. Really.

There was also some of that annoying unsolicited advice ("well, talk about it"). I'm dealing with the situation. I'm just telling you about it, since you asked.

Yes, I know that in the scheme of roommate offenses-- from stalking, suing, stealing, noise, filth, etc.--being unrelentlessly social is hardly something to complain about. In fact, you'll notice that I've (a) dealt with it; and (b) traded complaining about it for social-commenting on it. Nonetheless, I don't think it's fair to make me out to be the bitch in this situation for wanting some time to myself.

Perhaps I'm also undisposed to taking seriously housing advice from people who can afford their homes because they have a second income, as well as family support. If I were those people, I would shut the f* up. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go take out my compost.

go away

Well, if there was any possibility that I was going to vote for Terry McAuliffe before, it's gone now. I lied, Mr. Canvasser-- it's not okay that you woke me from my nap, and it's even less okay that you're still standing there talking to me.

Happy beautiful Saturday

While I’m not going to my Smith reunion next weekend, the last few days have been an MSFS reunion of sorts, with the memorial on Thursday, my birthday-inspired gathering last night, and a baby celebration this morning. Being back in the MSFS lounge on Thursday was like coming home, even though we were there to mourn the passing of a colleague. I didn’t know Paula well, as she was deployed for parts of the academic year, but her vibrant personality, intelligence and charm did shine through whenever she was around, and hearing her family, friends and colleagues share stories of her commitment, innovativeness and overall kindheartedness was poignant and inspiring. That, along with being back, reminded me how amazing those two years were and what awe-inspiring work people are doing.

***
I’m really enjoying the house and garden, as barebones as the latter is right now. I’m enjoying the yardwork, the transplanting. Right now, I’m enjoying sitting out back and listening to the birds, and watching Gracie lazily and haphazardly paw at a spider dangling down from the doorframe. The weather is perfect. Inside, earlier this morning, the dining looked perfect, with rosemary and lemons and roses on the table infusing color and aroma all over the house. Even the living room looks great, if only for now, because before the gathering I ensured that the coffee tables weren’t awash in magazines.

Saturday morning roundup

This Times piece on Somali piracy is less informative and insightful than what you'll find in other places, including elsewhere in the Times, but a few priceless turns of phrase make it worth the read. For those interested, Foreign Policy--the magazine as well as the blog-- has provided excellent coverage.

***
This guy's going to be on the Daily Show this Wednesday.

***
The ACLU is one of those bizarre phenomena that I feel like I disagree with 90 percent of the time it's in the news, even though in theory I'm glad it's there.

Phone call

Last night

Mom: V.!
A.: Mom, could you PLEASE not scream into the phone??
Mom: People have been calling me all day on your behalf. Well, on my behalf. Natasha came by yesterday, I gave her some flowers to transplant. It was challenging to dig them up-- perhaps they knew I was mad at her.
A.: Why were you mad at her?
Mom: Because of Obama.
A.: You're not mad at me?
Mom: You're different. You didn't live through what we lived through; she did. We know all too well how these well-spoken people turn around and destroy the country.
A.: I'm not following your logic: being articulate is not a predictor of country-destroying tendencies, although I'll grant you they have co-occurred. But look at Bush: he destroyed the country and could barely put two sentences together.
Mom: You'll see.
A.: No, you'll see.
Mom: So, you're celebrating tomorrow?
A.: Yeah, low-key. Pretty much an extension of the girls' night we used to do.
Mom: What are you making?

I tell her.

Mom: No, no, no. You should make mushrooms!
A.: I like to stick with finger food.
Mom: Well, you should at least...
A.: I'm not taking suggestions at this point, mom.

In memory

We attended a memorial for Paula Loyd today. She was an amazing person.

A selection of posts

A Few Classics. Actually, all of October 2007 is pretty good.

Mom and dad's first visit to the new house

Name Calling

Testing the Phone

Why Why Why

Not sexy

That high-tech body wash apparatus

Bedtime

haircut

Mom's Birthday

Have you applied to Google?

Roommate update/sociology

He is now less annoying by an order of magnitude, which leaves me more amused than annoyed. For example, had he talked through the entire episode of 'How I Met Your Mother' that ran on my laptop, it would have been annoying. What he did instead was just funny, in a 'who are you and where do you get this $hit' (rhetorical question) kind of way.

The episode, which, by the way, is worthwhile for some of the charts, is titled 'right place, right time,' because that's the theme. Particularly, how small events and circumstances lead you places and times that determine bigger events in your life. Bob Sagat narrated as much when roommate decided to enlighten me with, "That's Hinduism. It's philosophy."

It is a lot of things. It is hardly a novel concept, nor one left unexplored by the entertainment industry. What it is, in this instant, is an episode of 'How I Met Your Mother.' But I appreciate your attempt to turn it into a teachable moment.

***
Last night I mentioned that the behavior has changed for the better, but the paradigm has not: he still fails to either understand or respect that prolonged social interaction is the last thing I want when I'm unwinding after work, which can take the form of watching tv, reading, or doing a crossword, among other things. Very occasionally, I'm up for interacting with another human, in which case I will make arrangements with a friend, i.e. someone that I have let into my life upon determining that I like his or her company, rather than someone to whom I have let a room in my house because I deemed him capable of paying rent and otherwise suitable as a housemate. But most of the time, I prefer the company of my laptop (and the television that streams through it), my newspapers, and my magazines. Really. I am not just telling myself that to make myself feel better. And I haven't just told him that to depersonalize my lack of willingness to interact with him--he's an interesting person, and gradually, I'd like to hear about his life. But I'm less willing to do so if I don't think I can escape from the conversation.

But I digress. I was telling you that I am hardly starved for human interaction. Observing as much is not social rocket science. Then, from whence this:

RM: Do you have plans for the weekend?
A.: Well, I'm having that girls' night on Friday...
RM: Oh, that's good. At least you'll have some company for that one night.

He impresses me, again, with his obtuseness (but he does cease and desist from further conversation, which is what matters). Just like answering his questions with monotonous, one-word responses while keeping my reading material planted in front of my face does not communicate, 'please keep talking to me,' my lifestyle over the last few weeks doesn't exactly communicate either, 'I go crazy when I'm alone for an evening' or, 'finding companionship is a struggle.' I'm actually quite happy with the balance of people time and 'me' time in my life (particularly upon the restoration of that balance now that he has backed off). I think one reason that he fascinates me (although not enough for me to want to talk to him most of the time) is that he reminds me of my mother in many ways: the obliviousness to social cues, the delusion that you can overcome another person's hesitation (whether to engage in conversation, apply to google, etc.) by brute persistence, and now, the failure to overcome the perspective that everyone else shares your preferences and wishes. It's particularly stark since he's figured out that I'm an introvert... and he knows what that means, in his head. But that knowledge can't overcome his bias that, in spite of everything he's observed about me, I must feel the same way he does about company.

With that, I am quite happy to stop blogging about my roommate, who will take off tomorrow morning and return not until Sunday. I'll accept the lack of opportunity for personality analysis in exchange for the lack of company.

C'mon, people!

This is a no-brainer if there ever was one. Seriously.

BTW, Monday night's Daily Show's coverage of this issue was great-- good episode overall.

***
Speaking of no-brains...

I've found heaven...

The two attention whores in residence are entertaining each other, i.e. leaving me alone. Who could ask for more?

Maybe I've become unfair. The truth is, when someone really gets to you early on, even the innocent things become circumspect. I'm sure Kevin asked me how my day was, all the time, and I'm sure I answered and asked about his day. Mind you, he didn't ask while I was watching TV, and it's not that Kevin and I never had substantive conversations-- we did, and they came about naturally. A lot of roommate conversations are-- as a former colleague once said about office conversations, in the context of one colleague not understanding the concept--"drive-by." Ya have a quick exchange of words and move on, especially if the other person doesn't stop what he or she is doing.

By the way, I was talking with my former project manager and assistant director the other day, and she was talking about how tedious a particular part of the process she worked on had been. In response, I said, "You won't believe it-- my roommate asked me for a detailed description of what I did at work!"

They both burst out laughing. Hysterically. Because they know that a detailed description of what we do at work is akin to an enhanced interrogation method. You bust that out on someone and next thing you know, some fourth grader will take you to task for betraying the Constitution.

But I digress. My whole point is, he's getting better. He's still in my face a little bit, but he's taking the hints a lot faster, which is progress.

Tuesday morning roundup

This is AWESOME:

Four months later, here is Mr. LaHood, smiling broadly in his sprawling office, sipping a “healthy” Frappuccino lunch (“healthy because it will keep me awake this afternoon”). Behind his desk hangs a photograph of Mr. Obama adjusting Mr. LaHood’s neckwear (inscribed: “This isn’t the House, straighten your tie”).

BTW, this profile of Peter Orszag from the New Yorker is well worth a read, and funny, too.

***
I don't agree with Douthat's assessment of Specter or the Senators from Maine, but since I've apparently started a series on the irrelevance of political labels, it would be only right to include the above piece.

I will not post, as I myself have grown tired of its fruits, the proliferating body of work on the demise of the Republican party, unless I see something original or particularly insightful.

***
How folk music has to keep on keepin' it real (pun kind of intended, then reconsidered when I saw that it didn't quite work, but then I kept it because it's time to go to work).

Tuesday morning rambles

I've been meaning to tell you for a while that I received more comments--online and in person-- on the post about crazy electrical bills than about anything else on this blog. Some of them ignored my disclaimer, which was something like, 'unless you have the poor judgment of having electrical heating in your home,' in which case it makes sense that your electrical bill would be exorbitant. I will concede that I did not know that in rural areas, it is often a case of lack of options, rather than poor options. I just remembered to address this, because I got my gas bill for April. It was $23.

***
No intervention as of yet. He's either seen the light, in a delayed reaction, or was too busy to bug me.

***
Gracie is officially the spawn of Satan. She's twice now broken my laptop. The first repair, about a year ago, cost me $200. This latest issue I may just choose to live with-- my laptop doesn't know when it's being put to nap and when it's being awoken. What happened was, the night I returned from Ecuador, I fell asleep with it on my bed (editing almost a thousand photos does that to me). That little rat broke into my room and decided, with that head on which she must have been dropped as a kitten (or, rather, baby rat) that it would be a good idea to jump up right next to my pillow. She scared the crap out of me and interrupted the first night of good sleep I was hoping to get after a week of partying, and, startled, I pushed my laptop such as the power cord fell out. The laptop itself may or may not have fallen; I think it did, a little, but I don't remember. It hasn't been the same ever since, and it's really annoying. You know, you rescue a cat, put up with her BS, and all she does is break expensive things and poop on your floor. Good practice for having kids, I guess.

***
Yes, I've had coffee this morning, and this is what happens when I drink coffee.

it's a small town after all

Contest: Check out this photo and write your own caption.

***
This guy, part of the Times' series of CEO interviews, so speaks to me:

Well, I get up very early and I get to work early. I get up at 4:30 every morning. I like the quiet time. It’s a time I can recharge my batteries a bit. I exercise and I clear my head and I catch up on the world. I read papers. I look at e-mail. I surf the Web. I watch a little TV, all at the same time. I call it my quiet time but I’m already multitasking. I love listening to music, so I’ll do that in the morning, too, when I’m exercising and watching the news.

And not only because my quiet time came under threat recently. It's gotten a little bit better: he gives up more easily, stops talking sooner, but I'm still doing too much work. I need him to start picking up cues faster, and also to stop pouting when I ignore him. So we're going to have another intervention this evening. I think I was too tactful (I know, I bet you didn't think that was possible) in emphasizing the whole it's-not-you-it's-me angle and talking about how I was often tired, because tired isn't always the issue: even when I'm not tired, I just need me time. So it's better that he's slightly less persistent, but I need a paradigm shift on his part, where the default isn't turning to me for conversation. And I need to stop being nice/doing the socially acceptable thing. It's a liability in these situations. Take last night:

RM: I was just thinking, as I typed this last paragraph, it would be great if I could have this conversation with A., this conversation that I just had with the computer.

Pause

RM: I was just thinking that. That it would be great to have this conversation with A.

Awkward silence.

A., resolved: [Sigh.] What conversation is that?

RM: Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah about some philosophical BS.

Five minutes or so into the 'blah, blah, blah' (more of a monologue than I conversation, I'd say):

RM: I'm talking too much.
A.: Yes.
RM: You're not really interested in this.
A.: No.

I'm interested in the intense and fascinating article by Philip Gourevitch about Rwanda after the Genocide. If you want me to care about what you're saying, meet me halfway and don't interrupt me in the middle of something to say it. Is that social rocket science?

I am, again, planning on doing this intervention right. I am not going to say, tempting as it is, "clearly, you didn't hear me last week when I said I cherished my personal time and wasn't much of a conversation partner in my downtime," etc. I'll let you know what happens.

***
You've heard me cite Elisabeth's apt turn of phrase about where one lives; it came about five years ago when I was about to start my first job out of grad school, which would be a non-negligible distance from DC, and mom and friends advised me to move closer to it. 'If you like DC so much,' they said, 'go there on weekends.' I relayed these words of non-wisdom to Elisabeth, who articulated my sentiments brilliantly: 'where you live isn't about where you go on weekends; it's about who you run into when you pick up your dry cleaning.' Now, I did not convey this directly to mom, who would have said something like, 'how often do you take things to be dry cleaned' and probably would have asked how much it cost.

Five years later, mom still hasn't come to recognize that I have a better idea of where I want to live than she does (see March visit, during which she questioned me about why I didn't buy in Huntley Meadows or Reston). Sometimes I lose sight of the issue, too, wondering why I pay so much to live where I do. Last night, I was feeling stir crazy and it had stopped raining, and it occured to me that I could go for a walk. It was like an epiphany: dumbass, you live in Old Town so you can get up and go for a walk without driving anywhere. You even have a choice of nature trail or city. So I walked down to the river, and the hazy sunset was beautiful. Even that eyesore of an Air Force Base across the river didn't mar the view. I could see the Capitol building glowing in the distance, too.

I walked by the river and turned to return home, when I thought I'd go to Trader Joe's for bananas. I need some to be soft by Friday, when I'll make banana cake with coconut frosting. As I approached the store, I ran into Kevin, my former roommate. It was great to see him, in the plainest sense, and also because it reminded me that I live in a small town, in a way, where I run into people as I proverbially drop off my dry cleaning.

Food for thought (no pun, really)

Naomi Wolf makes some interesting points.

Also interesting, deliberations of the last White House.

Sunday morning roundup

Frank Rich's brilliant-as-usual analysis of the current political landscape.

Maureen Dowd rehashes, but in her own, effective way. It's worth a read.

Elections

Dispatches from India , South Africa and Indonesia.

Compare and Contrast on a lighter topic

I often find trend stories in the Post days or weeks after something similar has appeared in the Times. Occasionally, it's the other way around. Sometimes it even happens with more substantive topics, but both papers are usually on top of those, so I see it more with lighter pieces (the food bloggers of both papers discovered ramps within days of one another, but the Post trailed the Times for weeks with instructions on making one's own yogurt).

What's interesting about the two papers' commentaries on the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art's annual spring exhibition on fashion (I can't say reviews, since the exhibition opens this week) isn't the timing but the entirely different perspectives. The one in the Times is interesting, but it takes fashion at face value, while Robin Givhan, who is known for infusing fashion writing with social commentary, doesn't disappoint.

By the way, in case you're of the mind to make your own yogurt, or are asking yourself 'what the f* are ramps,' I won't leave you wondering.

The Post's yogurt instructions

The Times' yogurt instructions


Bitten loves ramps

A Mighty Appetite loves ramps

Live and let live

One of the things that worked well yesterday when I broke, as Martha puts it, the 'present but not available' concept to my roommate, is that I didn't try to fix him. Sure, it strikes me that at his age, point in his career, etc., it would behoove one to recognize unambiguous social cues, but I am not his wife or his boss (he has one of each), and his personality is not for me to critique. I never liked it when my boss tried to assess and advise on my personality, and I don't like it when my mother does it. I kept my comments behavior-, rather than personality-oriented. He's a good guy, and I wasn't being nice when I said everything else was going well: he cleans, he's considerate, and he helps out with other stuff around the house even though I've made it clear that I don't expect him to. Why am I so proud of mastering this basic principle of conflict resolution? Because growing up, I only observed the opposite approach. Actually, that's not true; my dad exhibited more constructive, if sarcastic, behavioral skills, but they were drowned out, really, by mom's example. And mom's example was, to some extent still is, taking any behavior and turning it into a personality lecture. Which, as I've mentioned, is counterproductive as well as aggressive. This is how my parents might have handled a hypothetical situation:

Mom: YOU LEFT A WET TOWEL ON YOUR BED! YOU ALWAYS TAKE SHORTCUTS! YOU ARE SUCH A SLOB!

Dad: Might there be a better place for that wet towel than on your bed?

Which approach do you think was more likely to achieve the desired result? Mind you, if I were a smarta$$, I could have said, 'nope, my bed makes a great wet towel repository,' but even if I had, I would have gotten the point. Nothing about mom's strategy would have changed my behavior, because I would have focused on the insult.

Coming full circle to the roommate, maybe he thinks I should be flattered that he's trying to analyze my personality by asking me a bunch of questions, while maybe based on my experience with my mother, I don't appreciate anyone's trying to tell me about my personality. It's just a very different way of interacting with people, his is, that strikes me as ineffective; I'm not uninterested in people, and I think Myers-Briggs, etc., have their place (maybe) in large-scale operations like staffing people together, but I don't see the point in trying to understand one person by pigeonholing them to a four-point identity for which most people are in the middle anyway. If you want to get to know someone, pry less and observe more. But this is advice I won't be shelling out, first of all because I'm not interested in getting better known, and second because who am I to try to change someone who's happy the way he is?

Creativity

But will it work?

gotta hand it to dave brooks...

...for writing this article without mentioning Malcolm Gladwell.