Monday evening roundup

I'm not usually one for schadenfreude, but I can't help but smirk.

It's an extra-special week on the Colbert Report and for Newsweek.

Speaking of which, it never hurts to listen to what Fareed Zakaria has to say.

I'll tell my mother it's the food industry's fault.

As someone who's been stung by a jellyfish, my philosophy is, make food out of the little bastards.

Monday morning roundup

I don't think highly of politicians as a species, but I did truly think more of this one.

Can anyone meaningfully argue that these people aren't out of their minds? Just one example:

When blocking clinic entrances became a federal crime in 1994, some tried pointing out Dr. Tiller’s employees outside their favorite restaurants and churches. They also searched his workers’ trash for information, and appeared at his home and church.

What if they channeled all that energy into pregnancy prevention education?

RM update

He's getting pushier, and I'm more and more determined to draw the line.

My mistake was being too mindful of his feelings early on, emphasizing that it wasn't personal, but it is inherently personal: there are people I want to spend time with, and he's not one of them.

Some time last week, he said, kind of offhand, "you know, I see you as a sister." I thought about what to say to this. He continued, "As a friend, you know." I didn't want to flat out say, I am not your friend, so I thought, in which time, he left. Later, he was downstairs, upset. I refused to feel guilty: he's not going to push me into a corner, and then make me feel bad about pushing back. For me, friendship is something that develops over time. You can't make it so by declaring it.

On Friday, he said, "Thank you for sharing your house with me. Hopefully one day I'll be able to reciprocate." It would have been the perfect opportunity to say, "I'm not sharing with you, I'm renting to you." But I didn't think fast enough.

So today, he gets back from his trip. I'm in the kitchen, hands dirty. I go and take the trash out--oh, and did you know that there is art in my alley way? An artist from Richmond drove by once and thought it was so beautiful that he came back to paint it. But I digress. I return, and he's standing there, with open arms. I walk right by.

He brings out a box. The week before, he'd asked me when my birthday was; I'd said early May, relieved that it was a safe distance past, that he wouldn't feel the need to do anything about it. But I was wrong. He got me a birthday gift. I was uneasy. I opened it, thanked him for it, really, truly wished he hadn't. Walked to the market, walked back, and returned the box to him, said that I was really sorry and appreciated the thought, but it was too much and I didn't feel comfortable taking it. But it's just a small gesture, he said. But it didn't feel right, I countered. Well, in that case, he understood, and apologized for making me feel uncomfortable. Later, he came back downstairs, said that the friendship he feels for me is real, is genuine, and I said I understood, but didn't feel right accepting that kind of gift (a small set of pearl earrings) from him. He took it well.

Another mistake on my part was teaching to the test, if you will: I thought, okay, he's incapable of getting it, so I'm not going to try to make him understand; I'll just find workarounds. If he doesn't bother me, it's fine that he doesn't understand that we are not friends. And this is where that's gotten me. Hopefully, the rejection of the earrings will be a step in the right direction.

There's a great line from The Bourne Identity, toward the very end. I don't remember it exactly, but the gist is, "I don't pay you to kill-- I pay you to be invisible!" I've applied that in many ways to my work life (people who could do my job, i.e. technically perform the functions, are a dime a dozen; what really helps the people I work for is not having to handhold me). It's like the housecleaner that annoyed the crap out of me in November: there are plenty of people who could clean a ceiling fan; I was hoping to hire someone that wouldn't have to be specifically told to clean the ceiling fan, since it's part of the house and it's filthy. But I digress.

Where this is pertinent to RM is, I don't want a friend. I don't want gifts--both in the passive sense, and in that I actively do no want gifts. I want him to live in the house and be my roommate. I don't want human interaction that is anything beyond superficial. That's how Kevin and I lived together for over four years, and in spite of that, we actually became friends.

New Yorker's summer fiction issue...

...is f*ing amazing. Thankfully, Jonathan Franzen's story of class and family in a gentrifying neighborhood is still available to all who click.

Many a brilliant insight in Louis Menand's essay on whether creative writing can be taught.

David Grossman's essay on Bruno Schulz is excellent but requires registration. I particularly wanted to excerpt an interesting metaphor he thinks up, in which he invokes the life cycle of salmon to better understand Jewish experience.

Tia Obreht's short story is just plain excellent.

More from the Post

Michelle Singletary discusses "Busted," specifically with regard to the blogosphere's hatefest.

While my reaction to Date Lab is often some variation on "OMFG what a f*ing shallow, pathetic loser," this guy takes the cake.

Sunday morning roundup

Journalism in Russia isn't getting any safer. Dangerous, important work is an emerging theme: prosecutors are threatened, newspapers are cutting back on investigative reporting, and doctors are being murdered. Check out the apes protesting at the funeral in the second picture of the slideshow.

Thankfully, however, people are going to keep doing the right thing.

From a thoughtful article on health care reform, some scary statistics:
"A recent Weill Cornell Medical College study found that a third of the money received by primary care physicians pays for interactions between a doctor’s practice and patients’ health plans" and
"according to a study published online by the American Journal of Medicine, 60 percent of all bankruptcies in the United States in 2007 were driven by health care costs."

I wouldn't worry about the President's grasp of strategic ambiguity as a concept.

Intelligent conservative thinkers

It's the Crossfire effect: we've devolved into soundbite discourse, so the people on either side that express ideas that can't be simplified into twenty words or less just don't get as much attention. I don't *agree* with Dave Brooks about a lot of things, nor with his style, which entails much generalization and logical leaps, but at least he respects and functions at a level of discourse worthy of his readers. The Times' Conversation Blog is always a worthwhile and thought-provoking read.

Kathleen Parker's good, too.

I could probably come up with a handful of others, but not off the top of my head. I'm not implying they're not out there... I'm saying they're not getting heard.

Paris, continued

I've started reading Ruth Reichl's "Comfort Me with Apples," which Wendy gave me. I'll have to also check out her other book, called "Not Becoming My Mother," but I digress.

And I'll backtrack. I'm wondering whether what really starting this yearning, this nostalgia for Paris was reading Mark Bittman's dispatches, which I think started in April. Eating fresh food, shopping at farmers' markets. When I was in Paris, there was a farmers' market between my Metro stop and school building. I loved getting lost in it.

Ruth Reichl writes,

"My Paris was uncomfortable pensions on the outskirts of town, cheap meals that started with watery soup and ended with watery flan. It was always being cold. It was hours peering through the gloom of the badly lighted Louvre.

Colman's Paris was not mine.

I love how she articulated the concept that everyone has her own Paris-- her own everyplace, really. As for my Paris, I actually have several. There was the Paris of the six-week stint, full of classes, exploration, getting to know the neighborhoods, walking everywhere I could, anytime I could. Sitting at cafes with my friends, browsing in bookstores, reading Simone de Beauvoir and imagining her Paris. Pretty much every night after dinner, I'd go for a walk along the river. I love that city.

Then there was the Paris I kept passing through. Even though, after living there for those weeks, I was ready to move on, whenever I returned, I missed living there. There was also the insane World Cup 1998, which France one, and I was in the capital, watching it from the megatrons in a Square whose name I can't recall, which amazes me. I can still see it. I remember, after the game, moving with the crowd so as not to get trampled. The spectators were going wild; at one point, someone picked me up and sat me on their shoulders. Next thing I knew, I was back on my own feet, walking, looking at other people on other people's shoulders.

My last visit to Paris was in March, I think, of 2000. It wasn't really so much a visit as a stopover. Anne was driving down to Clermont from London, invited me to join her (I was living in Wales at the time). I think that's when I first read "Bridget Jones' Diary;" Anne loaned me her copy, I couldn't put it down. Afterward, I returned to London by train--and don't get me started about London--and changed trains, and train stations in Paris. I had barely enough time to go for a walk and still get to the Gare du Nord, and I knew I was pushing it but I just had to go for a walk by the river, and I did.

Then, London. I don't think I stayed overnight. I mean, I did, at Anne's, before the trip down, but when I got back, I headed straight to Victoria's Station and caught a bus to Cardiff. More buses, more stories for another time. London's another place that I made the most of whenever I passed through. Also a city of neighborhoods, a city you have to live in--which I never have, really--to fully appreciate. I love it, but I don't miss it as much as Paris.

Friday evening roundup

Politics.

Tragedy rendered even more human.

The link from the above article is broken, but check out the latest from Media Matters.

Mixed roundup

I try to remain grounded, unbiased, what have you, but think I'm in political love. This is unchartered territory for me. And it doesn't mean I agree with every policy.

As for the haters--and I can't find some of the sillier ones from the Post's discussion board yesterday, come on, people. Be serious. Be realistic. Get out of the mindset(s) that have kept us trapped for generations.

Is the conservative media defining the discourse?

There were also a bunch of articles in the Post about how liberal groups both have more influence and don't really know what to do with themselves now. Just check yesterday's paper if you care-- I don't really recommend any of the articles individually.

Roll your eyes at this.

But carry this handy cheatsheet with you to the fishmonger's.

Oh, and this article so speaks to me. I was determined to buy a house I actually wanted to live in, and make it livable for me.

More being helpful when it isn't helpful

I'm just not mean enough to keep slamming RM when he's trying to help.

I came downstairs yesterday for a break and wanted to clean the kitchen counters... but he'd already cleaned them. Who knows with what-- does he know where the cleaner is, or did he just make them dirtier by using a sponge without anything on it? He'd washed my cast iron skillet... which doesn't need to be washed, and when it is washed, certainly shouldn't be left around with water in it. I'd gone upstairs, earlier, because he was still doing stuff in the kitchen, not because I wasn't going to clean up after myself. I really wish he'd just left everything.

And it's not helpful to handwash things that can go in the dishwasher: handwashing uses more water and energy, and delays when I run the dishwasher.

I just wish he'd stop. Why can't he just take the hint and STOP? Of course, since I'm not going to yell at him for trying to help, he's going to take it as encouragement. I continue to struggle to process just how unable he is to stop overdoing it.

But he's left for the weekend, which makes up for it all.

***
When he came in, we had the following conversation:

RM: I was going to surprise you today.
A., not out loud: [Oh, no.]
A.: Surprise me?
RM: I was going to come home in my whites. You've never seen me in my whites...
A., not out loud: [Yes but I really don't care! Why can't you understand that I DON'T CARE!]
RM: ...but we were outside and it just started pouring, so I had to change.
A.: [Shrug].

East

I'm truly amazed at the extent to which the Chinese government thinks that not talking about it is going to make it go away.

Resource curse, anyone?

Yep, past the point where I can appreciate kind gestures

I got in seconds before it started to pour, so I decided to cook for tomorrow's office potluck first, and then run out for the CSA pickup afterward. The latter mission accomplished, I parked and sat on my car to see if the next wave of pouring-down rain might let up. After a minute, I just got out and walked not that far to my front door. Which was then opened from the inside by RM.

A.: Thank you.
RM: I was going to run out to your car with an umbrella, but I thought you might not like that.
A.: Yes, that would have been unnecessary.
RM: Yes, I thought you'd think, I don't have a problem with a little bit of rain.
A.: Right.

Should I be happy that he's learning? Or annoyed that he's also slightly making fun of me?

A.: I don't know if you eat greens, but I have more than I can handle and that will keep before P.&A. get back and claim their share...
RM: What are greens?
[I show him one of the myriad varieties of greens from the coop]
RM: Oh, so, like salad.

Moron. I was about to say something, and then I thought it might be funny if he tried to make salad with the collard greens.

Wednesday evening roundup

If you think the British Parliament is an embarrassment, check out its European counterpart. I can't help but share this excerpt, regarding its creative outreach efforts:

For the election, the EU also hired music channel MTV International to run spots recorded by rockers. Says Andrew Fletcher, bass player for 1980s band Depeche Mode: "We're very popular in Europe, so what I'm a believer in is one Europe." The musicians never mention the Parliament.

When MTV executive Antonio Campo dall'Orto met with EU officials, they suggested he look at "Europe Is Bling," a 2007 online trivia game on the EU, hosted by "Mr. Bling," a bald white rapper with a goatee, sunglasses and earrings. "Me like Europe. Europe is bling. Bling!" he raps.

"We wanted somebody youth could relate to," says Ans Persoons, who directed the initiative. "So we picked an American rapper, but we wanted him to be European, so we hung a big gold euro sign around his neck."

On a more serious note, see if you can identify any recurring themes in these pieces.

I was heartened that the Economist took up my cause-- the right to introversion. They link to an excellent, more in-depth piece on the topic.

The Post carries on the same theme--from a different perspective--but it invokes the often forgotten concept of valuing solitude.

It doesn't work that way

I've told you about how reactions to my roommate situation have varied (I won't say "ranged," since it's one or the other, not a spectrum) from "what is your problem? he sounds great" to "I totally hear you." Thankfully, it's mostly the latter. Among the most appreciative of roommate encroachment is Martha, since she's gone through the same thing. She's caught onto the nuances, and is equally perplexed at his belief that somehow pushing the boundaries I've made a point of establishing is going to change things.

This goes back to what I was saying yesterday: obtuse people fascinate me. Don't you wonder whether that aggressive talker on the airplane (a) actually doesn't realize that you don't want to talk or (b) doesn't care? Does he or she think that once the conversation gets going, you'll realize how brilliant and interesting they are, and be thrilled that you decided to talk? Or does your willingness to participate in the conversation not matter at all?

And if it is the latter, i.e., they realize you're not interested, do they rationalize it away? People's ability to rationalize unbecoming behavior is also interesting. I mean, everyone rationalizes to some extent, but it's funny when people think that the imposed upon person is buying their rationalization. How does mom manage to wonder, given her remarkable lack of support, which borders on straight-up hostility, why I don't consult her about things or even tell her about them until she can't do any damage? Maybe it would have been nice to share my anxiety over my job search, or even house hunt, with her, in theory, but she behaves in a way that would make that a very bad idea on my part. Does she realize that? Nope, just hounds me about sharing more.

So this all reminds me of someone I vaguely dated many years ago (by vaguely dated, I mean, spent time with, usually in group settings, without having any conversations about dating, but with a tacit understanding that this was pre-dating, or reconnaissance dating, if you will). It never did progress to actual dating.

He didn't ever seem to want to understand what I wanted to do; he was always more interested in convincing me that I wanted something else. We were at a party at the apartment of mutual friends' and I wanted to move my car, because the snow was really starting to pile up. He came up with some elaborate scheme in which I could just metro back and he'd drive my car over the following day. I wanted none of that. He said, really, he didn't mind. I said, I mind. And so on.

One time, the day before a final exam, he called and asked if I wanted to go to a book fair up in Rockville. I said maybe for a very short time, and that I'd been thinking about going for a walk to clear my head. We agreed to go to the book fair, and then for a walk. We got to the book fair, and after forty-five minutes or so, I suggested we go. Just ten more minutes. Fifteen minutes went by. Just ten more minutes. An hour later, I was livid. I said I'd leave him there, at which point he started apologizing profusely, which just wastes more of one's time. And then he started to overcompensate by offering to go shopping at the adjacent supermarket so that he could help me carry my groceries.

Very parallel to the roommate situation: He didn’t seem to understand that one can’t make up for the one thing someone does want by being overly helpful with the things I don't actually need. No amount of household chores—even useful ones like the wall rack, but especially those with which I genuinely need no help—are going to make up for the fact that the roommate doesn't make a sincere effort at the one thing I ask of him, which is not infringe on my downtime. Now, he backs off, but he still puts the onus on me. And thinks that he can make up for it by being "helpful" around the house. But that's just not the way it work.

In other news...

I would love to come up with something more creative but all I can say about this is 'saints preserve us.'

It's almost cliche to talk about how the government's acronyms are out of control, but you've got to love this one:

"[T]he Federal Coordinating Council for Comparative Effectiveness Research, a 15-member council created under the recovery act that will (as the name suggests) coordinate research on the comparative effectiveness of medical treatments.

"Sounds like an OK idea to me," she [Jennifer Alicia Johnson] wrote. "But the acronym? Say it aloud with me, now. FCCCER.""

***
My visiting friends asked me a number of questions about Alexandria that I couldn't answer, so I got to doing some research. I started with sites that I knew did comparisons of cities.
Kiplinger actually has a tool into which you can plug in info in response to a handful of prompts, based on which it tells you what your ideal city would be. Mine? Des Moines. Now, I've been to Des Moines, and I have nothing against it, but it's not exactly the ideal city for me. It's all well and good that the tool asks what region you want to live in and what your profession is, as well as "How important is it to you to be living in a city with a large "creative class" of scientists, engineers, architects, educators, writers, and artists?" but then, it also asks "How important is living in a region with high average household incomes?" Really, Kiplinger? Why not ask me about things I *do* care about, like public transportation, bike paths, museums within a certain radius, air quality, etc., like CNN’s money page?

More confounding reactions to SCOTUS nomination

As caught by Richard Cohen, Bob Herbert, and the Post's editors, which brought my attention to this quote from Karl Rove: ""I know lots of stupid people who went to Ivy League schools." No doubt, but would Mr. Rove have said the same thing in connection with Justice Alito?"

Indeed. And I'll leave unspoken the other irony in that statement.

Cecelia

In the tradition of fully disclosing the lowness of my brow, can I just say that I can't f*ing stand the way Salmon Rushdie writes? I've just never been able to appreciated it. The New Yorker a couple of weeks ago featured a piece of his fiction, and even though it gets better, I almost gave up after the first paragraph, because it was so painfully overwritten. Which is too bad, because it's quite good.

***
In an e-mail to Martha this morning, I was remarking that RM is exceptionally obtuse. My attempts to discourage any notion of friendship have grown increasingly less subtle. Take this conversation yesterday:

RM: Thanks for spending some time with me today.
A.: Did I spend time with you?
RM: Yeah, out in the yard.
A.: I was spending time with my crossword, and you were also there.
RM: Still.
A.: Shrug.

This got me thinking about how one gets through to the obtuse if one really wants to-- and I'm not sure I do. I mean, it's not worth it, because his absences and my workarounds--mostly, keeping and using my laptop in my office rather than downstairs, which I'd always meant to do anyway, are working. But obtuse people fascinate and amuse me (hence this blog), and thinking about how to get through to them reminded me of the now-unavailable Charts episode from "How I Met Your Mother."

So, when people aren't getting it, visual aids can be of help. Perhaps I could put together some charts. Any ideas? Something more advanced than a ven diagram where one circle is "People I want to talk to in my free time" and the other is "RM," and there's no overlap between the two. Help me out here.

Sunday evening roundup

One cautious step for parents, one giant leap for humanity.

A feel-good story about a New Hampshire community coming together.

Perhaps more to come... haven't read the Post yet, although it is not missing.

Aristotle wouldn't have cared

When is a potato chip not a potato chip?

This reminds me of another absurd episode of legal wrangling. I know I've posted it before, but it's a classic.