Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
What did I tell you about Beijing?
Paul Goldberger writes,
"This clever prototype for a city without streets is also an admission that the traditional street-based city doesn’t have much of a future here.'
Also from the New Yorker, a must -read for those interested in the soul of China.
And while you're reading the New Yorker, last week's fiction piece was phenomenal. In additional to the beauty of the story, the piece offers a line filled with meaning, on the "clear link between education and dignity, between the hard, obvious things that are printed in books and the soft, subtle things that lodge themselves in the soul." But that's not the best part of it, so if you have time, read the whole thing.
"This clever prototype for a city without streets is also an admission that the traditional street-based city doesn’t have much of a future here.'
Also from the New Yorker, a must -read for those interested in the soul of China.
And while you're reading the New Yorker, last week's fiction piece was phenomenal. In additional to the beauty of the story, the piece offers a line filled with meaning, on the "clear link between education and dignity, between the hard, obvious things that are printed in books and the soft, subtle things that lodge themselves in the soul." But that's not the best part of it, so if you have time, read the whole thing.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
That's certainly a problem
"She realized she needed help when her 5-year-old daughter complained of not having enough clothing even though she had a closet full of trendy dresses and shoes."
From the Washington Post.
From the Washington Post.
Nye budt klizmoy
Eerily, I've had the opportunity to introduce my readers to the unusual role of the word klizma, or enema, in Russian discourse. I've been both accused of being a klizma, and asked not to be a klizma. The latter is akin to saying, "don't be a jerk," except that it's more specific... like "don't be a pain" or "don't be so OCD."
Loyal readers, then, would have been less shocked than the general public about this monument. While I don't imagine that it would shock any Russian or anyone familiar with Russian language, nor do I think that a raised eyebrow would be out of place (especially since Russians have eyebrow-raising tendencies to begin with). Those being my expectations, mom's reaction surprised me.
A.: Did you get the article about the klizma?
Mom: Yes, I saw that. You know, that's only one type of klizma--they come in all different forms. You don't see as much variety in the U.S.
[Pause]
A.: You don't think the monument is bizarre?
Mom: Maybe.
Perhaps this kind of explains why the following conversation took place in December in Istanbul:
A.: That's odd-- they're selling enemas in street bazaars?
[Puzzled looks from Kate and Ian]
Kate: That's a hot water bottle.
A.: Are you sure?
Kate: I'm not an expert on what enemas look like, but I think that's a hot water bottle.
By the way, I first came upon a photo of the monument in the Express, with the headline, "Please be a turnip."
***
In other news, mom has started her seasonal rub-it-in campaign about how there are no good swimming holes in DC, but I think I've already told you that. Last week, she reacted to news of my not being able to come up for the 4th with, "fine, your loss!" Last night, she reiterated that there was nowhere to swim down here.
Honestly, while I would like to have better access to outdoor activities, including beaches, and I certainly do want to see my friends and family, I have no desire to spend a lot of money to wait around the house while my mother takes hours to get her act together to leave the house. You don't have to look far in the blog-- there's an example or two or three practically every time I'm in Boston-- of mom dilly-dallying and wasting time, and making outings many times more complicated than they need to be. Over the holidays this past year, poor Anya couldn't wait to go outside while my mother found some other thing that needed doing inside the house. The night before leaving for China, mom had apparently packed and unpacked her suitcase until 3am.
This has bothered me since I was a small child-- my parents, being nature lovers, would go out to Maine, New Hampshire or Cape Cod practically every weekend-- and it would be this ordeal because they would bring much too much stuff and spend hours and hours packing and unpacking it. They still do it, but as I've grown older, I've become more efficient and less tolerant of clutter (this will surprise anyone who has been to my house, and particularly anyone I've lived with, but believe me-- I've come a long way). With every visit, or vacation together, I find my mother's inability to get up and go without becoming mired in logistics increasingly aggravating.
Which is not why I'm not going up to Boston for the Fourth; but it is why her strategy of appealing to "all the great hiking and swimming" is just not that appealing.
Loyal readers, then, would have been less shocked than the general public about this monument. While I don't imagine that it would shock any Russian or anyone familiar with Russian language, nor do I think that a raised eyebrow would be out of place (especially since Russians have eyebrow-raising tendencies to begin with). Those being my expectations, mom's reaction surprised me.
A.: Did you get the article about the klizma?
Mom: Yes, I saw that. You know, that's only one type of klizma--they come in all different forms. You don't see as much variety in the U.S.
[Pause]
A.: You don't think the monument is bizarre?
Mom: Maybe.
Perhaps this kind of explains why the following conversation took place in December in Istanbul:
A.: That's odd-- they're selling enemas in street bazaars?
[Puzzled looks from Kate and Ian]
Kate: That's a hot water bottle.
A.: Are you sure?
Kate: I'm not an expert on what enemas look like, but I think that's a hot water bottle.
By the way, I first came upon a photo of the monument in the Express, with the headline, "Please be a turnip."
***
In other news, mom has started her seasonal rub-it-in campaign about how there are no good swimming holes in DC, but I think I've already told you that. Last week, she reacted to news of my not being able to come up for the 4th with, "fine, your loss!" Last night, she reiterated that there was nowhere to swim down here.
Honestly, while I would like to have better access to outdoor activities, including beaches, and I certainly do want to see my friends and family, I have no desire to spend a lot of money to wait around the house while my mother takes hours to get her act together to leave the house. You don't have to look far in the blog-- there's an example or two or three practically every time I'm in Boston-- of mom dilly-dallying and wasting time, and making outings many times more complicated than they need to be. Over the holidays this past year, poor Anya couldn't wait to go outside while my mother found some other thing that needed doing inside the house. The night before leaving for China, mom had apparently packed and unpacked her suitcase until 3am.
This has bothered me since I was a small child-- my parents, being nature lovers, would go out to Maine, New Hampshire or Cape Cod practically every weekend-- and it would be this ordeal because they would bring much too much stuff and spend hours and hours packing and unpacking it. They still do it, but as I've grown older, I've become more efficient and less tolerant of clutter (this will surprise anyone who has been to my house, and particularly anyone I've lived with, but believe me-- I've come a long way). With every visit, or vacation together, I find my mother's inability to get up and go without becoming mired in logistics increasingly aggravating.
Which is not why I'm not going up to Boston for the Fourth; but it is why her strategy of appealing to "all the great hiking and swimming" is just not that appealing.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
welcome home
I'd have a welcome home party for my laptop, but the budget for such a party has been blown by the cost of the repair. So instead, I'll just blog a lot... once I remember what I've been meaning to blog about.
Well, first of all, gut reactions (pun intended) to Gracie cat have taken on a cosmopolitan dimension. Last week, she inspired, "Mon dieu, ce chat est gros!"
On an entirely different note, there is something I would like to say to parents with their heads up their asses: you not only nauseate people, you also hurt the economy. I won't rant again about parents who take up entire aisles of stores with their strollers; this is worse: I'm talking about parents who take their sweet time in the supermarket while their kid's dirty diaper revolts everyone who just wants to buy produce. Do you think the rest of us linger and take the time to buy as much produce as we could, given the circumstances? These parents are damaging industry. Head-up-the-ass parenting is unAmerican.
The other day I mentioned this to someone who happens to have kids. She agrees, but says her sister no longer has the ability to smell her kids' dirty diapers. Whatever.
Well, first of all, gut reactions (pun intended) to Gracie cat have taken on a cosmopolitan dimension. Last week, she inspired, "Mon dieu, ce chat est gros!"
On an entirely different note, there is something I would like to say to parents with their heads up their asses: you not only nauseate people, you also hurt the economy. I won't rant again about parents who take up entire aisles of stores with their strollers; this is worse: I'm talking about parents who take their sweet time in the supermarket while their kid's dirty diaper revolts everyone who just wants to buy produce. Do you think the rest of us linger and take the time to buy as much produce as we could, given the circumstances? These parents are damaging industry. Head-up-the-ass parenting is unAmerican.
The other day I mentioned this to someone who happens to have kids. She agrees, but says her sister no longer has the ability to smell her kids' dirty diapers. Whatever.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
quick blog from the library
I'll start by thanking my parents for getting me out of the house this morning. I was enjoying a sluggish morning, following a difficult week, and then I called them, and they inspired me to blog. Since my laptop is currently being repaired, because that fat, hairy little $hit dropped it on the power jack, I had to get off my @$$ and go to the library to do so.
Mom: So, are you coming over for the Fourth?
A.: No, I don't think I'll make it this time. I have to be at work on the third, and tickets on the fourth are exorbitant...
Mom: Can't you miss whatever it is at work?
A.: No. No, I have to be there.
Mom: Don't you have vacation time?
A.: That's not the point. I have an event I have to go to that day.
***
Mom: Did you get my e-mail?
A.: Not yet, my laptop's in the shop.
Mom: How much are they charging for it?
A.: About $200.
Mom: You can get another laptop for that much.
A.: No, you can't. At least not one like the one I have.
***
Mom: Have you been riding to work?
A.: Well, I was, but I got two flats on the way home this week, so I need to figure out what's happening.
Dad: The tire burst?
A.: No, seeped. The first time I was pretty close to home; the second, it wasn't flat until after I got home.
Dad: You need to get rid of that tube-- it's not good.
A.: Well, clearly, since it has a tear in it.
This wouldn't be extraordinary, but my dad's predeliction for this type of platitude is as strong as mom's for telling me I should work at Google.
Mom: So, are you coming over for the Fourth?
A.: No, I don't think I'll make it this time. I have to be at work on the third, and tickets on the fourth are exorbitant...
Mom: Can't you miss whatever it is at work?
A.: No. No, I have to be there.
Mom: Don't you have vacation time?
A.: That's not the point. I have an event I have to go to that day.
***
Mom: Did you get my e-mail?
A.: Not yet, my laptop's in the shop.
Mom: How much are they charging for it?
A.: About $200.
Mom: You can get another laptop for that much.
A.: No, you can't. At least not one like the one I have.
***
Mom: Have you been riding to work?
A.: Well, I was, but I got two flats on the way home this week, so I need to figure out what's happening.
Dad: The tire burst?
A.: No, seeped. The first time I was pretty close to home; the second, it wasn't flat until after I got home.
Dad: You need to get rid of that tube-- it's not good.
A.: Well, clearly, since it has a tear in it.
This wouldn't be extraordinary, but my dad's predeliction for this type of platitude is as strong as mom's for telling me I should work at Google.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
I was just going to say that
Frank Rich gender-based voting.
More on the gender issue in this campaign.
By the way, I have to come clean: I, myself, have succumbed to sexist language, but I wonder whether it's as bad when it's used ironically? If, in the midst of a snowball fight, while skillfully pummeling an opponent, I tell him he 'throws like a girl;' or, in considering how, when my priorities are work, family/friends, arts, exercise, and staying informed (not necessarily in that order), things like cleaning, (to a lesser extent) cooking, ironing, etc. are not accomplished as much as I would like, I think to myself, 'I need a wife;' is that irony or sexism?
On that note, I'm off to clean the kitchen; then to do yoga; and then to shop for green fruit roll-ups for rice-krispie treat sushi to cater the SeaWorld that we've made out of our vacationing officemate's cubicle.
More on the gender issue in this campaign.
By the way, I have to come clean: I, myself, have succumbed to sexist language, but I wonder whether it's as bad when it's used ironically? If, in the midst of a snowball fight, while skillfully pummeling an opponent, I tell him he 'throws like a girl;' or, in considering how, when my priorities are work, family/friends, arts, exercise, and staying informed (not necessarily in that order), things like cleaning, (to a lesser extent) cooking, ironing, etc. are not accomplished as much as I would like, I think to myself, 'I need a wife;' is that irony or sexism?
On that note, I'm off to clean the kitchen; then to do yoga; and then to shop for green fruit roll-ups for rice-krispie treat sushi to cater the SeaWorld that we've made out of our vacationing officemate's cubicle.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Hello again
Hello, my friends. I know I've slacked on blogging over the lat couple of weeks. Apparently, I also slacked on calling home, and my mother let me know about it with an angry phone call on Tuesday night.
Mom: What's wrong with you? Why haven't you called?
A.: We talked on Sunday.
Mom: We did?
A.: Yes; is your computer issue resolved?
Mom: Yes, it was fine when I turned it on the next day.
Mom: Why haven't you called?
A.: I've had no time whatsoever. Wendy's here, I've been working a lot...
Mom: Why have you been working a lot?
A.: I just have.
Mom: Will you get to take that time off later?
A.: Not really...
[I really wish mom would stop concerning herself with my vacation time and work time in general. Sometimes I need to work late, sometimes I don't. The situation works itself out without her management.]
Mom: Is it hot where you are?
A.: It's getting better. It was awful over the last few days.
Mom goes on for about ten minutes about how they went to the lake and it was just wonderful. I felt vindicated because I was telling Wendy over the weekend about how one of the drawbacks of this area is that there are no natural swimming opportunities and how mom reminds me of this almost every time she calls over the summer.
Mom: What's wrong with you? Why haven't you called?
A.: We talked on Sunday.
Mom: We did?
A.: Yes; is your computer issue resolved?
Mom: Yes, it was fine when I turned it on the next day.
Mom: Why haven't you called?
A.: I've had no time whatsoever. Wendy's here, I've been working a lot...
Mom: Why have you been working a lot?
A.: I just have.
Mom: Will you get to take that time off later?
A.: Not really...
[I really wish mom would stop concerning herself with my vacation time and work time in general. Sometimes I need to work late, sometimes I don't. The situation works itself out without her management.]
Mom: Is it hot where you are?
A.: It's getting better. It was awful over the last few days.
Mom goes on for about ten minutes about how they went to the lake and it was just wonderful. I felt vindicated because I was telling Wendy over the weekend about how one of the drawbacks of this area is that there are no natural swimming opportunities and how mom reminds me of this almost every time she calls over the summer.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
kind of sad but still annoying
My mother calls me at 10:25pm to ask me what happened to her computer. Why does she have Microsoft 8, why is it not free. I tell her I have no idea what she's talking about. We go through a few iterations, after which I come to understand that her browser is giving her problems. She asks me about mine, I tell her I don't use explorer. We have to go over this four times before she's convinced I don't use Microsoft. More. I try to help her, I try to get her to right-click on her toolbar, to hit alt-V, but nothing works. I can't over the phone, I don't really know what's going on. Shrug.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
It's an employer and a search engine-- who knew?
For someone who feels very strongly that her daughter should work at Google, mom doesn't appear to understand what Google can do.
A.: Hello?
Mom: Where are you?
A.: In the supermarket, about to check out.
Mom: How do you find telephone numbers on the internet?
A.: Whitepages.com or...
Mom: Yahoo?
A.: Yahoo does have a people finder.
Mom: How do I get to it?
I tell her, she doesn't understand me. Which makes me wonder why she asks me for information over the phone that she won't understand. I say I'll e-mail it when I get home. Which I do, almost without getting caught in the rain. I would have made it if this bitch with a bad haircut didn't cut in front of me in line (well, technically she sneaked in just before I got a chance). She had a full cart. I had a red pepper, some strawberries, and a package of baby bellas. Anyway, I managed to bike to and from work, for the most part between the torrential downpours of the day and around a couple of fallen trees (very sad). Anyway, on the way home, I wondered why mom didn't just plug "find person" into Google. I over-thought it and it almost made my head hurt. Then I got over myself and e-mailed her the links.
A.: Hello?
Mom: Where are you?
A.: In the supermarket, about to check out.
Mom: How do you find telephone numbers on the internet?
A.: Whitepages.com or...
Mom: Yahoo?
A.: Yahoo does have a people finder.
Mom: How do I get to it?
I tell her, she doesn't understand me. Which makes me wonder why she asks me for information over the phone that she won't understand. I say I'll e-mail it when I get home. Which I do, almost without getting caught in the rain. I would have made it if this bitch with a bad haircut didn't cut in front of me in line (well, technically she sneaked in just before I got a chance). She had a full cart. I had a red pepper, some strawberries, and a package of baby bellas. Anyway, I managed to bike to and from work, for the most part between the torrential downpours of the day and around a couple of fallen trees (very sad). Anyway, on the way home, I wondered why mom didn't just plug "find person" into Google. I over-thought it and it almost made my head hurt. Then I got over myself and e-mailed her the links.
counting our blessings
Please take a minute to appreciate living in a free country, unless you happen to be reading this from Venezuela , Russia or Zimbabwe, to name a few. I'm not saying we're perfect, or that there aren't those that have tried to take us in the direction of a couple of those. I'm saying, think about all the crap you don't have to deal with. While you're at it, take a moment to appreciate the abundance of food and water in your life. I'll spare you links on those, they're pretty self-explanatory to anyone whose head hasn't been up his or her @$$, especially over the last few months.
China doesn't quite fit with the two above, but this is a good article.
A few days ago, I posted a link on "what's at stake." Here's more on that.
China doesn't quite fit with the two above, but this is a good article.
A few days ago, I posted a link on "what's at stake." Here's more on that.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
credibility
A., answering the phone: Hi. I'm running out of the house now...
Mom: A tornado is coming toward your area...
A.: What?
Mom: Turn on the TV!
A.: I don't have time, I'm running late.
Mom: You should be going to hide somewhere where it can't reach you.
A.: Okay, I'll hide in the city.
Mom: I'm serious!
A.: Mom, I don't have time to discuss this right now. Bye!
Mom: Bye.
***
Tornado warnings are good, when they're credible, but mom lacks credibility as far as I'm concerned. She cries wolf too often, so I tend not to take her seriously.
It was windy when I left the house, and pouring-down rain when I emerged from the metro, late and annoyed at the hordes of tourists that were blocking the left lane on the escalator. I made it to "Antony and Cleopatra" on time. It was good. Two cell phones rang during the show, once in each act, even though the Theatre as usual asked to ensure all cell phones were off. Some people. Anyway, when I emerged again, it was beautiful out.
I don't blame mom for warning me-- in fact, I left her a message thanking her. I genuinely appreciate the concern and the effort. I just don't know when to take her seriously.
Mom: A tornado is coming toward your area...
A.: What?
Mom: Turn on the TV!
A.: I don't have time, I'm running late.
Mom: You should be going to hide somewhere where it can't reach you.
A.: Okay, I'll hide in the city.
Mom: I'm serious!
A.: Mom, I don't have time to discuss this right now. Bye!
Mom: Bye.
***
Tornado warnings are good, when they're credible, but mom lacks credibility as far as I'm concerned. She cries wolf too often, so I tend not to take her seriously.
It was windy when I left the house, and pouring-down rain when I emerged from the metro, late and annoyed at the hordes of tourists that were blocking the left lane on the escalator. I made it to "Antony and Cleopatra" on time. It was good. Two cell phones rang during the show, once in each act, even though the Theatre as usual asked to ensure all cell phones were off. Some people. Anyway, when I emerged again, it was beautiful out.
I don't blame mom for warning me-- in fact, I left her a message thanking her. I genuinely appreciate the concern and the effort. I just don't know when to take her seriously.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Your password, BIG DEAL!
This morning my mother sent me the following e-mail. Were it not for her signature broken English, I would have thought it was a scam:
"Your father screwed up my and your Google accounts and I am not able to access my bookmarks. most of my bookmarks in your account. Could you please email your PW."
I replied,
"no-- I don't think my password will help and I'm not going to send it over the internet. call google or go through the program to reset your password."
I knew what she would say-- in the past she's complained about the 'stupid squiglies' with which she has so much trouble. But there's NO WAY IN HELL I'm going to send anyone, including my mother, my gmail password. F* no.
Now, when I first balked, it was more out of security concerns, but thinking about it more and more, mom's given me plenty of reasons not to trust her with my privacy. The woman has never knocked in her life, has no problem listening in on phone calls, and thinks she had a right to open and read my mail.
That aside, there are the obvious security issues, which I can't believe she can't appreciate. But apparently, she can't, because she just called me screaming:
"BIG DEAL, you're password! I spent HOURS trying to clean up this mess! You didn't log out! You won't come near this computer next time you're here..."
A.: I always log out. There is no way I didn't log out...
Mom: Well, you didn't.
A.: Besides, what do your bookmarks have to do with a google account?
Mom: They're saved to Google...
A.: Why don't you log in? Do you know your google password?
Mom: They give me those squigglies... I've spent hours on this. You know what, forget it. You'll never touch my computer again! Bring your laptop.
A.: I brought my laptop last time but it wasn't much use because you don't have wireless.
Mom: I don't care!
A.: I can help you reset your google account...
Mom: I've already spent hours trying to do that.
I have very little sympathy when mom tells me she's spent hours on something-- and she tells me that quite a bit-- because whatever that something is doesn't take hours if you take a few minutes to figure it out. For example, once when I lacked internet access I asked her to renew a book online for me. I gave her detailed instructions, but she "spent hours" trying to do it.
We went around in circles a few times. She got angry, blamed me and dad for whatever the problem was. We left it at that.
***
Out of curiosity, I checked under my google bookmarks, and lo and behold, there were a bunch of websites there, from the unnecessary (google searches on "polish" and "local movie listings"; the contact page for the MA attorney general's office) to the are-you-serious (the rev wright video) to the to-each-her-own (Russian joke sites, etc.). I called her and said I'd e-mail her the list. And then I'd like to delete them from my account as soon as humanly possible.
Oh, and it's not because I didn't log out, because google automatically logs you out every two weeks anyway, so I don't want to hear it.
"Your father screwed up my and your Google accounts and I am not able to access my bookmarks. most of my bookmarks in your account. Could you please email your PW."
I replied,
"no-- I don't think my password will help and I'm not going to send it over the internet. call google or go through the program to reset your password."
I knew what she would say-- in the past she's complained about the 'stupid squiglies' with which she has so much trouble. But there's NO WAY IN HELL I'm going to send anyone, including my mother, my gmail password. F* no.
Now, when I first balked, it was more out of security concerns, but thinking about it more and more, mom's given me plenty of reasons not to trust her with my privacy. The woman has never knocked in her life, has no problem listening in on phone calls, and thinks she had a right to open and read my mail.
That aside, there are the obvious security issues, which I can't believe she can't appreciate. But apparently, she can't, because she just called me screaming:
"BIG DEAL, you're password! I spent HOURS trying to clean up this mess! You didn't log out! You won't come near this computer next time you're here..."
A.: I always log out. There is no way I didn't log out...
Mom: Well, you didn't.
A.: Besides, what do your bookmarks have to do with a google account?
Mom: They're saved to Google...
A.: Why don't you log in? Do you know your google password?
Mom: They give me those squigglies... I've spent hours on this. You know what, forget it. You'll never touch my computer again! Bring your laptop.
A.: I brought my laptop last time but it wasn't much use because you don't have wireless.
Mom: I don't care!
A.: I can help you reset your google account...
Mom: I've already spent hours trying to do that.
I have very little sympathy when mom tells me she's spent hours on something-- and she tells me that quite a bit-- because whatever that something is doesn't take hours if you take a few minutes to figure it out. For example, once when I lacked internet access I asked her to renew a book online for me. I gave her detailed instructions, but she "spent hours" trying to do it.
We went around in circles a few times. She got angry, blamed me and dad for whatever the problem was. We left it at that.
***
Out of curiosity, I checked under my google bookmarks, and lo and behold, there were a bunch of websites there, from the unnecessary (google searches on "polish" and "local movie listings"; the contact page for the MA attorney general's office) to the are-you-serious (the rev wright video) to the to-each-her-own (Russian joke sites, etc.). I called her and said I'd e-mail her the list. And then I'd like to delete them from my account as soon as humanly possible.
Oh, and it's not because I didn't log out, because google automatically logs you out every two weeks anyway, so I don't want to hear it.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
reliable if not exciting
My phone rings at 10pm. I understand that tomorrow is a holiday, but isn't it always better to call at not 10pm?
Mom: How are things?
A.: Fine...
Mom: Just fine? A few days ago they were good. What happened?
A.: Nothing... things are good.
Mom: What did you do today?
Mom does like to keep tabs on what I do.
A.: I went to the opera...
Mom: Did you bike there?
A.: No.
Mom: They should have bike racks.
A.: I'm sure they do. Whether they have showers is another issue... [I mean, there are a number of issues, but before I let myself continue to think of them, I though, 'are we really having this conversation?']
Mom told me about her day (a pleasant outing).
***
I recall something dad said many months ago-- that mom was a woman of extremes. He said this in a context of one of her political rants, and followed it with, 'if she weren't Jewish, she'd be anti-Semitic,' but it's true in a non-political sense as well. Many things in mom's view are all or nothing. In her frame of mind, since I enjoy cycling, I will always prefer to cycle everywhere. And there are people who do prefer to cycle everywhere-- read Sex and the City-- and I think that's great, if that's what works for you, but in a city with great public transportation, cycling is not always the most efficient way of getting around. What I'm trying to say is, my logic says that just because something-- be it a form of transportation, a career choice, or anything in between-- works for one particular situation, it's not the right thing for every situation. Mom's logic skips that step.
I've written much in these pages (see, for example, original Have You Applied to Google post) about mom's it-works-here-so-it-must-work-everywhere thing. I've also written about the time she tried to set me up with the son of a friend of a friend, the sole basis of the connection being that we both cycled to work. For her, my choice of transportation defined me in a way (for me, it was a choice of transportation).
The leap here, from previous posts-- the epiphany-- is that mom is projecting. I think I used to subconsciously wonder, 'what must she think of me?' whereas now I think, what about mom leads her to this kind of logic. Similarly, when I first became a vegetarian-- back when vegetarianism was newer to people-- I got a lot of nutty questions and some bizarre logic. People (largely, my parents' friends) would tell me that people like me blew up animal labs (apparently, for some people, to have conviction is necessarily to take that conviction to extremes); that eating plants also entailed violence; that if I wanted to truly live sustainably, I'd never get anywhere for fear of stepping on a single ant. All-or-nothing, I tell you. And I think I used to take it at least somewhat personally, but now I'm more prone to see it as a reflection of other person.
***
For some reason, this train of thought reminded me of an event I forgot to blog about in the China notes, although I've had a chance to tell some of you about it. We had taken a ferry up Shennong Stream, off the Yangtze, and were getting off that and onto some row boats. We were at the back of the boat, which was unimportant because the breathtakingly beautiful landscape was all around us. It was very peaceful, too, until mom started-- and wouldn't stop-- complaining that the woman in front of her had a huge head and however was she going to see anything. She said it once, twice, three or four times before I asked her to stop.
A.: Stop, please.
Mom: No, the woman's head is so big.
A.: Mom, Enjoy the surroundings and stop ruining for everyone else.
Mom: No! The woman's head is big and how dare you tell me what to do.
Dad agreed with me, mom accused him of always taking my side, and so on. But even though she stayed on the offensive, I think she realized she was wrong and just didn't like to be called on it.
A moment like this actually contributed to the ruin of my graduation from Smith. Mom's penchant for whining about and/or making a melodrama of the slightest thing really puts a damper on events, which is why perhaps-- or so the media tells us-- many women may have grown up dreaming of a wedding, but for various reasons I grew up dreading the prospect (I'll jump from that bridge when I get to it). For one thing, every time I stopped to say goodbye to a friend, mom yelled at me for spending time not talking to family friends who had driven out for the graduation. After teh ceremony, we went to a Thai restaurant, and mom started complaining about the food. It had too much salt. She said it once, twice, etc. It was clear she was going to keep saying it throughout the meal. I asked her to stop. She threw a fit and continued to be a selfish pain in the ass the rest of the day.
***
On the way back to the office from a meeting, my supervisor commented that one thing she wouldn't mind about working for some corporations is the kind of lunch you read about at places like Google.
***
On a completely different note, here are collected first impressions of Gracie:
-She's shaped like a rugby ball!
-Is she carrying twins?
-There goes Jabba the Hut.
-She's the size of both my cats put together.
Mom: How are things?
A.: Fine...
Mom: Just fine? A few days ago they were good. What happened?
A.: Nothing... things are good.
Mom: What did you do today?
Mom does like to keep tabs on what I do.
A.: I went to the opera...
Mom: Did you bike there?
A.: No.
Mom: They should have bike racks.
A.: I'm sure they do. Whether they have showers is another issue... [I mean, there are a number of issues, but before I let myself continue to think of them, I though, 'are we really having this conversation?']
Mom told me about her day (a pleasant outing).
***
I recall something dad said many months ago-- that mom was a woman of extremes. He said this in a context of one of her political rants, and followed it with, 'if she weren't Jewish, she'd be anti-Semitic,' but it's true in a non-political sense as well. Many things in mom's view are all or nothing. In her frame of mind, since I enjoy cycling, I will always prefer to cycle everywhere. And there are people who do prefer to cycle everywhere-- read Sex and the City-- and I think that's great, if that's what works for you, but in a city with great public transportation, cycling is not always the most efficient way of getting around. What I'm trying to say is, my logic says that just because something-- be it a form of transportation, a career choice, or anything in between-- works for one particular situation, it's not the right thing for every situation. Mom's logic skips that step.
I've written much in these pages (see, for example, original Have You Applied to Google post) about mom's it-works-here-so-it-must-work-everywhere thing. I've also written about the time she tried to set me up with the son of a friend of a friend, the sole basis of the connection being that we both cycled to work. For her, my choice of transportation defined me in a way (for me, it was a choice of transportation).
The leap here, from previous posts-- the epiphany-- is that mom is projecting. I think I used to subconsciously wonder, 'what must she think of me?' whereas now I think, what about mom leads her to this kind of logic. Similarly, when I first became a vegetarian-- back when vegetarianism was newer to people-- I got a lot of nutty questions and some bizarre logic. People (largely, my parents' friends) would tell me that people like me blew up animal labs (apparently, for some people, to have conviction is necessarily to take that conviction to extremes); that eating plants also entailed violence; that if I wanted to truly live sustainably, I'd never get anywhere for fear of stepping on a single ant. All-or-nothing, I tell you. And I think I used to take it at least somewhat personally, but now I'm more prone to see it as a reflection of other person.
***
For some reason, this train of thought reminded me of an event I forgot to blog about in the China notes, although I've had a chance to tell some of you about it. We had taken a ferry up Shennong Stream, off the Yangtze, and were getting off that and onto some row boats. We were at the back of the boat, which was unimportant because the breathtakingly beautiful landscape was all around us. It was very peaceful, too, until mom started-- and wouldn't stop-- complaining that the woman in front of her had a huge head and however was she going to see anything. She said it once, twice, three or four times before I asked her to stop.
A.: Stop, please.
Mom: No, the woman's head is so big.
A.: Mom, Enjoy the surroundings and stop ruining for everyone else.
Mom: No! The woman's head is big and how dare you tell me what to do.
Dad agreed with me, mom accused him of always taking my side, and so on. But even though she stayed on the offensive, I think she realized she was wrong and just didn't like to be called on it.
A moment like this actually contributed to the ruin of my graduation from Smith. Mom's penchant for whining about and/or making a melodrama of the slightest thing really puts a damper on events, which is why perhaps-- or so the media tells us-- many women may have grown up dreaming of a wedding, but for various reasons I grew up dreading the prospect (I'll jump from that bridge when I get to it). For one thing, every time I stopped to say goodbye to a friend, mom yelled at me for spending time not talking to family friends who had driven out for the graduation. After teh ceremony, we went to a Thai restaurant, and mom started complaining about the food. It had too much salt. She said it once, twice, etc. It was clear she was going to keep saying it throughout the meal. I asked her to stop. She threw a fit and continued to be a selfish pain in the ass the rest of the day.
***
On the way back to the office from a meeting, my supervisor commented that one thing she wouldn't mind about working for some corporations is the kind of lunch you read about at places like Google.
***
On a completely different note, here are collected first impressions of Gracie:
-She's shaped like a rugby ball!
-Is she carrying twins?
-There goes Jabba the Hut.
-She's the size of both my cats put together.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
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