This is long overdue, but when I was visiting my family at Thanksgiving, my sister and her husband and I were playing Carnival MiniGolf for the Wii (is it the Wii or just Wii? I don't even know these things), and we were taking turns playing to unlock something - at one point he would get the ball to bounce just right so it went into a hen house and then hand the controller to one of us to try catching the eggs and medallions, or something like that - it was a lot of fun - and then there was another part where you play against the character, and someone - I'm not sure who - decided that he was cheating. The character.
And I tried to explain that saying "the game cheats" is completely illogical, but I think it was completely lost on them, not because they couldn't grasp it but because they didn't care. To me, it was very important. (This is your brain while studying for the LSAT.)
The game can't cheat because the game is a set of rules. The game can't violate the rules because if it does (it can't, but let's just say), then that violation is one of the rules, in which case no rules have been violated and the game didn't cheat.
Actually what I have in my notes: "the game cheats" is a nonsensical statement because the game sets up its own rules and therefore can only abide by them. If it is "cheating" - i.e., benefiting from actions the (human) player is (highly) unlikely to be able to perform - it is still playing by the rules because by definition it can only play by the rules - meaning this ability to outperform the player is a rule and therefore cannot be construed as cheating.
I believe their exact response was, "No. It's cheating." Use your words.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
still researching
I was reading this article by Haruki Murakami, and where he writes, "In an age when reality is insufficiently real, how much reality can a fictional story possess?" I couldn't help but think of my research of apocalyptic fiction in the mid-twentieth century. I find myself wondering if this threshold crossing that he feels so acutely is a personal journey and not a global trend.
Or, perhaps more accurately, I'm wondering if this wasn't very similar to the way certain novelists felt in the years after World War II - Vonnegut comes immediately to mind - and it's just that another global/local tragedy was what did it for Mr. Murakami.
I have to admit here that I've never read his fiction. I've read a few of his essays. (The list just keeps getting longer, doesn't it?)
But, conversely, perhaps one of the reasons I've been interested in mid-twentieth century apocalyptic literature (and backshadowing and the representation of memory and all that) has to do with my own specific historical experience. Maybe the chaos I feel in my historical moment is what led me to the literature of that era. Who knows?
On a sort of tangentially related note: I watched Alejandro González Iñárritu's lastest, Biutiful,last night, and I wrote a little review for it on my magazine's blog. Good times.
Or, perhaps more accurately, I'm wondering if this wasn't very similar to the way certain novelists felt in the years after World War II - Vonnegut comes immediately to mind - and it's just that another global/local tragedy was what did it for Mr. Murakami.
I have to admit here that I've never read his fiction. I've read a few of his essays. (The list just keeps getting longer, doesn't it?)
But, conversely, perhaps one of the reasons I've been interested in mid-twentieth century apocalyptic literature (and backshadowing and the representation of memory and all that) has to do with my own specific historical experience. Maybe the chaos I feel in my historical moment is what led me to the literature of that era. Who knows?
On a sort of tangentially related note: I watched Alejandro González Iñárritu's lastest, Biutiful,last night, and I wrote a little review for it on my magazine's blog. Good times.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
literacy and efficiency
On the train this afternoon, I was reading an article in the New Yorker about energy efficiency and the Jevons paradox, which is basically that greater energy efficiency will not lead to as much of a reduction in energy use as might be assumed because it will lead to greater demand and greater productivity.
Doing some reading around the internet when I got back home, I came across a review of Dennis Baron's book, A Better Pencil: Readers, Writers, and the Digital Revolution, which examines the technological improvements in written communication over the last few thousand years.
And I really feel like the two have something in common, or at least that my opinion about the second can be expressed using the sentiment of the first. Yeah, there's a lot of noise out there. Yes, I spend far too much time on Facebook.* And yes, I am extremely fortunate to not only have my own computer, but two computers and an iphone, which means that I have access to the internet at virtually all minutes of the day, and there are a lot of people who don't have the kind of access I've become dependent on. But.
Computers allow us to write more, to write a lot more, to self-publish, to read more, to read a wider array of things - nonsense or otherwise - and all this reading and writing makes reading and writing more widely available because of the increase in productivity and the subsequent demand for more reading and writing. So arguing that digital media in some way impairs literacy doesn't really make any sense when you get down to it.
*I wish to point out here that most of what I'm doing on Facebook is reading the articles that my friends post, seeing if anyone's playing or reading or publishing or showing or whatever, and all the posts about your baby being sick or the laundry you are or are not doing, I don't care. I'm just kidding, I care deeply. And also I'm stalking you. And reading your blog.
Read my magazine.
Doing some reading around the internet when I got back home, I came across a review of Dennis Baron's book, A Better Pencil: Readers, Writers, and the Digital Revolution, which examines the technological improvements in written communication over the last few thousand years.
And I really feel like the two have something in common, or at least that my opinion about the second can be expressed using the sentiment of the first. Yeah, there's a lot of noise out there. Yes, I spend far too much time on Facebook.* And yes, I am extremely fortunate to not only have my own computer, but two computers and an iphone, which means that I have access to the internet at virtually all minutes of the day, and there are a lot of people who don't have the kind of access I've become dependent on. But.
Computers allow us to write more, to write a lot more, to self-publish, to read more, to read a wider array of things - nonsense or otherwise - and all this reading and writing makes reading and writing more widely available because of the increase in productivity and the subsequent demand for more reading and writing. So arguing that digital media in some way impairs literacy doesn't really make any sense when you get down to it.
*I wish to point out here that most of what I'm doing on Facebook is reading the articles that my friends post, seeing if anyone's playing or reading or publishing or showing or whatever, and all the posts about your baby being sick or the laundry you are or are not doing, I don't care. I'm just kidding, I care deeply. And also I'm stalking you. And reading your blog.
Read my magazine.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
having to prove it
My friend J gave me the best advice the other night. "We all know you're smart," he said. "You don't have to go to law school to prove it."
Because, in one sense, that would be what I would be doing. I just hadn't thought about it that way. I think I would be really good at it. That's not the same thing as wanting to do it.
Because I don't actually want to be a lawyer. I already have a master's degree. ("How's that working out for you?") I'm already a hundred thousand dollars in debt. Research, analysis, argument? Totally my thing. Yes, please. But in a completely different setting. I have no qualms about not wanting to be a teacher or professor. So why have I been thinking about law school again so much?
(Re "again": Anyone remember when I decided at the very last minute not to take the LSATs a year and a half ago? I remember that moment very clearly.)
Because I've been feeling a little directionless. That's not actually accurate, but that's how it feels. I feel like I'm going in a few different directions and neglecting the one that means the most to me.
(So fix it. - It's not that simple.)
This is not a new feeling, it's sort of a constant tide that is flowing more than ebbing at the moment, and it's exacerbated by the fact of itself. The anxiety only makes me more anxious.
But it will fade. There are a lot of projects I'm working on, the magazine is off to a nice start, and work (while having nothing to do with my academic/artistic life) is going smashingly. I really do enjoy my job, and my colleagues are my best friends, and I do a better than good job, and I try to do a great job (although beginning the composition of this blog entry while behind the bar on a Saturday night might not support that statement).
So going back to J's statement, if this is partially about proving it, which of course it is, if only in the sense that success is proof of itself, then the only way to do that is to do the work and to not worry about it because worrying only means that it doesn't get done. So what that I'm reading (or not reading) like seven books at the moment and working on (or not working on) like ten pieces? I should start five more of each! Bring it on. It will all get taken care of.
Because, in one sense, that would be what I would be doing. I just hadn't thought about it that way. I think I would be really good at it. That's not the same thing as wanting to do it.
Because I don't actually want to be a lawyer. I already have a master's degree. ("How's that working out for you?") I'm already a hundred thousand dollars in debt. Research, analysis, argument? Totally my thing. Yes, please. But in a completely different setting. I have no qualms about not wanting to be a teacher or professor. So why have I been thinking about law school again so much?
(Re "again": Anyone remember when I decided at the very last minute not to take the LSATs a year and a half ago? I remember that moment very clearly.)
Because I've been feeling a little directionless. That's not actually accurate, but that's how it feels. I feel like I'm going in a few different directions and neglecting the one that means the most to me.
(So fix it. - It's not that simple.)
This is not a new feeling, it's sort of a constant tide that is flowing more than ebbing at the moment, and it's exacerbated by the fact of itself. The anxiety only makes me more anxious.
But it will fade. There are a lot of projects I'm working on, the magazine is off to a nice start, and work (while having nothing to do with my academic/artistic life) is going smashingly. I really do enjoy my job, and my colleagues are my best friends, and I do a better than good job, and I try to do a great job (although beginning the composition of this blog entry while behind the bar on a Saturday night might not support that statement).
So going back to J's statement, if this is partially about proving it, which of course it is, if only in the sense that success is proof of itself, then the only way to do that is to do the work and to not worry about it because worrying only means that it doesn't get done. So what that I'm reading (or not reading) like seven books at the moment and working on (or not working on) like ten pieces? I should start five more of each! Bring it on. It will all get taken care of.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
(my) girls and (some) clothes; poetry
A week or so ago I'd been reading an article in the New Yorker about the CEO of J. Crew ("The Merchant," Sept 20,2010), and a few paragraphs in I thought of emailing the article to my sister, as she has aspirations that include merchandising for a clothing company. A few days later I got to the fourth page - because I am only on the train for ten or fifteen minutes at a time these days as my commute is mostly walking and much shorter than it once was - and I happened on Brenda Shaunessy's lovely poem, "I wish I had more sisters." Instantly I decided I would tear out the article and send it to my sister instead, so she could share the poem with me (and our other sister) and also because I knew she would enjoy getting actual physical mail from me.
A few days later, still only halfway through the piece, our 92-yr-old grandmother died. Deep breath. So, long story short, I was able to give it to her in person. I was able to share it with both of my sisters at once, and also with my mother, who has two sisters as well. (And two brothers and sisters in law and cousins and nieces and nephews and an additional generation going to boot. We're a tight family.) But this poem is about sisters. But it's also about family and about close friends and it really meant a lot to me in this moment that happened just after the poem appeared in front of me. Serendipitous.
The J. Crew article I found more compelling at the beginning than toward the end - it was a long article. But I delighted in it at times, and I thoroughly enjoyed the article that followed it: "Tavi Says." It took me back to poring over Harper's Bazaar when I was thirteen, when I ironed my jeans at the prompting of a book about French women sensibility that I bought at Express when it was still what I thought of at the time as European, classic, and chic. (Wow, that seems long ago.)
The piece inspired me to actually go through with cleaning out my closet once and for all and doing a major thrift shopping therapy. It's a new season and I am settling into my new neighborhood. It's time. Am I going to start reading her blog? I don't even read my friends' fashion blogs - or literary blogs or political blogs for that matter. I have a feeling that this will in fact be changing. The creation of trans lit mag was intended to get myself to focus more on the literary world than I had let myself because of my other career in the restaurant business. "So I'll just have two careers!" I said to my father a few hours ago.
I have the feeling I've pushed a very large boulder over a cliff and just realized it's tied to my foot. Here we go.
A few days later, still only halfway through the piece, our 92-yr-old grandmother died. Deep breath. So, long story short, I was able to give it to her in person. I was able to share it with both of my sisters at once, and also with my mother, who has two sisters as well. (And two brothers and sisters in law and cousins and nieces and nephews and an additional generation going to boot. We're a tight family.) But this poem is about sisters. But it's also about family and about close friends and it really meant a lot to me in this moment that happened just after the poem appeared in front of me. Serendipitous.
The J. Crew article I found more compelling at the beginning than toward the end - it was a long article. But I delighted in it at times, and I thoroughly enjoyed the article that followed it: "Tavi Says." It took me back to poring over Harper's Bazaar when I was thirteen, when I ironed my jeans at the prompting of a book about French women sensibility that I bought at Express when it was still what I thought of at the time as European, classic, and chic. (Wow, that seems long ago.)
The piece inspired me to actually go through with cleaning out my closet once and for all and doing a major thrift shopping therapy. It's a new season and I am settling into my new neighborhood. It's time. Am I going to start reading her blog? I don't even read my friends' fashion blogs - or literary blogs or political blogs for that matter. I have a feeling that this will in fact be changing. The creation of trans lit mag was intended to get myself to focus more on the literary world than I had let myself because of my other career in the restaurant business. "So I'll just have two careers!" I said to my father a few hours ago.
I have the feeling I've pushed a very large boulder over a cliff and just realized it's tied to my foot. Here we go.
Monday, May 31, 2010
First days of a new summer
I was looking forward to blogging on the train earlier, about the fact that it officially felt like summer, and then I actually got on the train. It was full. On a Sunday at 7pm. Wtf? I wondered quietly. It was full of families on their way home from Coney Island. Which should have added to my cheerfullness but really just terrified me a little. So much energy. A friend of mine told me that she looked up how to deal with with living across the street from a school in and there wasn't one. This is the second home I've had in New York a block from a school and I can see why. So much energy. And it's beautiful and powerfully creative and in theory I sort of worship it. I just don't want to be around it. I need my solitude. However when a little boy touched my ring where my hand held the pole above his head and then looked at me, waiting for my reaction, I couldn't help but smile. Little moments.
I spent the better part of the rest of the evening preparing an elaborate pasta salad for tomorrow's festivities in Prospect Park. I mixed whole wheat and semolina fusilli pastas with tuna, capers, olives, tomatoes, some hard boiled egg, a little onion and garlic, and in the morning I'll stir in some chopped parsley, baby spinach, and arugula, and a shake of crushed red pepper for a little kick, a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Yum.
I spent the better part of the rest of the evening preparing an elaborate pasta salad for tomorrow's festivities in Prospect Park. I mixed whole wheat and semolina fusilli pastas with tuna, capers, olives, tomatoes, some hard boiled egg, a little onion and garlic, and in the morning I'll stir in some chopped parsley, baby spinach, and arugula, and a shake of crushed red pepper for a little kick, a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Yum.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Normal
What is a normal life? Is it a choice one makes or is it a series of decisions one is forced into? Having found oneself not with a normal life, can one elect to suddenly have one?
The definition of normal is "conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural."
Let's look at that a bit. Conforming. To the standard. Common. Usual. Not abnormal. Regular. Natural.
Wow, that sounds boring.
And it always has to me. I've never been one of those people who naturally conforms to the standard, who either naturally or very carefully fits in -- or who longs to be like everyone else when I'm not.
But neither have I swung the other way, overtly rebelling or simply unable to fit in. I fit in just fine, but I wouldn't say I'm normal. Thank heavens.
Several things have prompted these musings. One: I watched a ridiculous number of episodes of Mad Men last night. (It totally counts as research.) Two: a very dear friend of mine wished for a normal life the other night. I believe my exact response was to wrinkle my nose. "Why?" I didn't ask. "What does that even mean?" I also didn't ask.
What it seems to mean, when someone wishes for a "normal" life, is that they feel their life is abnormal and therefore any difficulties they are experiencing are in large part due to a series of much larger decisions that they have made over time that have led them to their current (abnormal) state. But that seems to me a counterproductive way of thinking about things. Wishing for a "normal" life is the opposite of making decisions and choices in one's everyday life that will change the aspects of one's situation that one is unhappy with. Because if you would really have been happy with a "normal" life, then you would have "naturally" fallen into one.
And you'd be just like everyone else.
Ew.
The definition of normal is "conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural."
Let's look at that a bit. Conforming. To the standard. Common. Usual. Not abnormal. Regular. Natural.
Wow, that sounds boring.
And it always has to me. I've never been one of those people who naturally conforms to the standard, who either naturally or very carefully fits in -- or who longs to be like everyone else when I'm not.
But neither have I swung the other way, overtly rebelling or simply unable to fit in. I fit in just fine, but I wouldn't say I'm normal. Thank heavens.
Several things have prompted these musings. One: I watched a ridiculous number of episodes of Mad Men last night. (It totally counts as research.) Two: a very dear friend of mine wished for a normal life the other night. I believe my exact response was to wrinkle my nose. "Why?" I didn't ask. "What does that even mean?" I also didn't ask.
What it seems to mean, when someone wishes for a "normal" life, is that they feel their life is abnormal and therefore any difficulties they are experiencing are in large part due to a series of much larger decisions that they have made over time that have led them to their current (abnormal) state. But that seems to me a counterproductive way of thinking about things. Wishing for a "normal" life is the opposite of making decisions and choices in one's everyday life that will change the aspects of one's situation that one is unhappy with. Because if you would really have been happy with a "normal" life, then you would have "naturally" fallen into one.
And you'd be just like everyone else.
Ew.
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