1. Everybody: wash your hands after using the water closet.
2. Writers, stop using "(gasp!)" to indicate faux shock. It is lazy.
3. Dictum to self: remember to use shampoo the next time hair is washed.
4. Bus riders: vomiting as you step off the bus slowly is not so hot. I understand the fervent need to let it out, but I do not understand the lazy "I don't give a fudge" saunter down the steps, and the nonchalant ralphing that follows. When I have been in similar vomitous situations (see Revenge of the Potluck, fall 2002) I ran like hell to the nearest receptacle. None of this slow, sexy puke-waltzing stuff.
5. Dictum to self: stop overanalyzing everything. Works for books, not for living.
6. As Jami has pointed out and as Catherine H. has seconded, if you are a thin lady, it's really unkind to "police" larger women who want to wear low-rise jeans. Yeah, so fashion mistakes happen. But bad clothing is one thing, and women who have hips and thighs is another. Let it go. Related dictum: let's not contribute further to disordered body image and self-hatred.
2. Writers, stop using "(gasp!)" to indicate faux shock. It is lazy.
3. Dictum to self: remember to use shampoo the next time hair is washed.
4. Bus riders: vomiting as you step off the bus slowly is not so hot. I understand the fervent need to let it out, but I do not understand the lazy "I don't give a fudge" saunter down the steps, and the nonchalant ralphing that follows. When I have been in similar vomitous situations (see Revenge of the Potluck, fall 2002) I ran like hell to the nearest receptacle. None of this slow, sexy puke-waltzing stuff.
5. Dictum to self: stop overanalyzing everything. Works for books, not for living.
6. As Jami has pointed out and as Catherine H. has seconded, if you are a thin lady, it's really unkind to "police" larger women who want to wear low-rise jeans. Yeah, so fashion mistakes happen. But bad clothing is one thing, and women who have hips and thighs is another. Let it go. Related dictum: let's not contribute further to disordered body image and self-hatred.
This weekend, I made a mix cd for the bionic woman. Actually, I made two. One is filled with rockin' songs, and the other is for sleepytime. While driving around and listening to the slow one, my friend remarked that Pinback's "Loro" is both beautiful and depressing. Kind of like me! Ba-dum-bum. No, seriously, folks: that brought us to a discussion of whether the music is depressing, or we just hear it that way out of melancholy. I think it's the former. I think we have to convince ourselves that it cannot be otherwise.
In other news, you know what I hate? I hate it when people do semishitty things, and I bend over backward to see things from their point of view. I'll be very empathetic at the time (notice how you need "pathetic" to spell empathetic") and only later will I start thinking that I should have told the person to take a long walk off a short plank. I need to expect a little more decency from people, even if they've been hurt in the past. Because you know what? We're all walking around with semi-broken hearts in some way (myself included). But I try to tie it back together the best I can, and the way I do that is by being kind. As I get older, I'm beginning to think that's brave and maybe even a little bit noble. So that, in turn, just makes me feel bad for people who reject kindness, and I save the plank talk for another time, for other reasons. I also think about happier things, like sitting at Kate's Diner with Mr. Levin as Iron and Wine swam through the air.
(I also hate it when I'm reading a book subtitled The Loners' Manifesto, and someone sits down next to me and engages me in a one-sided conversation about reality television.)
Here's one from the past:
Q: What is Jonathan Swift's favorite My Bloody Valentine song?
A: "Feed Me With Your Kids"
In other news, you know what I hate? I hate it when people do semishitty things, and I bend over backward to see things from their point of view. I'll be very empathetic at the time (notice how you need "pathetic" to spell empathetic") and only later will I start thinking that I should have told the person to take a long walk off a short plank. I need to expect a little more decency from people, even if they've been hurt in the past. Because you know what? We're all walking around with semi-broken hearts in some way (myself included). But I try to tie it back together the best I can, and the way I do that is by being kind. As I get older, I'm beginning to think that's brave and maybe even a little bit noble. So that, in turn, just makes me feel bad for people who reject kindness, and I save the plank talk for another time, for other reasons. I also think about happier things, like sitting at Kate's Diner with Mr. Levin as Iron and Wine swam through the air.
(I also hate it when I'm reading a book subtitled The Loners' Manifesto, and someone sits down next to me and engages me in a one-sided conversation about reality television.)
Here's one from the past:
Q: What is Jonathan Swift's favorite My Bloody Valentine song?
A: "Feed Me With Your Kids"
I love it when leaves begin to change color and gently detach from their branches, and taking a walk involves the crunch-crunch of dried leaves crumbling underneath your feet. I've been taking sunset walks a lot during the past month or so. Instead of these walks being a really sweet and romantic thing involving hand-holding to stave off the chill, they are solitary walks that end with me shivering anticlimactically at my building's yellow door. It's all very bittersweet, but that's sort of the way that autumn is supposed to be, right?
