Friday, July 30, 2004
A Rebuttal by Ibn Toumart
Putting the Shoe on the Other Foot
Recently Brian Burgess, a notable philosopher and intellectual, published a controversial hypothesis which he has dubbed the "other shoe theory." Briefly, the theory stipulates that any romantic relationship will experience difficulties proportional to the romance's intensity and speed, and that these difficulties will most often appear in the form of initially concealed knowledge whose revelation could potentially cripple the relationship. Should it prove accurate, the concept of the "other shoe" could prove invaluable to romantically inclined men and women. Consequently, we ought to critically examine the idea, not only in the name of good social science, but in the interests of all present and future lovers. Does it help us better understand romance? What evidence supports the theory, and is it satisfactory?
Let us first consider Mr. Burgess' assertion that "If something seems too good to be true, it generally is." Cynical readers may be sympathetic to such a viewpoint. But that which is emotionally resonant is not necessarily true. We do ourselves a disservice if we frame our inquiries in ways that blind us to certain conclusions. If we choose to treat positive outcomes as suspect, positing along with Balzac that "le secret des grandes fortunes... est un crime oublié" (behind every great fortune there is a forgotten crime) then our pessimistic outlook will tell us, ipso facto, that it is impossible for a happy love to exist without an unhappy secret. With this worldview, the beautiful gazebo is probably termite-infested, the fresh apple from the orchard surely houses vile insects, justice is always the interest of the stronger, "The flower that smiles to-day/ To-morrow dies," and so forth. But history contains successes as well as failures -- joys as well as sorrows -- and neither one implies the other. Nothing is lost or won in advance, and we must admit all possibilities if we are to be on the side of truth.* As Ecclesiastes reminds us:
"I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all."
Therefore, reasonable people ought to question Mr. Burgess' stark claim that "[o]ne does not know at what moment the other shoe will drop in a relationship, but the fact it will drop at some point is not in doubt." But by the same token they should not dismiss the idea. It would be naive to pretend that tastes and interests do not vary widely. Who could reasonably expect two people, swept together by physical attraction or chance acquaintanceship, should find each other completely agreeable? Perfection itself can be a flaw. And when "a relationship is going especially well especially quickly" this may mean that character and personality have been submerged in a torrent of excitement and passion. When hearts are skipping beats while butterflies dance in stomachs and fire (or adrenaline) courses through veins, cold objectivity is both difficult and undesirable. Blemishes are harder to discern on a flushed cheek.
C. Wright Mills observed in The Sociological Imagination that "the purpose of definition is to focus argument upon fact, and...the proper result of good definition is to transform argument over terms into disagreement about fact, and thus open arguments to further inquiry." A sociological theory -- such as the concept of the "other shoe" -- is a special kind of definition. Not only must it help us focus our thoughts, but it must also enable us to develop and expand our understanding of people and the societies in which they live. To that end, it must contain minimal assumptions and prejudices. If theories have ideological subtexts then they may shed false or at least misleading light on factual evidence. Because it does not take a neutral philosophical stance, the reliability of the "other shoe" theory is thrown into question.
That said, if we construe the "other shoe" theory to mean that true love is more elusive than momentary passions would lead us to believe, then it is still a useful proposition despite its theoretical inadequacies. As suggested above, the theory indirectly reminds us that if we are unable to put our thoughts in philosophical perspective, then we are the slaves of our own impulses, and our lack of introspection is likely to often lead us into situations where "other shoes" are dropping. Provided we avoid extreme interpretations, we ought to view the theory as an invaluable and all too rare exhortation to pursue self-knowledge.
-- from the files of Ibn Toumart
* See, in particular, "The Constitution of Society" by Antony Giddens, which was a particularly influential theoretical work advancing the argument that individual human agency plays a crucial role in the creation and development of social order.
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Putting the Shoe on the Other Foot
Recently Brian Burgess, a notable philosopher and intellectual, published a controversial hypothesis which he has dubbed the "other shoe theory." Briefly, the theory stipulates that any romantic relationship will experience difficulties proportional to the romance's intensity and speed, and that these difficulties will most often appear in the form of initially concealed knowledge whose revelation could potentially cripple the relationship. Should it prove accurate, the concept of the "other shoe" could prove invaluable to romantically inclined men and women. Consequently, we ought to critically examine the idea, not only in the name of good social science, but in the interests of all present and future lovers. Does it help us better understand romance? What evidence supports the theory, and is it satisfactory?
Let us first consider Mr. Burgess' assertion that "If something seems too good to be true, it generally is." Cynical readers may be sympathetic to such a viewpoint. But that which is emotionally resonant is not necessarily true. We do ourselves a disservice if we frame our inquiries in ways that blind us to certain conclusions. If we choose to treat positive outcomes as suspect, positing along with Balzac that "le secret des grandes fortunes... est un crime oublié" (behind every great fortune there is a forgotten crime) then our pessimistic outlook will tell us, ipso facto, that it is impossible for a happy love to exist without an unhappy secret. With this worldview, the beautiful gazebo is probably termite-infested, the fresh apple from the orchard surely houses vile insects, justice is always the interest of the stronger, "The flower that smiles to-day/ To-morrow dies," and so forth. But history contains successes as well as failures -- joys as well as sorrows -- and neither one implies the other. Nothing is lost or won in advance, and we must admit all possibilities if we are to be on the side of truth.* As Ecclesiastes reminds us:
"I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all."
Therefore, reasonable people ought to question Mr. Burgess' stark claim that "[o]ne does not know at what moment the other shoe will drop in a relationship, but the fact it will drop at some point is not in doubt." But by the same token they should not dismiss the idea. It would be naive to pretend that tastes and interests do not vary widely. Who could reasonably expect two people, swept together by physical attraction or chance acquaintanceship, should find each other completely agreeable? Perfection itself can be a flaw. And when "a relationship is going especially well especially quickly" this may mean that character and personality have been submerged in a torrent of excitement and passion. When hearts are skipping beats while butterflies dance in stomachs and fire (or adrenaline) courses through veins, cold objectivity is both difficult and undesirable. Blemishes are harder to discern on a flushed cheek.
C. Wright Mills observed in The Sociological Imagination that "the purpose of definition is to focus argument upon fact, and...the proper result of good definition is to transform argument over terms into disagreement about fact, and thus open arguments to further inquiry." A sociological theory -- such as the concept of the "other shoe" -- is a special kind of definition. Not only must it help us focus our thoughts, but it must also enable us to develop and expand our understanding of people and the societies in which they live. To that end, it must contain minimal assumptions and prejudices. If theories have ideological subtexts then they may shed false or at least misleading light on factual evidence. Because it does not take a neutral philosophical stance, the reliability of the "other shoe" theory is thrown into question.
That said, if we construe the "other shoe" theory to mean that true love is more elusive than momentary passions would lead us to believe, then it is still a useful proposition despite its theoretical inadequacies. As suggested above, the theory indirectly reminds us that if we are unable to put our thoughts in philosophical perspective, then we are the slaves of our own impulses, and our lack of introspection is likely to often lead us into situations where "other shoes" are dropping. Provided we avoid extreme interpretations, we ought to view the theory as an invaluable and all too rare exhortation to pursue self-knowledge.
-- from the files of Ibn Toumart
* See, in particular, "The Constitution of Society" by Antony Giddens, which was a particularly influential theoretical work advancing the argument that individual human agency plays a crucial role in the creation and development of social order.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
This post was a comment by Chris, but was far too amusing to let die in comment-land.
"In fact, in these instances it becomes appropriate to say that the other was 'thrown' rather than dropped as a result of its severity and quick emergence."
This concept is hard to reconcile with the common accusation "You throw like a girl," which generally indicates a lack of severity and lethargy of emergence on the part of the projectile.
You may be able to hop the quandary with a brief but tactical application of fast-pitch-softball-style windmill imagery.
A safer route, however, might be to link the speed and severity to the shoe's falling from a greater height, from which it would certainly have accumulated more velocity upon impact, or even the shoe's angle of orientation as it falls, which could affect aerodynamics (ergo velocity) as well as the part of the shoe that makes contact (force/area=pressure; think high heels versus snowshoes).
This slight modification neatly accounts for both speed and severity without implicating a human actor in the falling of the shoe, which permits greater generalization of the theory than would be possible in its "free-will" form.
--Chris L.
P.S. This wouldn't even be a problem if women just stuck to making babies instead of buying so many damn shoes in the first place.
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"In fact, in these instances it becomes appropriate to say that the other was 'thrown' rather than dropped as a result of its severity and quick emergence."
This concept is hard to reconcile with the common accusation "You throw like a girl," which generally indicates a lack of severity and lethargy of emergence on the part of the projectile.
You may be able to hop the quandary with a brief but tactical application of fast-pitch-softball-style windmill imagery.
A safer route, however, might be to link the speed and severity to the shoe's falling from a greater height, from which it would certainly have accumulated more velocity upon impact, or even the shoe's angle of orientation as it falls, which could affect aerodynamics (ergo velocity) as well as the part of the shoe that makes contact (force/area=pressure; think high heels versus snowshoes).
This slight modification neatly accounts for both speed and severity without implicating a human actor in the falling of the shoe, which permits greater generalization of the theory than would be possible in its "free-will" form.
--Chris L.
P.S. This wouldn't even be a problem if women just stuck to making babies instead of buying so many damn shoes in the first place.
Monday, July 26, 2004
This post written by my good friend Brian, who has yet to start his own blog. I requested an article, and here it is:
The "other shoe" theory- A theory pertaining to relationships and their inevitable demise. The theory is sometimes more colloquially expressed by phrases such as, "Why things always get fucked up." The "other shoe" theory is a particularization of a more general principle, the "if something seems too good to be true, it generally is" principle, as it is applied to relationships. The implication is that when one is in a romantic relationship that is going well and which is progressing more smoothly than one can reasonably expect, something will invariably arise (most often a heretofore unforseen problem regarding the person with whom one is romantically attached) to sabotage the previously blossoming relationship. This "problem" is the dreaded "other shoe". The problem frequently takes the form of a hidden, and fatal, flaw in the romantic partner, though it is important to note that it need not necessarily be construed as a flaw by any reasonable impartial observer. All that is essential is that one perceives there to be a flaw in his or her significant other, and that said flaw is sufficiently grave as to "doom" the relationship.
The "other shoe" theory is of course intimately connected in origin to the phrase, "waiting for the other shoe to drop." This phrase is generally understood to mean "to await an event causally linked to one that one has already observed" or more simply "to end the suspense." The phrase is claimed (possibly apocryphally) to derive from the following joke, dating from the early twentieth century:
"A guest who checked into an inn one night was warned to be quiet because the guest in the room next to his was a light sleeper. As he undressed for bed, he dropped one shoe, which, sure enough, awakened the other guest. He managed to get the other shoe off in silence, and got into bed. An hour later, he heard a pounding on the wall and a shout: "When are you going to drop the other shoe?"
This joke, while not particularly funny, nicely illustrates an important aspect of the "other shoe" theory: the air of inevitability. Having heard the first shoe hit, the man knows that a second shoe must surely follow that will make a similarly disruptive noise. He does not know when this other shoe will drop, but he knows quite certainly that it will in fact drop, and becomes impatient and distressed when he has yet to hear it. Likewise with relationships. One does not know at what moment the other shoe will drop in a relationship, but the fact that it will drop at some point is not in doubt. The potential shoe hangs over one like an axe, destined to come swinging down to cut the ties of the previously successful relationship. We dread the other shoe, knowing that it can be dropped at any point, and that it will render impossible a relationship to which we had become so attached.
An important corollary to the "other shoe" theory concerns the direct relationship between the degree and rapidity of success in a relationship and the emergence of the other shoe. Put in simple terms, when a relationship is going especially well especially quickly, the other shoe emerges at a corresponding speed and with a corresponding severity. Thus, if one becomes romantically attached and finds him or herself unbelievably happy with how the relationship is proceeding and amazed at the ease with which he or she is connecting with the new significant other, one should be especially wary of the other shoe dropping, as it cannot be far away and its effect will often be devastating. In fact, in these instances it becomes appropriate to say that the other was "thrown" rather than dropped as a result of its severity and quick emergence. An example illustrates this point well. Suppose that a woman meets a man who is very attractive, interesting, caring, thoughtful, seemingly intelligent, and on top of everything else, is someone with whom it appears she shares much in common. They develop an instant rapport, and she quickly finds herself falling for the man and thinking she would be very happy to be with him for a long time. Then as the relationship reaches a point where it is about to become physical, the woman learns this about the man: he is in a religious cult which forbids him from touching someone of the opposite sex who is not also in that cult. To continue dating the man, she needs to either join his religious cult or accept a relationship in which there is no touching. The other shoe has effectively been thrown.
There are of course many different manifestations of the "other shoe." Acclaimed columnist Bill Simmons articulates one way of understanding the "other shoe" that relates to women and their generally high levels of insanity. Simmons writes:
"Back in my single days, my buddy Joe House and I developed "The Other Shoe" theory, which centers around the premise that "All women should be considered crazy until proven otherwise." Whenever one of us started hanging out with somebody, the other would always ask, "Did the other shoe drop yet?" In other words, did the new girl have any visible baggage? Was she hiding a trait that could potentially submarine the entire relationship? Was she way too close to her family? Was she secretly nuts? You'd be amazed how many times the other shoe ended up dropping."
This is of course a rather narrow instantiation of the "other shoe" theory, since anyone with even casual experience with shoes knows they are not restricted to one gender. Furthermore, insanity, while a particularly popular shoe, is by no means exhaustive of shoe types. Shoes can come in the form of extreme selfishness, pathological pretentiousness, or Catholicism. Simmons, however, captures the spirit of the theory. The vast majority of people one is interested in dating have shoes, so until proven otherwise, when dating someone, expect the other shoe to drop.
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The "other shoe" theory- A theory pertaining to relationships and their inevitable demise. The theory is sometimes more colloquially expressed by phrases such as, "Why things always get fucked up." The "other shoe" theory is a particularization of a more general principle, the "if something seems too good to be true, it generally is" principle, as it is applied to relationships. The implication is that when one is in a romantic relationship that is going well and which is progressing more smoothly than one can reasonably expect, something will invariably arise (most often a heretofore unforseen problem regarding the person with whom one is romantically attached) to sabotage the previously blossoming relationship. This "problem" is the dreaded "other shoe". The problem frequently takes the form of a hidden, and fatal, flaw in the romantic partner, though it is important to note that it need not necessarily be construed as a flaw by any reasonable impartial observer. All that is essential is that one perceives there to be a flaw in his or her significant other, and that said flaw is sufficiently grave as to "doom" the relationship.
The "other shoe" theory is of course intimately connected in origin to the phrase, "waiting for the other shoe to drop." This phrase is generally understood to mean "to await an event causally linked to one that one has already observed" or more simply "to end the suspense." The phrase is claimed (possibly apocryphally) to derive from the following joke, dating from the early twentieth century:
"A guest who checked into an inn one night was warned to be quiet because the guest in the room next to his was a light sleeper. As he undressed for bed, he dropped one shoe, which, sure enough, awakened the other guest. He managed to get the other shoe off in silence, and got into bed. An hour later, he heard a pounding on the wall and a shout: "When are you going to drop the other shoe?"
This joke, while not particularly funny, nicely illustrates an important aspect of the "other shoe" theory: the air of inevitability. Having heard the first shoe hit, the man knows that a second shoe must surely follow that will make a similarly disruptive noise. He does not know when this other shoe will drop, but he knows quite certainly that it will in fact drop, and becomes impatient and distressed when he has yet to hear it. Likewise with relationships. One does not know at what moment the other shoe will drop in a relationship, but the fact that it will drop at some point is not in doubt. The potential shoe hangs over one like an axe, destined to come swinging down to cut the ties of the previously successful relationship. We dread the other shoe, knowing that it can be dropped at any point, and that it will render impossible a relationship to which we had become so attached.
An important corollary to the "other shoe" theory concerns the direct relationship between the degree and rapidity of success in a relationship and the emergence of the other shoe. Put in simple terms, when a relationship is going especially well especially quickly, the other shoe emerges at a corresponding speed and with a corresponding severity. Thus, if one becomes romantically attached and finds him or herself unbelievably happy with how the relationship is proceeding and amazed at the ease with which he or she is connecting with the new significant other, one should be especially wary of the other shoe dropping, as it cannot be far away and its effect will often be devastating. In fact, in these instances it becomes appropriate to say that the other was "thrown" rather than dropped as a result of its severity and quick emergence. An example illustrates this point well. Suppose that a woman meets a man who is very attractive, interesting, caring, thoughtful, seemingly intelligent, and on top of everything else, is someone with whom it appears she shares much in common. They develop an instant rapport, and she quickly finds herself falling for the man and thinking she would be very happy to be with him for a long time. Then as the relationship reaches a point where it is about to become physical, the woman learns this about the man: he is in a religious cult which forbids him from touching someone of the opposite sex who is not also in that cult. To continue dating the man, she needs to either join his religious cult or accept a relationship in which there is no touching. The other shoe has effectively been thrown.
There are of course many different manifestations of the "other shoe." Acclaimed columnist Bill Simmons articulates one way of understanding the "other shoe" that relates to women and their generally high levels of insanity. Simmons writes:
"Back in my single days, my buddy Joe House and I developed "The Other Shoe" theory, which centers around the premise that "All women should be considered crazy until proven otherwise." Whenever one of us started hanging out with somebody, the other would always ask, "Did the other shoe drop yet?" In other words, did the new girl have any visible baggage? Was she hiding a trait that could potentially submarine the entire relationship? Was she way too close to her family? Was she secretly nuts? You'd be amazed how many times the other shoe ended up dropping."
This is of course a rather narrow instantiation of the "other shoe" theory, since anyone with even casual experience with shoes knows they are not restricted to one gender. Furthermore, insanity, while a particularly popular shoe, is by no means exhaustive of shoe types. Shoes can come in the form of extreme selfishness, pathological pretentiousness, or Catholicism. Simmons, however, captures the spirit of the theory. The vast majority of people one is interested in dating have shoes, so until proven otherwise, when dating someone, expect the other shoe to drop.
So I THINK once this is published Drew will be added and comments will be enabled. This might not be true. But if it is, be sure to comment on the next post, which will be a beauty, and give loads of praise to its author.
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Thursday, July 22, 2004
“Hey miss, have a nice day. Now don’t tell your boyfriend I said that, now.”
I get a couple comments walking to work each day, but that one was pretty random. Many of the homeless guys or the people with clear mental illnesses make daily comments. (We’re not going to look at the types I attract too closely then, o te? ;-)) Yesterday a guy who I exchange hellos with every day tried to grab me, saying, “What’s your name??” I’m sure he’s harmless but he still startled the daylights out of me!
A few nights ago I stayed in the city a bit later and got sandwiches with Drew. (Drew—Holler! Everyone but Drew, I’ll be adding Drew into the sidebar. Welcome Drew. J) We went down to Battery Park and looked out at the water and the ferries and the Statue of Liberty and enjoyed the sunset. It was a nice evening, and then I collapsed on the train, got home, ate ice cream, and got in bed at 11. Talked until 12, whereupon I collapsed again. Even with 6 hours of sleep I sat at work falling asleep.
Not young anymore.
This weekend was lush with wrong directions, getting lost, traffic, long lines, cops, tickets, tears, and drama drama drama. Happily it was not my drama, but nevertheless, there was drama all over the damn place.
However, I conquered my fear of roller coasters. I stayed at a house with a gorgeous view. I drank wine with my feet in the surf. I may have converted Vac to a country fan. I didn’t get carsick, roller coaster sick, or drinking sick. I got to spend some time with good friends and meet friends of friends. We (mostly) maintained the no politics this weekend rule.
So it wasn’t alllllll bad. It’s actually pretty funny in hindsight. If you care enough, call me and I’ll tell you the story.
But I need to go to bed. I have been writing this post for a week now and haven't bothered to actually hit publish. So here goes and I'm goin to bed.
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I get a couple comments walking to work each day, but that one was pretty random. Many of the homeless guys or the people with clear mental illnesses make daily comments. (We’re not going to look at the types I attract too closely then, o te? ;-)) Yesterday a guy who I exchange hellos with every day tried to grab me, saying, “What’s your name??” I’m sure he’s harmless but he still startled the daylights out of me!
A few nights ago I stayed in the city a bit later and got sandwiches with Drew. (Drew—Holler! Everyone but Drew, I’ll be adding Drew into the sidebar. Welcome Drew. J) We went down to Battery Park and looked out at the water and the ferries and the Statue of Liberty and enjoyed the sunset. It was a nice evening, and then I collapsed on the train, got home, ate ice cream, and got in bed at 11. Talked until 12, whereupon I collapsed again. Even with 6 hours of sleep I sat at work falling asleep.
Not young anymore.
This weekend was lush with wrong directions, getting lost, traffic, long lines, cops, tickets, tears, and drama drama drama. Happily it was not my drama, but nevertheless, there was drama all over the damn place.
However, I conquered my fear of roller coasters. I stayed at a house with a gorgeous view. I drank wine with my feet in the surf. I may have converted Vac to a country fan. I didn’t get carsick, roller coaster sick, or drinking sick. I got to spend some time with good friends and meet friends of friends. We (mostly) maintained the no politics this weekend rule.
So it wasn’t alllllll bad. It’s actually pretty funny in hindsight. If you care enough, call me and I’ll tell you the story.
But I need to go to bed. I have been writing this post for a week now and haven't bothered to actually hit publish. So here goes and I'm goin to bed.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
"He is such a good man, and more likely to say, 'Put a sock in it' if he's really tried," she said. "I can understand when people are pushed to extremes, that in a private setting they might say something unusual."
A truly beautiful quote from Cheney’s wife. I don’t think it really needs commentary, to be honest.
So I forgot a raincoat today and obviously didn’t have an umbrella. (It’s not a fear of umbrellas, it’s a loathing.) I was wearing a cute shirt over a tanktop, so I took the top off so I’d have something warm and dry to put on when I got to the train station. It was pouring. I go walking quickly out, got catcalled, and whistled at, and hey babied all the way to the train station. It kept making me laugh—what did they think they were looking at? I looked like a drowned rat, my hair was up in a braid but my frizzes were curling, I was in loose black pants, clunky sandals…and showing my arms. Really, it was not the sort of skin that warranted the attention, although I understand that not too many people are running around without cover on a rainy day. You’d have sworn I was in a miniskirt and hooker heels by the noise.
And a very important law I want to see enacted: short people shall not be allowed to use umbrellas, unless they buy long handled umbrellas or hold them high enough so as to not decapitate me. Honestly. Come on. The things are a menace to society.
So what do we think of the Philippines pulling their troops out? On one hand, I support it and say that they should be proud to have done all they could to save their countryman. And if I were the one being held hostage I’d be begging my country to do as they said, I’m sure. But really, it only paves the way for more kidnappings and demands and beheadings. There can be no giving in to terrorists, or else they have a bargaining chip that will always win. Whoever’s willing to kill the innocent seems to win these days, and we can’t support that.
Good lord! Stop with the Northern Ireland clashes already! Are you serious?! What are you celebrating?? A victory in 1690! Get a life! Get a clue! Stop it! Religion is such a crazy thing. (Credit to Mere for an interesting discussion from the other side of the fence on this.) I think religion has the potential to inspire a lot of good in people. But it scares me that people allow themselves to stop questioning or thinking. How can you challenge yourself and draw your own conclusions if the jury’s already in? And how can it be worth fighting over something years, decades, and centuries old? How about thousands of years old? How does the human brain get to the point where it can hate because its mother and father hated? Question, question, and then decide. Reason for yourselves. And fight about something important, for the love of god. (PI)
So since I’m clearly grumpy about the news, I think I’ll keep going. How about the Defense of Marriage arguments? I’m really intrigued by the actual wording of the bill. I wonder how many Americans know that the wording does not just affect marriage, but would also preclude civil unions?
“Neither this Constitution, nor the Constitution of any State or Federal law, shall be construed to require that marital status or the legal incidents thereof be conferred upon unmarried couples or groups.” (Andrew Sullivan’s italics, from AndrewSullivan.com)
It’s disgusting, and true Republicans don’t even want it because it blasts States’ Rights. This has no business being in the Constitution, even if you’d like things that way.
“The Democrats want Saddam back….Come to think of it, it's no surprise they want Saddam Hussein back. He made the Democrats seem moderate by comparison.” Ann Coulter
On the topic of insanity. Come on, Ann. I get it, saying stuff like this gets you attention, and attention brings fans and book sales. But I don’t believe you believe that. I just can’t. No one could. Right? Right?? What good could this possibly do, besides to your career? How about trying to make bridges and create positive change?
Happy Birthday to Mommy. Sorry for the kinda grumpy post! Remind me to post about Friday night at some point. ;-)
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A truly beautiful quote from Cheney’s wife. I don’t think it really needs commentary, to be honest.
So I forgot a raincoat today and obviously didn’t have an umbrella. (It’s not a fear of umbrellas, it’s a loathing.) I was wearing a cute shirt over a tanktop, so I took the top off so I’d have something warm and dry to put on when I got to the train station. It was pouring. I go walking quickly out, got catcalled, and whistled at, and hey babied all the way to the train station. It kept making me laugh—what did they think they were looking at? I looked like a drowned rat, my hair was up in a braid but my frizzes were curling, I was in loose black pants, clunky sandals…and showing my arms. Really, it was not the sort of skin that warranted the attention, although I understand that not too many people are running around without cover on a rainy day. You’d have sworn I was in a miniskirt and hooker heels by the noise.
And a very important law I want to see enacted: short people shall not be allowed to use umbrellas, unless they buy long handled umbrellas or hold them high enough so as to not decapitate me. Honestly. Come on. The things are a menace to society.
So what do we think of the Philippines pulling their troops out? On one hand, I support it and say that they should be proud to have done all they could to save their countryman. And if I were the one being held hostage I’d be begging my country to do as they said, I’m sure. But really, it only paves the way for more kidnappings and demands and beheadings. There can be no giving in to terrorists, or else they have a bargaining chip that will always win. Whoever’s willing to kill the innocent seems to win these days, and we can’t support that.
Good lord! Stop with the Northern Ireland clashes already! Are you serious?! What are you celebrating?? A victory in 1690! Get a life! Get a clue! Stop it! Religion is such a crazy thing. (Credit to Mere for an interesting discussion from the other side of the fence on this.) I think religion has the potential to inspire a lot of good in people. But it scares me that people allow themselves to stop questioning or thinking. How can you challenge yourself and draw your own conclusions if the jury’s already in? And how can it be worth fighting over something years, decades, and centuries old? How about thousands of years old? How does the human brain get to the point where it can hate because its mother and father hated? Question, question, and then decide. Reason for yourselves. And fight about something important, for the love of god. (PI)
So since I’m clearly grumpy about the news, I think I’ll keep going. How about the Defense of Marriage arguments? I’m really intrigued by the actual wording of the bill. I wonder how many Americans know that the wording does not just affect marriage, but would also preclude civil unions?
“Neither this Constitution, nor the Constitution of any State or Federal law, shall be construed to require that marital status or the legal incidents thereof be conferred upon unmarried couples or groups.” (Andrew Sullivan’s italics, from AndrewSullivan.com)
It’s disgusting, and true Republicans don’t even want it because it blasts States’ Rights. This has no business being in the Constitution, even if you’d like things that way.
“The Democrats want Saddam back….Come to think of it, it's no surprise they want Saddam Hussein back. He made the Democrats seem moderate by comparison.” Ann Coulter
On the topic of insanity. Come on, Ann. I get it, saying stuff like this gets you attention, and attention brings fans and book sales. But I don’t believe you believe that. I just can’t. No one could. Right? Right?? What good could this possibly do, besides to your career? How about trying to make bridges and create positive change?
Happy Birthday to Mommy. Sorry for the kinda grumpy post! Remind me to post about Friday night at some point. ;-)
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
So I have an interesting post for y’all tonight. I emailed 5 guys with the booksforsoldiers program: Will, James, Robert, Levi, and Marc. Levi and James have already written back. (I can provide you with addresses if you don’t want to pick one out yourself! I wrote a bunch of letters today that I’ll hopefully send out this week.) Being me, I asked a bunch of questions. From James’ second email, here are a few excerpts that I think everyone will find as fascinating as I did: (I edited a little, only for spelling and grammar!)
“War: I think that this war is going a little far, but nevertheless we are here to do the job we are best at, but I wish Bush would make up his mind and tell us what the hell he’s gonna do with us.”
“The thing that changed me forever was taking a life. We were up at 0330 and we had a mission at 0400 so we all started joking, then time comes up for us to leave. We go and get to the enemy's house and we dismount, run up to the wall that covers the yard. BANG gun shot, we were taking fire and I was in lead with the PL [platoon leader I believe] and 1 Sqd. Bravo team was right behind us about to take lead for us. But then a young man about 24-25 turned and pointed his AK-47 at the PL so I did what I was trained and that was take out the threat. Ever since then I see that man’s face at night when I sleep.”
James in particular was very excited to be talking to a college girl, and asked that I request mail for him from any cute female friends I have. Please feel free to write him an email or mail if you have time. Blitz me for the address.
I watched Fahrenheit 9/11 last night. (Also got this books site off of Michael Moore’s website.) Still thinking about it, to be honest, I’m not sure where I am with it. I think that every person who votes should have to see soldiers and civilians being wounded and dying. I’m also of the opinion right now that everyone who votes should have to sponsor a soldier. I think we as a country feel protective of that which is “ours.” Rand readers will recognize Wyatt here—it’s not special until I own it. There can be a thousand paperweights in the world, but this one has value to me because it’s MINE. And that’s what I think might happen with soldiers too. When you know that someone you’ve interacted with, talked to, sent a letter to, whatever, is in danger, it worries you on a personal level beyond just being dismayed at an ever increasing death count.
My musings on an interesting few days in my mental relationship with war. Another quick thought: I’m afraid there’s going to be a draft. Just today the Senate and Pentagon clashed when they argued about how stretched the forces are. This is so sad. And I wonder what a male/female draft would look like. Obviously it won’t be an issue until after the election, but I’ll tell you, I think it’s a legitimate worry! Arg, I’ll write more about this some other time, I need to go to bed!!!
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“War: I think that this war is going a little far, but nevertheless we are here to do the job we are best at, but I wish Bush would make up his mind and tell us what the hell he’s gonna do with us.”
“The thing that changed me forever was taking a life. We were up at 0330 and we had a mission at 0400 so we all started joking, then time comes up for us to leave. We go and get to the enemy's house and we dismount, run up to the wall that covers the yard. BANG gun shot, we were taking fire and I was in lead with the PL [platoon leader I believe] and 1 Sqd. Bravo team was right behind us about to take lead for us. But then a young man about 24-25 turned and pointed his AK-47 at the PL so I did what I was trained and that was take out the threat. Ever since then I see that man’s face at night when I sleep.”
James in particular was very excited to be talking to a college girl, and asked that I request mail for him from any cute female friends I have. Please feel free to write him an email or mail if you have time. Blitz me for the address.
I watched Fahrenheit 9/11 last night. (Also got this books site off of Michael Moore’s website.) Still thinking about it, to be honest, I’m not sure where I am with it. I think that every person who votes should have to see soldiers and civilians being wounded and dying. I’m also of the opinion right now that everyone who votes should have to sponsor a soldier. I think we as a country feel protective of that which is “ours.” Rand readers will recognize Wyatt here—it’s not special until I own it. There can be a thousand paperweights in the world, but this one has value to me because it’s MINE. And that’s what I think might happen with soldiers too. When you know that someone you’ve interacted with, talked to, sent a letter to, whatever, is in danger, it worries you on a personal level beyond just being dismayed at an ever increasing death count.
My musings on an interesting few days in my mental relationship with war. Another quick thought: I’m afraid there’s going to be a draft. Just today the Senate and Pentagon clashed when they argued about how stretched the forces are. This is so sad. And I wonder what a male/female draft would look like. Obviously it won’t be an issue until after the election, but I’ll tell you, I think it’s a legitimate worry! Arg, I’ll write more about this some other time, I need to go to bed!!!
Monday, July 05, 2004
A thought on one of the things wrong with this presidential race: Both of the candidates have too much luck. No one could really argue that George W. would be president if his Daddy wasn’t. And the chances are good that Kerry wouldn’t be running if he and his family weren’t rich. Heard the Skull & Bones boys are very upset because two of their lads are running. It’s splitting the vote. I think part of the reason that Clinton appealed (and judging by book sales, continues to appeal) is that he got where he was because of his intelligence and how hard he worked. It wasn’t that daddy was a senator or president, he was just smart and motivated, and that’s what we tell people the American Dream is all about. It isn’t usually, but he at least gave the impression that that’s what he’d accomplished. And people loved him for it, or at least respected him. These guys are boring, and they mean less to the rest of us because we live in different worlds and always have.
Just a random thought. Check out Books for Soldiers. --> It’s a very neat site, quite worthwhile, and probably worth sending an email, letter, or package out for.
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Just a random thought. Check out Books for Soldiers. --> It’s a very neat site, quite worthwhile, and probably worth sending an email, letter, or package out for.
So Mich and I celebrated restaurant week by getting reservations at Remi. I had:
Mixed Green and Red Cherry Tomatoes with Shallot Red Wine Vinaigrette and Tuscan Extra Virgin Olive Oil as my salad. That was YUMMY. Then I moved on to the main course, which I wish I could remember the name of perfectly. It was striped bass, baked til the skin was crispy and flaky and the inside was tender and fell apart when cut with a fork. It lay on a bed of braised onions and saffron baked potato. (For the record, I put this potato in my mouth and it half melted, it was AMAZING. I said, "THAT is a potato" and Mich laughed at me because I looked so excited. Then she had a bite and laughed at herself for not believing me!) There were also fresh tomato slices. It was scrumtious. For dessert, we both had the Chocolote Raspberry Mousse Cake. There really are no words.
Then I was miserably sick for a whole day after that. Apparently I still wasn't well and stayed out playing too long!
So tonight, for my actual reentry into the world, Vac made me take all these random personality test thingies. I don't know how much I learned about myself, but some of the questions were pretty funny. And some inspired decent conversation. And then Dan and Vac and I went out on the boat with daddy and watched the fireworks. (Melissa-I miss you!) Poor Care couldn't come, as the logistics of getting down a ramp and onto a boat with her poor leg wouldn't work. Now they're all watching Mona Lisa Smile, which I've seen once and can pass on seeing again. So I think I'll go to bed soon!
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Mixed Green and Red Cherry Tomatoes with Shallot Red Wine Vinaigrette and Tuscan Extra Virgin Olive Oil as my salad. That was YUMMY. Then I moved on to the main course, which I wish I could remember the name of perfectly. It was striped bass, baked til the skin was crispy and flaky and the inside was tender and fell apart when cut with a fork. It lay on a bed of braised onions and saffron baked potato. (For the record, I put this potato in my mouth and it half melted, it was AMAZING. I said, "THAT is a potato" and Mich laughed at me because I looked so excited. Then she had a bite and laughed at herself for not believing me!) There were also fresh tomato slices. It was scrumtious. For dessert, we both had the Chocolote Raspberry Mousse Cake. There really are no words.
Then I was miserably sick for a whole day after that. Apparently I still wasn't well and stayed out playing too long!
So tonight, for my actual reentry into the world, Vac made me take all these random personality test thingies. I don't know how much I learned about myself, but some of the questions were pretty funny. And some inspired decent conversation. And then Dan and Vac and I went out on the boat with daddy and watched the fireworks. (Melissa-I miss you!) Poor Care couldn't come, as the logistics of getting down a ramp and onto a boat with her poor leg wouldn't work. Now they're all watching Mona Lisa Smile, which I've seen once and can pass on seeing again. So I think I'll go to bed soon!
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Bright hasn’t blogged lately! Blog baby blog! Mich has. Good work Michy.
This morning walking into the office there were snapdragons stockpiled outside. I love snapdragons! The years that I planted “my” garden in the backyard, I made sure to have a bunch of snapdragons. They made me happy to see this morning.
Add Sharapova to my crossover list. Maria (or Charlize, for that matter), if you’re reading this, please do get in touch. I find it hard to root for her over Davenport…but she is hot.
In other news, I’m not sure if I ever knew that that was root not route before. Thanks, dictionary.com.
Just read about this dude who had hiccups since last Thanksgiving. They just came up with an implanted device to stimulate his vagus nerve, which is what you stimulate when you hold your breath, drink water backwards, etc. After having hiccups for three days straight a few years ago, these stories always interest me.
I love the beer Europe vs. wine Europe analogy, Mich. It’s quite good! Props to the prof.
Yay for doctors who give me antibiotics and codeine. I still feel and sound awful, but I got four hours of uninterrupted sleep last night before waking up hacking, but then I got lots more fitful sleep. Those precious four hours are awesome though!!! Hopefully I won’t fall asleep today. (Yes, on Tuesday I did fall asleep in my chair, and woke up as I was falling out. I didn’t actually fall, but I thought I was falling, and that woke me up pretty quickly. Luckily no one was in the office and I don’t think they’d’ve cared anyhow—I was pretty down and out that day! Thank you codeine.)
Great New York moment: I’m walking down 7th, and see every guy’s head turning to STARE at this woman walking in front of me. From the back, I could tell she had a nice body, tanned legs, long bleached white blond hair to her butt, a tiny jean skirt, and a tight white tank. But attractive did not account for the fact that every passing man’s mouth dropped to the floor and stayed there. Taxis drove by her honking and waving and screaming, person after person on the sidewalk just turned and stared after her. At this point I’m wondering if she’s a famous porn star or something (she still may be for all I know). So, curious, I walk faster, listening to her awful voice haranguing about something on her cell as she ignores the devotions around her, and catch up, to find myself looking at the largest breasts I’ve ever seen on a human being of that size. It looked like she ought to have had a crane holding them up—but they were pretty clearly standing up like no real boob ever has! I feel my own mouth drop, looked away, and snickered because a) I had the same guppy look on my face as the surrounding men and b) in amusement that anything so fake could attract so much attention. Dude, I could put traffic cones under my shirt too. Just ain’t that exciting if they’re made of plastic! So I’m biting my lips to keep from smiling, and this guy walking next to me makes eye contact. He leans over at the crosswalk and says, “So, think they’re real?” I FELL over laughing. Redeeming men all over the world, he said, “I just don’t get it. That’s not attractive!” I told him he’d read my mind, and we bid each other a good day as we went our separate directions. I thought it was great.
OK. Definitely need to start working now. But I may be back.
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This morning walking into the office there were snapdragons stockpiled outside. I love snapdragons! The years that I planted “my” garden in the backyard, I made sure to have a bunch of snapdragons. They made me happy to see this morning.
Add Sharapova to my crossover list. Maria (or Charlize, for that matter), if you’re reading this, please do get in touch. I find it hard to root for her over Davenport…but she is hot.
In other news, I’m not sure if I ever knew that that was root not route before. Thanks, dictionary.com.
Just read about this dude who had hiccups since last Thanksgiving. They just came up with an implanted device to stimulate his vagus nerve, which is what you stimulate when you hold your breath, drink water backwards, etc. After having hiccups for three days straight a few years ago, these stories always interest me.
I love the beer Europe vs. wine Europe analogy, Mich. It’s quite good! Props to the prof.
Yay for doctors who give me antibiotics and codeine. I still feel and sound awful, but I got four hours of uninterrupted sleep last night before waking up hacking, but then I got lots more fitful sleep. Those precious four hours are awesome though!!! Hopefully I won’t fall asleep today. (Yes, on Tuesday I did fall asleep in my chair, and woke up as I was falling out. I didn’t actually fall, but I thought I was falling, and that woke me up pretty quickly. Luckily no one was in the office and I don’t think they’d’ve cared anyhow—I was pretty down and out that day! Thank you codeine.)
Great New York moment: I’m walking down 7th, and see every guy’s head turning to STARE at this woman walking in front of me. From the back, I could tell she had a nice body, tanned legs, long bleached white blond hair to her butt, a tiny jean skirt, and a tight white tank. But attractive did not account for the fact that every passing man’s mouth dropped to the floor and stayed there. Taxis drove by her honking and waving and screaming, person after person on the sidewalk just turned and stared after her. At this point I’m wondering if she’s a famous porn star or something (she still may be for all I know). So, curious, I walk faster, listening to her awful voice haranguing about something on her cell as she ignores the devotions around her, and catch up, to find myself looking at the largest breasts I’ve ever seen on a human being of that size. It looked like she ought to have had a crane holding them up—but they were pretty clearly standing up like no real boob ever has! I feel my own mouth drop, looked away, and snickered because a) I had the same guppy look on my face as the surrounding men and b) in amusement that anything so fake could attract so much attention. Dude, I could put traffic cones under my shirt too. Just ain’t that exciting if they’re made of plastic! So I’m biting my lips to keep from smiling, and this guy walking next to me makes eye contact. He leans over at the crosswalk and says, “So, think they’re real?” I FELL over laughing. Redeeming men all over the world, he said, “I just don’t get it. That’s not attractive!” I told him he’d read my mind, and we bid each other a good day as we went our separate directions. I thought it was great.
OK. Definitely need to start working now. But I may be back.
