Why Are You Yelling?

Poetry Post: In Common

Posting has been sporadic lately, especially since I was home last week for some family stuff. As an apology (or, more likely, a punishment), I've decided to finally implement my plan for a monthly (bi-monthly) poetry post. This could get awkward.

I haven't really been writing (or reading) a lot of poetry lately, for one reason or another. But! Since I do plan on going back to school at some point (the formula as I see it: stable job-->school-->eventual realization of failure), I should make myself write regularly, despite the first part of the formula being really hard to attain at the moment. Let me know how this goes and if we should force Shawn into it, too. (Shawn is no longer a writer on this site. Memories!)

In Common

My father dove through the sky 19 times--
once while I watched.
No more than four, I only remember his last ten feet
and then ground, the parachute like a dress around him.

Now, on a drive up to Sacandaga Lake:
a diver swimming down toward the trees,
lazily falling like a belated gift.
The colors of his fall were an amusement park,
his chute a ferris wheel and his body a lollipop.

He said, He's an amateur;
the trained like to dance in the sky,
playing all the way down--flips, tricks.
(At 10: With an umbrella, he jumped off the roof,
trying to fly. Broke leg, mother's nerves.)

I always took the first jump, with anything;
none of my kids are that way.
It's true--I will never fall from a plane.
A roller coaster drops my stomach,
no recovery from Down to Up.

It's too fast for that, your insides unaware.
You drop your hands from the side of the plane
and you feel like you're floating--
you're actually just going down, too quickly.
You don't even know that you're falling.
A familiar feeling.

Moon Reviewed

It would have behooved me to write my review of Moon yesterday, since it was the 40th anniversary of Apollo 11 landing on the moon, but. Well. I wrote about government cheese so I think that that's enough of a memorandum. Despite the seeming impossibility of this request, spoilers are at an absolute minimum since it's a very spoiler-able movie. Though, as you saw yesterday, I was happy to provide the main spoiler: Sam Rockwell is hot. Sorry! Ruined the ending for everyone! Review and trailer after the jump.

The trailer is obviously vague for a reason, so I won't spoil anything about the plot that can't be gleaned from those two minutes. As you can see, this small-budget indie film deals with previously explored sci-fi territory: space travel, cloning, artificially-intelligent robots. In case you couldn't tell, I'm not really a sci-fi expert, but the movie manages to strike a balance for the audience: it's a sci-fi thriller/mystery, a smart comedy, a long-distance love story, a vehicle for introspection about ethics and technology. There was some laughing and, of course, some crying, but mainly a lot of thinking afterwards--a sign of a good movie.

The basic plot without spoilers (as seen in trailer): Sam Bell (played by Sam Rockwell) is an astronaut working for a three-year contract on the moon to harvest and collect Helium-3, a clean energy supply discovered and provided by his parent company, Lunar Industries. Because there is no direct communication between Earth and Sam, he relies on GERTY (voice provided by Kevin Spacey--pun intended, I'm sure) for daily assistance. The movie opens towards the end of Sam's three-year stint, when his marriage and health have slowly deteriorated over time. His only means of communication with his wife and three-year-old daughter is infrequent video messaging; his countdown to going home becomes an obsession as he realizes the impact of his isolation. When he goes out to collect a container of Helium-3 two weeks before going home, he crashes his space vehicle and wakes up in the infirmary, cared for by GERTY. Things start to get interesting when his suspicions lead him to travel outside the base (against GERTY's wishes) where he finds a wounded man inside a crashed vehicle.

Despite the moon shots being done with miniature replicas, the cinematography doesn't reflect a film with a five million dollar budget. And while one of the main themes does concern the impact of an isolated environment, with this specific environment being a character in its own right, the film shows just enough to convince the audience without having to go overboard and get showy. And really, that's all a movie should need; when special effects become the main component of a movie, the movie probably isn't trying to be more than an impressive moving picture. Moon is the first full-length film directed by Duncan Jones, David Bowie's son, and the depth of themes in the movie makes up for the expected sci-fi/action flaws; the film demands a psychological journey, and the cleverness was refreshing (the kind of cleverness that often comes with a novice directing). Even the score was understated yet moving--background support that enhanced but didn't overshadow.

That being said, Sam Rockwell makes this movie. In the hands of a less talented actor, I might have been less impressed or even bored with the initial mundanity of Sam Bell's daily life. But Rockwell injects emotion and interest into every scene, from building a wooden model of a town to getting a haircut with a GERTY-powered flowbee. Without spoiling too much, I'll just say that Rockwell's adeptness allowed the audience to explore the question of individuality in cloning; he played two distinct people with such care that the audience loves both equally but separately. My one complaint was the use of Kevin Spacey's voice, as it is recognizable to the point of distraction, but he did provide a level of creepiness that you may have noticed in the trailer, leaving you wondering: is the robot evil or what? Well, you should probably see the movie. I suppose I'm only offering ratings for vanity's sake at this point but: 93 out of 100.

And! This will be a lot more funny when you see the movie, but for now, listen to it because it's catchy and tragically '90s:

Government Cheese

Anne had brunch with an old co-worker yesterday, and while talking, her friend told her all about the greatness of food stamps. "Linda probably qualifies," she said; Anne was excited to let me know (because that's how Anne is). "Yeah, I know. I've just never looked into it. I don't have kids and I don't really need it so I'd feel bad." But then I was reading this blog today and found a post in which the author judges a guy for having a cool bike and yet yapping about food stamps. This got me thinking! (Of course it did.)

She says:

I recently spoke to an old friend who was explaining that in taking the job they currently have that they had taken a significant pay cut and that they had been on food stamps for a while during that transition. Which is fine. That's what they are for. And those of you who are collecting unemployment, are probably making less than half of what you were making previously (unless you've got a little summin' summin' under the table and on the side). And maybe you've contemplated food stamps. I know I have. For me, at this point, I have decided against it. If I can scrounge up a few pennies to hit up Mugs for brunch on a Sunday morning, then I think I am OK with my current food budget...But don't let me catch you paying for your food with government aid and then dropping a grand on a trendy bicycle!

I know nobody wants to really have this conversation, but is this a race thing? Race is often tied up in our minds with privilege, and something about this blogger's opinion made me re-evaluate my initial aversion to goverment assistance. When I got laid off in January, I didn't even know I could get unemployment. The concept of aid was completely foreign to me, despite the fact that I was raised in a single-mother household until I was 13; we struggled but it seemed that my mother viewed this as a cross to bear rather than a means to ask for help. Having been raised in a lower-middle-class home where my grandpa worked two jobs and both my mom's parents had experienced extreme poverty during the Depression, it seems that getting help was a source of shame and something not often discussed. Besides, when we really needed something, things we could never have afforded, my grandparents offered help here and there (i.e., the only vacations we took were piggy-backed off of theirs). So is this why we (we here means socio-economically similar people of my generation) don't consider government help? There is no way to say this without it coming out weird so here it goes: Is there an idea that lower- to middle-class white people have their families for support, whether this is true or not? That we have a history of more money, in some way or another, and shouldn't ever have to resort to help? That there is a white net to fall into, one we've created, so as to avoid the stigma of "taking advantage" of government help?

In the above passage, there's the idea that the guy she overheard could be spending his money more wisely, as if we really can judge anyone's finances. Maybe it was what she viewed as his sheer bravado, bragging about his bike parts in one breath and talking about food stamps in the next. She didn't get into race, but would she have said the same thing about a person of color? (I'm making a lot of assumptions here but work with me.) When I worked at Crabtree, my co-worker Tiffany had two kids, her boyfriend was in jail, and Crabtree could only provide her with part-time hours. She told me about Section 8 as well as her use of food stamps. While these concepts weren't new to me, I never thought of using them for myself until she pointed out that I was obviously qualified. I never looked into it though. I went on many shopping trips with her, and while we both discussed struggling with money, we were also human. I didn't ever think, "Oh she shouldn't be buying those new shoes because she's on food stamps" when we went to Nine West. It wasn't really my business and god, that's a shitty thing to think.

She also had no hang-ups about getting help. She bragged about knowing the ins and outs of the system, and about the network of people she knew with similar situations; she would never be embarrassed talking about food stamps with her mother, for example. Maybe she could have survived without help, having never learned about it. When I got laid off and went on unemployment, having never had the time to quite settle into my finances from the time I left college to my retail positions to my double retail positions, no one really mentioned getting outside help; it was assumed I'd be o.k. because I said I'd be o.k. I wouldn't say I have a net, per se, because I wouldn't ask for money from anyone at this point (though I had to rely on a loan from a friend while at Crabtree); I do know that if I really were to fall, I could go back home to live in order to get on my feet. So for me, this is a temporary situation in my mind, and even so, I haven't looked into all the ways I could get help from organizations that were set up for this very reason.

At Pathmark recently, I was standing in line behind two women using government assistance to buy food. With every item, the cashier was telling them the brand or the type of food didn't qualify. It took forever. The black woman behind me was like, "They know frosted flakes don't qualify. Everyone knows you have to get corn flakes." I shook my head trying to convey an "I know! God" sentiment, but I felt sort of ignorant. Everyone knows that? Whoops, I don't know that. The woman behind me was beautiful, impeccably-dressed, and shopping at the same grocery store I was, but she was black and I am white.

I'm about to get sticky again. So now I'm thinking, maybe my aversion and unwillingness to look into getting help, knowing full well that I qualify, is perpetuating these racist ideas and preconceived notions we have. I have a degree from a top-tier institution and white privilege; maybe I don't deserve help. Tiffany and I could both use help, even if we decide to buy a pair of shoes or new bike parts, so am I drawing a line in the sand, saying, "But I'm different"? If I go out to dinner and get drinks on a weekend while on food stamps, is that different from buying new fancy shoes when you have two kids and live with your mom in Section 8 housing? How do we determine the needs of other people when the government has set the guidelines? Do we still have a right to judge? How are our judgments tied into our ideas of welfare and race? How does my argument change when it's not about New York City, and is about an impoverished white community in Michigan? (Obviously, I'm just writing a stupid blog post about a huge topic, so I didn't really delve into the race issue beyond anecdotal evidence, so try to give me a break as I sketch out a big issue on a very small piece of figurative paper.)

Some people obviously think the system is flawed or shouldn't exist in the first place. I think we should constantly question our ideas about welfare, even if race and privilege are hard things to talk about. The more we avoid them, the more we set our judgments in stone, making it harder for those who need help to get it and for those who are getting help to consider every option free of cultural influences and perceptions. Getting extra help isn't a necessity for me right now as I am surprisingly amazing at budgeting and avoiding unnecessary expenses, but if one day I feel that it is*, it would be nice to deal with the situation without the added shame and complicated notions about privilege. Yes, we can and all that...

*Don't worry: I wrote this between applying for jobs and doing work for my internship.

Tidings From Sam Rockwell

Oh hey, you're still here. So am I. Listen, reviews of Away We Go and Moon are coming up in the next couple of days, as well as a post about government aid (because, why not?). In anticipation of the upcoming review, here's a picture courtesy of Gemma featuring Sam Rockwell's hotness. In the meantime, after you're done checking out Rockwell's hotness, watch the preview for An Education.

An Education trailer:

Eat Less And Exercise More, You Idiot

Hey, guys. What I'm about to say is going to be annoying, but if I don't address it, I might punch someone in the face. I don't want that, you don't want that (you very much want that). Can you even punch the internet in the face? Anyway, it's sort of amazing to me that you can take the most liberal, "accepting" bunch of people and bring up the obesity epidemic with them, and all this hate comes spilling out. That's why I usually avoid reading stuff about weight when it can't be handled in a mature way (even my favorite sites can be assholes), but yet, I still read Gawker today when it addressed a new movement for fat acceptance.

Here's the quote from the New York Times article that got things going:

This movement - a loose alliance of therapists, scientists and others - holds that all people, "even" fat people, can eat whatever they want and, in the process, improve their physical and mental health and stabilize their weight. The aim is to behave as if you have reached your "goal weight" and to act on ambitions postponed while trying to become thin, everything from buying new clothes to changing careers. Regular exercise should be for fun, not for slimming.

Jezebel obviously handled the issue in a positive way, but I still felt the need to get pissed over this Gawker writer's assessment: "Yes, it's perfectly okay for people to engorge themselves silly every day as long as they can trick themselves into believing that their bloated bodies are 'normal.' So very painfully modern, no?"

Why does everything have to turn into a body judgment? This isn't about accepting bodies so that people can become more unhealthy; acceptance should lead to a healthier mentality which is the only way people can lose weight and make positive steps. Why is this so hard to understand? Why is it that people who have been thin all their lives think they are experts on psychology and weight loss? Can't we talk about this in a reasoned way without the fucking value judgments that don't further the discussion? Obesity and eating disorders are the same national issue, and it all has to do with how we talk about bodies. Shame and discrimination are certainly not helping things. If we could couple education about health with a lack of judgment, we could definitely turn the epidemic around. But people would hate giving up their right to being self-righteous assholes, so that will never happen. When I made a comment with my opinion (which included nothing about my own body or issues, by the way), this is what I got:

I think taking responsibility for oneself goes further than trying to make society accept stuff it doesn't want to accept. If you want to accept your fatness, then go right ahead. But that doesn't mean I'm going to.

I'm not going to accept a lot of things I don't like about other people and that's my perogative. Whether it's their conservative political views or their tendency to wear Crocs. If I accepted everyone, oh the raggedy group of friends I would have!

AND these fatties always squeeze me on the subway and buses. They see I'm not quite taking up my whole seat so they squeeze in beside me. And I can't breathe. When that stops happening on a daily basis maybe I'll be in a better mood. I don't need them with more power than they already have. The power of suffocating me. Enough is enough.

How educational! And:

Ummmm, the obese people are adults (I won't get into the children, who of course are fed by adults). What part of "eat fewer calories, get off the couch" needs to be "taught"? It's like cigarettes - you know the dangers. If you smoke 'em anyway, the ramifications are clear. Just like if you eat junk food, in large quantities, and live a completely sedentary life, the ramifications are clear. Are you telling me that the explosion in obesity from 1980 is a collective loss of intelligence and/or knowledge?

I'm fat because I eat junk food and don't move from the couch! Duh! Alcoholics can't stop drinking because they love the taste of alcohol, and people with depression are just bumming me out. How can people be so ignorant to human nature and, not to mention, society's impact on choice. So we've tried the public shaming of fat people for a couple generations; maybe we should see if a more positive approach works. There was just a study out about how children are aware of being treated differently when they're overweight, and how this causes depression. Even their teachers treat them differently; the teachers are more likely to assume chubby (or even, ALMOST chubby) girls are stupid and lazy. (The boys are less likely to be discriminated against by teachers but still develop feelings of depression/anxiety/loneliness based on peer relationships.) Depressed, overweight children are going to turn into depressed, obese adults. OR depressed, overweight children are going to develop eating disorders, or other addictive/negative behaviors.

It's off to me that people like Meme Roth can go on TV and make rude commentary about people who struggle with their weight, yet remain completely unaware of their own eating issues. That makes it more obvious that this is ALL of our issue. I've written before about my struggles with weight, and many of you had dealt with the same things, even if we were never similar sizes. Not being a scientist/psychologist, I can still say that people don't want to go to the gym when they feel like others are judging their bodies. People don't want to get healthy when they feel worthless. People don't want to feel good about themselves when they're told they don't deserve to from a young age.

It's easiest for me to be healthy when I'm in a healthy state of mind. This past week, I was feeling crappy about my body and myself, and I made some really bad choices around food. I shouldn't even have to explain that self-punishment is the same no matter the addictive behavior; these issues are really complicated. I don't think this makes me a bad person, or a weak-willed person. I still got up on Monday, started over, and went for a run with Anne. But I wouldn't have been able to if I had believed those things about myself that those asshole commenters want me to believe. No matter the mistakes I make around the issue of my weight, I shouldn't have to believe that these are connected to my value as a person; accepting myself, no matter my size on any given day, is the only way to get to where I want to go. This should be a no-brainer but I guess people are really attached to their hate.

There's this weird need for some people who are thin (not healthy per se, but thin) to give their opinion on the health and "grossness" (cross-language pun!) of others based purely on physical appearance. I had a friend who actually made a point to look at my grocery store receipt (or something similar) and comment that I should be eating more fruits and vegetables. And our building maintenance guy made a point to tell me that if I ran every day, I would definitely lose weight. Never mind that I didn't say anything about desiring to lose weight. When I discuss the (very long) process of losing weight with family and friends, it almost always becomes a laundry list of "helpful" tips and tricks when my goal is about health (yet I'm the one who needs help...?). Everyone's a goddamn expert on overweight people's choices and bodies.

On top of hearing all the time how fat is ugly, we are inundated with messages about our choices being so much more connected to our value than the regular Joe. I can't have McDonald's on occasion because I'm fat and that's unhealthy, but someone who is thin can eat whatever they want; so then health wasn't anyone's main concern then. Then there's this weird need to justify myself; I eat healthy; I exercise 3-5 times a week. And I try my very best to maintain a healthy attitude about my body despite the media and everyone around me making me feel wrong. So you tell me: if I'm trying to accept myself and no one else is, is this helping or hurting?

(By the way, the photo above is from a site called Operation Beautiful. I tried to find a picture of a well-known overweight [body-loving] actress but that's a lot harder than one would think. From the website: "The mission of Operation Beautiful is to post anonymous notes in public places for other women to find.")

Album of the Week: Maxwell, BLACKsummers'night

After a seven-year hiatus, Maxwell has landed in a precarious position. When you're credited with revolutionizing modern soul music, what do you do next?

On BLACKsummers'night, the first in a trilogy of albums to be released over the next three years, Maxwell goes for a decidedly stripped-down sound. While the album is awash in clamoring drums, funked-up drums, and horn flourishes, it's a far cry from warm, smoothed-out neo-soul sound on which he made his bank.

Luckily for Maxwell, it's really, really good.

There are several things that make this album so thoroughly enjoyable. Primarily, in the age of auto-tune, it's almost remarkable to hear an album that is unabashedly organic. No drum machines, no electro sparks, not even a single "eh, eh, eh" from The-Dream. It's simply Maxwell and a band, and it all sounds so clean and fresh. He bucks convention by playing with the typical A-B-A-B-C-B melodic construction of pop/soul songs, switching up melodies on verses unexpectedly.

Then there's the simple fact that Maxwell himself is a compelling artist to listen to. Over the years that he's been missing, his voice has aged, the once-perfect falsetto showing signs of wear. But rather than detract from his performances, the extra grit only adds to the fervor with which he sings. He spends much of the album in his more aggressive middle range, which is well-suited to the album's darker sound.

The somber nature of the album is probably Maxwell's biggest departure from his earlier work, embracing the "BLACK" of the album's title. All of the warm sensuality of "...Till The Cops Come Knockin'" is gone, replaced with a more cold, sparse glare. The blasts of brass on second single "Bad Habits" sound more menacing than bright. It's one of the album's most fully-realized songs--like first single "Pretty Wings," it almost progresses in movements, detailing a romantic addiction.

"Cold" seems heavily influenced by the Gamble & Huff sound. The snare clatters, the horns blare, and the guitar line licks through the track to funk it all up in the classic Philly way. "Fistful of Tears" is, in some ways, the slow jam take on the same concept, with a pulsing piano and strings. The latter, along with "Love You," make me think of what Alicia Keys attempted to do with her last album, As I Am. She stripped back the production and added more live elements, but it got terribly close to lite-rock territory at times, a pitfall that Beyoncé encountered on her last album as well. Maxwell is significantly more successful in this regard---he's managed to clean out all of the fuss from his music, yet it still feels indelibly and completely like soul music. "Playing Possum" is, for the most part, backed by a lone guitar, allowing Maxwell to simmer in the empty space. It's accented by what is just the suggestion of a drum, and finally a trumpet solo. Nothing about any of those elements is, at its core, typically associated with soul music, but he weaves them all together with layered vocals in a manner that is a natural progression of the work of soul legends.

At just eight tracks (and a surprisingly synthesized instrumental song, "Phoenix Rising") it's a short album to come after such a long break. However, with each song so well-crafted, I'll take it over an overstuffed album full of filler. Maxwell has rather deftly taken the spirit of his neo-soul roots and paired it with a much more mature, and clearly modern, sound. It looks like the herald of neo-soul has grown up into the master of plain old good music, genre be damned.

Listen Up: Maxwell, "Bad Habits"

Flanacko's Diary: Part 1

Hey guys, remember me? Me neither. The thing is, I started this internship last week and also planned a 4th of July party so I didn't have time to "blog." (I'm not sure why I put that in quotes.) And, as you know, Shawn has officially quit the blog so I've brought on a mystery guest blogger to hold you guys over (insatiable, you are!) until I get used to, you know, having a normal adult schedule again. I'll be reviewing Away We Go this week, and hopefully bringing back "Soul Searching," the meanings of google searches that lead to the site. Take it away, Flanacko!*

"For ur blog"

Are You There Internet? It's Me, Flanacko. My identity must remain secret on this blog as it is very heavily trafficked and I am a future public school teacher. Therefore, I will be blogging under the pseudonym Flanacko and will tell you everything important that has happened in the past few days.

1) Tick Bite

I was afraid of coming to rural Vermont because of ticks and lyme disease. I went to my dad's place in Mystic, CT before coming up here. After a vigorous walk through the woods, I scraped schmutz of all types off my milky white legs. One little black spot didn't come off. IT WAS A MUFUCKIN TICK, SON!

It eated a butter, and that butter was my leg. If you have ever had a tick bite, you will know that it involves that little friend attaching itself to you and giving you (maybe) Lyme disease, which turns you into a fatigued, possibly retarded person 4 LYFE. (Remember that annoying girl on the Real World Seattle, Irene, who constantly complained? She had Lyme Disease. [Ed. note: I remember well. Good night, Irene.])

My dad assured me that he doesn't "believe" in chronic Lyme disease, at which point I got major cry feeling and insisted that we do something about the mufuckin tick which was still attached to my leg, sucking blood out of me. My brother's partner offered to pull it out, assuring me that he "pulled them out of dogs all the time in Puerto Rico."

W
T
F

So I googled "tick removal" and pulled it out myself. If I turn mental from a tick bite you will know why. :C

2) Arriving in VT

I got to, let's call it, "Black River Junction," Vermont today. It is very rural. The grocery store closes at 7 p.m., but I was able to buy brown rice and coffee (STAPLE FOODZ). This is what people in VT look like, by the way.

A boy on the Amtrak train up to VT approached me and invited me to hang out with the young people in the dining car. Is it sad that I said no and read The Diary of Anne Frank instead?

3) The Diary of Anne Frank

Ugh, boring!

4) Burning Cooch

I was dicing up jalapenos for my stir fry and I didn't wash my hands and I went to go pee and I touched my cooter and it burned for like 3 hours. Ouch. [Ed. note: I'm sorry, readers. Still not as bad as touching your eye, though.]

5) Bro House 1998

My house (the one I am living in in VT) is a total bro house. My housemate is a 50-year-old bro who smokes pot and invites me to sit by the fire every night. Now there are also some toothless VT bros and I have to hang out with them tonight. I think if I tell them I am a lez they will Brandon-Teena me. UGH! Wut a dai.

6) My Class, My Students

My class and my students are complete lolzbucketcharacters. [Ed. note: "bucket/buckety" is an expression of cuteness or enthusiasm for Flanacko, derived from the movie, The Bucket List.] Student X, I will call her, introduced herself today by saying, "Hi, my name is X and I have an underbite and a mental problem." [Shocked response from teacher and class.] "No seriously. I have an advanced reading level, though."

WUT?

Flanacko Out.

*The puppet above is Flanacko's handiwork for the children in VT; there are 19 more. I helped and also gluegunned my hand several times.

Smith Street Fair

Today, Eric, Anne, and I went to the Smith Street Fair in Carroll Gardens, a scaled-down version of the Atlantic Antic. After my coverage of that fair, I made sure to get as many pictures of the food we ate as possible. We originally wanted to go to catch the Stinkfest '09 cheese-eating contest, but by the time we had walked around (and eaten our weight in festival food), we weren't prepared to wait around. Plus, Mr. Softee was calling our names like the tempting devil he is. So I missed the Pride Parade for this festival, but I feel like they're pretty comparable. [This is where I almost made a sausage cart joke and then decided you are all too smart for that.] Plus, I'm sure Shawn will post about Pride...? [Shawn quit the blog a year ago.]

Starting the day off right, Eric sampled a mojito while Anne tried the red sangria.

The first place we tried was a Peruvian restaurant called Coco Roco. Eric got a crab-stuffed empanada, and Anne and I split "papa rellena" (potato stuffed with beef and vegetables). Their items were a little pricey, but I went back for more anyway (as you'll see later).

Next, we tried the more affordable Thai tent down the block, which had each item at $1 each. I got crab ravioli and Anne had chicken satay.

I'd like to say there was a lot of time between the food tents, but...not really. Next, Anne and I split some Indian food: chicken tikka masala with rice, a vegetable samosa, and naan (not pictured).

Anne and Eric choppin' it up:

A local dance studio was offering free on-site salsa lessons and performing for the crowd.

The guy in the college shirt remained frozen like that for the rest of the afternoon, and we all just danced around him.

There was a lot of a live music featuring a few local groups.

Wild Bill's offered unlimited refills on their old-fashioned soda for $10, and it came in a metal mug. I wanted to try the sarsaparilla flavor but I guess "diet soda" didn't really exist in the olden days.

Eric's face in the background makes these pictures a lot more enjoyable.

After his shenanigans, Eric tried a fresh falafel from the next stand:

The ingredients were amazingly fresh, and the falafel balls were being fried to order. What I'm saying is I regret not getting a falafel.

To make up for my lack of falafel, I headed back to the Peruvian stand and tried this chicken and potato stew in a creamy white sauce. Eric is holding out his stained shirt (caused by a falafel incident) in the background.

Before leaving the fair and heading to Trader Joe's, we finally got our well-deserved ice cream. Deserved because it was hot, not because we were hungry.

Here's a shot of some earrings from the fair which were only $3. I guess when there are fifteen tents with homemade jewelry, one has no choice but to be extremely competitive. We all win. (I win.)

Bunnies, Clouds, And Thoughts

The last time Anne and I went to see the roses at the Botanic Gardens was a graveyard disaster, so I decided to check back this year to see the roses in bloom. As I've mentioned, Tuesdays are free, so I roamed around by myself and explored. Since I was alone, I took some more pictures of things I found pretty and went to parts I haven't been to before. It always feels a little weird to be doing fun stuff alone (I also went to the library!), but I sat on benches in three different sections and just enjoyed the sun and quiet. Some thoughts and many pictures after the jump.

Not to get all hippie on everyone, but having this time off (euphemisms!) has really made me think about what our time means and how we spend it. I'd like to say I'm bored out of mind having been unemployed for five months now, but I'm not. While I'm eager to get back to work and continue building my career, it's been an amazing experience to have time to myself to just figure out how to enjoy myself and life. I said to my therapist just a few months ago (when I had health insurance and a therapist) that I simply can't pinpoint a time in my life when I felt happy. Yet today, sitting on a ledge in front of the Brooklyn Museum, I felt happy in that moment, and that is extremely rare for me. Despite all the confusion and stress I feel about my job search and the relationships in my life, I've had time to just enjoy my friends, my neighborhood, and normalcy. I feel like a normal person for once, someone without the weight of constant depression; I can have all these problems I'm dealing with and still enjoy an afternoon.

So that's why I feel it's so important to find a job that will, if not satisfy me, then at least not torture me like many of the past ones. Some other countries are much more aware of the importance of mental health in relation to work, allowing for more time off and concentration on family and life. After I watched this video, it did make a lot of sense that we live the way we do; it's part of our society to workworkwork and buybuybuy, and that has kept us running for a really long time (even if we're not all that happy). That's probably why I feel so ashamed of myself for not just accepting a retail job and for depending on unemployment instead. It's just not in my or our nature to take a little time to really figure things out. We have a system where we've made this impossible (for the not-rich anyway).

But I have this luxury (well, a catch-22 of luxury) at the moment unlike any other time in my life, and I'm making the best of it. From the time I was a child, I always had the next goal in my head and I'm not sure what it was all meant to lead up to because here I am--unmarried, unemployed, unsuccessful, yet happier than before. Still, the weight of the past, but also perspective enough to be able to finally enjoy a little bit of present. I want more than anything to find a job and career path that utilize my skills and work ethic, that leave me fulfilled at the end of my life, that support me so that I can take care of myself and others. But I also want to always be able to find a balance, to be able to sit on a park bench and look around, to know that work is part of what makes our lives but not meant to be a distraction from living.

Why Do We Hate Kate Gosselin?

[I'm using the patronizing we here. I do not hate Kate Gosselin, but you monsters seem to.] In honor of my last post, I feel the need to sound off on something that absolutely everyone is sick of at this point because that's what I do. I don't want to get into the media drama or the divorce or the ethics related to kids on reality TV, but I do want to discuss the 99% hate for Kate Gosselin. I've been watching the show since the first special, before it was even a show, and I really feel like I know this family, in that twisted way only people of recent generations can feel they really know reality TV personalities.

Meaghan, my loudest and most opinionated friend, went on a hate rant last night about Kate and I just don't get it. I mean, her hair and religiosity aside (which is much more palatable than anything the Duggars say), I'm not sure what about her personality is so causing of vitriol. Since I have been a longtime fan of the show, I've read a lot of people's opinions and comments on the recent media frenzy and they are pretty hateful. Basically, Kate is a bitch and a nag and a horrible, mean woman so she deserved everything she got. Free at last, thank God almighty, Jon Gosselin, the big man-baby is free at last. As I see it, we don't really have a lot of these female personalities on t.v. nowadays; when a wife and mother is represented, she is less type-A and more submissive. And if more sarcastic/bitchy sides are shown, they are harpooned for comic relief (for example, Carrie from King of Queens). Roseanne existed once but would her show be able to make it in right now? I doubt it.

Even at the time, a lot of people didn't like what she represented. I saw a recent interview where Roseanne said she pretty much had to offer her views of feminism in a natural and less overt way or she risked female opposition. And it's true. Despite us feeling a certain way about equality, we still believe that marriages between men and women require a dominant/submissive balance. I can't help but think that the hatred toward Kate is caused by the fact that we aren't used to seeing women act like she acts, which is in control of her family and with a tight grip on her husband. I just don't see what's wrong with that. Like I said, the decisions made around the show aside, I've only seen her offer love and fair discipline to her children, and her "snapping" and "nagging" with her husband always struck me as quite necessary. Some people are followers, some leaders, and some in-between; Jon seems to need a lot of direction for someone who decided to have eight children. He obviously knew her personality traits when he married her, and they were a good enough fit for him then. The man is not a victim!

So it really bothers me when women I know or read with equally aggressive personalities as Kate and I attack her. Is it a self-hating thing? I don't know. But I do recognize many personality traits in her and I know how hard it is to be yourself when you feel like maybe you're being too "masculine." She just is who she is and he is who he is, and I honestly think unions like theirs can work if there is communication. I saw Kate trying during interviews, and I also saw her last night suffering in the aftermath because Jon chose to cheat and run instead of standing up and facing his marital/personal problems like a married man should do. And that's what pisses me off about marriage and divorce; if we insist on it existing, we should probably take the actual union a little more seriously. Kate states Jon has a lot of anger but will not communicate with her, and then the camera shows him sitting there all nonchalant: "I don't hate Kate." I'm just a child and would rather run from my obligations than deal with my feelings and relationship. You have eight children; try therapy if you find her too bossy and OCD.

Um, anyway. I just feel like this backlash against Kate is a betrayal of different types of women/personalities/relationships. My grandmother, one of the most important female role models in my life, was very dominating and, well, shouty with my grandpa. She was a talkative, loud, and smart Italian lady, but she also took care of her four children, cooked him every meal, and nursed my grandfather after he had heart attacks/strokes for years. My grandfather worked crazy hours, supported his wife, and told her he loved her every single day. He was quiet and a little sheep-like, so I think he enjoyed my grandmother's need to take charge and keep things in order. He didn't need things to be his way, so why not let them be hers? As a child, I was very close to my grandpa and I'd get angry with my grandma for shouting at him. I'd defend his honor but he'd just laugh it off. It worked for him, it worked for her, and I learned to ignore the squabbles. On the other hand, my dad is more of a dominating figure while my step-mom tends to follow the more traditional submissive wife role. Obviously, when they have issues, they have to communicate about them and work them out, but I certainly don't judge one relationship over the other just because I'm conditioned to think one is more appropriate.

I may be the alpha female in many of my relationships, but that's because we all play roles and we all interact differently. I have friends who balance me out, and, in turn, I balance them out when I take control, make decisions, and speak my opinion no matter how hated I'll be for it. It's not "feminine," it's not often accepted by outsiders, but I refuse to be ashamed of the things about me that are praised in men. And, all other things related to the show aside, Kate Gosselin shouldn't have to be ashamed either. As someone who has been told I'm abrasive and bitchy and "hard for men to handle" more often than not, GIVE THE WOMAN A FUCKING BREAK. Thank you. Until you've seen the episodes of her working a double-shift as a nurse and clipping coupons and planning her exact meals so she could cheaply feed ten people, I don't want to hear about how horrible you find this woman.

All-Over-The-Place Rambling About Smart Girls

I know that Amy Poehler's "Smart Girls at the Party" web-series has been featured on quite a few feminist websites (and even in my "To Make Your Life Better" section), but I just have to talk about it (and what it means) some more in case you guys haven't seen it.

I know it sounds silly but watching each episode makes me absolutely giddy, especially when the theme song/dance party comes on with Kristen Wiig and Will Arnett rocking out. I wish that this sort of thing existed when I was little, but I suppose it didn't have to; we had Clarissa Darling and Blossom and Angela Chase, as well as numerous girls that we could see on TV that represented us. Obviously, TV shouldn't be the most important place to gain self-esteem, but it's always important to feel represented and celebrated. I'm pretty sure that at eight and nine, I didn't question whether or not it was o.k. to be a smart girl and have friends who wanted to be the same things I did--teachers, lawyers, writers, chefs, and moms all at once. Now, I feel like I have to retroactively protect that young version of myself because somewhere along the line, it did become weird to be smart, opinionated, ambitious, and, well, a know-it-all. So when I see things like this show, I do feel that sense of community that Amy Poehler refers to, and it makes me want to change everything, past and present, for me and for others.

And Amy's right about looking back on those middle school years and feeling a sense of shame. But before that, as a child, it felt right to be the best artist in my class and to make fun of boys when they were being dumb and to kick the kickball as hard as I could no matter who was watching. So at what point do we learn to feel inferior? When did I start to feel self-conscious in classes for getting high scores? When did I start to blush when answering questions and wonder if everything I said was stupid? When did it become acceptable for girlfriends to stop standing up for each other and start being quiet around their boyfriends or other boys? When did it become so embarrassing to declare oneself a feminist? I've had numerous discussions about female relationships lately, and it makes me sad to think I'll never feel as good about myself and as proud of my abilities as I did as an eight-year-old with my best friend by my side. We were playing with dolls and imagining marriage, but we were also questioning everything and talking to whoever would listen about important topics. Now, there is constant need to protect myself--from mean girls at work (I'm being specific and not generalizing), from people who make me feel like I'm lesser, from friendships that reinforce unhealthy behavior, from myself for being influenced by those things around me.

In high school, I was part of a circle of smart girls but we certainly weren't celebrating ourselves. We had so much fun just doing our own thing, being nerdy and laughing with each other, but we still felt wrong. We were always missing the big parties and the boyfriends, working on homework and at our part-time jobs instead. Now, even though I can count my closest girlfriends on one hand, I find myself amazed to be surrounded by such intelligent, strong women. Circumstantially or otherwise, I have like-minded, brilliant friends and I want to find a way to celebrate that community and those attributes that currently seem very unimportant culturally instead of reinforcing that feeling that we're not good enough. We're the fun ones, we're the ones that people want to be around (or at least the ones that I want to be around).

The other day, I was expressing my sense of sadness over my current situation to a guy friend; being unemployed has derailed my goals for myself, and after trying so hard to build myself up after crappy circumstances, it's been very difficult to have no control over my success at this point. Working hard was always my way to control my place in the world when I could control so little, and it feels now as if the bottom fell out. He told me it's not that bad, that I'm only 24, and this made me feel a little bit better (though I do compare myself to other women my age and always feel overwhelmed about where I stand). But, while I don't want to beat myself up, I never want to lose the standards that I (and I alone) have set for myself. Wouldn't it be great if we created stronger communities where we built each other up, nourished these high expectations, and acted as rungs for each other? Obviously this isn't a new idealized concept, but I think it's good to remind ourselves once in a while how strong and important female relationships can be.

Amy Poehler and her crew did this in their small way and I think it'll eventually have a ripple effect. This backlash of celebrated female ignorance will have to cause a turn-around eventually, as that's how these things work. They're trying to tell us that women are less happy in the aftermath of feminism, but that's like saying black Americans were less happy in the aftermath of the Civil Rights Movement. I mean, we can have more rights legally and still not be able to feel equal culturally; some things changing doesn't mean the past is erased. The point is, we didn't get "everything we asked for" because we couldn't control the environment. So now we have Rock of Love Bus and The Hills as well as Sotomayor and Clinton. But we're finding out that we actually do the same (if not better) in math, that we perform poorly when we're made to feel lesser, so the celebrating and equalizing will have to follow eventually. Until then, let's just declare "smart girls have more fun" like the theme song, and be proud of each other.

In case you don't feel like watching each episode, this bonus interview video features Amy, Meredith (producer), and Amy (music coordinator) talking about each girl that they interviewed for the show and why they came up with the concept in the first place.

How-Not-To Video

If you're like me, you watch a lot of Food Network and other food-related programming (again--food porn). I realize that a lot of people go into making the food on cooking shows look amazing, but I still like to believe that we can do a lot of stuff shown on those programs at home. If you have some sense and a little bit of ability, anyway. While searching for a little recipe help today, I became disillusioned as I realized what happens in the hands of, well, real people.

I don't like recipes, and I try to avoid cooking something if I need them (which is why I don't bake). Sometimes I'll search here and there to get an idea about how long something should cook or ingredient ratios. But I understand that some people require recipes, visuals, and even how-to videos. I mean, we learn most things about hands-on tasks by watching people and absorbing information. Anyway, we're having a Fourth of July party this year, and I was looking for a way to spice up my pasta salad dressing since I've only ever made it for myself. After watching the following video, I am turned off to cooking altogether and might consider never eating again. If you're used to Giada's smiling face and Ina's professionalism, this video is going to make you laugh (/kill yourself). This woman is definitely at an enthusiasm level of 7.

She started off strong (?) with the iceberg (yuck) lettuce, but things kind of got out of control. Her mumbling to herself is a nice touch, but my favorite is the shot of the finished plate. "Doesn't that look pretty?" Yum! Eat up kids! Mommy's drunk and she made you some salad. "I hope you enjoyed making the, uh, both salads with me." No, I didn't. Especially because of this little mess in the next video. Oil+mayo+pinwheel pasta=classy.

Gross. I'll be figuring it out by myself from now on.

Don't Rain On My [Mermaid] Parade

We went to the Mermaid Parade in Coney Island for the third year, and the weather was miserable. The good thing is that the crowd was affected enough that we got a good spot in front of the judges' table. The bad thing is that the parade seemed to have a smaller turn-out this year. But we can blame the economy for that instead because that's the cool thing to do right now. It poured for about an hour, but let up toward the end. Rain or shine, I was right there getting the pictures for you [which you'll quickly scroll through and forget about in five minutes]. The best parts detailed after the jump. (Due to the bad weather, there will be no food porn in this post; the rain didn't stop me from getting ice cream but it stopped me from taking pictures of it. I'm just as upset as you are.)

Rebecca's face pretty much sums up how everyone was feeling about the rain before the parade started:

One of the best costumes came early in the parade:

There was a lot of nudity this year, despite the rain (maybe because of the rain). I avoided taking pictures of those people because this isn't Girls Gone Wild. (You wish this was Girls Gone Wild.) Let's just say that you should be happy I didn't get this guy from the front:

The circus threw us clown noses. Rebecca promptly put hers on:

More proof the Aquarium is awesome:

I just liked the arm hanging out of the car:

If you click on this, you'll be able to see the plate which says "I am old":

This guy should be in the movies:

In the middle here in white is David Yassky, running for Comptroller of New York. Vote for him...(?):

Best costumer ever. Zoltar on a segway:

A mermaid and her drowned sailor:

Somali pirates. How topical. This will be as irrelevant in a year as Shawn's costume at my Halloween party in 2007 ("a celebrity fleeing his Malibu home during the wildfires"):

One of my favorite parade groups, the Brooklyn Bombshells, did their dance routine for the judges:

Recycled metro cards:

The lady with the roller coaster on her head from last year wasn't there, but this guy had a metro card bridge on his head, which is similar but not as awesome:

The guy with the pipe was kind of cute:

Shrimp cocktails:

MTA mermaid:

Yeah, that's a bubble:

M.C. Hammerhead sharks:

I wonder how much time they put into this Flashdance display. The costumes were pretty elaborate:

One chick was pregnant, which freaked me out and intrigued me simultaneously (as the best things do):

Welcome to your worst nightmare:

Harvey Keitel, acting as King Neptune, there to announce the opening of the beach, is somewhere in here:

And in the grand tradition of blurry pictures of celebrities in which you can't actually make them out, here's Harvey Keitel again:

A Year of Fail

In true Linda/Shawn tradition, I'm late to chime in. But in keeping with the spirit of Linda's post, I wanted to share my thoughts on our "blogiversary." (Also, that is the absolute worst word ever, and I'm going to have Linda euthanized for coining it.)

It's been a hilarious and challenging year. I had maintained my own blog for years before, and it's a very different experience working with someone else. There's the issue of reaching a consensus regarding the type of content and editorial standards, about both of which Linda and I had a number of intense discussions (update on that one: "eachother" is still not a word, no matter how hard Linda tries).

And then there's the issue of, you know, posting. Linda is a dedicated writer and constantly holds the site down. I, on the other hand, am pretty terrible at posting regularly, usually because of some combination of lacking inspiration, motivation, or time. Back when I wrote on my own site, when I wouldn't post for a long time, I would only feel as guilty as I wanted to. However, when you're collaborating with someone else, you are beholden to them as well. You want to make sure that you're putting in the same effort, or at least trying to.

Lately I've been having trouble writing. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I've sort of stuck to just doing music reviews. I'm not sure exactly why. I think it has to do with the fact that writing about music has always been something very comfortable and safe for me. And I've been having trouble putting words on a page to talk about all of the other things that have caught my attention lately. Hopefully I'll find the words soon enough so that you'll see more from me than somewhat obscure and indulgent album reviews.

But despite all that, the payoff of writing with another person, and especially writing with Linda, has been great, and obviously greater than the challenges. I think we've both pushed each other hard at times (and clearly we've fought), which has continually forced me to reevaluate my ideas and convictions. And more importantly, it's kept me writing. Perhaps not at any sort of prolific pace, but there's something to be said about taking time to just analyze the shit about something that's going on, and putting that out there for people to see.

As for favorite posts---essentially everything related to the 2008 Presidential election was fun for me, but the liveblogs were always my favorite to do. That shit ain't easy, but that was probably because I was always drinking aggressively while writing them. As for other specific posts: writing about living alone was empowering, writing about the aftermath of Proposition 8 helped me to move on, writing about Sarah Palin's linguistic stylings put me back in the analytical mindframe that served me well in my college English literature classes, writing about racism and Amy Winehouse made me get indignant, and writing about gentrification allowed me to pat myself on the back, as a gentrifier must always do. Paying homage to Mary J. Blige's My Life was also a special treat, as I consider it to be a major formative force in my musical education growing up.

As for Linda's posts, I appreciated this one, because it takes bigger balls to talk about the uncomfortable stuff, and people get really awkward about rape (not sure why that is?). On the flip side, I loved Linda's theoretical situations about her apartment, primarily because they were all true.

So as we enter year two, I want to thank those of you who have stuck around. Even as we fail miserably, you always come back to watch the shit show, and you even pretend that it has nothing to do with Linda's death threats. I swear, this year there will be less rape, abortion, and dead mom jokes!

(We all know that's patently false.)

We've Wasted A Year Of Your Life: Let's Celebrate!

Here ye, here ye, devoted readers! [Echooo, echooo.]

Today is our one year blogiversary. (Don't worry, Shawn: two weeks have passed so I can finally bring up how our blog is doing.) I know times have been tough around here; I've been unemployed/useless and Shawn has been a little too busy (cool) to regularly post. I'd still like to take this time to celebrate a year of [un]cooperative, collaborative blog effort. Let's trip down memory lane.

As you can see from our first post, we have done exactly what we set out to do, which was bullshit about bullshiiit and make each other laugh (/cry). I don't think we've managed to pick up one dedicated reader who didn't follow us over here (read: friends) BUT we have managed to scare a lot of people visiting through incidental google searches. Worth it.

What's working and what isn't? Well, you tell me. I think my favorite part about having my own inconsequential site is that I get to start conversations. And though I sometimes have to force you guys to join the dialogue (don't expect those guilt trips to stop), the best part of this site for me is the little community Shawn and I have "built" (=enslaved). In having a joint site, though, I have abandoned the type of writing I'm used to, which is a little more autobiographical and, um, wordy.

In browsing through some old entries from my previous site, I decided I might start to incorporate that type of writing here (like this post) on Why Are You Yelling? so that I keep writing the things I enjoy as well as producing things you guys are more interested in since I didn't previously write more "journalistic" stuff until we started this blog. (Writing about this site like it's actually a thing is really fun.) So, even though I know you guys mostly read us to offer encouragement/support, I'd love for you to let me know what you enjoy the most and of what you would like to see more. (What things do you skip, what do you always read, etc.) For example, since Shawn and I have our roots in poetry, I'd like to start a monthly (or bi-monthly given our recent lack of inspiration) feature where we write poems for the site. Thoughts...?

Back to memory lane! I went over our 200 entries in order to point out some of my favorites for a re-visit. In my opinion, the best comment forum happened around the discussion of the value of art. (Actually, these comments got a little more heated. Remember Sarah Palin?) The best L+S discussion happened around the discussion of Oprah (of course). My personal favorite post is probably "Your Office Sounds Horrible." (It's funny because I got laid off.) Out of Shawn's posts, the most entertaining for me was about the Inauguration, and not just because I was overwhelmed with envy and couldn't think straight.

Anyway, thanks for spending a year reading my feminists rants, bad jokes, and self-indulgent diatribes. Please stick around. If only to find out if I ever get a job. Or to witness the inevitable fallout of Shawn's and my friendship. (It'll happen. Oh, yes it will.)