Saturday, October 29, 2005

saturthoughts. Sometimes I'll notice a bruise on my body and I won't have a clue how I got it. In fact, some of these bruises are big, dark ones -- purplish-blue or reddish-brown and the size of like, my hand -- and I'll have to search through my mental archive of klutz moments to try and divine the source of the trauma. I'll even poke the bruise a little. Sure enough -- it hurts. Why didn't I feel this before? I find that watching or reading the news nowadays has become a remarkably similar experience for me as of late. I believe that, for our society in general, the endless parade of shocking images and events that play across our computer and television screens has made us somewhat numb to horror. That's not right or good -- I would hope for an endless well of indignation in the face of wrongdoing -- but I think it's a survival mechanism we develop in response to the sheer overwhelmingness of it all. More and more lately, though, I'll get hit incredibly hard by something I see or read, in a way that I never have before. When I say hard, I mean tears and open-mouthed shock and fire-red cheeks. I am finding all these tender spots in my psyche that haven't quite callused over yet. And it's a relief, quite frankly. *** Undercooked muffins are not my idea of a good time. *** My roommate is currently working on the University Course From Hell. She has a tutor for said course. His name is George. Evidently George is NOT Curious. She has sought out his counsel on many occasions and I believe he has only deigned to give sage advice like, "Read the textbook." and "Work harder." Well, she has read the text and she does work hard. She's spent hours and hours and hours trying to crack the code of this particular subject and I swear, if I were her, I'd be much, much further behind. George's response puts me in mind of the pat advice that I've given people in the midst of crisis, despite the fact that I hate receiving it myself. Sometimes advice can be incredibly simple, but to spout off some vague directive in response to a concern is one of the most disempowering things we can do. Giving advice based on our flawed perception of events can be a minefield, too. George doesn't live with us (and good thing -- we'd smother him in his sleep), so he doesn't know how much time she spends on school. But why would he ever assume that would be a helpful thing to say, anyhow? Even if Kris weren't applying herself to her studies, would that comment really serve to turn the tide? As I was feeling rather self-righteous on Kristy's behalf about all of this, I received an email from a friend about a problem she was having. I didn't have a clue what she should do about it, but she was asking me for help, ideas... anything. And I actually typed the words, "Well, just talk to him about it..." before I realized I was tossing out a Georgeism. So, instead, I told her that I could only imagine how hard it was to be going through what she was going through and tried to think of three constructive actions that she could take. It may be that absolutely none of them are of any use to her whatsoever. But she asked, so I wanted to put some effort into trying to help. I'm sure I'll George out on someone again soon because I don't take the time to think through my response to their real need for help. But at least now I have a tangible reminder of how useless pat or unconsidered advice is sitting right across from me in the coffee shop. Kristy will do well in this course because she DOES work hard. But if she has the courage to ask for help, she should get it. We all should. *** How do people think up hors d'oeuvres? Seriously, now. What makes you think to combine certain things in puff pastry or pile them on a cracker? And why could I not remember how to spell hors d'oeuvres? *** It's funny -- sometimes the most comforting food in the world is that which I take time to prepare: intricate recipes that offer near-transcendent levels of chopping and stirring and juicing and spicing and tasting. And sometimes I just want takeout sushi: the simple beauty of maki with insides like a Klimt painting accompanied by a dollop of wasabi and a pile of pickled ginger. I realized today, when I am in the mood for culinary intricacy, making sushi is the one thing I never have any desire to do. I think somehow I'd ruin my enjoyment of the takeout moments if I tackled the process on my own. It's like this: I enjoy reading Joyce, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to write that stuff. *** 4:18:29 PM    well, yes, but...  [] just because you have a cute baby doesn't mean you get to meme me. My friend Erin -- we worked together at my company before she left to have the obnoxiously adorable Milo (see above) -- has tagged me with a meme on her blog. Well, we all know how I feel about memes. But, she did dance with me last night and wear a boa, too, so I feel that I should follow through. Here goes: 7 things I want to do before I die Write a book. That people actually read. Or maybe just my mom and dad read it, but still -- a book. Get married to a great guy and work hard at an amazing marriage for the rest of our lives. Establish a significant pattern of contribution to causes and charities I care about -- both with my money and my time. Get some hobbies -- I swear, where did I leave my hobbies? Build a loving, stable home for whatever shape my family might take. Bake one decent loaf of sourdough bread. A triathalon (I know, I know...) 7 things I cannot do Financial calculations much beyond balancing my chequebook. Stop making odd little noises. Figure out how to sleep properly every single night. Tell the difference between all the trendy bands right now. Wear aggressively high-heeled shoes without wanting to cut off my feet. Stop blogging. Eat fake potatoes. 7 things that attract me to the opposite sex Kindness Intelligence Wisdom Integrity Humour Musicality Eloquence 7 things I say most often "Can I get a grande latte, extra shot, please?" "What's the deadline on that?" "Oh my gosh." "I have no idea what to make for dinner tonight." "I'll email you about it" "Have you heard this song?? I LOVE THIS SONG!" "Oooh, the game is on tonight." 7 celebrity crushes John Cusack Matthew Maconaughey Gabriel Macht Gary Cooper Paul Newman Jon Stewart David Letterman (I know, I know...) Well, Erin, there you have it, dear. I'm not going to pass it on to anyone (I am anti-replication), but if you want to answer it in my comments, I'd love to see your answers. 2:32:34 PM    well, yes, but...  [] vegas recap The girls in the finance department -- who organized the whole shindig -- were by far the most glam. Dripping with cubic zirconium, lame (and that's 'la-may', not 'lame' -- my accent aigu won't work!), satin and the longest fake eyelashes you ever saw. The girls in the events coordination department were the most Vegas-ed out: one was a gangster moll complete with a fedora and a gun, while the other was wearing a gown that Eydie Gorme would have envied along with biggest fake sparklers you ever saw. The customer service, tech support, and IT guys and girls -- who do the most painful job in the whole place, for my money -- were split amongst supafly and, well... what they wore to work. My department? Lots of boas, one pregnant bride in a wedding dress (and she isn't even the pregnant one!), and the Japanese Elvis. We rock. I watched my CEO absolutely trash us all at roulette -- and by putting all his chips on one square! I danced up a storm with Shannon and Coralynn. I had a great laugh over the appetizers with Jennifer and Tara. I talked blogs on the deck with Erin and Rob. I got to see how various men look in feathers. Work parties are the best kind of surreal. It was a heck of a time. If I had pictures, I'd post them, but I don't... yet. Someone took pictures that I was in, so if I get my hands on some, I'll put them up here. I wore a black dress (georgette, knee length, fitted, deep v, sleeveless), black patent heels, a red feather boa, and a pile of curls half-pinned up atop my head. And seven coats of mascara. Seven. When I washed my face last night, it chipped off my eyes like spider legs into the sink. Cool. That's Vegas, baby. 1:26:03 PM    well, yes, but...  [] home again, home again, jiggity jig I won nothing! Not a prize in sight! What a travesty! Well, it was fun, nonetheless. 12:15:30 AM    well, yes, but...  []

© Copyright 2006 Meg Fowler. Last update: 3/4/06; 2:29:31 PM.