Briefly,
Saturday, December 15, 2007
the weekend blur
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
buy buy work
Scratch that, all on the floor
Sunday, December 2, 2007
to buy, edited
- computer speakers
- crock pot
- curtain rod
- thin belts
- dress shirts
- dresses
- jackets
- nasty bag for work
- gloves
- plastic portable filing system
- usb cable
Plans
- finally grow out Li'l Puff's hair
- New Year's Resolution
- more metallurgy
- travel
- no adding to "to buy" list
To Do (Long-Run)
- relocating to that beachy area of Thailand that it was said I would enjoy (I think b/c language issues + __?? + low cost of living) - but med care, etc. (Mark)
- relocating to India (e.g., Banjara Hills) - but how sustain self, not lose mind, etc.?
- living full-time in an RV - ask Ruthie about boatlife b/c is very similar (small space, community); sewage situation; storage
- horse as primary means of transport ($200/month to maintain or was it $2k/yr?) (Dead Broke horse farm)
- commune - but what members + cult problems
- house of extended family/ies (Tom Cruise allegedly, ancient times)
- move to Hudson, NY
- Gozo, Malta
Sunday, November 18, 2007
My Sleep & My Two-Step
--
--
--
--
--
. . .
. . .
Our conception of sleep as an unbroken block is so innate that it can seem inconceivable that people only two centuries ago should have experienced it so differently. Yet in an experiment at the National Institutes of Health a decade ago, men kept on a schedule of 10 hours of light and 14 hours of darkness — mimicking the duration of day and night during winter — fell into the same, segmented pattern. They began sleeping in two distinct, roughly four-hour stretches, with one to three hours of somnolence — just calmly lying there — in between. Some sleep disorders, namely waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to fall asleep again, “may simply be this traditional pattern, this normal pattern, reasserting itself,” Ekirch told me. “It’s the seamless sleep that we aspire to that’s the anomaly, the creation of the modern world.”
--
Worthman says, “In our culture, quality sleep is going into a dark room that is totally quiet, lying down, falling asleep, doing that for eight hours, and then getting up again.” She calls it the “lie down and die” model. “But that is not how much of the world has slept in the past or even sleeps today.” In some cultures sleep is more social, with crowds crammed together on little or no bedding, limbs entangled, while a steady traffic comes and goes. And while it all sounds unbearable, Worthman notes that science has never looked empirically at whether our more sophisticated arrangements actually benefit us. For children, learning to sleep amid all that stimulation may actually have developmental advantages.
Still, we can’t afford the same equanimity about not sleeping through the night as the Efe and !Kung; the flipside is that men and women in those cultures are content to pull a cloth over their faces and doze off during the day if necessary. Our peculiar preference for one well-organized hunk of sleep likely evolved as a corollary to our expectation of uninterrupted wakefulness during the day — as our lives came to be governed by a single, stringent clock. Eluned Summers-Bremner, author of the forthcoming “Insomnia: A Cultural History,” explains that in the 18th century, “we start overvaluing our waking time, and come to see our sleeping time only as a way to support our waking time.” Consequently, we begin trying to streamline sleep, to get it done more economically: “We should lie down and go out right away so we can get up and get to the day right away.” She describes insomniacs as having a ruthless ambition to do just this, wanting to administer sleep as an efficiency expert normalizes the action in a factory. Certainly all of us, after a protracted failure to fall asleep for whatever reason, have turned solemnly to our alarm clocks and performed that desperate arithmetic: If I fall asleep right now, I can still get four hours.
Nevertheless, while it may be at odds with our history and even our biology, lie-down-and-die is the only practical model for our lifestyle. Unless we overhaul society to tolerate all schedules and degrees of sleepiness and attentiveness, we are stuck with that ideal. Perhaps the real problem is that we still haven’t come to terms with the unavoidable imperfection of this state of affairs.
Electric light didn’t obliterate nighttime so much as reinvent it. Our power to toggle between light and dark encouraged us to see night as an empty antithesis to day — an unbroken nothing-time that begins the instant we flip off the switch. And this significantly reshaped and rigidified our expectations of how we ought to be spending it. All of this leaves us — regardless of the circumstances or how poor our sleep hygiene is — insisting that we go out, and stay out, like a light.
Our expectation of perfect sleep may not always be biologically feasible . . . it’s not uncommon to discover that a particularly implacable case of insomnia snowballed out of a single stretch of poor sleep — even one with a clear, unavoidable cause, like stress over a new job. While most people eventually shrug off their trouble, the insomniac “forgets what brought about the sleeping problem in the first place,” Morin said. “They worry about not sleeping and how it will impact their daytime functioning, and they start to do things that make sleep more difficult.”
--
. . . But whatever its cause, this feedback loop of agony, effort and failure plays out like an escalation of the kind of self-sabotage we’ve all probably experienced when we felt pressure to sleep well and be sharp the next day. “Most of the beliefs these people develop and strategies they employ are very logical and sensible,” Jack Edinger, a psychologist at Duke University and the V.A. Medical Center in Durham, North Carolina, told me. But “unlike most things in life where, the harder you try, the better you do, with sleep the harder you try the worse you do.
Edinger and Morin have been influential in the use of cognitive behavioral therapy, or C.B.T., to treat chronic insomnia. Studies have arguably shown it to be the most successful treatment for the problem and an astonishingly effective method of weaning insomniacs from sleeping pills — even those who have taken them every night for decades. C.B.T. Therapists work to establish good sleep habits but also to rewrite an insomniac’s unhelpful beliefs about sleep. One of the most typical and debilitating ones, Morin explained, is “that eight hours of solid, uninterrupted sleep is a must every night — and otherwise, without it, you can’t function during the day.” Fixating on that as a requirement only undoes a person. Besides, Morin added, a universal need for eight hours is simply “untrue.”
Friday, November 16, 2007
friends of friends
fuzzy
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Ice Cube's a Pimp
mmmm
in addition to delectable foodstuffs, li'l puff got herself a fancy necklace (that's what the "monopet" box contained).
Monday, November 5, 2007
omg! rsi.
to buy, again
sharpener
dog bed
Danskos
iPod dock
tea kettle?
haircut
Netflix (i don't think i want to reactivate my account anymore)
curtain rod
robe
my sister's winter coat
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Responsibility, Again
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Day 3
Sunday, October 14, 2007
to buy
slippers
sharpener
dog bed
Danskos
iPod dock
tea kettle?
haircut
Netflix (i don't think i want to reactivate my account anymore)
curtain rod
robe
my sister's winter coat
Brand New Bag
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Old Faithful
Friday, October 5, 2007
Addendum - Cancer or VA Tech
Friday, September 28, 2007
Responsibility
Cancer or VA Tech
- working in this field will turn you into an 8-year-old
- that's what parents are for (is it? i wouldn't know)
- the more things change the more things stay the same
Saturday, September 22, 2007
You Asked for It
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Work
- wake up late
- run around trying to find something to wear, iron something new, it doesn't fit right, so i chuck it and opt for a haphazard ensemble
- get to work 20 minutes late. i thus far have no set time of arrival, though i've been getting there by 9:05am. it usually would not matter when i arrive because only the secretary gets there before 10.
- as i walk in, gentle awesome secretary breathes a sigh of relief, tells me she just left me a cell phone message because scary boss called before 9am (unprecedented!) looking for me (unprecedented!) to do some urgent things, putting secretary in a panic trying to take care of it since i wasn't there and boss will throw a fit if it's not done
- boss breezes through an hour later, leaves, then immediately returns, politely yelling down the hall asking me (again, unprecedented!) if i can take the paper in her hand to secretary. i move to get up from my desk and magically fall while yelping, arms thrown up in the air, due to an unexpected open drawer in my pathway. boss disappears (who needs this degree of incompetence, right?). in severe pain, i regain control of my body and limp after her. 3rd degree brusing down my entire right leg. 12 hours later it still hurts to walk, move, and sometimes simply to be.
- 15 minutes to quittin' time, i ask my superior for guidance on something. superior immediately freaks out and calls the boss who is in another part of the building: "is [this] what you were looking for?" ("yes.") "no, [yours truly] hasn't done it; no, i don't understand either why [yours truly] didn't know to do it earlier; yes, [yours truly] will get it done."
- get schooled (politely . . . and finally) [upshot: superior takes the blame (and 80% rightly so) when the boss comes back into the office]
- stay at work until 8pm.
you're lucky i'm not putting up a picture of an electrocuted cat
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Screw!
In my ongoing struggle to 1) have storage space and 2) get moved in, I managed to a) use my new drill and b) create a huge hole in the wall. I have no idea if I used the drill properly [in the past 3 years I have lost all interest in reading instruction manuals], nor am I sure that making that big hole advances my purpose. But drilling is fun. Plus, that big hole will give me an excuse to one day go to Home Depot to figure out how to patch it up so I can get my security deposit back.
I went to Home Depot today, in fact, and experienced the joy of the shop class I never took. I asked a fellow customer for assistance with drywall/hollow wall screw toggles or whatnot (look at me, the quick study). He was both knowledgable and obviously a screwing enthusiast. It always tickles me how interested complete strangers (usually men) have in anyone and everyone's building and vehicular projects. I also thoroughly enjoy how these people can have an entire conversation about intentions, specifications, and strategies. I desperately want to join this coterie, but I feel like there are so many fundamentals that I have absolutely no idea about. What is a hollow wall? What is drywall? I need a handymannery for dummies book.
Anyway, it looks like I got the wrong screws, so I have to go back to Home Depot tomorrow to buy this other type I had my eyes on. And my progress at moving in is once again stalled. Arrgh. With all this trouble I'm going through, I better stay in this apartment for at least 2 years.
Friday, September 14, 2007
To Do
- put up shelves/wall cabinet from Ikea
- go to Spence-Chapin store
- figure out what to do with destroyed wardrobe (photograph and sell on craigslist?)
- buy shoe rack and put in hallway closet (The Container Store?)
- research frequently used Hebrew/Yiddish colloquialisms (so as to facilitate my socializing at work)
- start looking for smaller dog beds
- decide on health insurance. oy.
- matzo ball soup
- groceries, etc. (slippers, eye pencil sharpener, yadda yadda)
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Converting to a Saint
Whenever I flip through a fashion magazine and see those St. John ads with that emotionally mature blond lady wearing those tedious conservative knit suits, I roll a pair of eyes that I keep tucked inside my brain (right behind my forehead, to be exact) and reaffirm my thoughts on how ugly, repetitive, and utterly incomprehensible the St. John clothing line is. In an equally incomprehensible maneuver, I up and bought a St. John suit this past weekend during my 2-hour wait for a rental car. It's surprisingly sumptuous, and I think I've been converted.
Update: I decided to pull up this picture to show you all how bad this lady and her outfit suck, but I can't seem to muster up the hate anymore. In fact, horror of horrors, I'm looking at the lines of that jacket and finding them quite alluring.
Lately, Itzo Notzo Crowded
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Project Wardrobe
to this:
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Glitterati
My Maternal Grandparentals Were Botanists
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Becoming a Regular
Thursday, September 6, 2007
hv!
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
"Project Bitch" Redux
I hemmed & hawed and even considered bailing at the last minute. I had to remind myself that she was someone I felt comfortable doing business with--her ad on craigslist was grammatically correct, after all (though her email to me was not), and a lot of the stuff she was selling was right up my alley. Plus, it isn't often that I am granted entry to such buildings, so I figured I should take advantage of the opportunity to see what they're like on the inside (I've heard they can be pretty sweet).
Before crossing the threshold from the sidewalk to the grounds of the development, I double-checked the address in my datebook. I was one block off. Relief never felt so sweet. I high-tailed it a block north, seized once again with desire for this elusive Ikea wardrobe.
While it's the fool who thinks that the projects are completely safe or completely dangerous, it's the jerk who devalues something just because it comes from there.
Inside Job
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Settling In
OPT
Darkness as Creativity Coxswain
Haste Makes Waste
To Do
I'm going to have to figure out what to do with my precious cast iron pots/pans and other valuable kitchenery--is it indeed time to live alone?
Soyrizo Tofu Scramble Night
- Soyrizo tofu scramble (soyrizo and seasoned tofu, crumbled and sauteed with onions, garlic, and fresh tomatoes)
- Hot buttered toast (one slice of sprouted grain sesame bread topped with melted European butter)
- Cup of fresh seasonal fruit
Monday, September 3, 2007
Work Starts Thursday
a regular income, retirement plan, and insurance. huh?! are these not merely the petty comforts of the bourgeoisie, too chicken to ride bareback? i'm no chicken! i like riding bareback! yet i want the experience of indulging my bouge background so i at least know what it is that in principal i reject so hard. the problem is that i worry that i'll like it. nay, i know i'll like it because i am but a member of the petty bourgeoisie myself. the question is: do i give in or continue reinventing the wheel [of life] because my everything must be a revolution? [N.B. the revolution is exhausting: i want a prearranged marriage. why wasn't i born into a cultural program?]
to wit, once i taste the sweet meat of an employer-matched 401k, will i be the adam to their eve? will i decide my idealistic bohemian rhapsody is pure folly? and if so, will that be because i have:
moreover, all of this hullaballoo says nothing of the personal zest that being a "professional" will kill. ((that's right, stalkers, i'm a member of a storied profession! add that to your heart-shaped locket.)) professionals are held to certain standards by their peers and society. these standards help them to earn respect, money, and status. i've always enjoyed reverence, but is it worth sacrificing my inherently unprofessional core? [N.B. the barbie bandits are my friends.]
Ambition Moved
we just finished driving up to nyc last night in a 15-foot moving truck. this is larger than those small uhauls you see people driving around and way too big for my purposes. (note: i drove a budget truck, which was less than half the price of a uhaul). i've driven up on the curb about 5 times but have had only 1 near-accident! ideally i'll ditch this thing today--finding parking with a clearance of 11 feet is difficult.
i am mostly moved in--just a few boxes and some big items left in my moving truck that i'm going to have to figure out how to sneak into the building--apparently the hoity-toity only move furniture mondays through fridays (today is sunday).
since i embarked on this move, i have avoided a $300 fine and a $500 fine, but my luck may soon run out. the $300 fine was for bringing Lil' Puff into my hotel room Friday night when pets are not allowed--Orbitz told me otherwise, and the hotel management reluctantly relented. i think the housekeeper ratted me out. the $500 fine, which remains a possibility, is for moving furniture in a non-freight elevator. freight elevators only operate during the week. as it is currently the weekend, you see my quandary. i played the fool and moved a full-sized box spring (that's right - homegirl's finally gonna have a real bed, a high bed, and a real high bed!) up the normal elevator last night. fortunately, the doorman played it cool, but then his shift ended.
despite the painstaking calculations of my room dimensions and furniture arrangements, with furniture, the place feels incredibly small now that stuff is actually in it. guests, who are warmly welcomed, will be sleeping right by my side. i have an uncommonly expansive view, which helps reduce the cramped feel, though.
my building is pure yuppie ambition with a hot and fast pulse. it seems to consist exclusively of 24- to 28-year old bankers, brokers, and analysts socializing like they're still in college while each alone is making enough money to comfortably support a family of 4 in middle America. hordes of dudes in the nyc night-on-the-town uniform of straight-legged jeans, dark button-down shirt (untucked, of course), and a touch of gel in the hair. pairs of scantily clad mediocre-looking honies navigating the streets. this was saturday night. i'm expecting all drones in suits during the week.
i'll email my new mailing address to anyone who wants to send me toenails.