anyone that knows me knows that i love my big brother something fierce. don't believe me? try saying something disparaging about him in my presence. go on. i dare you.
he's a playwright and actor for The Neo-Fututrists, the good people that brought the world "Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind: 30 Plays in Sixty Minutes", and he's also a professional Awesome Guy. it's true. if you're not familiar with The Neo-Futurists or my brother, i recommend you go check them both out, as soon as possible. you won't be disappointed.
last weekend i went to the Neo-Futurarium to see his first prime-time-writer-directorial debut with the company. i knew that he'd been experiencing some apprehension about the show, but i was geeked to see it. the show,"Contraption", examines "the intersection between innovation and insanity by dissecting the lives of some of history's greatest inventors." i could talk about how great the show was, how i'm gonna see it over and over, how it was one of the best shows the Neo-Futurists had ever done, but instead, i'm going to tell you about the pride i felt for my big bro.
i claim the title of his "biggest fan". i think i may have been impressed with his writing since before i could read, he's THAT good. over the years, he's gotten himself a few more fans, and rightly so. he has an impressive body of work, discipline, talent and monkish humbleness. i'm always happy to meet people that know him, and take great pride in their appreciation. what's starting to bug me though, is the shock and disbelief people express when they find out i'm his little sister.
did Maja Einstein feel this way? by the way, Maja Einstein was Albert's little sister. betcha didn't know that. yep, she lived a decent life, had a good education, married, but had no children. what was it like for her at family dinners?
Ma Einstein: Oh honey, I'm so happy to see you! Al, look! It's your sister!
Pa Einstein: So, what have you kids been up to, lately?
Albert: Well, I just made major contributions to the field of physics, with my special theory of relativity, and I also created a new theory of gravitation.
Ma and Pa Einstein: That's wonderful! You're a genius! We're so proud of you! How about you, Maja?
Maja: Um, I went fishing for the first time. I caught a trout.
Ma and Pa Einstein: Oh... that's nice, dear. Ahem. Uh. Very nice.
i'm not trying to say that i'm jealous of his success, i'm saying that i didn't expect to be graded on a curve. i feel pretty good about my life and the direction it's going in. i don't feel the need to compete with my siblings, at all. they do their thing, and i do mine. we're all equally supportive of each other, and i believe that's what really counts. i'm just starting to wonder if the shock people express, when they find out i'm his sister, is based on a comparison or simple surprise that he even HAS siblings. do people think that genius is a solitary role? he's not just MY big brother, and i'm not just HIS little sister. we're siblings, friends and a mutual support system that we can always be grateful for.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Laws of Probability
i'm not very good at math, but i've been considering this:
Karmic Mass x Velocity of Chance = ?
it equals a giant sinkhole on Montrose Avenue directly in front of the job i just quit, effectively shutting down the business for an undetermined amount of time. i'm happy to know that nobody got hurt and the busted water main is only a major inconvenience rather than a tragedy. i'm also amazed to realize that i would have been out of work at this time, regardless.
i've always believed that if things ever got too bad in my life, i could always look forward to something equally good, basing this belief on probability. a sort of Yin/Yang-convoluted-hopeless-optimism approach, if you will. like i said, i'm no mathematician, and perhaps i have no business trying to make sense out of cosmic forces, let alone break them down in mathematical terms, but what i'm trying to understand is HOW this sort of thing happens.
one of my dearest friends just moved to Chicago (finally) about a week ago. he's a good man. he does good things for people all the time. his karma is damn near the platinum limit. however, he just went through one of the most horrendously unfortunate weeks imaginable. starting with the day he moved in ( -2 degree weather) to his (unfinished) apartment that had no heat. and then the lights went out. powerless (literally), he continued living out his life, without a trace of bitterness. and then his car got towed and impounded. really? honestly, Fate, what did he do to piss you off? well, he nobly went about his life, moving forward with a shrug and a crooked smile. and then, when we all thought the worst was over and he had nothing but good fortune to look forward to, some random drunk totaled his car.
i'm beginning to wonder if it's really all just a crapshoot, and it doesn't matter how good or bad your karma is. either that, or my buddy is about to win the lottery. that'd be awesome.
Karmic Mass x Velocity of Chance = ?
it equals a giant sinkhole on Montrose Avenue directly in front of the job i just quit, effectively shutting down the business for an undetermined amount of time. i'm happy to know that nobody got hurt and the busted water main is only a major inconvenience rather than a tragedy. i'm also amazed to realize that i would have been out of work at this time, regardless.
i've always believed that if things ever got too bad in my life, i could always look forward to something equally good, basing this belief on probability. a sort of Yin/Yang-convoluted-hopeless-optimism approach, if you will. like i said, i'm no mathematician, and perhaps i have no business trying to make sense out of cosmic forces, let alone break them down in mathematical terms, but what i'm trying to understand is HOW this sort of thing happens.
one of my dearest friends just moved to Chicago (finally) about a week ago. he's a good man. he does good things for people all the time. his karma is damn near the platinum limit. however, he just went through one of the most horrendously unfortunate weeks imaginable. starting with the day he moved in ( -2 degree weather) to his (unfinished) apartment that had no heat. and then the lights went out. powerless (literally), he continued living out his life, without a trace of bitterness. and then his car got towed and impounded. really? honestly, Fate, what did he do to piss you off? well, he nobly went about his life, moving forward with a shrug and a crooked smile. and then, when we all thought the worst was over and he had nothing but good fortune to look forward to, some random drunk totaled his car.
i'm beginning to wonder if it's really all just a crapshoot, and it doesn't matter how good or bad your karma is. either that, or my buddy is about to win the lottery. that'd be awesome.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Giving Up The Ghost
I quit another dead-end waitressing job recently. I won't go into the ugly details, mostly because the "how" and "why" of my resignation are boring and inconsequential for anyone, save myself and ex-employer. No, what I'm concerned with is the aftermath.
There's something strange that happens after a person has been somewhere, been with someone, done something or lost something that has always been there. It's part disorientation, part longing and part masochistic obsession with what once was. The closest parallel I can draw is that of the phantom limb syndrome. Medical dictionaries describe it as: "The perception of sensations, usually including pain, in an arm or leg after the limb has been amputated. The brain still gets messages from the nerves that originally carried impulses from the missing limb."
I've been waitressing for nearly ten years, and now, in the aftermath, I find myself missing the mind-numbing ease of serving food and drink to strangers. I went out for lunch today, with a friend. I anticipated our server's questions, answering them before they were asked. I felt a curious resentment as I watched her move around the dining room, conversing with her customers, clearing empty plates and collecting billfolds. I observed her patterns, like a scientist, trying to gauge her mood while knowing how I would feel, if I had been in her position. I actually felt envy.
I understand that a person's job isn't definitive of who they are, yet there is something to be said for those who do their jobs well, and damnit, I was a good waitress. I feel like I lost something integral to who I am. Nothing as dramatic as an arm or leg or pinky toe, but something solid nonetheless.
I'm giving up the ghost. I'm forgetting the phantom limb that never should have existed. At this moment, I am envisioning my "career" (snort) as a waitress as a massive tentacle that was attached to my head; superfluous, ugly, ridiculous and barely useful. I am cutting off that phantom limb. And now, I'm selling it to a restaurant that will chop it up, steam it, and serve it with a side of pickled seaweed sauce. Hell, as long as I'm not serving it, someone else can choke it down.
There's something strange that happens after a person has been somewhere, been with someone, done something or lost something that has always been there. It's part disorientation, part longing and part masochistic obsession with what once was. The closest parallel I can draw is that of the phantom limb syndrome. Medical dictionaries describe it as: "The perception of sensations, usually including pain, in an arm or leg after the limb has been amputated. The brain still gets messages from the nerves that originally carried impulses from the missing limb."
I've been waitressing for nearly ten years, and now, in the aftermath, I find myself missing the mind-numbing ease of serving food and drink to strangers. I went out for lunch today, with a friend. I anticipated our server's questions, answering them before they were asked. I felt a curious resentment as I watched her move around the dining room, conversing with her customers, clearing empty plates and collecting billfolds. I observed her patterns, like a scientist, trying to gauge her mood while knowing how I would feel, if I had been in her position. I actually felt envy.
I understand that a person's job isn't definitive of who they are, yet there is something to be said for those who do their jobs well, and damnit, I was a good waitress. I feel like I lost something integral to who I am. Nothing as dramatic as an arm or leg or pinky toe, but something solid nonetheless.
I'm giving up the ghost. I'm forgetting the phantom limb that never should have existed. At this moment, I am envisioning my "career" (snort) as a waitress as a massive tentacle that was attached to my head; superfluous, ugly, ridiculous and barely useful. I am cutting off that phantom limb. And now, I'm selling it to a restaurant that will chop it up, steam it, and serve it with a side of pickled seaweed sauce. Hell, as long as I'm not serving it, someone else can choke it down.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
papercuts
i haven't been able to write. not a damn thing. or, at least nothing i like. i feel like i've got papercuts on my brain and anything creative i had to offer is slowly hemorrhaging away. soon, there will be nothing left but cobwebs and recipes. is this writer's block? it feels more like a massive dam that's only allowing stupid thoughts to trickle out. like these ones. oh so stupid.
i'm looking at the bulletin board where a million little post-it notes are mocking me. that's where the good ideas are. on post-it notes. once upon a time, they were in my head, and then one day, i wrote them down and said, "I'll get to that soon. It's too good to leave alone." i've left the good ideas alone for too long and now they've formed an army of tiny yellow squares. they're waiting to attack me in the middle of the night. i know it. they'll leap off the cork board, brandishing thumbtacks, and kill me in my sleep. i won't even be able to fight them off, because they're the GOOD ideas.
samurai post-its.
i'm looking at the bulletin board where a million little post-it notes are mocking me. that's where the good ideas are. on post-it notes. once upon a time, they were in my head, and then one day, i wrote them down and said, "I'll get to that soon. It's too good to leave alone." i've left the good ideas alone for too long and now they've formed an army of tiny yellow squares. they're waiting to attack me in the middle of the night. i know it. they'll leap off the cork board, brandishing thumbtacks, and kill me in my sleep. i won't even be able to fight them off, because they're the GOOD ideas.
samurai post-its.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
these boots were made for walking?
My feet are cold and wet, but my ankles are intact. I blame and commend my sneakers for the state my feet are in.
I love my sneakers, I do, but they just don't cut it when it comes to Chicago snow, sleet and slush. After the first snowfall, beautiful as it was, I realized that I needed a pair of boots. Now, here's the problem with women's boots: they are calf-to-knee length, sexy and sleek, but they all have three-inch heels attached to them. Now, where's the sense in that? Am I expected to tromp about on icy sidewalks and slippery train platforms in shoes that may keep my feet warm and dry, but also threaten my life with every step? I beg of you, beloved fashion industry, invent sensible shoes for sensible women. or, at the very least, invent sensible shoes for women who value their life and mobility.
i realize that i've never complained about this issue before, and i also realize that it may be due to the fact that until this winter, i owned a car. last winter, i donated my car to Zipcar, thinking that i was helping to promote car-sharing, helping the environment and being a good citizen of the planet. i wish i'd thought harder about the alternative: walking. walking in dangerous shoes. everywhere.
i miss my car.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Do Unto Others...
I have always been a fan of The Golden Rule, and enjoyed the simplicity of such a fundamental moral principle. I have, however, discovered that it needs to be amended. "Treat others as you would like to be treated," is all well and good, if you treat yourself well to begin with. If you don't, then maybe there's a need for a Silver Rule, or a Bronze Rule, in which one can begin to practice being good.
Maybe the Silver Rule should be, "Treat yourself as you would like to be treated." That's simple. Self-explanatory. Perhaps a bit self-indulgent, but what's the harm in doing something nice for yourself? I keep meeting people that just don't give themselves the credit they deserve for simply being alive. It's not easy. I'm not being pessimistic, but I do think that more people need to take a step backwards, give themselves a long, hard look and say, "Hey. I'm okay. In fact, I really like myself." And then they should get a hug. And maybe a medal.
As far as a Bronze Rule goes, that might be a little trickier. There are some problems with the Golden Rule, but the biggest problem might be the expectations of reciprocity. If I expected everyone to treat me the way that I try to treat them, I would probably end up pretty disappointed. Perhaps the Bronze Rule should go a little like this: "Be as good as you can possibly be." If everyone was as good as they allowed themselves to be, then they could treat themselves as well as they thought they deserved, hence, the Silver Rule.
this gets complicated, but only if you forget what "good" actually is.
it's hard to remember what's good, but i believe that we forget only because we get caught up in defining what's bad. there's an awful lot that's bad for us. in case you forgot, consult your Bible. or the Surgeon General. we're told that anything and everything is bad for us, whether it be ultra-violet rays, carbohydrates, pre-marital sex, talk radio, Europeans or chocolate. how bad can chocolate really be?
This post has gotten slightly convoluted. Here's the breakdown: "Be good. Then be good to yourself. THEN, go for the gold." Remember, you deserve it.
Maybe the Silver Rule should be, "Treat yourself as you would like to be treated." That's simple. Self-explanatory. Perhaps a bit self-indulgent, but what's the harm in doing something nice for yourself? I keep meeting people that just don't give themselves the credit they deserve for simply being alive. It's not easy. I'm not being pessimistic, but I do think that more people need to take a step backwards, give themselves a long, hard look and say, "Hey. I'm okay. In fact, I really like myself." And then they should get a hug. And maybe a medal.
As far as a Bronze Rule goes, that might be a little trickier. There are some problems with the Golden Rule, but the biggest problem might be the expectations of reciprocity. If I expected everyone to treat me the way that I try to treat them, I would probably end up pretty disappointed. Perhaps the Bronze Rule should go a little like this: "Be as good as you can possibly be." If everyone was as good as they allowed themselves to be, then they could treat themselves as well as they thought they deserved, hence, the Silver Rule.
this gets complicated, but only if you forget what "good" actually is.
it's hard to remember what's good, but i believe that we forget only because we get caught up in defining what's bad. there's an awful lot that's bad for us. in case you forgot, consult your Bible. or the Surgeon General. we're told that anything and everything is bad for us, whether it be ultra-violet rays, carbohydrates, pre-marital sex, talk radio, Europeans or chocolate. how bad can chocolate really be?
This post has gotten slightly convoluted. Here's the breakdown: "Be good. Then be good to yourself. THEN, go for the gold." Remember, you deserve it.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Baby's Got A Brand New Blog
Well, here I am, on the cusp of a brand new year. To celebrate, I thought it might be a good idea to start a new blog. There's nothing quite so satisfying as starting a new project, and I need some satisfaction right now. Among the slew of projects I've started this past year, not a single one has actually panned out successfully.
Let's take stock, shall we?
In work-related issues, I am still waiting tables with all the charm and enthusiasm I can muster, but find myself frustrated with the fact that I'm still waiting tables. It's a ridiculously convenient job that has nothing to do with future aspirations. Ah, well.
School is still a large part of my life, though I've grown weary of that as well. It might be time to finish up with that chapter of my life. I'm honestly a little scared of what happens after I get a degree. School has been a safety net for so long now, I'm not sure if I'm ready to climb out onto that tightrope without it.
I own a guitar I can barely play and a keyboard that mystifies me. Music happens, and I want to know how. It might be too late for me to become a rock star, but if I can learn how to play, just a little bit, I'd feel better about owning these instruments.
I can't seem to quit smoking. I try and try and try. I sneak one in every few days, telling myself, "One won't hurt." It does hurt. I want to know where I left my discipline, my sense of determination and my self-worth. It's a vile habit, and I hate myself for ever having started. It's been ten years. No. More.
Overall, I'm looking forward to the new year and some semblance of a starting-over point. It feels a bit like hitting 'reset' instead of the snooze button. "You snooze, you lose. I've snost and lost."
to be continued.
Let's take stock, shall we?
In work-related issues, I am still waiting tables with all the charm and enthusiasm I can muster, but find myself frustrated with the fact that I'm still waiting tables. It's a ridiculously convenient job that has nothing to do with future aspirations. Ah, well.
School is still a large part of my life, though I've grown weary of that as well. It might be time to finish up with that chapter of my life. I'm honestly a little scared of what happens after I get a degree. School has been a safety net for so long now, I'm not sure if I'm ready to climb out onto that tightrope without it.
I own a guitar I can barely play and a keyboard that mystifies me. Music happens, and I want to know how. It might be too late for me to become a rock star, but if I can learn how to play, just a little bit, I'd feel better about owning these instruments.
I can't seem to quit smoking. I try and try and try. I sneak one in every few days, telling myself, "One won't hurt." It does hurt. I want to know where I left my discipline, my sense of determination and my self-worth. It's a vile habit, and I hate myself for ever having started. It's been ten years. No. More.
Overall, I'm looking forward to the new year and some semblance of a starting-over point. It feels a bit like hitting 'reset' instead of the snooze button. "You snooze, you lose. I've snost and lost."
to be continued.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)