Monday, January 28, 2008
Comfort Food for Thought
Daydreaming about an ideal future, remembering times when I'd put my head in my mom's lap and she'd stroke my hair, brunch at the Carlyle in Shirlington (homefries, asparagus, and broiled salmon with an amazing pomfrey mustard, and beignets with powdered sugar of course), three hour long conversations with my best friend, making ice cream or kulfi, writing, reading books written by contemplative malcontents like myself with pages of platitudes that culminate in little more than confirmation that my general and pervasive sense of dread is justifiable, making dinner for other people, writing, feeling snow or rain on my face, winding the curls of my hair around my finger, falling asleep as my grandmother tapped a light rhythm on my shoulder to calm me, thinking about the lush, rolling hills at Sanchi, sitting in the Art Institute, writing, taking pictures, a huge cup of coffee, imagining God, remembering the time I could have sworn I felt my grandfather's ghost touch my back, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Dearest Bard,
I apologize in advance for the coarseness of my language--your writings are timeless and transcendent, while mine makes a mockery of the public school system. But enough about me.
Tonight, you saved me, just as you've saved me many times before. Of course, you are probably used to being an agent of positivity for many (including Gwyneth Paltrow, which I have almost forgiven you for) but tonight, like never before, I felt a connection to you that was nearly euphoric. But why should I be surprised? How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, while also pilfering some of your best known lines. My apologies.
My initial fascination with you was purely selfish. I must have been six or seven, looking at one of those books that tells you who you share your birthday with. It might have actually been "The Kids' World Almanac" (do they print that anymore?) which told me I shared my birthday with you and the 15th President of the US, James Buchanan. While I was devastated to learn that I had something in common with the only bachelor president, I was ecstatic to learn that you and I had that in common as well (Note: it was only much later that I learned that we also share our birthday with Vladimir Nabokov, but I suppose the Kids' World Almanac didn't think that was appropriate information for people in my age group).
Upon learning that my birth date was auspicious because it was shared with such a famous author, I wanted to find out what was so great about you. Through school and an ambitiousness that I seem to have left behind in my youth, I read many of your plays and even acted and directed a bit. I had the opportunity to act in a modern interpretation of "Much Ado About Nothing" as Benedick (!), an experience that still leaves me exhilarated. I then got to play Margaret in the same play, though a different production, which was a bit strange and anticlimactic. I think she was a bit overlooked--made out to be little more than a plot device, but maybe that was just a fault of the staged interpretation.
The following year was perhaps the last time you and I worked together until now. I directed a scene from Henry V, and also, more importantly, performed a scene from Henry IV part i as...Falstaff. It was one of the strangest casting decisions ever made, but to this day, I am honored to have played one of your most iconic characters. I even received an award for it--kind of a tongue in cheek award, but one I treasure.
However, it has been ten years, almost exactly, since I've really immersed myself in your amazing stories and luxurious prose. Of course, I've seen some movies and a few staged adaptations of your work--a few have been amazing (Much Ado, Branagh's Hamlet), and some of have been truly terrible (Julie Taymor's Titus which, to be honest, wasn't great in terms of its source material anyway...I was pretty apathetic about all the characters, most of all Lavinia which I think was probably not your aim). But here I'm being incredibly arrogant--even the worst of your writing bests any of my efforts and will continue to dwarf me in the future.
In a way, though, that's kind of comforting in two ways. The first--well, it's sort of a relief to admit to myself that there is a level of excellence that I can't even consider aspiring to because it's completely out of my league. It keeps me humble and keeps me grounded in reality. The second comfort is that, if I need a reference point or inspiration, your work is incalculably valuable.
Which brings me to tonight. This week, I have been near tears trying to put together a piece of work that won't completely humiliate me. My writing partner has been incredibly helpful, but her talent completely eclipses mine and I don't think she has any idea how hard it is for people who are not naturally gifted writers to put together something that adequately represents their ideas. So this has been a huge struggle for me--who are my characters? Who can I identify, what do I want them to do, what kind of a plot is streamlined enough to be understandable but dense enough to be interesting?
In discussing a character of mine, my writing partner and I reached a turning point, changing some of his most significant attributes to something more palatable to me--and something exploded in me like fireworks. The plot, the characters, the arc, the conflict, everything clicked and I think I smiled for the first time today. I had completely internalized one of your plays, and it was manifesting itself in my work. Unlike finer writers who want to be completely original, I am honored that my subconscious was smart enough to find its way to your work as a source of inspiration.
My faith in you in unmeasurable, and now I know that this can be a success because your work is the perfect backbone. I feel a renewed sense of creativity, and feel the impact of your mentorship even though we are centuries apart. So thank you for your amazing work and genius. We'll have a great birthday this year.
Sincerely,
A Different Dark Lady
Tonight, you saved me, just as you've saved me many times before. Of course, you are probably used to being an agent of positivity for many (including Gwyneth Paltrow, which I have almost forgiven you for) but tonight, like never before, I felt a connection to you that was nearly euphoric. But why should I be surprised? How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, while also pilfering some of your best known lines. My apologies.
My initial fascination with you was purely selfish. I must have been six or seven, looking at one of those books that tells you who you share your birthday with. It might have actually been "The Kids' World Almanac" (do they print that anymore?) which told me I shared my birthday with you and the 15th President of the US, James Buchanan. While I was devastated to learn that I had something in common with the only bachelor president, I was ecstatic to learn that you and I had that in common as well (Note: it was only much later that I learned that we also share our birthday with Vladimir Nabokov, but I suppose the Kids' World Almanac didn't think that was appropriate information for people in my age group).
Upon learning that my birth date was auspicious because it was shared with such a famous author, I wanted to find out what was so great about you. Through school and an ambitiousness that I seem to have left behind in my youth, I read many of your plays and even acted and directed a bit. I had the opportunity to act in a modern interpretation of "Much Ado About Nothing" as Benedick (!), an experience that still leaves me exhilarated. I then got to play Margaret in the same play, though a different production, which was a bit strange and anticlimactic. I think she was a bit overlooked--made out to be little more than a plot device, but maybe that was just a fault of the staged interpretation.
The following year was perhaps the last time you and I worked together until now. I directed a scene from Henry V, and also, more importantly, performed a scene from Henry IV part i as...Falstaff. It was one of the strangest casting decisions ever made, but to this day, I am honored to have played one of your most iconic characters. I even received an award for it--kind of a tongue in cheek award, but one I treasure.
However, it has been ten years, almost exactly, since I've really immersed myself in your amazing stories and luxurious prose. Of course, I've seen some movies and a few staged adaptations of your work--a few have been amazing (Much Ado, Branagh's Hamlet), and some of have been truly terrible (Julie Taymor's Titus which, to be honest, wasn't great in terms of its source material anyway...I was pretty apathetic about all the characters, most of all Lavinia which I think was probably not your aim). But here I'm being incredibly arrogant--even the worst of your writing bests any of my efforts and will continue to dwarf me in the future.
In a way, though, that's kind of comforting in two ways. The first--well, it's sort of a relief to admit to myself that there is a level of excellence that I can't even consider aspiring to because it's completely out of my league. It keeps me humble and keeps me grounded in reality. The second comfort is that, if I need a reference point or inspiration, your work is incalculably valuable.
Which brings me to tonight. This week, I have been near tears trying to put together a piece of work that won't completely humiliate me. My writing partner has been incredibly helpful, but her talent completely eclipses mine and I don't think she has any idea how hard it is for people who are not naturally gifted writers to put together something that adequately represents their ideas. So this has been a huge struggle for me--who are my characters? Who can I identify, what do I want them to do, what kind of a plot is streamlined enough to be understandable but dense enough to be interesting?
In discussing a character of mine, my writing partner and I reached a turning point, changing some of his most significant attributes to something more palatable to me--and something exploded in me like fireworks. The plot, the characters, the arc, the conflict, everything clicked and I think I smiled for the first time today. I had completely internalized one of your plays, and it was manifesting itself in my work. Unlike finer writers who want to be completely original, I am honored that my subconscious was smart enough to find its way to your work as a source of inspiration.
My faith in you in unmeasurable, and now I know that this can be a success because your work is the perfect backbone. I feel a renewed sense of creativity, and feel the impact of your mentorship even though we are centuries apart. So thank you for your amazing work and genius. We'll have a great birthday this year.
Sincerely,
A Different Dark Lady
Sunday, January 20, 2008
In Case of Emergency
I saw "Cloverfield" last night. I loved it, and I'm not ashamed to say so. During the movie, I was glued to my seat. After the movie, I talked about it incessantly. There are moments that I can't get out of my head. I know I sound like a complete dork right now, but I don't care. It was one of the most unique movie experiences I've had in a long time.
However, it did bring up some interesting questions for me, and humbled me considerably as I thought about how I would react if some crazy 30-story beast started demolishing my city. Below are spoilers, but honestly, you're not going to see this movie for the plot anyway.
Question 1: Would I run, or would I hunker down and wait it out?
I'm pretty sure I would run. I would run slowly, and stop a lot because I have no endurance and a small asthma problem, but I would almost certainly run. Why run? Because I don't want to be trapped in a building, especially not on the 20th floor, while some random thing is running amok and knocking stuff all over the place. Sure, you run a lot of risks by wandering around on the streets, but at least by getting on the streets (hopefully in a car or something) you can mobilize yourself away from danger instead of waiting for something awful to eat you.
Question 2: Would I head underground?
No no no no NO. This movie, for one, makes a very good argument against going underground (large, insect-y things that can quietly follow you and then attack you like a rabid puma). But the major issue is freedom of movement. Underground, things can collapse on you, and your ability to move around in the direction you want is limited by where you are. If you are, for example, stuck in a tunnel, your choice is to go forward, go backwards, or curl up in the fetal position and wait for death to take you. I prefer to have lots of room to wander around screaming and freaking out. That's just how I roll.
Question 3: If someone called you crying on the phone and begging for your help, would you go back and help them rather than head towards certain safety?
Unfortunately, I'd have to say it depends. I wish I could be the type of heroic protagonist that could get a call from her 8th grade math teacher and spring into action to save him or her (I can't even remember my 8th grade math teacher, so my apologies there). But the fact is, I'm an only child and I have to consider what I'd put my mother through. I can't imagine someone telling my mom "Yeah, your sole offspring perished while trying to save this person she was in Girl Scouts with 16 years ago."
On the other hand, if it were a family member like my young cousins, mom or dad, or grandma, I would probably attempt to hijack a tank or car (whatever vehicle is at my disposal) and spirit them out of harm's way. But it's almost for selfish reasons because I know at the next family gathering, someone would end up saying something like "well, Nani usually brings the halwa, but since Ms. Thing over there couldn't go back to save her, I guess we'll just have to go without dessert tonight." And then everyone would look at me and shake their heads.
I'm just kidding. I just don't want to reveal how crazily sentimental I am about my family. Seriously, I can't even imagine the insane stunts I would pull to get them to safety.
Question 4: Would I let a loved one head back to try and save someone?
Absolutely not. My guess is, I would find a heavy object and knock them out (not an easy feat, I admit) and then try to drag their unconscious self to safety. Certainly, my friends are allowed to make their own decisions, but hurling themselves into certain doom is not considered optional.
Question 5: What qualities do I lack in surviving a "Cloverfield" type situation?
Well, for starters, physical fitness. If pressed, I can run a mile or two without stopping. Slowly. I can walk for miles and miles, again, if pressed (and wearing the right shoes). But, I cannot sprint more than 30 feet. I am not adept at scrambling over debris, boulders, people lying supine on the ground having been trampled. I would be a tramplee, not a trampler.
There's also my contact lenses. The moment I got a bit of dust in my eyes, I'd be completely helpless. Take off my contacts, you say? Without corrective lenses, I can barely tell colors apart. I'd end up walking right up the monster and snuggling its leg thinking it was some wayward elephant escapee that could shelter me in my moment of need.
Another issue--I am irrationally decisive. This might be okay in some scenarios, but in a "monster eating the city" type crisis, one probably needs to spend at least a few seconds considering the validity of certain options. For example--if one does not know the scope, location, or motivation of your monster, you probably should not put yourself in an all-or-nothing situation (e.g. on a bridge). However, I would probably rely too much on my flawed instinct and would just run willy nilly in whatever direction everyone else would be running in. Not a great choice to make if everyone in front of you is running straight into a monster-tummy-territory.
Question 6: What do I think are our chances of dealing with a monster? What are our expectations of survival?
In Chicago, we have two advantages over our monsters. The first is weather--if a monster tried to attack us right now, he would mostly likely freeze to death because he, like most of us, forgot to purchase longjohns in advance of the season. The second advantage is space. We are a very spread out city. We are not encumbered, like Manhattan, by natural boundaries like water or New Jersey. Sorry, that was a weak New Jersey dig. Not only that but, I give a lot of street cred to the CPD. This city for the most part is run like a well-oiled machine. Not that the NYPD and US Military are incompetent by any means, but the CPD has some additional midwestern moxie that I'm proud to be protected by.
In closing, while I am not completely certain, I do believe it is probably premature to fear a monster invasion similar to what I saw last night during "Cloverfield" (again, damn that's one amazing movie...firefights, crazy angry alien insect things, excellent special effects, a brutally beautiful shot of the monster from the ground level towards the end right before the ersatz cinematographer gets eaten). However, I still think it is better to be ready in any case. Tomorrow I am starting my "Monster Preparedness Program" which entails my saving up for Lasik and running long distances while screaming, waving my arms, and saying "Oh my God!" over and over again.
However, it did bring up some interesting questions for me, and humbled me considerably as I thought about how I would react if some crazy 30-story beast started demolishing my city. Below are spoilers, but honestly, you're not going to see this movie for the plot anyway.
Question 1: Would I run, or would I hunker down and wait it out?
I'm pretty sure I would run. I would run slowly, and stop a lot because I have no endurance and a small asthma problem, but I would almost certainly run. Why run? Because I don't want to be trapped in a building, especially not on the 20th floor, while some random thing is running amok and knocking stuff all over the place. Sure, you run a lot of risks by wandering around on the streets, but at least by getting on the streets (hopefully in a car or something) you can mobilize yourself away from danger instead of waiting for something awful to eat you.
Question 2: Would I head underground?
No no no no NO. This movie, for one, makes a very good argument against going underground (large, insect-y things that can quietly follow you and then attack you like a rabid puma). But the major issue is freedom of movement. Underground, things can collapse on you, and your ability to move around in the direction you want is limited by where you are. If you are, for example, stuck in a tunnel, your choice is to go forward, go backwards, or curl up in the fetal position and wait for death to take you. I prefer to have lots of room to wander around screaming and freaking out. That's just how I roll.
Question 3: If someone called you crying on the phone and begging for your help, would you go back and help them rather than head towards certain safety?
Unfortunately, I'd have to say it depends. I wish I could be the type of heroic protagonist that could get a call from her 8th grade math teacher and spring into action to save him or her (I can't even remember my 8th grade math teacher, so my apologies there). But the fact is, I'm an only child and I have to consider what I'd put my mother through. I can't imagine someone telling my mom "Yeah, your sole offspring perished while trying to save this person she was in Girl Scouts with 16 years ago."
On the other hand, if it were a family member like my young cousins, mom or dad, or grandma, I would probably attempt to hijack a tank or car (whatever vehicle is at my disposal) and spirit them out of harm's way. But it's almost for selfish reasons because I know at the next family gathering, someone would end up saying something like "well, Nani usually brings the halwa, but since Ms. Thing over there couldn't go back to save her, I guess we'll just have to go without dessert tonight." And then everyone would look at me and shake their heads.
I'm just kidding. I just don't want to reveal how crazily sentimental I am about my family. Seriously, I can't even imagine the insane stunts I would pull to get them to safety.
Question 4: Would I let a loved one head back to try and save someone?
Absolutely not. My guess is, I would find a heavy object and knock them out (not an easy feat, I admit) and then try to drag their unconscious self to safety. Certainly, my friends are allowed to make their own decisions, but hurling themselves into certain doom is not considered optional.
Question 5: What qualities do I lack in surviving a "Cloverfield" type situation?
Well, for starters, physical fitness. If pressed, I can run a mile or two without stopping. Slowly. I can walk for miles and miles, again, if pressed (and wearing the right shoes). But, I cannot sprint more than 30 feet. I am not adept at scrambling over debris, boulders, people lying supine on the ground having been trampled. I would be a tramplee, not a trampler.
There's also my contact lenses. The moment I got a bit of dust in my eyes, I'd be completely helpless. Take off my contacts, you say? Without corrective lenses, I can barely tell colors apart. I'd end up walking right up the monster and snuggling its leg thinking it was some wayward elephant escapee that could shelter me in my moment of need.
Another issue--I am irrationally decisive. This might be okay in some scenarios, but in a "monster eating the city" type crisis, one probably needs to spend at least a few seconds considering the validity of certain options. For example--if one does not know the scope, location, or motivation of your monster, you probably should not put yourself in an all-or-nothing situation (e.g. on a bridge). However, I would probably rely too much on my flawed instinct and would just run willy nilly in whatever direction everyone else would be running in. Not a great choice to make if everyone in front of you is running straight into a monster-tummy-territory.
Question 6: What do I think are our chances of dealing with a monster? What are our expectations of survival?
In Chicago, we have two advantages over our monsters. The first is weather--if a monster tried to attack us right now, he would mostly likely freeze to death because he, like most of us, forgot to purchase longjohns in advance of the season. The second advantage is space. We are a very spread out city. We are not encumbered, like Manhattan, by natural boundaries like water or New Jersey. Sorry, that was a weak New Jersey dig. Not only that but, I give a lot of street cred to the CPD. This city for the most part is run like a well-oiled machine. Not that the NYPD and US Military are incompetent by any means, but the CPD has some additional midwestern moxie that I'm proud to be protected by.
In closing, while I am not completely certain, I do believe it is probably premature to fear a monster invasion similar to what I saw last night during "Cloverfield" (again, damn that's one amazing movie...firefights, crazy angry alien insect things, excellent special effects, a brutally beautiful shot of the monster from the ground level towards the end right before the ersatz cinematographer gets eaten). However, I still think it is better to be ready in any case. Tomorrow I am starting my "Monster Preparedness Program" which entails my saving up for Lasik and running long distances while screaming, waving my arms, and saying "Oh my God!" over and over again.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Let Me Clear My Throat
I'm old enough to remember when that was the jam. Right now, I feel, and probably look like, what's going on below:
I'm still sick. I hate being sick. I'm going to see "There Will be Blood" tonight after rescheduling twice, but I don't want to be that jerk in the theatre alternately coughing into my hand and unwrapping cough drops, but I also don't want to keep delaying this until I finally am forced to see it on video. Argh.
Anyway, two things I am working right now (besides getting my part-time jobs locked down, hopefully, by the end of the week).
1. At the end of February, I have to take a trip to New York to start meeting my fellow classmates and 'bond'. I think I'll also be bothering some profs and looking for places to live at the same time.
2. I am committing myself to writing at least three hours a day. Doesn't have to be all at once, it doesn't have to be good or even coherent. If I come out of it with one page, that's legit too. But I need some kind of output. That's the main thing. Complacency has been my main vice over the last few weeks, and that's not how I wanted to start the year. Dang it!
Okay, I'm going to take some more Tylenol and curl up on my bed and wait for the dizziness to pass. Vaya con Dios.
I'm still sick. I hate being sick. I'm going to see "There Will be Blood" tonight after rescheduling twice, but I don't want to be that jerk in the theatre alternately coughing into my hand and unwrapping cough drops, but I also don't want to keep delaying this until I finally am forced to see it on video. Argh.
Anyway, two things I am working right now (besides getting my part-time jobs locked down, hopefully, by the end of the week).
1. At the end of February, I have to take a trip to New York to start meeting my fellow classmates and 'bond'. I think I'll also be bothering some profs and looking for places to live at the same time.
2. I am committing myself to writing at least three hours a day. Doesn't have to be all at once, it doesn't have to be good or even coherent. If I come out of it with one page, that's legit too. But I need some kind of output. That's the main thing. Complacency has been my main vice over the last few weeks, and that's not how I wanted to start the year. Dang it!
Okay, I'm going to take some more Tylenol and curl up on my bed and wait for the dizziness to pass. Vaya con Dios.
Monday, January 7, 2008
I Do As I'm Told
"Brevity. Soul. Wit." suggested taking the first 20 songs that play on your mp3 player or other newfangled audio device and listing out their first line. I can already feel how embarrassing this is going to be.
1. I've become impossible, holding on to when, when everything seemed to matter more
2. Bend down and touch, the door is shut, in the end, you're just too close
3. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life
4. When you tire of all the bright lights, haste that's killing and you're willing to stay home nights, when your feet are back on solid ground, look for me, I'll be around
5. I need a ruffneck, a dude with an attitude who only need his fingers with his food
6. I'm 'bout to throw some game, they both one and the same, Cupid's the one to blame
7. When the rain breaks the road, are you holding on?
8. In the dark I like to read his mind but I'm frightened of the things I might find
9. Someone take these dreams away that point me to another day
10. Oh, oh oh oh, you don't have to go, oh oh oh oh, you don't have to go, oh oh oh oh, you don't have to go.
Okay, I could only make it to 10. My brain is addled and lacks commitment and there's other stuff I want to go over.
Thing 1: I have a pretty nasty cold and I'm in a bad mood about it. So I'm going to pamper myself ladies and gents. That means no cleaning, thinking, or working for the rest of the night.
Thing 2: Those ASPCA commercials featuring Sarah McLachlan have been driving me crazy. See below.
Maybe you are made of sturdier stuff than I, but every time I see this commercial on tv, it sends me scrambling for the remote control because I can't handle sobbing on my couch anymore. It has all the basic ingredients for inducing a good cry--puppies and kittens, puppies and kittens IN PERIL, those same animals staring innocently and desperately up into the camera, Sarah McLachlan's "Angel" playing in the background, Sarah McLachlan holding and petting an ostensibly rescued animal, and worst of all, animals with one eye. You show me an animal with one eye, and I will dissolve into tears. Why? Because I'm a huge doofus, sorry.
So, I may be going into some weird do-gooder territory in the next few months out of species-specific guilt. I know a lot of my altruistic tendencies irritate my friends and loved ones because it usually results in my hitting them up for money but, come on people. It's been five years since I did any fundraising. Go ahead and watch that commercial again and see if it doesn't make you want to do something. Yeah, I know I'm annoying. Just wait til April rolls around.
1. I've become impossible, holding on to when, when everything seemed to matter more
2. Bend down and touch, the door is shut, in the end, you're just too close
3. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life
4. When you tire of all the bright lights, haste that's killing and you're willing to stay home nights, when your feet are back on solid ground, look for me, I'll be around
5. I need a ruffneck, a dude with an attitude who only need his fingers with his food
6. I'm 'bout to throw some game, they both one and the same, Cupid's the one to blame
7. When the rain breaks the road, are you holding on?
8. In the dark I like to read his mind but I'm frightened of the things I might find
9. Someone take these dreams away that point me to another day
10. Oh, oh oh oh, you don't have to go, oh oh oh oh, you don't have to go, oh oh oh oh, you don't have to go.
Okay, I could only make it to 10. My brain is addled and lacks commitment and there's other stuff I want to go over.
Thing 1: I have a pretty nasty cold and I'm in a bad mood about it. So I'm going to pamper myself ladies and gents. That means no cleaning, thinking, or working for the rest of the night.
Thing 2: Those ASPCA commercials featuring Sarah McLachlan have been driving me crazy. See below.
Maybe you are made of sturdier stuff than I, but every time I see this commercial on tv, it sends me scrambling for the remote control because I can't handle sobbing on my couch anymore. It has all the basic ingredients for inducing a good cry--puppies and kittens, puppies and kittens IN PERIL, those same animals staring innocently and desperately up into the camera, Sarah McLachlan's "Angel" playing in the background, Sarah McLachlan holding and petting an ostensibly rescued animal, and worst of all, animals with one eye. You show me an animal with one eye, and I will dissolve into tears. Why? Because I'm a huge doofus, sorry.
So, I may be going into some weird do-gooder territory in the next few months out of species-specific guilt. I know a lot of my altruistic tendencies irritate my friends and loved ones because it usually results in my hitting them up for money but, come on people. It's been five years since I did any fundraising. Go ahead and watch that commercial again and see if it doesn't make you want to do something. Yeah, I know I'm annoying. Just wait til April rolls around.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Odalisque-esque
There is something languorous about this painting, something that reminds me of myself early on January 1st after my evening foray into what my mom and I call our "annual New Year's gorge" which consists of chips and dip, brie and bread, and now, buffalo wings and bleu cheese dressing. After eating so much I developed a stitch in my stomach, I went from one end of the Metro system to the other (MD to Virginia cutting across DC at its broadest point) to usher in the New Year with some friends at a bar.
We acted like old people ("why can't they turn that music down? I can't hear myself think!" "Where's our waiter with that water? This is too spicy!") and talked about third-wave feminism and brought the New Year in with cretinous hats and plastic leis. In short, it was a pretty good time.
I relate that only because I feel obligated to talk about my New Year's Eve. What I really want to talk about is one of my main New Year's Resolutions. Oh sure, I've got the usual "get in shape", "get my finances straightened out" and "stop watching VH1" in my list, but the rez I'm most looking forward to is:
Develop an affectation.
I feel like it's about time. I mean, I'm going to find a new nose stud because my old one, which was supposedly pure gold, was apparently made out of something flimsy and gross so there's that...but I don't consider my nose piercing an affectation because I've had it for so long and it's meaningful to me. There's also the fact that my optometrist told me that I need to wear my glasses more frequently during the day because I've been getting eye strain that's been making my eyesight worse--but I would hardly consider myopia an affectation (plus I hate my glasses so that's an issue).
"Brevity, Soul, Wit" (formerly "I am a Force of Nature!") suggested the old standby of a British accent, but we both agreed it's a bit too predictable. In Spinal Tap, Tap's road manager had that cricket bat, but my being Indian, it might be a little too fobby. So, this might take a while for me to figure out. Maybe I could buy a pocketwatch with a chain attachment? Or maybe I could draw a mole on my face. Or develop a limp. I'm not sure. But I do know that this year would be so much more promising if I could figure out just one little affectation--something innocuous, yet memorable, and preferably, not too humiliating.
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