15/11/2009
On Take Care of Yourself
I saw Take Care of Yourself today at the Whitechapel Gallery. I expected to find it interesting, in light of my professional expertise, but I didn’t expect to find it so familiar, and not a little bit painful.
The artist, Sophie Calle, received a most horrible break-up email from a lover, and was inspired to share it with dozens of women from different fields of expertise to get their particular take on the matter - a judge finds that he’s broken a contract, a psychiatrist decides that he’s a perfectly sinister personality type.
With the exception of one woman who protests that Calle can’t have loved him very much if she is moved to share this most private statement in public, all of the women agree: despite the manner in which he couches his rejection in the most florid of prose, Calle’s ex-lover is a jerk. And this near-universal recognition made me think about how easy it is to see when someone else is in a relationship with someone who you see is clearly abhorrent, but how easy it is to lose this perspective when you are in a relationship yourself.
And I thought of all of the times that I had received similarly horrible missives, or speeches, or whatever (not very many, but too many all the same), and still longed for a way to see the good in the men rejecting me even when my friends - both women and men - assured me that I was better off alone. Life would be easier, no doubt, if we could maintain that clarity of view that we have with regards to partners of other people, I suppose, but perhaps it would also be impossible: only with the loss of that critcial perspective can we dupe ourselves into risking love.
Text posted at 00:19
13/11/2009
I am very grouchy today.
Photo posted at 14:55
12/11/2009
I have been listening to Bon Iver this afternoon, and this song reminded me of the three times in my life I have tried to donate blood.
The first time I tried to donate blood, I was in high school. I had just turned 17 and was thus eligible to donate blood and my friends and I were all, OH YEAH BLOOD DONATION because we were still too young to do anything else edgy, such as drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes (we were law-abiding youths; remind me to tell you another time about the interesting fact that I have never had an illegal alcoholic drink). So I got plugged in to a needle and expressed a pint and then I passed out on the floor of our auditorium and that was really a deeply unfortunate thing to happen in high school.
The second time was also in high school, the second semester of that year. Shamed by my previous blood donation fiasco, for some reason I decided that I should do it again in order to prove my worth. This time I did not pass out, so I was all, I AM THE HERO OF BLOOD DONATION. (This is the least interesting of the three blood donation stories, but is a necessary middle eight, so to speak.)
The third time was at university. You cannot donate blood, the Red Cross people said, because you have spent too much time in the UK, a place where there is mad cow disease.
Oh, I said, rolling my sleeve back down. I don’t think I have mad cow disease.
You can still eat a snack while you wait for your friend, they said.
I started eating some snacks.
OH MY GOD, said a nurse, charging over and attempting to bodily drag me away from the snack table. YOU NEED TO LIE DOWN.
Um, I said, I didn’t donate blood. I am just eating some snacks while I wait for my friend.
Oh, she said resentfully. Well. You’re very pale.
And from that day forth I started wearing blusher.
(I am aware, by the way, that this song is not really about blood donation at all. But macht’s nichts.)
Video posted at 17:56
11/11/2009
Link posted at 10:13
09/11/2009
If you only do one thing this week … make tea for your colleagues | Money | The Guardian
Here’s the thing, folks. I have lived in the UK for six years. I have worked in offices in the UK for nearly five of those years. I do not understand the tea round. This article makes it sound really jolly and pleasant, but actually it can be very sinister and political. Who’s included in the tea run? Are they making the tea the way that you like it? Who is using your favourite mug? Do you intentionally leave someone out of the tea run in order to indicate that you are mad at them (yes, yes, you absolutely do because you are British and couldn’t possibly just discuss it with them).
Yes, this all sounds a bit bitter, like an over-steeped cup. But maybe I am, because the tea run makes me frown. I’m just going to come out and say it: I don’t like tea that much. I mean, it’s fine, but I can really take it or leave it. So it never occurs to me to make tea in the office.
The result of my lack of desire? I am never quite sure when it is time to go on a tea run. So I will sit there in my office thinking, ‘hm, I should get some tea…um, now? Now? NOW?’ and as I am doing all of this thinking - which is obviously keeping me from doing my work - almost invariably someone else will go and get some tea first and then everyone thinks I am a rude non-getter of tea. Or else I think, ‘yes, yes, NOW’ and I say ‘DOES ANYONE WANT SOME TEA?’ and everyone is like, ‘meh, not right now, thanks’, and then I feel just as confused.
Oh, British people. I love you. But I do not love your incomprehensible tea system that threatens to stand between me and assimilation forever.
Quote posted at 22:44
05/11/2009
My top 10 books of 2009
Inspired by Publisher’s Weekly, who have just published their list of the top 10 books of 2009, here are my own top 10 picks:
1. Himglish and Femalese: Why Women Don’t Get Why Men Don’t Get Them by Jean Hannah Edelstein
2. Himglish and Femalese: Why Women Don’t Get Why Men Don’t Get Them by Jean Hannah Edelstein
3. Himglish and Femalese: Why Women Don’t Get Why Men Don’t Get Them by Jean Hannah Edelstein
4. Himglish and Femalese: Why Women Don’t Get Why Men Don’t Get Them by Jean Hannah Edelstein
5. Himglish and Femalese: Why Women Don’t Get Why Men Don’t Get Them by Jean Hannah Edelstein
6. Himglish and Femalese: Why Women Don’t Get Why Men Don’t Get Them by Jean Hannah Edelstein
7. Himglish and Femalese: Why Women Don’t Get Why Men Don’t Get Them by Jean Hannah Edelstein
8. Himglish and Femalese: Why Women Don’t Get Why Men Don’t Get Them by Jean Hannah Edelstein
9. Himglish and Femalese: Why Women Don’t Get Why Men Don’t Get Them by Jean Hannah Edelstein
10. Himglish and Femalese: Why Women Don’t Get Why Men Don’t Get Them by Jean Hannah Edelstein
Gosh, would you look at that? How surprising. Rest assured, of course, that I gave a fair chance to all the ‘big’ books of the year, but made them all stand on their own two feet. It disturbed me when I was done that all of the books on the list were the same one, and by me. But, naturally, I published it anyway.
Text posted at 15:00
03/11/2009
Washington Post editor Henry Allen, 68, who punched Style reporter Manuel Roig-Franzia on Friday night for filing “the second-worst piece I’ve ever had handed to me in 43 years.” (via andrewromano)
Good old-fashioned print journalism. I like to think that they were wearing bow ties and suspenders when this happened. And that they knocked over some typewriters. These days a pissed-off editor will just send you a snarky tweet.
Quote posted at 16:25
Good luck, Liz Truss | Tanya Gold | Comment is free | The Guardian
For once, I think Tanya Gold is spot-on.
Quote posted at 15:36
01/11/2009
Dear Jeanie,
I’m a total Blogelstein fan as you know, but today … “Dad took Arthur and I” !! … I know language is supposed to be fluid and all that, but that one really sticks in the throat. Just omit Arthur and you’ll immediately get my point.
„Thanks, Mumelstein! (duly corrected)
Quote posted at 23:11
31/10/2009
» Parents upset, bored, by 'Where the Wild Things Are'
This is one of my favourite risible CNN articles ever* - especially the part where one father lodges this complaint:
“I think there almost wasn’t enough of a fear element — there was never a moment when my [20-month-old] was crying.”
Hello, refund.
But this did remind me of the first movie I ever saw, or the first movie I can remember seeing: a black-and-white, silent version of The Little Prince, which my dad took my brother and me to see at the glorious Proctor’s Theatre in Schenectady, New York. I think I was about three, and it scared the living daylights out of me - the sheer movieness of it was challenging enough to my small brain, never mind the talking fox. And as a result I have never read the book or watched another film version of it, even though I am told it is charming.
* The wedding cake shaped like a bride still wins, however.
Link posted at 23:07
30/10/2009
On having the flu
It’s awful, but you knew that already. But I’m not sure when I last stayed in my bed for three days in a row, except perhaps when I had the flu - the Real Flu, I think this is but a pseudo-flu, a cold for anyone with a hardier constitution than mine - when I first moved to London. It must have been the second or third week that I lived here and I really couldn’t move at all for most of a week; then-boyfriend kindly ministered to me in my miniature horrible dorm room, and I lost ten pounds in a series of sweaty, feverish sleeps. (Emaciation-by-virus naturally elicited a slew of compliments from people, which was weird.)
Non-existent-boyfriend has, obviously, not been of any assistance this time, though Neighbour Jude did kindly bring me orange juice and an armful of satsumas on Wednesday, and Flatmate Ben has lifesavingly lent me his laptop (mine is still at the Genius Bar). But I have had to make my own soup and yesterday it was an utter failure; the matzo balls dissolved entirely, turning the soup into a sort of Kosher chicken porridge, and because I was hungry and ill and alone I ate it and it was awful and I felt very full of self-pity.
But this is not really about satsumas or laptops or even bad soup: what it is about is the fact that yesterday as I entered my 36th (or so) hour of lying here waiting for my immune system to prevail, the angle of my Vellux window and the phase of the moon and my view from my pillow were perfectly aligned so that I could see the latter through the former as it rose around five o’clock. Which is something I would not have seen had I not been bedridden. It didn’t make all of this gross suffering feel worthwhile, not quite. But quite a bit less bad.
Text posted at 22:56
29/10/2009
Get vaccinated to help your friends.
Equal rights for all races, genders, and sexual orientation. Do not litter. Don’t drink and drive. Give money to charity. Etc, etc, etc.
Why do these things? Because it’s the right thing to do as a society. The vast majority of us do these things because we care about other people. We want to help others. We don’t litter because it makes the world ugly. We don’t drink and drive because we could kill ourselves and others. We eat local and buy Priuses because it helps the environment.
There is a strong history of branding an individual problem in order to change our behavior to benefit society. The Don’t Mess With Texas campaign is credited with reducing litter on Texas highways 72% between 1986 and 1990. Smoking in public has been markedly reduced because it harms other people. Just watch Mad Men to see how society has changed. We now look at the world in a more connected way. We behave differently because, through marketing, we now know that the way we behave makes a difference in the world.
Vaccines work because of herd immunity. In diseases passed from person-to-person, it is more difficult to maintain a chain of infection when large numbers of a population are immune. The higher the proportion of individuals who are immune, the lower the likelihood that a susceptible person will come into contact with an infected individual.
Not getting vaccinated is therefore a social problem, like driving drunk, littering, equal rights, and smoking around children. For every person who does not get vaccinated, more people in our society are at risk of serious illness or death.
In 1904, there was a Supreme Court case called Jacobson vs. Massachusetts. Massachusetts at the time had a law mandating smallpox vaccination. Jacobson didn’t want to be vaccinated. He sued. The court ruled against Jacobson:
“in every well-ordered society charged with the duty of conserving the safety of its members, the rights of the individuals in respect of his liberty may at times, under the pressure of great dangers, be subjected to such restraint, to be enforced by reasonable regulations as the safety of the general public may demand.”
They ruled it was in the public’s interest for the state to enforce the law. It was a top down, creepy implication that in order for the public to be protected, we should all be required to risk death as a complication of a vaccine. While I don’t agree with this top-down approach, we’re smarter today. And vaccines are much, much safer today than injecting powdered smallpox scabs. They ruled properly, but mandates aren’t the answer.
Making vaccination a social cause is the answer. Doing things for others makes us feel really good. Getting vaccinated not only protects me, but it protects the herd of awesome people around me, so none of my friends or strangers die a preventable death.
Text posted at 20:54
» On air: is gender equality an impossible dream?
Of course not! I say as much, in a flu-sodden voice, in the second hour of the podcast.
Link posted at 19:01
28/10/2009
Link posted at 14:24
