I'm not inspired by Mondays. I enjoy weekends too much. I used to think I was a workaholic. No longer -- I have fully come to realize that work is just something you do to get paid, and that you don't have to love your job. A-little-while-ago me would have thought this was a cop out, that I should keep looking and looking for the perfect job. Present me simply doesn't think that this exists.
I wish I liked Kanye West's new album more than I do. People I really like, and whose taste in music I respect, love it. They describe it as operatic. But I don't feel it. I like the first song very much. Of course I would. There's a great piano part. And it's got a gospel choir feeling. And mad lyrics. But I don't love the rest of the album. Don't get me wrong. I like a song or two. But I don't LOVE them. I want to love things.
The count down is on before I go to India. So exciting! I love going home for the Christmas holidays. I love seeing my parents, my extended family, and my old friends. I also live well -- and by that I mean I am healthy. I go swimming. I often go to the gym with my parents. I eat good home-cooked food. I read a lot. I do silly, sentimental things like go to the neighborhood's Christmas carol sessions. I spend time with my grandmother. I'm looking forward to it all.
Christmas shopping! Oh my -- there is more to be done. But plenty has already been done. Oh online shopping, you are a friend. (But my credit card, you are an enabler and not entirely a friend. But still I justify all this by saying that generosity is key.)
Can we get much higher? So high. Yes, lyrics from the Kanye West song I was talking about earlier. Did you really think you'd escape a post without lyrics? Oh silly reader.
Tomorrow's goals. The gym. Yes, indeed. I went today. But then I ate three mini burgers, had french fries and three beers. Oh well, it was fun! FUN IS KEY, right?
I'm off to bed.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
But I had more to say apparently
This post will only make sense when/ if you read the earlier post, but alas you're reading this first since it's the most recent post, and that is life. It does not always come in order.
All that stream-of-consciousness-ing that I did in the last post made me think of beautiful things that I have read or heard. Just b/c of that T.S. Elliot poem. I love "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." I've never been entirely sure why. I didn't like a lot of his work because I found it too literary and dense. Yes, poetry and literature should make one think and delve deeper, but mostly they should be beautiful, no? And accessible? But perhaps my aesthetic theory is that of a simpleton. Possible.
Other things I love that come to mind. The Bone People by Keri Hulme about three sad, depressing people who find each other and learn to (a) accept each other and then (b) love each other. Perhaps there is a (c) that they find out they cannot do without each other. Oh my, did I give it all away? Worry not, the beauty is in the writing, not so much in the plot.
Sentiment. I love sentiment. I say this having come from a friend's Christmas tree party on Friday, where we all selected the tree, then put it upright, put lights and decorations on it, and drank egg nog (and, as the night grew later, whiskey) while listening to Christmas carols. And so I like sentiment, and traditions, and that idea that people should come together and do things like dress up a tree.
I'm now at a loss for things that I love. Yikes. I thought one thing would lead to another and I'm drawing a blank. Although that is not entirely true. Things are coming to mind but I'm now beginning to second-guess myself and wonder, oh, but is that something I love or just like? For example, I'm thinking about the new album by Girl Talk, All Day. Which I don't love, but am presently enamored with, meaning that I am listening to it over and over again. There are epic, operatic moments for me (like the Creed mash up, or the U2 mash up) but there are rather mundane moments in the album, too, which means that it probably won't end up being something I love. But I like it for now.
I must get off this bed and go outside. Enough.
All that stream-of-consciousness-ing that I did in the last post made me think of beautiful things that I have read or heard. Just b/c of that T.S. Elliot poem. I love "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." I've never been entirely sure why. I didn't like a lot of his work because I found it too literary and dense. Yes, poetry and literature should make one think and delve deeper, but mostly they should be beautiful, no? And accessible? But perhaps my aesthetic theory is that of a simpleton. Possible.
Other things I love that come to mind. The Bone People by Keri Hulme about three sad, depressing people who find each other and learn to (a) accept each other and then (b) love each other. Perhaps there is a (c) that they find out they cannot do without each other. Oh my, did I give it all away? Worry not, the beauty is in the writing, not so much in the plot.
Sentiment. I love sentiment. I say this having come from a friend's Christmas tree party on Friday, where we all selected the tree, then put it upright, put lights and decorations on it, and drank egg nog (and, as the night grew later, whiskey) while listening to Christmas carols. And so I like sentiment, and traditions, and that idea that people should come together and do things like dress up a tree.
I'm now at a loss for things that I love. Yikes. I thought one thing would lead to another and I'm drawing a blank. Although that is not entirely true. Things are coming to mind but I'm now beginning to second-guess myself and wonder, oh, but is that something I love or just like? For example, I'm thinking about the new album by Girl Talk, All Day. Which I don't love, but am presently enamored with, meaning that I am listening to it over and over again. There are epic, operatic moments for me (like the Creed mash up, or the U2 mash up) but there are rather mundane moments in the album, too, which means that it probably won't end up being something I love. But I like it for now.
I must get off this bed and go outside. Enough.
It's December
I can't believe that we're already in December. December is take stock month for me. I think about the year that has been. I reflect on the year that will be.
It has been a big year, all in all. The biggest thing I did was buy an apartment. Yes, in January I got serious about the process, in February I traipsed about in the winter with my broker, visiting apartment after apartment, until I found THE apartment. Which I subsequently lost to another bidder. And, accordingly, was heart-broken and devastated. And then I found THE apartment, but decided to wait around until I found THE apartment. And I can safely say now, that the apartment I have chosen, was, in fact, the one all along. But sometimes you have to go through trial and error, make some wrong decisions, find out later why they were wrong even though they seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. A bit like relationships, really.
I moved into my apartment in mid-May. Moving was chaos. Shutting down the other apartment. Starting up this apartment. I did some minor renovations. Nothing serious, but enough to leave furniture piled up in the center of the room, while walls were being painted, cabinets were being stripped, heaters were being changed. Then came the beginning of a long series of big purchases. A bed and mattress for the guest bedroom. A bookcase to put away all the boxes of books. Lamps for the living room. Lamps for the guest bedroom. Plants came. Some died. Most are alive. They are my friends -- I talk to them, and I worry about their growth and well-being.
There is still plenty to do in this apartment (not least of which is getting blinds for the guest bedroom!) but my apartment has reached a definite state of live-ability. I can live here and be happy. In fact, I am happy. I am happy on this Sunday afternoon as I watch the winter rays struggle to get to my window, just barely lighting up my room.
Of course, this year has not been just about the apartment. It has been about new friends, new people whom I have met, and have made subtle or not-so-subtle impacts on me, the way I view the world, they way in which I wish to be viewed. Yes,, this is all abstract sounding but c'est la vie. I write an abstract blog de temps en temps. Deal w/ it. And I throw in snippets of French to make this seem literary or interesting.
What do I hope for 2011? Oh, I don't know. I think I want to do more fitness stuff. Although I say this year in and year out, and truth is I'm sufficiently healthy (thank you, God!) so I'll probably just stay at the same level. I keep thinking of doing something "big" like an Olympic Triathlon or a half-marathon and maybe maybe but I'm not all that organized in my life.
I want to go out more. I'm a social being, but I've found myself becoming just a little bit more holed up in my apartment or at work over the year. Perhaps this is inevitable. It is part of growing up -- but perhaps not, I don't know. We shall see. Time shall tell, etc.
Moving on from this wishy washy stuff, I saw Harry Potter the other day. So good! so good! so good! (sung like one sings these lines in "Sweet Caroline"). I liked 98.5% of it. (I didn't like the scene where Harry and Hermione got just a wee bit steamy b/c I think it felt forced. Yes, I know the point is that they're 17 years old, so they're young adults, and their bodies are doing all sorts of strange things, but, regardless, the scene felt forced and perhaps a wee bit unnecessary. Or perhaps I am just A PRUDE.). But i liked the rest of the movie. Some beautiful scenes, and while some people have felt that the movie dragged just a wee bit, I was happy to be transported to another place and time. In fact, I would like to tele-transport in 2011. Take me places, world.
Which reminds me of that poem by . . . someone. If I had world enough and time. Oh, let me google it and then continue this post. Hang on a wee minute.
So apparently, unsurprisingly, of course, I didn't quote accurately. The words are from an Andrew Marvell poem, "http://www.bartleby.com/101/357.htmlTo his coy mistress" and the words are "HAD we but world enough, and time." Trust me to write out the plural and make this singular and all about me. But yes, if you could do anything you wanted with resources and time, what oh what would you do? I keep thinking I would go to medical school and just become a doctor but who knows if I really would do that? Sometimes we think we know how we would change our history, but forget that there was, well, perhaps not an inevitability, but at least a strong certainty or reasoning for why we made the decisions that we did. And it's good not to write out those reasons from our history b/c they make us who we are.
I babble, I babble.
Which makes me think of two things (since I'm stream of consciousness writing now, this is what happens when I sit on my bed on a sleepy, cold Sunday afternoon, with my laptop on my lap, I can't help it). The two things:
(1)) Babylon, by David Gray, one of my favorite songs, and brought to mind b/c of Babble and Babylon.
(2) The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Elliot, b/c "I babble, I babble" makes me think of "I grow old, I grow old." Unless of course I'm mis-quoting that line, which as we have found it, is quite possible. (The line is probably "we grow old" and in typical loner fashion, I have written out the plural.
Ah, life is the plural! I must remember this.
Enough.
It has been a big year, all in all. The biggest thing I did was buy an apartment. Yes, in January I got serious about the process, in February I traipsed about in the winter with my broker, visiting apartment after apartment, until I found THE apartment. Which I subsequently lost to another bidder. And, accordingly, was heart-broken and devastated. And then I found THE apartment, but decided to wait around until I found THE apartment. And I can safely say now, that the apartment I have chosen, was, in fact, the one all along. But sometimes you have to go through trial and error, make some wrong decisions, find out later why they were wrong even though they seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. A bit like relationships, really.
I moved into my apartment in mid-May. Moving was chaos. Shutting down the other apartment. Starting up this apartment. I did some minor renovations. Nothing serious, but enough to leave furniture piled up in the center of the room, while walls were being painted, cabinets were being stripped, heaters were being changed. Then came the beginning of a long series of big purchases. A bed and mattress for the guest bedroom. A bookcase to put away all the boxes of books. Lamps for the living room. Lamps for the guest bedroom. Plants came. Some died. Most are alive. They are my friends -- I talk to them, and I worry about their growth and well-being.
There is still plenty to do in this apartment (not least of which is getting blinds for the guest bedroom!) but my apartment has reached a definite state of live-ability. I can live here and be happy. In fact, I am happy. I am happy on this Sunday afternoon as I watch the winter rays struggle to get to my window, just barely lighting up my room.
Of course, this year has not been just about the apartment. It has been about new friends, new people whom I have met, and have made subtle or not-so-subtle impacts on me, the way I view the world, they way in which I wish to be viewed. Yes,, this is all abstract sounding but c'est la vie. I write an abstract blog de temps en temps. Deal w/ it. And I throw in snippets of French to make this seem literary or interesting.
What do I hope for 2011? Oh, I don't know. I think I want to do more fitness stuff. Although I say this year in and year out, and truth is I'm sufficiently healthy (thank you, God!) so I'll probably just stay at the same level. I keep thinking of doing something "big" like an Olympic Triathlon or a half-marathon and maybe maybe but I'm not all that organized in my life.
I want to go out more. I'm a social being, but I've found myself becoming just a little bit more holed up in my apartment or at work over the year. Perhaps this is inevitable. It is part of growing up -- but perhaps not, I don't know. We shall see. Time shall tell, etc.
Moving on from this wishy washy stuff, I saw Harry Potter the other day. So good! so good! so good! (sung like one sings these lines in "Sweet Caroline"). I liked 98.5% of it. (I didn't like the scene where Harry and Hermione got just a wee bit steamy b/c I think it felt forced. Yes, I know the point is that they're 17 years old, so they're young adults, and their bodies are doing all sorts of strange things, but, regardless, the scene felt forced and perhaps a wee bit unnecessary. Or perhaps I am just A PRUDE.). But i liked the rest of the movie. Some beautiful scenes, and while some people have felt that the movie dragged just a wee bit, I was happy to be transported to another place and time. In fact, I would like to tele-transport in 2011. Take me places, world.
Which reminds me of that poem by . . . someone. If I had world enough and time. Oh, let me google it and then continue this post. Hang on a wee minute.
So apparently, unsurprisingly, of course, I didn't quote accurately. The words are from an Andrew Marvell poem, "http://www.bartleby.com/101/357.htmlTo his coy mistress" and the words are "HAD we but world enough, and time." Trust me to write out the plural and make this singular and all about me. But yes, if you could do anything you wanted with resources and time, what oh what would you do? I keep thinking I would go to medical school and just become a doctor but who knows if I really would do that? Sometimes we think we know how we would change our history, but forget that there was, well, perhaps not an inevitability, but at least a strong certainty or reasoning for why we made the decisions that we did. And it's good not to write out those reasons from our history b/c they make us who we are.
I babble, I babble.
Which makes me think of two things (since I'm stream of consciousness writing now, this is what happens when I sit on my bed on a sleepy, cold Sunday afternoon, with my laptop on my lap, I can't help it). The two things:
(1)) Babylon, by David Gray, one of my favorite songs, and brought to mind b/c of Babble and Babylon.
(2) The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Elliot, b/c "I babble, I babble" makes me think of "I grow old, I grow old." Unless of course I'm mis-quoting that line, which as we have found it, is quite possible. (The line is probably "we grow old" and in typical loner fashion, I have written out the plural.
Ah, life is the plural! I must remember this.
Enough.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
I can't keep up with my life
The title of this post makes my life seem far more interesting than it is. But the reality is that no matter how mundane my life might actually be, my blog life simply can't keep up. I could write up about how the D-meister popped up in NY for one night and we went for thai food in Murray Hill. I could write about how I went up to Harvard for the day to speak about the International Court of Justice. I could write about how I'm excited to go pick a Christmas tree on Friday and donate an ornament I bought in South Africa to a good friend (did I mention i went to South Africa to speak at a conference in early November?). And and and and and.
But I'm out of steam.
Good night.
But I'm out of steam.
Good night.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
The Night Hours
I never have difficulty falling asleep when I'm healthy and fine, mostly b/c I'm tuckered out, so within minutes of putting out the bedside lamp, I'm dead to the world. But when I'm sick, it's a different story. Mostly, it's the temperature keeping me up. I'm either too hot or too cold. I stick one toe, a full foot, two feet, an arm, both arms out from under the covers, and then suddenly, I'm way too cold. I cover myself again and suddenly I'm smothering in the heat that is emanating from my own body.
I'm usually too uncomfortable. Normally, I can sleep in pretty much any horizontal position. But, for example, last night -- first, I cradled my spare pillow, yes, pathetic) (but, to my defense, I have come a long way baby! I used to cradle my faithful bedside companion, my laptop. Not a smart idea.); second, I turn to the other side. Now I wonder if the pain I'm feeling in my side is a ruptured spleen, a herniated disc, a kidney about to fail, etc. I lie on my stomach. Bad idea. My neck is too stiff to lie on my stomach and tilt to one side. So I lie on my back. Now I wonder whether the lumps I feel are in my back or in the mattress? So I gingerly feel my back. No lumps, just that old enemy back fat, always present, ready to bring me down. I toss I turn, I toss I turn.
I'm usually too thirsty or I've drunk too much water I have to urinate. Luckily, my bathroom is a hop and step away from the bedroom. Does not matter. Still inconvenient. You see, when you're sick, you have to make sure you're well hydrated. So I drink cranberry juice, orange juice, pomegranate juice and coconut water, all matched with a glass of water. Which is great except I have to make trips to the bathroom umpteen times. I no longer worry about turning on the light. Let the cookie crumble how it may. (Oops, wrong metaphor, you're thinking about the other bodily function now, no, no, I'm talking about sprinkling holy water during mass). With all this urinating, and my burning body using up all my liquids, I find myself having to wake up over and over again for another glass of water. And the ever-present question each time. To fill from the faucet in the bathroom, ever so close, but oh so lukewarm. Or to go to the kitchen, where I can add ice, and have chilled water! Which cools me down. But the kitchen is so far away. Dilemmas.
I'm not a hypochondriac on a day-to-day basis. Meaning, I don't think I'm catching ailments most of the time. But when I'm sick, my mind goes places it shouldn't. For example, fever + headache + stiff neck (likely from the awkward sleeping poses) = BACTERIAL MENINGITIS OH MY I'M GOING TO DIE. (Incidentally, such thoughts do not facilitate sleeping, either).
Which brings me to the heading of this blog post. While I'm doing the afore-mentioned, the hours tick tock away. At first I see lights in the building across from me still on, and I reassure myself, thinking, well, it's OK if I'm having trouble falling asleep, it's still early.
Slowly those lights go off one by one.
Until there's just one. A night owl. That means it's 4am.
Then the morning rays start to filter through my light curtains (for normally I like the light coming into my relatively dark bedroom). This means it's dawn.
I finally fall asleep only to have some concerned friend/ relative call at a normal hour, say, 10am, to find out how I am doing, which is perfectly reasonable, but for the fact that I didn't actually fall asleep properly until 8 or so . . .
I'm usually too uncomfortable. Normally, I can sleep in pretty much any horizontal position. But, for example, last night -- first, I cradled my spare pillow, yes, pathetic) (but, to my defense, I have come a long way baby! I used to cradle my faithful bedside companion, my laptop. Not a smart idea.); second, I turn to the other side. Now I wonder if the pain I'm feeling in my side is a ruptured spleen, a herniated disc, a kidney about to fail, etc. I lie on my stomach. Bad idea. My neck is too stiff to lie on my stomach and tilt to one side. So I lie on my back. Now I wonder whether the lumps I feel are in my back or in the mattress? So I gingerly feel my back. No lumps, just that old enemy back fat, always present, ready to bring me down. I toss I turn, I toss I turn.
I'm usually too thirsty or I've drunk too much water I have to urinate. Luckily, my bathroom is a hop and step away from the bedroom. Does not matter. Still inconvenient. You see, when you're sick, you have to make sure you're well hydrated. So I drink cranberry juice, orange juice, pomegranate juice and coconut water, all matched with a glass of water. Which is great except I have to make trips to the bathroom umpteen times. I no longer worry about turning on the light. Let the cookie crumble how it may. (Oops, wrong metaphor, you're thinking about the other bodily function now, no, no, I'm talking about sprinkling holy water during mass). With all this urinating, and my burning body using up all my liquids, I find myself having to wake up over and over again for another glass of water. And the ever-present question each time. To fill from the faucet in the bathroom, ever so close, but oh so lukewarm. Or to go to the kitchen, where I can add ice, and have chilled water! Which cools me down. But the kitchen is so far away. Dilemmas.
I'm not a hypochondriac on a day-to-day basis. Meaning, I don't think I'm catching ailments most of the time. But when I'm sick, my mind goes places it shouldn't. For example, fever + headache + stiff neck (likely from the awkward sleeping poses) = BACTERIAL MENINGITIS OH MY I'M GOING TO DIE. (Incidentally, such thoughts do not facilitate sleeping, either).
Which brings me to the heading of this blog post. While I'm doing the afore-mentioned, the hours tick tock away. At first I see lights in the building across from me still on, and I reassure myself, thinking, well, it's OK if I'm having trouble falling asleep, it's still early.
Slowly those lights go off one by one.
Until there's just one. A night owl. That means it's 4am.
Then the morning rays start to filter through my light curtains (for normally I like the light coming into my relatively dark bedroom). This means it's dawn.
I finally fall asleep only to have some concerned friend/ relative call at a normal hour, say, 10am, to find out how I am doing, which is perfectly reasonable, but for the fact that I didn't actually fall asleep properly until 8 or so . . .
Interesting couple of days
I've been very under the weather recently, turns out to be some bad sea food that introduced some bacteria into my system. They are being repelled by antibiotics now! (Oh, immune system, but why couldn't you do it on your own? Were the scallops so powerful?!).
I become a crazy person when I am ill. I like to always be busy (which includes watching TV, of course, because I actively get into the lives of my TV characters, so I'm listening to what they're saying, sometimes I respond to them and wonder whether they can hear me). But when I'm sick that means I have to stop, rest, shut down for a while, drink a lot of liquids and moan and groan to myself.
I'm not that interesting to be around. I can only take so much of myself at any given point in time.
Mostly, I felt betrayed by my subconscious mind. You see, I've had fever-induced dreams for the last two nights. You know, the kind of dreams where everything is absolutely crazy, and it's only because your body is on fire so to speak that your mind is racing about furiously and frantically? Well, apparently I dream about sending out a bill to a client (which, incidentally, does not have to go out for about another 10 days), and I dream about a motion that I am drafting. Really? This is what I could come up with while in my fever-induced state? I dream about this stuff all the time. I was so disappointed in myself.
I also start going through the motions of thinking that I must save! save! save! so that when I am old and alone, I will be able to afford a nice assisted living facility, where people take care of you, and check on you regularly, so you don't have to start camping out in emergency rooms. And obviously by "you" I mean "me" or "I" as appropriate.
I watched a lot of TV over the last couple of days. I remembered why I loved How I Met Your Mother so much when I used to watch it in Sierra Leone with the gang. That might also because I watched at least five episodes of it this weekend (perhaps while delirious).
Is it just me or do the cashiers at Duane Reade recoil when you check out with items such as Airborne, Nyquil, Dayquil, etc.? All I wanted was a little bit of compassion and sympathy.
I'm much, much better. Although I'm still disappointed in my sorry mind. From now on, when the time calls for it, I want feverish dreams of the right kind.
I become a crazy person when I am ill. I like to always be busy (which includes watching TV, of course, because I actively get into the lives of my TV characters, so I'm listening to what they're saying, sometimes I respond to them and wonder whether they can hear me). But when I'm sick that means I have to stop, rest, shut down for a while, drink a lot of liquids and moan and groan to myself.
I'm not that interesting to be around. I can only take so much of myself at any given point in time.
Mostly, I felt betrayed by my subconscious mind. You see, I've had fever-induced dreams for the last two nights. You know, the kind of dreams where everything is absolutely crazy, and it's only because your body is on fire so to speak that your mind is racing about furiously and frantically? Well, apparently I dream about sending out a bill to a client (which, incidentally, does not have to go out for about another 10 days), and I dream about a motion that I am drafting. Really? This is what I could come up with while in my fever-induced state? I dream about this stuff all the time. I was so disappointed in myself.
I also start going through the motions of thinking that I must save! save! save! so that when I am old and alone, I will be able to afford a nice assisted living facility, where people take care of you, and check on you regularly, so you don't have to start camping out in emergency rooms. And obviously by "you" I mean "me" or "I" as appropriate.
I watched a lot of TV over the last couple of days. I remembered why I loved How I Met Your Mother so much when I used to watch it in Sierra Leone with the gang. That might also because I watched at least five episodes of it this weekend (perhaps while delirious).
Is it just me or do the cashiers at Duane Reade recoil when you check out with items such as Airborne, Nyquil, Dayquil, etc.? All I wanted was a little bit of compassion and sympathy.
I'm much, much better. Although I'm still disappointed in my sorry mind. From now on, when the time calls for it, I want feverish dreams of the right kind.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
I am a nutcase
And so I should go to sleep, the night being old, and the long stories being medium maximum, instead of short.
But with cake in my mouth, and coconut water by my side, all I can think of is . . .
Times goes by.
That boring theme, that boring refrain.
So I'll switch instead. To say that I am a big sap. I went to a fundraiser tonight and heard Indra Nooyi speak. She was good but not great but I appreciated her a lot for her goodness. And then Cory Booker spoke and he was great and great.
And I realized that I care oh yes I care.
But with cake in my mouth, and coconut water by my side, all I can think of is . . .
Times goes by.
That boring theme, that boring refrain.
So I'll switch instead. To say that I am a big sap. I went to a fundraiser tonight and heard Indra Nooyi speak. She was good but not great but I appreciated her a lot for her goodness. And then Cory Booker spoke and he was great and great.
And I realized that I care oh yes I care.
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