falling is like this

jess's voice

2011-07-29T09:24:00.003-04:00

Since Jess has been such a big fixture in my life here, I thought you might enjoy reading some of her voice! Here is an excerpt from an email she sent family and friends about our trip to Zanzibar. We just got back today and there are more travel-related stories to share (i.e. how I elbowed my way through a lawless crowd for an hour to buy our return ferry tickets home), but hopefully I will share many more of those to share in person.

Jess on the dhow. You can add a sail, but wrong winds.

Zanzibar is BEAUTIFUL and I'm thankful to have this last bit of time outside of Dar. Despite it's could-be-anywhere-tropical appearance, I've had a real "oh, i'm really in Tanzania" kind of day where you're sort of doing things that you'd do anywhere on vacation but then the inevitable twist arises that reminds you EXACTLY where you are. I'll provide some examples:

You hire a cab to meet you at a ferry and bring you to your hotel--Anywhere
Your cab driver decides to stop at an ice cream store, a liquor store and a gas station all before having an asthma attack and hiring his "brother" to bring you the rest of the way--Zanzibar

Rya and I thought it would be nice to go sailing and our b&b offered a very lovely sounding tour--Anywhere
Instead of a sailboat, you are picked up in a handmade canoe with side balancers (think handmade catamaran) that two men push using long sticks while standing--Zanzibar

You are getting your tan on--Anywhere
You are getting so tan that a Masai tells you you are starting to look like him--Zanzibar

You go for a snorkel--Anywhere
During your pristine snorkel your guide gets in the water to show you an octopus (this still is a bit universal) and then uses the stick that he is using to point to the octopus to stab it repeatedly, kill it, and take it home for dinner--Zanzibar
Side note: i proceeded to scream, get water up my snorkel, and choke all at the same time. I also decided that, instead of Farm to table, this is Dow (the kind of boat) to table. no carbon footprint (or footprint at all, really).

I think that should give you a sense of my vacation thus far but to be clear, i'm having the MOST amazing time. The water is turquoise, the sand is so powdery, and our romantic king sized bed with a beautifully draped mosquito net is big enough to sprawl out without touching. Tomorrow we go on a spice tour and to stonetown before returning to Dar on friday and then heading HOME. I cannot wait.

And then we ate Swahili octopus for dinner!

Ball of fire

2011-07-28T00:11:00.000-04:00

This morning's sunrise in Paje. Last full day in Tanzania.

Where we ate dinner last night

2011-07-27T01:04:00.001-04:00

So lovely!

Zanzibar!!!

2011-07-27T01:04:00.000-04:00

We are in Zanzibar for the final days of our stay here in Tanzania. The island is extraordinary.

We arrived very late Monday night in Stone Town just as the sun was setting. The ferry ride over had been another exercise in intra-Africa travel where we literally had to beg our way on the boat. As we kept saying, at least we got out--we both needed to be away from the stresses of Dar for a bit.

Zanzibar was an Arab state for quite a long time with its own sultan and everything and Stone Town is all Arab architecture. It's really beautiful and unlike anything we've seen here. I'm assuming most of the buildings are at the very least 200-300 years old (some easy internet searching or guidebook reading could cure this ignorance but my computer problems, which have only increased, make me just want to write quickly, and accept some guesstimates) and are varying states of restoration and dilapidation. The lovely taxi driver sent by the hotel--Mohammed--had to make some stops on the way to the east side of the island, including picking up ice cream, beer, and diet coke (a failure on the last attempt). We then drove through the outskirts of the town, skirting villages.

Electricity in Zanzibar is a problem as it is all over Tanzania, but more acutely so here. There is a single power line that runs to the island, built by the Norwegians in the 1970s. But even more than the fact that there are frequent blackouts and power failures, it was amazing to see just how dark the island is. As we drove through these little neighborhoods, probably fewer than half the homes had light and if they did it was a single bulb on a string. Instead, the children played in the darken street, the adolescents sat along the edges of half-built houses, and the adults walked along the sides of the roads, sometimes riding their almost invisible bikes perilously close to traffic.I've known about the lack of electricity even in fairly developed parts of the country, of course, but to see this in such proximity was really striking. As we drove east, the island got more and more dark until we were essentially along country roads (where the bikes were even more invisible).

We arrived at our lovely hotel late and hungry after one more stop at a gas station, where Mohammed had switched us into his "brother"'s cab because he felt his asthma coming on. Again, what a shock to see asthma so debilitating, especially to someone who is more likely than not middle class. We arrived in our lovely hotel, Kilima Kidogo (Little Hill) where the proprietor and staff were probably among the most welcoming and awesome people we had met.

The hotel is really lovely--a very small guest house right on the beach. To the left is a picture of our room, with a huge king size bed with romantic (truly) mosquito nets hanging off the rustic four posters.

When we woke up the first morning, the sky was clear and the sea shone turquoise--clear turquoise in all its shades. Our first night and day were mostly spent relaxing, taking long walks on the beach, and finishing up a little work.

Today, we got up to watch the sunrise (extraordinary--so much more gentle than sunsets, in pastels) and are going on a sailing trip with the requisite snorkeling (supposed to be very good). Tomorrow on our way back to Stone Town, we'll do the spice tour.

Lots more to tell and share, but my computer is running out of juice and won't take a charge or run of AC with any consistency and more recently not at all. Technical problems!

Hopefully I'll be able to get enough to post again, but if not, I come home on Saturday and can't wait to share more of what an incredible trip this has been.

kenya airways is my enemy

2011-07-23T03:49:00.000-04:00

So I alluded before that Kenya Airways was my enemy. Let me give you a little better idea of exactly what I mean.

I booked my ticket online for the Kenya Airways flights to Nairobi and back and got a confirmation email. Now, I did not read this confirmation email too closely because, well, sometimes I'm careless. Also, because it was a CONFIRMATION email that said CONFIRMATION and had a reservation number. Legit, right?

Jess and I leave about 3 hours early to avoid the infamous Dar traffic. We arrive at the airport, which is essentially an open air room and we wait in line for 45 minutes. This is after the initial x-ray machine attendant tells me he loves me and wants to marry me--a first in Dar!

Jess checks in without problem and I step up to the counter. Mind you, all the desk staff are dressed in the greatest outfits for Precision Air, Tanzania's airline. Observe:

Those are gazelles on their ties!

Anyway, when I checked in the lovely man behind the counter was like, well...I see your name but you don't have a ticket number, so I recommend you go and buy a new ticket outside. I was needless to say incredulous. I had a confirmation! With a reservation number! Of course, Jess and I hadn't been particularly organized when we left the house. Neither of us knew our flight numbers, the exact time of the plane, or had printed out the confirmation emails. We arrived at the airport and both of us were like, isn't one of us supposed to be the responsible one here? Guess not.

Needless to say, I spent the next hour running from the information booth to the Kenya Airways office to the Precision Air ticketing booth, in and out of security, trying to figure out what was going on. A lovely woman in the ticketing agency let me use her computer to access said confirmation email and with that I went out of the airport altogether to the Kenya Airways office. Where they essentially sat on the phone for 20 minutes talking to someone else, then told me to return to the check in desk where they then again said they couldn't help me. It was beyond frustrating. At the last minute, I just said screw this, and bought a new ticket from the lovely ticket booth lady, which turned out to be less expensive than my original one since she got me the promotional fare. I literally then had to run through the airport to make it on the flight. And all the while poor Jess is standing at the front desk waiting for me.

The funniest moment was when we were rushing to gate, took the escalator, and the escalator literally broke, grinding to a halt while we were on it. It was a comedy of errors and we both just burst out laughing.

I sort of blame this one on myself because it's possible I did not read closely enough or that my credit card did not go through (it didn't), but it was really a terrible way to start a trip. Needless to say, when I booked my return trip once I got to Nairobi, I made sure to be very clear that the payment went through, that I got a confirmation email again and read it this time, and I truly believed everything was going to be ok...

Except, when I arrived at Nairobi airport at 6am on Monday morning, waited in line for an hour, feared for missing my flight and had no way to contact Jess cause our phones weren't working (we were flying the Dar--Nairobi legs together; she then had gone on to Addis Ababa for the weekend), the same thing happened again. I finally get to the ticket counter, only to be told I had no ticket number. I literally started crying. And then had to run in and out of security, cry again at the Kenya Airways ticketing office in another terminal, and run back, cut everyone and get a boarding pass for the wrong flight since apparently my originally flight gate was closed (it was boarding while I was crying at the Kenya Airways office). Only when I got upstairs through security and saw my original flight gate still did a lovely miracle occur. I asked if they'd let me on and they did! They literally crossed off the info on my boarding card, rewrote a new flight and seat number and ran me out to the gate. Thank goodness for that--the later flight would have gotten me back to the office hours later with no way of contacting Jess or anyone else. Needless to say, I will not be flying Kenya Airways again.

When I finally settled in (I had about 40 pounds of extra weight from the things I was bringing home from Nairobi), I saw I was sitting next to a lovely older Kenyan businessman who was an investor and adviser to young entrepreneurs in Nairobi. It was a great conversation and this is what we saw out the window:

Mt. Kilimanjaro in the foreground and Mt. Meru behind. My flying companion told me that Kili used to have a permanent ice cap that has all but disappeared in the last 10 years due to climate change.

And here's coming into to the peninsula in Dar:

plans

2011-07-23T02:14:00.000-04:00

So this weekend was the weekend we were supposed to go on safari. But we blew it! We had decided going north really wasn't worth it for the short amount of time and that we'd stay around here. Only problem was the fact that the part we thought we'd go to was essentially just as far as the northern ones. Oops, when we figured it out, all recommended tour operators to the closest park (Mikumi) weren't available. We could take a bus out there and essentially hire a guide who really doesn't know much, but neither of us were into that idea. I think Jess actually had doubts about the whole safari thing to begin with, but I'm a little bummed cause I did want to see some of the landscape. More, I think I really wanted to stay in one of those lodges! No matter, I know I'll be back here--don't know how or when but I'm pretty sure I'll be back and able to see the parks that are really spectacular. At least I got a day in the parks in Nairobi.

Instead, we're spending a lovely weekend here in Dar, doing some of the things we haven't been able to do yet. Last night we had dinner at this amazing hotel and restaurant right on the ocean call Mediterraneo. We literally ate grilled vegetables as we listened to the surf about 15 feet from our chairs. Another power outage drove us out of the house and sadly (and perhaps with a little concern) the generator did not seem to work. We were supposed to meet up with a bunch of other people but nowhere else had wifi and almost all of our communications had been through the computer...so we were a little lost. No matter, we still had a great time on our own. Someone even affectionately named us the husbands and I think we are potentially becoming life partners. I'm going to have to break the news to David, Jess's lovely boyfriend.

So instead of sitting in a car looking at animals today, Jess and I are going to get a massage, go to the market to see our friend Caroline and maybe buy some fabrics, go to the gym, and just generally relax. We might even see a movie tonight. Novel! Tomorrow we may head back to Mediterraneo for breakfast, go to the village museum in the afternoon, get ourselves ready for Zanzibar, and eat Ethiopian at night. This also works a little better cause now we can be in the office on Monday and have lunch with the rest of the office, which somehow we managed not to do yet. It will be a much nicer send off to the people who have hosted us over the last few weeks.

lights out!

2011-07-21T14:33:00.000-04:00

My computer has been all sorts of wonky recently so I haven't been able to post as regularly. It seems to only accept power from a single outlet downstairs. I mean, I know particular, but this is quite out of the ordinary, even for me. Anyway, the power is totally off in our neighborhood and for some reason, apparently the generator's wires also got crossed so needless to say, we're going out! Right after Jess takes a French shower with our drinking water.

A brief update:
Today was fascinating--we had a site visit to the Round Table clinic in Bagara this morning, where D-tree staff met with community health workers (CHWs) to monitor their progress with the new phone systems they've been using. Of course we didn't understand anything since it was in Swahili but Joachim translated about some of the key problems these women (and men!!) face:

Their clients want help--supplies, treatment, money--that the CHWs are neither equipped nor in some cases allowed to give. It is not so much that the NGOs need to monitor the CHWs work with the phones; the CHWs are just limited in what they can do without referring to a clinic and this is incredibly frustrating.
The phones are both a blessing and a curse in terms of interaction and stigma. In some ways, they are great because they reinforce the status of the CHWs and are less obvious than the books they carried before, which made some clients and villagers uneasy (a show of sickness, so to speak). At the same time they are not really able to be used during the visits, when the real purpose is to counsel, educate, and talk to clients to make sure they are doing ok, taking their medications, etc. So the real time data entry and protocol stuff is sometimes barely used.
These CHWs are passionate about their clients and their work--they really want to help and value their position in society. It's just not totally clear to me that we're best helping them do their jobs right now. Still, they like the phones and seem to want to keep using them.

We then had 4 hour+ interviews back to back in the sweatiest of sweaty no aircon/fan Dar. I think we deserve to go out to the Sweet Eazy!!

More photos and Kenya stories tomorrow, when hopefully power is restored.

back to the grind

2011-07-19T15:35:00.001-04:00

I have so much more to post from my trip to Naorobi, including a bunch of great photos, but I've been recuperating the last few days. Sunday night through Monday morning were among my worst travel experiences ever and I'll give some details later, but suffice it to say, Kenya Airways is not my friend.

Jess also had a rough Sunday night, when she slept in the Naorobi airport whilst a group of Sierra Leoneon men took over the transfer desk. Apparently we not only work and live attached at the hip now, we also suffer in solidarity.

Below is a picture from the start of our journey. Dar's airport is totally open to the elements--but no worries!--air conditioning work in progress...since 1962.

updates and reading!

2011-07-17T11:21:00.001-04:00

More on Nairobi trip soon, but first two updates:

1. I was misinformed about world's poorest countries. Note to self: check references (oops). Apparently, by GDP, Tanzania is 24 or 25th poorest and Kenya is ranked 30th. How then is the disparity between each, particularly in each comparing the countries' most prominent cities? Interestingly however, in the UN's list of 50 least developed countries, Tanzania is named, but Kenya is not. It leads me to believe that the gap between the rich and the poor is much bigger here in Kenya, which would make sense and is in line with what some of my driver-informants told me. Another factor is that the population in Tanzania exceeds the population in Kenya, so while the total country GDP may not be significantly different (in 2010, the IMF lists Kenya's total GDP in PPP international dollars at about $66B, Tanzania at $58.4B (apparently US$ equivalent is something like $23B); World Bank has slightly different but correlated numbers--btw, these are nowhere near the poorest countries in terms of total GDP), there is somewhat increased difference in per capita income (population is Tanzania is 44 million with the vast majority rural; population in Kenya is just shy of 40 million with 8 million in Nairobi alone).

In some very very quick internet research, it seems that things are looking up for Tanzania, however: they received the biggest Millennium Challenge Grant and also weathered the economic meltdown better than Kenya. From 2000-08, they achieved 7% GDP growth (wow!!) and a very respectable 6% in 2009, compared to Kenya 1.5%, not even keeping up with inflation. Tanzania has recently had bank reforms and other sorts of policies to incentivize investment so let's see what happens in that decade or two!

2. Speaking of interesting models, please please please read this article from yesterday's NY Times. It's fascinating--a new model of poverty support based on creating a framework and system for success and achievement rather than focus on need, led by the organization Family Independence Initiative (FII) which was by a young entrepreneur who saw things differently.

3. Finally, I'm making a list of books I should read about development and that are relevant to this project, just for my own knowledge. Suggestions are very welcome. So far the list includes: Poor Economics, Abhijit V. Banerjee and Esther Duflo (MIT's Poverty Action Lab--if you don't know about this find and read a fascinating New Yorker article about Duflo and her work); The End of Poverty, Jeffrey Sachs; The Innovator's Prescription, Clay Christiansen (really health care in developed world but maybe some interesting parallels). I'm sure there are some Africa-specific books I must read as well. Anyone have any ideas?(Oooh even looking those up on Amazon gave lots of ideas! The Bottom Billion, Paul Collier; Dear Aid: Why Aid is Not Working, Dambiso Moyo; various by Amartya Sen; which reminds me, someone just recommended Cornel West's recent memoir Brother West: Loving and Living Out Loud--any thoughts?)

a decade ahead

2011-07-17T07:21:00.001-04:00

Life in and around Nairobi is like nothing I've seen in Dar. I have heard Nairobi is at least two decades ahead of Dar, and this can be broken out into various things--roads (10 years ahead), infrastructure (20 years), education, etc. etc. Nairobi is a truly modern city.

During my weekend there, I took two trips northwest of the city, one to Lake Nakuru and the out to Mount Longolot. Both were out along the same highway and I was amazed by the number of schools, stores, domestic hotels (as opposed to the huge fancy ones in the city), etc. there were. There was still poverty--clearly--but compared to Tanzania, this is a country doing extremely well (I also learned on this trip that Tanzania is the third poorest country in the world; I don't exactly know how the level is calculated, but that says something about the neighboring countries).

Kenyans also have a very different attitude than Tanzanians. While Tanzanians can be reserved, Kenyans are known to be aggressive, and are characterized as such by all their neighbors in Rwanda, Uganda, etc. You learn a tremendous amount from taxi drivers and I spoke intently with the ones we used here, many of whom we spent significant time with on repeat trips or long journeys.

From these very welcoming drivers--Douglas, Charles, and Peter, I learned a lot about this country and the differences with Tanzania (that's where the two decades information came from, too). Here's essentially what they told me:

The economic structure is the core difference between the development of the two countries--Kenya is capitalist and Tanzania is socialist
Because of Tanzania's socialism, people with money in the country will not invest in the country, but instead do so outside of it; if they invested in the country, they would not own their investment
While Tanzania focused on unity post-independence, Kenya focused on business
Because of the lack of focus on unity, Kenya has experienced inter-tribal violence, such as the post-election violence in 2008--all the drivers spoke openly of this and felt passionately that it could not happen again
Though, like in Tanzania, Kenyans do not want to be openly critical, our drivers were honest about the previous government corruption, the tribal favoritism, and how this bred ill will and the violence that was experienced; they also felt hopeful in the current direction of the government in continuing to build the country
Kenyans I spoke to hold themselves and the country to a very high standard; I told them how amazing the roads, the cleanliness, the language, etc., all seemed--and they all said we should be doing better; Charles got lost at some point and was clearly very flustered, apologetic, and embarrassed, even as we assured him it had merely given us a scenic detour of Limuru
Kenyans actively make fun of Tanzanians as sleepy and a little bit backward
In Tanzania, everyone really only speaks Swahili and there are no native tongue languages; school is taught in Swahili with English as a subject
In Kenya, where, like Tanzania, English and Swahili are both official languages, school is taught in English, with Swahili as a subject; most children outside of the cities learn their mother tongue (tribal dialect) first; English and Swahili are in school
There are three main tribal groups in Kenya--the Bantu, Cushites, and Nilotes (though I believe there are slightly different names for the latter two here in Kenya that I can't seem to find online). The Kikuyus, who are primarily in power here are originally from the Nairobi region and all the drivers we had were Kikuyu. So is the president. The famous Maasai are Nilotes (pastoralists). Unlike Tanzania, there seem to be no Maasai living in this city, at least none that are immediately visible from their clothing.
Speaking of clothing, nearly everyone in Nairobi dresses in modern clothes. I barely even saw any traditional cloth.
Kenya is incredibly security focused. Some is for good reason--there is more violence here than in Tanzania, quite a lot of mugging, robbery, sexual violence in some areas--other is that this is how the culture works. Everything--houses, hotels, restaurants, etc., is behind a gate with 24-hour askaris, sometimes two. And the questioning before gates are open is quite intense, that is, of course, until you show your mzungu face.
Kenyans are proud of their national heritage and the government has made an active effort to make parks accessible to residents, with entrance fees a fraction of the non-national price (think $20 USD vs. $3). And there has been an increase in public transportation to park areas (some which are very close to, or even inside of Nairobi), especially school groups. At both parks we visited, there were a number of school groups (more about this later--some of these trips deserve individual postings!)
Schools are everywhere. On the drive out of town, we were on a highway where literally there seemed to be a school every 100 meters. And there were also the school children, among the cutest children I've ever seen, walking to school in their uniforms. Children as young as 3 (accompanied by older children) and 5 without any adults. Children here are incredibly friendly, proficient in English, and excited to talk to you. Apparently the biggest problem though is teachers not arriving to teach, or arriving but sitting and listening to the radio all day.
Security is also a major concern when there are unstable states on your northern boundaries. There are expected to be some 500,000 refugees from Somalia in camps in the north, fleeing the broken state that has exacerbated the terrible famine brought on by worst drought in 50 years. When the aid organizations left Somalia last year when the Islamists took over, it left the country without a safety net. Now Kenya is that safety net for those who can make it into the country. People we talked to (albeit a small samples size) were acutely aware of the situation and compassionate in wanting to help, but also wary of the potential security problem it meant for the country.
The recent independence of South Sudan is a great thing for Kenya. The oil resources will likely now be piped through Kenya, helping both countries' economies.
It is COLD in Nairobi. The city is inland and about 1700m above sea level. All the Kenyans are bundled in sweaters, jackets, hats, etc. I mean, I wouldn't go that far, but I definitely was in pants, sweaters, and scarves in the evening. It is also much much drier. Whereas I haven't had to apply moisturizer once in Dar, my face, lips, and body all feel dry here.
Colonialist influence is still strong in some ways and there is a lot of politics about the land, businesses, etc.--i.e., who owns what (there's a large Indian population here, too, which adds to the complexity; I was told that a Kenyan is far more likely to get along with a mzungu and that most in the Indian community stay largely to to themselves). However, many British-isms are still obvious--bathrooms are cloakrooms, much of the architecture is colonial, school uniforms, etc., etc.
Kenyans have turned away from the US and the UK, and though still some seem to be excited, others are hugely disappointed by Obama. I wonder whether he will visit in his second term, if he wins one. Instead, China, Japan, and Singapore have become the new allies (and investors) of favor. China, in fact, is building the huge new superhighway inland.

More thoughts later, along with photos from the mini-safari, hike, and where I was staying. Nairobi is definitely someplace I can imagine coming and living for awhile.

nairobi is fancy!

2011-07-15T15:18:00.000-04:00

so much to say and share from nairobi but i'm too tired after waking up at 5:40 to see flamingos. and waking up early tomorrow morning to hike a crater.

nairobi is FANCY. whoa. then again, i'm never sure i thought of things like roads as fancy. now i do.

the control room

2011-07-14T05:00:00.000-04:00

Sitting in the upstairs meeting room figuring out excel functions and listening to the new Bon Iver with the cool Tanzanian breeze blowing through the open windows (and a little help from the fan).


The view! The room is much lighter than you can tell in this photo.

A sneak peak our some of our whiteboards and what remains of our breakfast. Jess was downstairs validating data when this photo was taken.

working hard for the money

2011-07-13T16:20:00.000-04:00

The last few days have been proper work days, consulting style. It's not that we didn't work long days last week, it's just the heat has been turned up this week, both with data analysis and interviews. And let me tell you, talking to people is exhausting! Jess described it well when she said her head feels like the snow you see on televisions--just so much information. I replied, we're going to be lying on the beach in Zanzibar and suddenly something will emerge from this snow and we'll be "Eureka!" so we better carry around paper and pens. When you're in the midst of it, it's almost just too much. Maybe that's how I'll justify this week-long vacation. :)

Every person we interview, the information just gets more dense and overlapping--perhaps just like the health system itself--and the more people it seems we need to talk to from there on out. I'm like, people, I barely have 3 more weeks! And there's a second, data analysis piece which is its whole own barrel of fun...

Still, we went to downtown Dar tonight, the colonial part, and saw a view of the harbor. The huge cargo ships dropping stuff off, etc. It was our last night with Tom, one of the technical consultants there and we had a grand time psychoanalyzing all of us, making all sorts of absurd innuendos about cashew nuts (I think you had to be there), and generally having a grand old time. I'm glad he dragged us out or else we would have been in this house all day.

Tomorrow it's off to Nairobi for the weekend...more from there. Now to sleep so can get up and work again.

also, thank you to doxy

2011-07-11T18:45:00.001-04:00

I have a number if mosquito bites all over me. These aren't the mega mosquitoes that populated our back yard growing up but tiny little suckers I barely see or hear. Except when they're buzzing in my ear as I'm trying to sleep. Then I have to get up and smack them, which can take awhile cause they're so hard to see!

Thank you doxy for protecting me from malaria! Even if you force me to stay awake and upright for 30 minutes every night and give me headaches. Better than fever!

waiting for doxy part 2

2011-07-11T18:40:00.001-04:00

I need to stop taking this pill right before I go to bed! Oh well, an excuse to update on my day.

Woke up early to hit the gym--the fabulous Fitness 1. Because we're supposed to dress modestly here (let me tell you how funny it felt to try to pack for this trip and realize 90% of my wardrobe is not modest enough and the remaining 10% only is if I layer--Jess and I know have a huge joke about sexy elbows. I know, not that funny, but in context it kind of is--our preferred way of dressing is probably that of a pirate hooker here)--anyway, long segue, back to my morning gym outfit. I'm wearing sneakers, a loosely wrapped sarong and a t-shirt over my gym clothes. I don't think I've really ever looked better.

At the gym, both of us have decided to forsake the dress code, which actually formally states no tank tops. Unfortunately, I didn't bring anything else to work out in, and it's funny what mzungu status grants you, at once more restrictions (hire expectations to dress respectfully--I've seen plenty of Tanzanian sexy elbows on the street let me tell you) and yet freedom if you don't.

Our bijaj on the way home, the driver of which had an outfit that rivaled mine (think combat meets track suit meets hiking meets nerd socks), mysteriously broke down and just as his 'brother' (he claimed true) drove by to bring us the rest of the way. They did not look alike.

I sat in on my first staff meeting here, which should be the subject of another, more serious reflection on cultural norms.

Jess and I cranked out our first ppt most of the day and I have to say I'm pretty happy with what we produced. It's just the beginning of work, really, though scarily I have less than two weeks left of real work here at least before safari/Zanzibar vacation.

For lunch we ate hummus out of a can and I almost wretched. We have generally been eating a mixture of avocado, tomato, cucumbers, cheese, and chickpea (canned) salad with some other variations as they arise. But on the latest Shoppers adventure we found hummus right next to the chickpeas and decided it was a must try. I don't know what it was, but that hummus hit the roof of my mouth and made my stomach turn. There's been a more subtle but similar experience from some of the chickpea brands, but I figured that was the brine. As you can see, when there's not all that much going on, you can think a lot about very mundane things, like chickpeas.

The electricity was off again tonight but only for a short while. We have a generator so it's not a real issue for us, but there is a massive power problem in Tanzania and regularly scheduled blackouts. It's unsettling, if also of course so comforting, the luxuries we live with here as expats while so many, including a hospital we saw on the drive to dinner, go without.

beach day in color

2011-07-10T12:26:00.000-04:00

Jess emailed me a few from her camera. I wouldn't know what else to call paradise:

Reading the aforementioned soggy book

Our sunshade

Juggling everything on the small wooden ferry back. We sat on top of the boat. It's no wonder I tossed my book overboard on the morning trip.

The lovely skipper who instructed both of us to move to the other side of the boat because we were tipping it too far over. We both felt really good about that.

the maasai

2011-07-10T10:03:00.001-04:00

I did not expect to see Maasai here in Dar es Salaam. Their traditional lands are more in northern Tanzania and Kenya, around the game parks. But there are a surprising number in the city, dressed in the typical Maasai robes (which I learned from Wikipedia have only been adopted since the 1960s when they started phasing out cow hides and sheepskin). There have been a number of government programs intended to discourage the traditional Maasai way of life because of some (now proved incorrect) studies that the cow grazing the tribe has focused on was damaging the Serengeti grasslands. Things are slow to change, though, and the programs are still in full effect, forcing a number of Maasai into the cities, even though some groups like Oxfam are advocating in support of the traditional lifestyle.

Because they're a primarily semi-nomadic and pastoral tribe, they do not bring a lot of skills to the modern cash-based economy in Dar and mostly seem to work as parking attendants, guards, etc. I feel rather odd taking photos of people in Dar--it's part of the everyday experience I want to capture but it sort of feels objectifying at the same time. (I'm doubly upset about this discomfort because many of the women are just so beautiful and wear the greatest outfits and I'd love to capture some of that--The Sartorialist in Dar).

I did find this photo online of just what this juxtaposition is:

This is fairly typical, though we probably see more red than blue cloth and usually we see it at night, outside the bars we've been to.

Maasai men always carry a walking stick, which I believe is different than the wooden clubs warriors are known to be able to throw up to 100 ft with dead accuracy.

At the market today we also saw Maasai women (and some men) selling the beaded jewelry they are well known for making.

Here's another photo I found online of Maasai women selling jewelry, but this is nothing like what we saw today. Transport this to a dusty strip off of the side of a huge road with about 1/100th of what is on offer here and the same number of individuals standing in the shade.

We only really went to the craft market today, where there are wood carvings, jewelry, some amazing wooden chests and boxes, some fabric, and other chotckes. We didn't buy anything yet but I picked out a number of things I'll likely buy in the future. We also met this amazing woman Caroline, who is enrolled at Columbia Business School, which has an affiliate program at the university in Dar, where she has been doing entrepreneurship studies. She owned one of the craft shops and told us about her recent visit to the United States--New York, Hartford, New Jersey, Charleston--for her studies. She also offered to take us into the real market in Mwenge, which is probably not safe for two young white women to go to alone. It's actually an offer we'll likely take her up on as we are both interested in buying some cloth and having a few dresses made here.

Time for a short afternoon siesta and then Jess and I are on to trip planning for the end of our time here--safari and Zanzibar!

p.s. Maasai cloth is more than a little hipster.

beach day

2011-07-10T04:15:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was beach day. We got up early--I finally slept through the night, only vaguely disturbed by my rooster friends--and took bijaji (the go-cart/golf cart taxis) to the ferry dock to Bongoyo Marine Reserve, where Jess had gone the weekend before I got here.

I think the driver of our bijaji had some anger management issues because he kept weaving in and out of traffic (common), passing on the inside next to the lane of oncoming cars (common), and driving in the dirt "sidewalk" on the outside (common), but he did this with such intensity and in such dangerous situations, that we spent the entire time thinking we might die. Then again, because I had somehow not gotten up with my alarm, we might not have made the ferry were he not so aggressive.

The ferry ride over was less than pleasant--the smell of diesel fumes is not exactly what one wants first thing in the morning, and as we were disembarking onto the dinghy to bring us to shore, I unfortunately tossed my book over the side into the water. Luckily, the dinghy driver was able to circle around to pick it up, but not an auspicious start to the day. Also, we had seen a large group of children headed toward the same beach--again, not exactly what we had in mind for a relaxing day at the beach.

When we arrived, we grabbed our umbrella and some chairs and got down to the business of relaxing...that is, until we laid down and realized that wind we felt was actually quite intense and creating a massive sandstorm. It was sort of like a sandblasted exfoliation treatment we did not ask for. Included free in price of admission! Yikes...then the children arrived, screaming and yelping, which in some circumstances is quite pleasant...just not right now. Interestingly, the children all spoke English, as did some of the other families we presumed were Tanzanian. This was not an inexpensive trip to the reserve so likely they were middle or upper class, but it's interesting, if not unsurprising, to see English as the preferred language.

Finally the wind died down, the sun arrived, and this is what the rest of the day looked like:

It was unbelievably beautiful and relaxing. I took a snooze in the shade, read my soggy book, took a dip in the ocean, and ate unbelievably delicious grilled seafood cooked fresh for us. Then in the late afternoon, we sampled some of the local beer before hopping a much more pleasant small wooden boat back to the mainland as the sun set behind us.

I have some beautiful photos of this but they're all on my big camera, which I haven't yet synced tot his dinky little netbook. Those may have to wait till I get home.

The evening consisted of us gorging ourselves on Ethiopian food and passing out at about 9pm. It was phenomenal.

Today's agenda:
* gym
* craft market
* work

the perfect dance partner

2011-07-10T03:59:00.001-04:00

On Friday night, Jess and I were both exhausted after a long day at work, going to the gym (the gym experience here deserves its own post), and pretty skeptical about going out. But we had heard there was a concert of really good local and international (Kenya, Zambia) acts so we rallied; plus, we were starving and needed to get out of the house to eat.

The minute we walk into the bar, we run into people Jess knows from around Dar. The expat community here is tiny and it is almost certain you will see people you know, or at least recognize at any one of these common venues.

The concert was organized by this Danish guy whose name in Swahili, Mzungu Kichaa, literally means Crazy White Guy (mzungu is white people). The Beat Festival was already in full effect when we got there, but we found a place at the bar to eat delicious fish kebabs and the traditional tomato and cabbage salad called Kachimburi. The atmosphere was sort of amazing--very relaxed music under this thatched roof open on all sides almost like a beach bar. The crowd was mostly expats it seemed, but really from all over the world.

That was until Yvonne Mwale came on, a fairly new Zambian singer who reminded me half of an early African Ani Difranco. Her moves were unreal. I captured some on video but it's really nothing compared to what it was in person:

So Jess and I got a little closer and started just moving a little bit but were really too exhausted to really get down. That is until I saw this guy dancing:

His dancing was not like anything I'd seen before. Lots of jumping and kind of rhythmic hopping. We sort of just watched him and his friend for a time (and yes he's wearing a Chicago t-shirt!--and a super sweet beaded arm cuff and some fancy sneaks I did not catch on camera) before he sort of shimmied up to me. His name is John and he's a Tanzanian and works in some government job. A very nice and respectful young man (it is fascinating how completely non-threatening--to the point of not even approaching--most men are here; it's a relief, to be honest). He showed us the sign for "jambo" which looked rather lewd to us (for those who want a demonstration, I'll give it when I get home), and I resisted at first, but his dancing was pretty infectious. Jess actually catalyzed it by saying, "Let me take your bag," sensing the impending dance-off.

We danced for probably 2-3 songs, and I followed his style. Despite my tired legs, I've rarely had as good a dance partner. He told me he was impressed. And when I was just too tired to keep going, and I saw Jess's eyes literally shut, I said goodbye, he said goodbye, and that was that. But yet another reason to make sure we do go out and experience Dar regardless of how tired we are--how else would I know that such a perfect dance partner existed!

cock a doodle doo

2011-07-08T14:38:00.000-04:00

I think the roosters deserve their whole own post.

This morning they woke me up at right before 4 and they have this very organized call, with the rooster closest to me starting, and then the roosters successively in the distance following in line. The strange thing is is as the morning progresses, they get more and more out of sync. It' hard to know why.

As I was lying awake in the morning, I also noticed that it is not at all like cock a doodle doo, nor is it the French krii-krii. It's more like kra-a-doooooooooooooo and piercing. Not at all pleasant.

My grandmother wrote me a note about how when she was growing up on the farm, they used to get up dutifully at that call to do their chores and that roosters have a preternatural sense of when dawn is coming way before any light hits the sky. Interesting, but all I'm saying is this really seriously dissuades me from ever owning chickens and I can begin to understand how there was no remorse when my grandmother and her siblings wrung those chickens' necks and plucked out their feathers.

sweet and eazy

2011-07-08T14:09:00.001-04:00

The Sweet Eazy last night was just that: pretty sweet and probably pretty easy.

We arrived at around 8pm when it was still dinner and ate a lovely meal of mango/avocado chili salad and prawn curry served in a conch shell (yum!!) on a lovely terrace. We could see the band setting up near the enclosed bar and asked when music started. We were told that they'd start around 8:30. Well a bottle of wine and awesome conversation where we determined Jess and I are pretty much the same person later, it was about 10 and I think the band was just starting to think of going on.

This was also around the time that the first prostitute showed up. And they kept showing up! Many were so pretty and just dressed kind of like fashionable New York girls; others, well, they looked like prostitutes.

But then the band really started to get going. And we danced! And some woman tried to pimp us to her brother, but well, didn't really act like it was her brother. The crowd was pretty mixed--half expat, half local--and was really only getting started as we left around midnight. We're definitely going back. I love me some Banana Zoro & B Band.

They haven't picked up the Beyonce yet, but they did play some old school Madonna and Mama Africa and it was niiiiiiiice. Sweeeeet and eaaaaaazy.

saba saba

2011-07-07T11:39:00.000-04:00

Today is a holiday in Tanazanai--Saba Saba, or Industry Day. Who knows what we're celebrating but I can tell you that people down the block, plus the dogs and the roosters were celebrating whatever it is it all last night. Needless to say, it was another night of not sleeping well; so much so that I had to take a morning nap.

Day 3 on the ground is coming to a close and work is well underway. You should see our white boards--they're getting alllllll filled up with brainstorming.

We walked to lunch on the beach today, at the Mbalamwezi Beach Club where, no joke, we waited for our food for two hours after ordering. Apparently they had to go and catch and kill the grilled octopus I ate. I jest, but there is part of that that this is just the way things are. The beach itself was lovely though and except for my growling stomach and my company's (and my own) growing indignation, I would have been happy to wait there all day.

I live my life between two big roads--Old Bagomoyo Rd. and New Bagomayo Rd. Our little dirt road, which is like all fancy expat houses/office compounds (literally houses that function as both offices for non-profits and other companies and as expat apartments and then individual house) is off Garden Rd., which connects these two. Now apparently it's only informally called Garden, because it really has no name.

To the left down Garden Rd., toward Old Bagomoyo Rd., is both the beach and the shopping center. I spent about an hour in Shoppers last night--sort of like a Tanzanian Target and run by Indians--picking up groceries and calculating some of the extraordinary prices. An imported US magazine for $12 US, which maybe come to think of it is not so bad given probably import levied and shipping. Clearly, this was not a store most Tanzanians could afford. When I'd finished the shopping--lots of produce, yogurt, etc.--I walked across the street to where Jess was running on the treadmill at "Fitness," the local gymnasium filled with Tanzanian muscle heads. It not a bad little place, but I tell you not the best smelling gym in the world.

We came back and made a very weird concoction--essentially chickpeas, mustard greens, onions, mint, tomatoes topped with halloumi cheese--that weirdly got better as we ate it. I think by the end of this month, I'll have some pretty innovative adhoc recipes to bring home.

Since we live and work in the same building, we need to make sure we get out and walk each day and do something so I think we're going to go hear some music tonight. Dar is really pretty safe and I'm actually pleasantly surprised by just how little attention we attracted, other than by taxi drives and bejajis (not sure the right spelling, but essentially little go-cart taxis) honking to try to get us to use their services. It's quite relaxing.

Ok off to rinse and then to the Easy Breezy for some night music!

waiting for doxy

2011-07-05T16:12:00.000-04:00

Well, really it's waiting for doxy and ambien. I am not supposed to lie down for at least 30 minutes after taking doxycycline, my malaria drug, and as I waited I saw my tiredness slipping away and worried I'd have a repeat of last night despite my exhaustion. So I followed with an ambien chaser.

After the sleepless night, Jess and I walked down the road to get mangos for breakfast. Our house is in a compound on a ridiculous pit-holed dirt road off a rather busy main road where the fruit stand is. Since we sleep and work in the same place, these excursions are necessary to get out of the house and keep our sanity. Along the side of the road were all sorts of people who more or less completely ignored us. They are all part of the informal economy of coffee sellers, mini cafes, and a myriad of other things I don't yet understand, though I think sometimes people are just hanging out too. There were also many just walking along the street to--likely to one of the numerous bus stops but who knows--there seems to be hugely limited private transportation, even bicycles. It's either your own two feet or a crowded minibus it seems.

In the afternoon, after getting a good chunk of work done and taking a necessary nap, we took another walk the other way, back through the lovely neighborhood to find the mythical soda stand. So much forgiving up soda--in times of weakness (jet lag, hangover), it's all I crave. Only to find out they were empty! Drat! Still, a good find and a hance to explore the neighborhood.

More tomorrow, my chaser is kicking in.

dispatch from dar--july 4, 2011

2011-07-04T22:57:00.000-04:00

It's my first night in Dar es Salaam and I can't sleep. I can't tell if it's jet lag (most likely culprit), anxiety (there is a lot of work to do in the next few weeks!), or all the strange noises. It is now about 5:30am and a rooster has crowed on the hour every half hour since about 3. Super on it, those guys.

I arrived tonight around 10 and driving through the city's darkened streets, had an overwhelming urge to write here again--out of convenience and, perhaps, fear of being annoying to those who want to follow my adventure, but even more so out of a desire to share it with those that want to know what's going on here.

The past three summers have been transformational. The first, before starting Sloan, I was an ostrich in the sand ignoring the impending tidal wave of change that was about to beset me when starting Sloan. Last summer, as documented here, was another tide of change, experiencing a very difficult job, a significant romantic shift, and both the insecurity and freedom that came with both. This summer has really so far been all about adventure and designed for that purpose--I wanted to do something that scared the heck out of me, to see things I'd never seen, to try things I'd never done. And so, the road trip west, the long journey east, to Africa.

What shocked me upon arrival, though, is just how not scared I am. I credit it in some ways to a deep remembering of what it's like to be in the developing world and a therefore unexpected comfort in the muggy air and in the alternate pacing of life. Perhaps even more significant, though, is the confidence in myself. I have no idea how I will get all this work done but I am pretty sure I can handle it and I'm pretty sure that I'll turn out a pretty solid product. In fact, I feel right now I'd be better off if only I had the ability to switch my brain OFF. It--and the roosters--are not helping the sleeping!

More on Dar itself later. All I've seen so far are some roadways where half the cars have no taillights and it seems half the city's population, particularly the young men, are hanging around on the side of the road.

GLEANING!

2010-11-19T23:12:00.002-05:00

Such an amazing inspirational evening surrounded by good friends trying to make a positive impact on the world. I feel so lucky to have such dedicated, driven, and intelligent women in my life and I can't wait to see where this goes. I don't know where I'd be without such a community of women and I am grateful to feel such inspiration and love in my life! More on this initiative soon.

creating dialogue

2010-11-19T23:11:00.000-05:00

My brother sent me this article the other day and I think it's worth sharing. Abortion is not a topic we discuss openly; it is just so hard for people to talk about and I've seen few articles in the mainstream press (we can argue whether Slate is mainstream) that really are willing to engage in real dialogue about it. Still, there is still a lot to talk about; I applaud Slate and William Slaten for this pair of articles in response to the Princeton University conference Abortion Common Ground. I also applaud the young pro-life conference organizers, Charles Camosy and Jennifer Miller. May more people have the courage to stand up and seek real solutions with your so-called enemy.

For pro-choicers
For pro-lifers

Read both.

the mental data base

2010-11-19T23:00:00.000-05:00

On Wednesday, Jay Forrester, the founder of System Dynamics, came to speak in class. System Dynamics is a field of study and a framework to understand the dynamics of complex systems using a fairly simple methodology of stocks, flows, and the relationships between them. It was founded and fully developed at MIT and has been an incredibly influential class on me.

I have not always been a great systems thinker. This matters in work, but also in personal relationships, where in the past I sometimes willfully ignored effects caused by my actions, and subsequently acted destructively toward myself and others. Moreover, I tend to rely heavily on my intuition, i.e. my mental models, which I know are quite flawed, albeit sometimes quite useful. The course has therefore been a tool for me to begin to question my assumptions and develop more robust, analytical, and hopefully helpful models of my decision-making and behavior.

Wednesday, two things struck me:

1) This diagram:

This is an image of the various databases of available information. We so often prioritize a numerical database as the "real," the "objective," and even the "true." The written becomes suspect due to biases of the writer or contextual analysis, and certainly the mental is all but useless. However, Jay Forrester put a lot of stock in the mental database, citing all those processes that are just passed on from person to person, e.g., how to make an automobile, or, until recently, how to raise a child. There is so much we learn from each other--from person to person interaction--that is not recorded. We must learn to prioritize and to value this information. There is truth there.

2) The idea of system dynamics as a base model and founding principle of K-12 education. In the first few weeks of Leadership Lab, we watched a video of three first graders using the tools of System Dynamics to model how the reinforcing loop of bad behavior led to playground fights. It was really an incredible exercise of young children understanding cause and effect. I wish I could find the video; I will update if I do.

Jay Forrester shared the story of a biology teacher who used System Dynamics models to teach biology, first nervous that he would not get through half the semester given the material he needed to teach both in methodology and content. In the end he had more than 1/3 of the semester free. Amazing.

This could be such a powerful tool for U.S. schools. I'm not quite sure of how the project will be implemented yet, but I think this is something I could really get on board with. More on the educational initiatives here.

choosing the company you keep

2010-11-18T14:03:00.000-05:00

I just came from a lunchtime talk by Elana Drelln Szyfer, former SVP of Global Marketing for Estée Lauder and newly appointed General Manager of Ahava.

While her professional accomplishments were extraordinary, what really stuck out to me in her talk was her discussion of the culture of each company where she worked and the struggle to have a family in the beauty industry. Her candor, honesty, and recognition of her own behavior and mistakes, as well as those around her, was inspiring.

When I worked in the arts, literally all the senior women were either never married or divorced and on the whole childless. My mentor, the COO of the New Museum was frank with me when she left: working at the museum was more taxing than working in venture capital. My direct boss was married to her job and the artists she worked with. My young female colleagues and I discusses how we could be successful amid this environment that seemed to require that sort of commitment.

Elana's story does not seem that different, though she's about 10 years my senior. None of her colleagues have children. She hid her first pregnancy as long as possible, worked late the night before she gave birth, and then was on a business trip to Europe 13 weeks after giving birth. She admits she thinks this is crazy now but it's what she needed to prove herself and do her job. She was candid about the difficulties of being the sole mother in a sea of women without families.

There are stories about how the founder of the New Museum used to have her children around her regularly, bringing them on business trips and to openings. It's a nice image, and I love the chutzpah that took in an industry where the single male curator is (believe it or not) still the mental model of ideal.

Strangely, there are far more women with families in consulting. I don't quite know what to make of this now--I don't have a family and I do have ambitions in a difficult industry--but it was just so good, and so important, to hear a senior woman be honest about her experience.

for company

2010-11-16T19:42:00.001-05:00

Come on over. The bar is stocked (two more in the fridge).

(does this mean I have a problem? if so, come on over and share it!)

the couple below

2010-11-15T22:51:00.000-05:00

The couple below me is fighting.

Her voice is strained: raw, threatening pained yelling, crying, desperation spilling up through the floor boards. His voice is lower, a mumble with occasional rises, almost impossible to make out.

I found myself paralyzed--these are sounds I do not forget and resonate all too well with some years with the ex. It's not something I talk about much because how can you ever really explain that feeling of pain and desperation. I just know I never want to feel it again and even being adjacent to it now is too close.

There were few people who directly saw how hard it was, though everyone close to me experienced it indirectly. During one of the worst periods, someone sent me this song. Listening to it today still gives me comfort (and chills).

authenticity

2010-11-13T15:05:00.000-05:00

The subject of authenticity is one that contemporary theory wrestles with regularly. It is a not a pretty fight.

I'm on the plane back from New Orleans and perhaps there is no better place to think about authenticity than through this lens. New Orleans is at once a complete simulacra of what it's supposed to be and completely genuine. How can a city live with such paradox?

I glowed in the music spilling out from all the bars along Frenchman Street last night, and danced in the street to a 12-piece brass band just jamming on the street corner.

A friend spoke in glowing terms of the authenticity. I'm not so sure, but then I thought, does it matter? And what does that even mean anyway?

Why is it not authentic that Nanook of the North loved his vinyl disc? Is there a difference between staging and the dramatizations we live out regularly? I know the subtleties are there--who is the audience, who is the director, who owns the gaze and for whom do we perform--but there are gray lines, my friends, gray lines indeed.

tell me how you really feel

2010-11-13T14:56:00.000-05:00

I've been trying to practice lately saying what I really feel. For those of you who know me well (presumably, everyone reading this), this is not exactly something I struggle with. The direct method has been my preferred mode of communication for years. However, among loved ones or in certain situations (personal or professional), we often subsume or sugar coat our true thoughts or feelings.

I recently caught part of He's Just Not That Into You on television. I've seen the movie before and remember having pretty mixed emotions about it--it was at once incredibly degrading and pathetic, and at the same time, very familiar.

Being honest is perhaps the best thing we can do for those we love. Of course we must do it empathetically and lovingly if the news we're delivering may be hard to hear--and of course, there are other times when it is really better just to say nothing--but friends can help us confront our own destructive behavior, bad decisions, and tough realities. Some of my most important self-realizations and growth has happened in these circumstances.

So bring it on! And, in return, I promise to be honest, loving, and sensitive to you through periods of toughness and of joy.

risk

2010-11-13T14:44:00.000-05:00

It's not that I don't take risks--I just do so within a very narrow range--and they are these days generally very well calculated.

The latter part is not a bad thing; the former likely is, at least given how I want to develop. I've been thinking a lot of this lately as I've seen my friends around me take risks, big and small, to build the life they want to live. A good friend who I respect immensely recently gave me the feedback that he can see me doing anything I want but that I must push myself to take those risks and to dream bigger.

This resonated with what I myself had been thinking about. Even before this conversation, this personal challenge is one of the reasons I'm trying to do something entirely new during the summer before I start work.

Part of the difficulties for me, of course, is something I've written about here before: at this stage in my life, or perhaps as part of my character, I enjoy much more to share experiences with someone else--risks, successes, failures, experiences. I have little control over that variable, however, so perhaps charging ahead is one of the greatest challenges of all, and necessary to that development, is to charge on with my own plans and preparations.

inspiration on a rainy day

2010-11-10T09:22:00.000-05:00

3 things this morning:

1) I'm so excited for this film to come out:

When I was an intern at Creative Time way back in 2003, they had recently completed a project with Vik Muniz and I've been following his work since. When Kevin first shared this video over the summer, I was skeptical. The movie seemed potentially exploitative, romanticizing poverty and moreover "saving from poverty," and advocating a missionary-like view of the artist. My position has softened since and I'm not sure why. Maybe I trust the artist and filmmakers more, maybe the cynicism has given way, maybe I am just ready for some beauty and inspiration. Whichever, it's opening at the Kendall theater on November 19. Holla.

2) My friend Lauren, whom many of you know well. She and her boyfriend Luke have been living in remote Chilean Patagonia for the past three months. I've recently become hesitant to say I'm proud of people because it implies some sort of positioning/ownership I'm not sure I'm comfortable with, but goddammit I am so proud of/impressed by/jealous of/happy for her. This is an adventure of a lifetime and after years in New York, it must be an amazing experience to just pick up for something so otherwordly. I can't wait to see what happens next and I can't wait to welcome her back to the US with open arms and see/hear more about this time. Read her blog. There's more adventure there than you can believe, including a recent run in with a bull.

3) Today's Letters Tuesday Question. I think I've mentioned this blog before and there are some parts of it that sort of make me want to scoff and churn, but overall, I love this idea of investing regularly in your relationship, of keeping lines of communication open, and of being open and proactive about taking care of those you love. Maybe it won't be everyday letters, but a regular practice of gratitude, appreciation, and forgiveness for those I love is something I'd like to create.

4) New Orleans tomorrow! Bring it on city of jazz, intrigue, and debauchery. Psyched cause Prospect 1.5 just opened too. Yippee!

lessons from today

2010-11-09T17:58:00.000-05:00

Break-down: an expectation not being realized; an opportunity for growth.

Over the past months, I developed the following practice, especially in interactions with others. I've written about it here before:

1) spend the time to know what you want
2) ask for it without fear or reservation (or work for it)
3) put expectations on hold as much as possible
4) hope for the best
5) prepare for the worst

Of course 3 is impossible, but it does help to remind oneself. Then when those break-downs occur, it can be better managed and more mindful, hopefully even more of an opportunity for growth.

Interestingly, many of my recent break downs, and those I've seen or observed with my friends, have been internal or at least internally dealt with. Part of the process of personal growth.

perspectives on friendship

2010-11-08T23:50:00.000-05:00

Good advice tonight from an old friend about friendship:

you want to think that you can just be 100% honest or yourself all the time with all of your friends, but sometimes there are extra layers of sensitivity

in the meantime, eat your own sensitivity a bit, if its worth it to you, and thats the thing you just have to assess how much you're willing to take/what is worth it to you

And a reminder of a very salient example from her own life and our own friendship group: sometimes we can't partake in all parts of our friends' lives or have them participate in all parts of ours. We have our own baggage and sometimes it's heavier and it is all we can do to try to carry it ourselves to avoid burdening others too much. And in those times, we may not have a lot of arms left to hug or a lot of smiles left to share. And such is life, right? Such is life. The best we can all do is try to understand each other's position, the things we carry, and know that our actions are born from lov

the agony of grading and evaluation

2010-11-08T23:41:00.000-05:00

I just returned home from handing back a large assignment for one of the classes I'm TAing and feel slightly wracked. (Indeed, I believe I'm supposed to be wracked with something, but I just feel more wracked).

Grading has been the hardest part of my fall. I agonize over it--both put it off, and then take too long to do it, made worse by knowing that students are waiting for their grades. I think in part it's because I remember the anxiety of being a first year and really caring about what my grades were (to suggest I don't now would of course be foolish, but it is so much less it almost becomes negligible in comparison). Furthermore, I don't want to upset them because I know that for the most part they really do put in the effort and thought.

That said, there is work that is better, and how do I recognize that? Plus, grades can be a powerful motivator and have been for me many times in the past. Never was I so challenged than when I was given a grade and told--you can do better.

It's just it feels so imperfect. I had a system, a scorecard, but there was still some arbitrariness, and my initial rankings get all screwy when I started scoring by the point system.

I just don't want to upset people. The parts of TAing I've loved most--mentoring the first years, teaching recitations--almost seem to be put into jeopardy by giving them bad grades. I at once don't want to disappoint them or make them feel they have disappointed me. I may be fretting too much about it, but I could not shake this feeling all the way home, and held off actually parting with the papers as long as possible, questioning how I could increase marks (and I did--I inflated significantly!), write more, give more positive feedback. As I got off the train, part of me wanted to turn around and scoop up all those papers again, save them and save myself from the process of evaluation.

rather be dancing

2010-11-08T19:29:00.000-05:00

"'Humans and songbirds' are the only creatures 'that automatically feel the beat' of a song,' she said. 'The human heart wants to synchronize to music...'"

(from)

the future

2010-11-07T22:29:00.000-05:00

I have been asked to plan my life a year in advance. And for someone who likes to make her decisions collectively, or at least with others, this is a difficult exercise. I am agnostic about many things in the future, mainly location, but I am pretty certain how I want my life to feel. In many ways, these are long run considerations though--it's the planner in me that frets about them. Where, with whom, and in what fashion how will I construct my life?

Instead of focusing on these long-term considerations, some of which must be decided by December (conclusions are forming), I will day dream about short-term plans (you cannot take the planner out of this girl). Dinner with old old friends on Tuesday, hurricanes in New Orleans on Friday, maybe snuggles on Sunday. Hopefully a heckuva lot of work in between.

I've also been daydreaming recently about taking the summer to do something completely out of the ordinary this summer before starting work: a project in Africa, perhaps. The idea scares me as much as it excites me. These past few years have been a lot about teaching myself to take risks and be comfortable in those risks, regardless of the outcome...the chips will fall where they fall and we seize the multitude of opportunities available. We must play it as it lays.

So here's to accepting the planner but teaching her to be patient, and to a short and long run full of flexibility, experiments, calculated risks, and a heckuva lot of joy.

investing

2010-11-07T21:50:00.000-05:00

It's hard to start writing again without wanting to update, but that is not the purpose of this exercise. This is a letter to no one, but a space to process, to reflect, to be conscious and conscientious.

The freneticisim of the fall has begun to abate and I can focus again, make choices about how I want to spend my time and with whom, and begin to be the daughter, friend, person I want to be.

On Thursday, I made an important decision, more in its symbolism than anything else: I chose not to take on another course. Small, yes, but a step in the right direction of taking on only what I can truly handle and moreover, only those things that energize me and that I want to do. In fact, I just said no to something else tonight, something that might have been an honor. I am thrilled with my progress in shutting people/opportunities down. Ha. I jest, but it's an important skill to learn: there is no way I can invest and give where I really want to if I don't know how to say no. And there are too many opportunities, people, and experiences in which I want to give myself fully to say yes to those that are not up to par.

And of those experiences: A weekend well-spent (except now I have to get to all things I "should" do that I already committed to!): organizing life and thoughts, good friend rescue (I was rescuee) and staying calm in the face of misadventure (Boston parking, I do hate thee), dancing in gilt and glitz and a country cafe (the second wins), walks in the woods, and a lazy Sunday of good food and good hugs. That prototype is maybe getting there incrementally.

oh hello

2010-11-04T22:20:00.000-04:00

It has been quite awhile.

The feeling of fall has developed into the full-blown season and the ground was littered with yellow leaves as I walked home today.

It has not been an easy few months. And yet, we neglect the things we need most to keep us stable. On the mat, when I need my breath most to keep my steady, I hold it in, and topple. Like in life.

I sit tonight and I catch my breath. There is much to do, there is much to say, but tonight is just the beginning again.

something in the air...

2010-08-25T22:57:00.000-04:00

feels like fall!

I know it's only an anomaly and it'll soon be hot again, but there's something in the air that feels like fall, significantly helped by back to school commercials.

I love this time of year. So much opportunity...I'm not sure I'll ever get that school mindset out of my brain.

Yippee for sweaters, coats, crisp fall air, apple cider, fall foliage, the smell of new...

been so busy

2010-08-23T23:26:00.000-04:00

Work, drinks with colleagues, Frank Lloyd Wright houses, evenings in Millennium Park--been so busy hardly time to introspect. It has been lovely. Somehow things always come together at the end: finally exploring some of Chicago's greatness, almost starting to feel somewhat competent at work (though I still wake up in a panic at times, where's the blackberry), and I'm definitely liking the people at work better. You find your people anywhere eventually. :)

Saturday in Oak Park--Frank Lloyd Write the megalomaniac genius--though the other Frank--Gerry--trumped him (a momentary trump is all my friends) in the evening, under the stars, fireworks over the water echoing off the Michigan Avenue buildings, the Pritzker Pavilion lattice bringing the sky down. It was like this:

But better. Those crossbars have the most amazing effect of creating intimacy. There was no show Saturday, just picnickers with blankets, wine bottles, teenagers with frisbees, and security guards on Segways.

Walked by the Bean as the park was closing--ours was the only reflection. So lovely.

Missed saturday morning happy (again!) but here's to shared breakfasts, getting out and doing things, design details, and bubbles.

We inherit our roles, but we also choose them.

2010-08-19T22:40:00.001-04:00

Such a great line from this week's Modern Love.

being alone, part 3792

2010-08-19T10:04:00.000-04:00

I have written so much about being alone this summer, can you believe there is even more to say? But lo behold, there is!

Being on a new study and in Chicago three weekends in a row gives probably the best idea of how this job would actually feel.

I get my buoyancy by interacting with people I love. Spending too much time alone lends to over-introspection, which leads to heaviness, seriousness, etc. This also leads to less focus, less efficiency. Which then makes me even heavier and less productive!

Plus then your weekends are filled with errands and trying in vain to somehow make it feel like you're a part of the city where your apartment is.

things to celebrate this morning

2010-08-19T08:53:00.000-04:00

overhead rain showers (thank you Marriott), separate showers and bathtubs (the ultimate in luxury, in my humble opinion), those new fangled razors that do not slice up your legs (honestly, single blade, you are my enemy and soooo dangerous), Bonterra Chardonnay (don't be Chardonnay haters, this is organic and delicious), Thursdays in general.

UPDATE: also, California's ability to perfectly air condition places! (which, I guess is really a way to NOT celebrate the east's tendency to over-air condition every single building. br. I'm cold); also, Lily Allen, I am into her right now.

inspiration

2010-08-19T00:22:00.000-04:00

I'm really grateful to have the opportunity to work on a second project this summer. My life in LA was not exactly typical for a whole variety of reasons.

I'm also glad to be able to work in the industry I thought I'd like most--CPG/Retail.

Realization of the week #2: yeah, not so interested in this either.

In fact, I almost feel less good about this than I did about my previous job. CPG and Retail companies are generally just trying to get you to buy more crap. I tell you, we don't really need more crap. Sure, working for an inspirational company who is changing an industry might be amazing, but even those companies and brands people are passionate about--Nike, Avon, Target, etc.--are still selling stuff that generally people don't need!

Let's be clear. I like buying that stuff. We all know how I feel about clothes. And we can extend that to other awesome products, but it's not what I want to devote my life to, or what I want to build in this world. Increasing a company's profitability, regardless of its products, just does not inspire me. Talk about up-sell, cross-sell, etc., just depresses me.*

It's the same feeling I had at the beginning of my last study and I hope it doesn't go away ever, even if I choose to stay on for a few years in this position. I'm a little sad because I thought I'd be interested in this industry, but knowing is better than not knowing. Furthermore, it clarifies that I probably won't be interested in recruiting for any big CPG/Retail company so it seems it really is between this job and going back to the creative industries.

I want to work in a job, creating things, that inspires me and offers inspiration to others. Though this is generally an unfashionable position to hold these days (be damned postmodernism), this quotation from Thomas Hoving, the former director the Metropolitan Museum of Art, is sort of how I feel about it:

I tend to look upon works of art partly spiritual and mysterious and partly human and fragile. Their lofty nature helps me break free from the mundane. They provide a defense from all the cultural trash that threatens to inundate me. They keep me in balance. I need great works of art for the uplift of the soul. Their exalted character clears my brain. I harbor the secret hope that some of the genius they possess for eternity will rub off on me. Their all-too-human characteristics teach me something about humility. They enable me to fall in love with Mandingo.

How romantic. A busy fall awaits...

* I wonder if a "useful" industry would feel better, but I have no real inherent interest in energy, finance (there are some useful parts), etc. Of course, there are useful parts of all industries and I understand why people would be interested in many things. I just am inspired by something else.

know thyself: fail, part 2

2010-08-18T23:57:00.000-04:00

I have been going around all summer talking about how my former industry--the arts--was woman-heavy and I was therefore most comfortable working with and being around women.

That is a pure load baloney. In fact, the people I worked with daily over three years were men, with the exception of my boss and the directors above her.

On my new study, I'm working primarily with women and I remember some of the difficulties I've had in the past in all female environments. Even if it's not, it feels more competitive. Often times the competition isn't even about work, but just who has the bigger voice. These are generally contests I either like to explicitly dominate or not engage in. In addition, the project manager is maternal in a way that almost makes me uncomfortable. Of course, we all really work with individuals, not genders, but women working with women notoriously have a certain built in tension. Also, interesting to note the stories I invent about myself, some of which are just SO wrong (remember the P vs. J debate?). Why do I do that?

So, I revise my position: I think I prefer to work with men, but have inspirational women leaders. I'm still a little scared of senior men in suits and shiny shoes.

the lifeblood

2010-08-16T02:48:00.000-04:00

Since leaving the rush and hustle of school, I've become aware of the degree to which I rely on male attention. The abrupt cut in California was a hard stop, and the absence was actually physically painful. It's not so much that any of the attention was specific or particularly romantic. I dated in the spring, but I was also surrounded by dear male friends who supported, teased, and adored me.

My relationships with women are the depth of my strength, but my relationships with men are my daily bread and butter. I will go for a month or more without talking to someone who is a best friend for the ages and the next time we talk, nothing has changed. There's a depth of connection, across time, intensities, space.

Interactions with men, however, generally take a different form. They are the rise and fall of each day, the pace quicker, bob and weave, particularly where there is intrigue. Mer and I talked about this the other day--my lifeblood she said.

I worry about this, as I worry about anything I become too dependent on. I don't want you to get hurt says Liron. I don't feel at risk--I take each interaction for what it is, for this time, for this place. I feel love and appreciation and energy, but still, I worry. Because in the absence, I do feel loss; not hurt, but loss.

I have been very careful in the past months not to take male attention or affection as direction-setting for my own behavior. It has reinforced my own agency, but I think I have only been put to the test when I finally freed myself of attaching any meaning to the ex's attentions. Free and free-wheeling, suddenly the attention of other men can have real meaning. It's something I will watch closely over the next months.

she had so much

2010-08-16T02:19:00.000-04:00

Current research suggests that, unlike consumption of material goods, spending on leisure and services typically strengthens social bonds, which in turn helps amplify happiness. (Academics are already in broad agreement that there is a strong correlation between the quality of people’s relationships and their happiness; hence, anything that promotes stronger social bonds has a good chance of making us feel all warm and fuzzy.)

And the creation of complex, sophisticated relationships is a rare thing in the world. As Professor Dunn and her colleagues Daniel T. Gilbert and Timothy D. Wilson point out in their forthcoming paper, only termites, naked mole rats and certain insects like ants and bees construct social networks as complex as those of human beings. In that elite little club, humans are the only ones who shop.

A great couple of paragraphs from last week's widely-circulated NYT article, "But Will It Make You Happy?". My parents have always focused us on experiences--our cars weren't fancy, but we traveled the world. We lived abroad and visited friends who were also living abroad, we spent money on summer camps that were pivotal to both my brother and myself. It has made our family, especially my relationship with my brother, immeasurably closer.

This summer has been one of re-knitting connections with old friends and building networks and experiences with new ones. I'm excited to one day build that community in one place, but how lucky am I to take those individuals I find scattered--it is a rare thing indeed to find that connection.
.
Probably not something we didn't know already...but nice to be reminded (also nice to see the realization at the end that sometimes clothes DO make some people happy. I'm sorry, I just love dem; likewise, the means to build a home, be surrounded by beauty of one type or another).

a silent week

2010-08-16T02:03:00.000-04:00

It's been a week I've last written. It was a busy busy week, wrapping things up in LA, and I think I chose action over reflection this week.

Reflections on the way home felt too gut emotional to even begin to write about. The hard stop at the end of the sprint. Bon Iver on the headphones, watching the sun shine and set over the cumulus clouds, face to the wall to hide unexplainable tears. Yet another thing ending, the time in LA.

Sunday evenings breed wistful nostalgia; Sunday evening dinners would combat this: end your week with a sink full of dishes but the embrace of those you love.

New York for the next two weeks. Maybe what they say is right: I am too coastal for this town--they keep sending me to the coasts!

This is making me really happy tonight: http://www.todaysletters.com/. Amazing.

no better way

2010-08-08T20:32:00.000-04:00

Is there a better way to spend a sunny Sunday afternoon than lounging poolside sharing a newspaper and chit-chatting with your grandmother?

I think not.

I took off my pants, drank root beer, munched on blueberries, and even grabbed a quick snooze. Yet another reason California is calling.

all grown up

2010-08-08T13:27:00.000-04:00

I love to be at this stage in my life. It is so exciting to see people all grown up--to see what all my friends are accoplishing. It's extraordinary.

You never really understand it when you're young. Or at least I didn't. I had visions of impacting the world, of making change, of building something, but hello, it's here! My friends are doing incredible things--making waves all over in all their various endeavors. And it is so awesome to watch. How cool are you, friends?

directional signs

2010-08-08T13:11:00.000-04:00

I've read the paper newspaper the last two mornings, sitting in the lovely restaurant at the W.

I scan the front page, and then immediately gravitate towards the arts sections.

I always did this when I was younger, much to my father's chagrin. He wanted me to read the whole paper, especially the front sections. And while I do care to know what's going on (usually, sometimes it's nice just to ostrich), I just gravitate toward the content in the arts. I start flipping through the sections and it's almost unconscious, the content just pulls me in and I read the whole section first.

The other section I grab now and read front to end: business. The unconscious selective mind seems to think it's pretty clear--I'm heading in the right direction here.

days

2010-08-07T15:30:00.000-04:00

When I was in New York last weekend, I went to MoMA with a friend and though the Matisse show was a little too crowded and a little too academic to truly comprehend amid the people and my restless mind (the people were just so good looking! And so well dressed! I couldn't stop looking at them instead of the art and the beautifully curated show!), the new Bruce Nauman piece Days, made for the 2009 Venice Biennale, blew me away.

From each of the hanging panels, a different person's voice recited the days of the week (with some misses and confusion) and the cacophony and the specificity of voices as you walked down the long room washed over me. It is really an incredible piece and one you cannot even begin to understand through photographs or description. We can talk about what it means--passing time, systems, our daily lives, but it's nothing without experiencing the piece.

I had a drink with my friend Perry that night and in my excitement about relating this experience, encouraged him to go see it himself. He has since written the most amazing fake interview with Bruce Nauman with some really excellent insights about the work and probably the best sense you'll get without seeing it yourself. Some of my favorite excerpts:

PG: There are a lot of art historical references going on in Days. Can you talk about a few?

BN: I’d rather not get into that.

...

PG: Is aggression something you value in your work.

BN: Well, I’ve never gone for art that is limp-wristed and mousy. I want to make assertive pieces that stand on their own and that stand up to the viewer. Let’s not forget that viewers of works of art have tremendous power. For one – they think.

Read the whole thing here (Perry, you are a genius) and go see the piece (only up at MoMA until August 23)! Yay for good artwork.

doing a good job

2010-08-07T15:15:00.000-04:00

I'm feeling a little unnerved lately because I'm not sure I'm doing a good job. I've received positive feedback, but I don't quite feel competent or on the level of the rest of my team, which is hard. Of course, no one expects me to be--I've been at this only 7 weeks--but still, I hate this feeling. These situations are generally good for me--they're a kick in the butt to get better, do it faster, more carefully, smarter.

We all like the feeling of competence and in work and school, I generally find it easily. But the most transformational moments have been those times where something or, usually someone, has challenged me, saying what you're doing is not enough. In 6th grade, my math teacher refused to let me pass the buck. She told me, and she told my parents when I started struggling with the more thought-intensive (as opposed to transactional) word problems, "She's better than this." It was her belief in me and refusla to let me slide that pushed me forward significantly. In high school, I had two very influential history teachers, one in art history (who largely determined the initial arc of my academic and professional interests), and one in 20th century american history. Both pushed my writing, pushed my logic--you're better than this--and made my thinking, my vision, and my articulation deeper, sharper, and better grounded. Part of it was just the administration of bad grades (or worse than I was used to receiving), part of it was the subsequents discussions with them about how to move forward.

The ex, too, was instrumental in pushing me this way, particularly in logic and rationality (which I still choose to use intermittently, or as it suits me). "You're better than this." My intelligence was one of the things he did believe in and value about me, and he pushed me to think more clearly, cover the logical holes, and release emotion as much as possible (which, often, is not possible).

I'm beginning to feel like this experience, too, will push me forward, but this time, from my own momentum.

saturday morning happy

2010-08-07T14:56:00.000-04:00

A day stretched before me...I think it's harder to fill it when you don't quite know where you're going.

There are things I need to do...but I don't quite want to do them. I've been sort of bouncing off of people lately, letting them set the direction for me, and I need to come back to the center.

One of my first Storypeople encounters was with the story Center on Wheels:

I spent a long time trying to find my center until I looked closely one night & found it had wheels & moved easily in the slightest breeze, so now I spend less time sitting and more time sailing.

I found it during a time where I really felt lost and like I was grasping and it's been hanging in my home since. I think it's a bit of an apt description of how I felt then and a bit how I feel now, though with age and experience, I am more self-aware and self-monitoring.

One of the most important qualities for me in a relationship is to be with someone who grounds me. Who takes that sailling center and gives it legs and roots.

However, I also must way to center myself when unmoored. There have been a lot of ways I've accomplished that over the years, yoga and exercise among the most predominant. I am a happier and better version of myself when I am active. The other is, of course, long running relaitonship with people I care about. The conversations, phone calls, meals shared, evenings on the couch, with people who've known me for years--or even those people who have known me only a short time but know me nonetheless--remind me, oh yes, this is who I am, this is where I come from.

It's a little harder for me to do this all right now given my lifestyle and the difficulty of establishing routines. It will be interesting to see what happens when I return to Boston and some semblance of stability--at least for a year, before I pick up and move on again.

This is not really the stuff of saturday morning happy, so I leave you with this: today I celebrate newspapers in print, sunny days, friends who ask the hard questions, and, hell, why not, puppies.

doing something

2010-08-06T23:02:00.000-04:00

Last night I saw this:

Which turned into this:

With this favorite person and favorite things (cheese, bread, fig jam, french macaroons, wine):

To hear this conductor perform Berstein, Argentinian flirtation songs, and Ravel's Bolero:

It was completely magical. The sunset over the hills, the twilight settling over the Hollywood sign and the Bowl, the crowds of people, young and old, before us, the good food (oh the figs!), the music, the music, the music.

Oh summer nights with those I love doing things that are awesome. Sometimes we get so caught up we forget to go out and take advantage of what is available to us. We have so much to gain from experiencing this world, from breaking our routines and our every day. We see anew, we are inspired, we just are conscious of our joy, and our appreciation.

So happy.

audio signals

2010-08-06T22:38:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting at a restaurant in Santa Monica, supposed to be editing "the model," and I just can't! They keep playing my favorite songs, old school style! Into the Mystic, For What It's Worth, Stand By Me...how can I keep working when the world is telling me to stop and start enjoying the music?! I can do this tomorrow morning...now is time for relaxation and starting to let it all gooooooooo.

UPDATE: Really, The Beatles Oh! Darling? Yes!!!!!!! "When you told me...you don't need me anymore, you know I nearly broke down and cried..." yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss. Friday night just started getting really good.

vision of an integrated future

2010-08-03T23:32:00.000-04:00

Tonight I am thinking about how much I would love to be home, cooking, preparing a meal for a group of people I love.

I have a vision for the future: Sunday dinners, my own personal sabbath meals, bi-weekly, surrounded by the people I love.

I have long loved a good dinner party and like to plan the menu, prepare the feast and the table (a much better festive cook than daily one), invite friends and family, play the hostess. I am sad that I am not able to do this at all given the sad state of my current lifestyle and also, as many of you well know, the sad state of my Boston kitchen (the bitchen).

I have also long felt bolstered, supported, and most happy when I am surrounded by those that I love, and not just my nuclear family, but a diverse and exciting group of friends from multiple areas of life. I've never particularly been good at integrating these group of friends, and this is something I am really working on for the joy experieced not only multiplies, it becomes exponentially incremented. It's happening, day by day; I can actually feel it building, congealing--it is so cool! (And I wonder, if in part, it is due to the fact that the single greatest isolating force in my life is now gone--we can all share in the love now people.)

It all boils down to this: a rotating cast of new and old friends from various backgrounds, experience, and friendship tenure, a large table, good food, multiple bottles of wine. The results are 100% predictable: good conversation, good laughs, a little intensity, and truly a joyful Sunday eve. This is the life I want to create for myself, and hopefully with my partner.

While I likely won't repeat my parents' experiment of a group or dual-family home, I do want life to extend beyond the nuclear family, and have that life extend into my home. And I now more than ever understand what their goals were. I want my children to feel comfortable with adults, to have a seat at the table. I want my friends and family to really know each other. I want to live life alongside the people I love, not just with short visits interspersed in spare moments. I want to extend and support the ecosystem of such incredible individuals that has grown around me. With each other, we are stronger; with each other, we exponentiate our joy and our strength.

People, just you wait. This is going to be great.

a purpose-driven life

2010-08-03T23:04:00.000-04:00

A good friend just sent me the Clay Christensen article, "How Will You Measure Your Life," an adaptation of his talk to HBS's 2010 graduating MBA class published in Harvard Business Review.

Christensen's theory dovetails nicely with my own goals and processes this summer. Though I've been a little slack in the past two weeks, writing here is my meditation on how to create meaning and purpose in my own life, how to find inspiration, and how to realize it.

It is my attempt to determine my own priorities, and maybe even my own principles. Principles is something I've always been soft on (though maybe, it's been my principle to be soft on principles, or perhaps, rather, contextual on principles; this of course leads me to one of my greatest fears--that I would not have stood up for the injustices in WWII, and in fact do not stand up strongly enough against injustice today, but that, again, is for another day; it's something I do not quite know how to deal with yet).

The article is definitely worth a read (and please, if you've read David Brooks's NYT Op-Ed about it, don't be deterred and please make sure to read the source. Brooks creates a false dichotomy between two methodologies of a considered life).

It also reminded me of something I've been meaning to post for quite some time: a beautiful animation of what motivates us. Shockingly (and sorry to ruin the ending, but hopefully you already knowthis), it turns out, as human beings, we are not motivated by profit, but by purpose. Let's realign around that--let's do things that matter.

info-graphic of a booty call

2010-08-02T10:44:00.000-04:00

I love love love info graphics. This is not a particularly good one but too funny not to post.

I'd like to see the three-dimensional view.

Also, inspired right now to think of a show on info-graphics. It must exist right? How could someone not do something with what the NYT is producing now, not to mention Edward Tufte. Interesting to think of all this in conjunction with my current professional powerpoint activities.

via a great blog just shared with me by my very unique friend John: barking up the wrong tree -- a sort of receptacle for all sorts of cool new studies.

saturday morning happy (empire state of mind)

2010-08-02T10:30:00.000-04:00

Took a break from the introspection to have the perfect New York weekend. I didn't even open my laptop after 3pm Friday.

Between all that laughing and crying, I'm sure I grew more than a little hair on my butt (a now 15-year-old joke that does not get old), but it is worth it worth it to have these times: dancing with the old ladies and 10 year old boys (and man did one take over the dance floor), meeting friends of friends, sitting outside in the sun at Morandi's, champagne in the morning (and the afternoon...and maybe the evening), goodbyes, hellos, hugs, gossip, getting down to it, leafy West Village, being real grown ups but still laughing like kids, oysters and artisinal cocktails, MoMA, seeing New York anew.

When I lived in New York, I never understood why people talked about the crazy energy of the city. It was just so ingrained in my everyday. Returning now--the first time since January--I suddenly felt it. I was so excited as I landed, butterflies in my stomach, and everywhere I went, I marveled at the city. New York is not known as an architecture city but I couldn't stop exclaiming over the details on the 19th and 20th century buildings, the brownstone blocks, the gilded domes only visible from some angles. But more than the architecture--the people! The most astonishing, beautiful, and wacky people. Some trying to impress everyone else, others who just couldn't give a rat's ass. I just could stop looking. Only in New York...

I rescind my condemnation of you New York. I don't know that I'll ever live in your prickly embrace again but I do love to visit and you know, I know better now than to say never...

These photos surprised me in my inbox this morning. Caught appreciating the city twilight after Magali's lovely lovely bridal tea...

here's looking at you, kid

2010-07-29T13:56:00.000-04:00

New specs! Thank you good times insurance. What do you think? I was trying to go for a good blend of hip and professional: hipprofesh or hipressional if you will.

(Though I feel slightly guilty taking advantage of this policy during the only 11 week internship, I sort of justify it given that the last great pair of glasses I got, I lost in consulting recruiting. It's sort of like it all maybe evens out. Net-net)

my brother where art thou

2010-07-29T03:19:00.000-04:00

Tonight I celebrate my brother. I am so so happy to have him come back to the United States this year. Already planning sibling bonding for the fall.

I would not be who I am without his input, influence, and love.

soul food

2010-07-26T01:38:00.000-04:00

Perfect end to the weekend: beach, volleyball, friends, blueberry peach cobbler. Yum.

spoiled

2010-07-24T23:59:00.000-04:00

Though the hours are bad, I think I still am luckier than most. I fly first class, I move quickly through the airport, I stay at a luxury hotel, I eat good, fairly healthy food in a city I like and even have people around I love if I ever have time to see them.

I must remember this bounty though, since I've started noticing signs of being spoiled, even in just the few short weeks I've been working. Food is bought and wasted, or just tasted. First class becomes the norm; economy scorned. When everything is covered, you begin to not appreciate anything at all.

It is a side effect of the job and manifests in all sorts of ways. As I left work on Friday, my colleagues left a mess in the room. I inquired, they said, don't worry about it; it will be cleaned up. Yes, indeed, but by whom? Are we so privileged that we have no concern about the mess we leave? On Thursday we changed flights to take a later one and were therefore in middle seats in coach. Not a big deal (though significantly more difficult to work), but the norm of first class has already set in, and I felt a twinge directed toward my seatmates. This is not ok.

During my first days on the job, one of my colleagues was shockingly honest about what it feels like to work for the company--about how it lends a special feeling of privilege, honor, exclusivity, to know you're an employee there. A confidence or secret code that inspires your walk through office corridors or down the city street. This shocked me at the time--not so much because of the sentiment, but because he voiced it. It's completely true, of course, and is the benefit of being part of any elite organization, association, etc. The struggle is in suppressing that, to push down the entitlement, to not take the privilege for granted. I mean, it's just a job, afterall, and, in my mind, a painful one at that. Though I'm susceptible to external validation, I've worked hard in the past not to define myself by my workplace, at least not wholly (this is actually worth a whole other post).

This feeling of exception may (and I say may because I honestly don't know) be ok as long as it is kept in check. From the first day of orientation there was the decree: treat well the hotel staff, the support admin staff at the company, the airline, your fellow passengers, etc. The very fact that it has to be repeated, and repeated so often, is concerning. Does this position inspire such deep-felt privilege that you begin to expect others to bow, to serve; that you begin to expect what is not yours deserved?

I have some snobbish tendencies, but I have worked (and been worked on) my entire life to remember service and, above all, gratitude. Real, heartfelt gratitude; not the pleasantries and casual thanks. No thank you, please give me my coach seats back, please make me pay my own way. I will appreciate what is offered now, but please make it just that--appreciate, not expect or take for granted.

UPDATE: Flying Sunday gave me a whole new perspective on this. Whoa nelly, I love me that first class, priority access, etc., etc. Traveling like a normal person is stresssssssssfuuuuuuuuuuulllllllllllllll.

saturday morning happy

2010-07-24T23:50:00.000-04:00

It is far past morning, but I didn't exactly experience Saturday morning happy this week. Instead, a sort of pervasive melancholia. I'm glad to be going to the company of old, good friends tomorrow. Home-cooked food, the ladies, a bottle of wine--these are all things that are soul-refreshing, particularly as I start the new week.

These gray days are not common to me, but they are much more so when I feel alone, as I do in this city (is the hotel even more home now?). It's part of my perosnality to get pulled up and out by others and by shared experiences. I've gotten better about doing things myself--museums, movies, etc., but on gray days like this, I become paralyzed. I can't do anything and end up in a cycle of further paralyzation and subtle self-loathing (I am not one to get caught in the downward spiral, but I am never happy with myself when I spend a day like I did today).

I pulled myself up, which I think is reason enough for Saturday morning happy, but there still are other things to remember to celebrate today:

Lightning storms/city on fire, showers as a fresh start (even at 8PM), Imogen Heap, love and affection from those who are far away, tenderness in the face of adversity, knowledge of self.

I feel it now, but I must always hold it close:

There are days I drop words of comfort on myself like falling rain & remember it is enough to be taken care of by myself.

addicted to love

2010-07-24T23:29:00.000-04:00

I was 20 years old when I first experienced the narcotic crazy-making effects of love. I was deeply ensconced in a great, easy, supportive partnership with an amazing man--someone who loved me with all his heart. He was my first love, my high school boyfriend, and I truly believed I would be with him the rest of my life. The summer I was 20, we were counselors together at the camp I attended as a child, and someone else caught my eye and in fact, totally caught me up. Drama ensued, ending in a break of the relationship and a reshifting. It was terrible. Truly truly selfish, terrible behavior on my part. The two men were co-counselors. Can you even imagine? It was a drama that rocked all of our worlds yet I was on a trajectory I couldn't stop.

In the midst of it all, I received counseling from many, perhaps most importantly my mother. She told me: attraction to someone new is like a drug, it's addictive. You just want more and it's hard to detach yourself from the situation. Take a step back, don't do this. Reign it in.

Being 20, and being caught up, I couldn't. It was addictive being around this person--as much about the way it made me feel as any of his intrinsic qualities (which I learned later, were quite limited). In the aftermath, my mother wouldn't speak with me for weeks and refused to let me bring the new beau home. Though she has long put it behind her, I'm not sure I've ever forgiven myself for how I acted that summer.

Each of the major loves in my life hence, plus some of the minor ones, has been characterized by early intensity. Part of it is the nature of the beast--all of us want that connection--but part of it is me. I carried this cartoon (from The Economist, I believe) with me for years, hanging it in each new place I moved, as a reminder to myself of the dizzying effects of falling in love--both positive and negative. For a long time, it was mostly humorous to me.

I create and am drawn to intensity, hopefully usually of the positive variety, but as with anything, also of the dramatic or damaging variety. I'm not interested in casual (this year was the first time I ever successfully dated casually...and even then it was mostly a device) and moreover, I tend to advance situations...patience is not a virtue I possess in abundance. Let's get on with it and really get to know each other--let's get down to it. Let's try it out, even if I don't know the end-state.

Recently, though, the cartoon and recent articles describing the narcotic effects of romantic love have taken on a more sobering effect. I'm more suspicious of the quick burn, particularly of its acceleration to burnout. Let's figure it out--let's not waste our time, let's have transparency (the dance around it is of course always fun, but really, for me, for a limited time), but let's also keep the drama out. Steady now.

Plus, how do you ever recover from the heady days of early euphoria once that intensity fades? Of course, then the love is much more multi-faceted, more complex, far deeper, and those depths are equally intriguing. But I wonder sometimes if I spent five years with the ex trying to recover that unbelievable joy and intensity experienced in our first month. I made him promise to marry me on what, week 2 or 3, completely without guile? Sometimes you just know...but sometimes, you are mistaken. I don't want to make that same mistake again.

An excerpt on the addictive effects of love from The Economist article of the above cartoon:

The results were surprising. For a start, a relatively small area of the human brain is active in love, compared with that involved in, say, ordinary friendship. “It is fascinating to reflect”, the pair conclude, “that the face that launched a thousand ships should have done so through such a limited expanse of cortex.” The second surprise was that the brain areas active in love are different from the areas activated in other emotional states, such as fear and anger. Parts of the brain that are love-bitten include the one responsible for gut feelings, and the ones which generate the euphoria induced by drugs such as cocaine. So the brains of people deeply in love do not look like those of people experiencing strong emotions, but instead like those of people snorting coke. Love, in other words, uses the neural mechanisms that are activated during the process of addiction. “We are literally addicted to love,” Dr Young observes.

Another from a great WSJ article on the physical and mental effects of love (many of you will have read this before, I sent it out Valentine's Day in 2007; worth a reread even then, since it also has good advice on how to maintain some of those euphoric feelings of romantic love).

Compared with the neutral photos, a lover's picture triggers the dopamine system in the brain -- the same system associated with pleasure and addiction. But the brain images of those scorned in love also give us clues as to why the breakdown of a relationship can trigger serious health problems. The subjects dealing with failed relationships showed activity in the dopamine system -- suggesting they maintained intense feelings for their loved one. But they also showed activity in brain regions associated with risk taking, controlling anger and obsessive compulsive problems. Notably, the scans showed activity in one part of the brain linked with physical pain.

the long night

2010-07-23T03:41:00.000-04:00

Last night I had a date with the dancefloor. I have to say, it was magical.

And then this happened:

That's Lil' John (who I instead called Little John all day today, oops; hey, I didn't even know who he was until a month ago). He is rapping at the club in the hotel. Where I was staying and dancing. He was also pouring Grey Goose into people's mouths. I did not participate in that.

The club crowd was unbelievable--I could not keep my eyes focused all night because of the characters around--good bad and ugly. There were two particular older blode women that really got to me. Hollywood. [also Puck, from Glee, some very tall basketball players, some other rapper, you know my facility with pop culture]

Even with the celebrity sightings and unexpected Rihanna after-party, the dancing took the night.

Though I've always loved to dance, it was seldom practiced for a few years there. Inhibited and not knowing exactly how I wanted to conduct my life, dancing became one of those things that was sidelined and neglected, particularly given my partner and lifestyle during these years. There were a few moments of extreme catharsis through dancing mixed in there (joy in Florida with Caitlin, Magali, and Anne--coming together after some tough conversations; crying in the San Francisco dive bar a few summers back on the madonnahotties trip to NoCal; sadly, all that difficulty surrounding the ex. I should have known).

Now I dance for joy. Because of the long lapse, I want to dance often and freely to experience this joy. I get the itch if it's been too long and anyone who has spent any significant time with me will know it's hard for me to hear music and not start tapping and shaking. The hands go up, the hips start shaking.

Dancing can be potentially the best foreplay, but it can also just be pure unadulterated fun, especially when you're dancing with someone who knows what they're doing.

I had a great partner last night.

the kiss of ground

2010-07-23T03:11:00.000-04:00

As the plane surfed over the city tonight, I couldn't help but think of that first touch of ground like a first kiss...a little awkward, with so much anticipation and approach.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to fly the same way again.

wash away all of my tears

2010-07-21T19:53:00.000-04:00

This makes my insides feel funny. It is so beautiful--so many allusions, so much surrender, so much tenderness.

Thank you, David Rager, who always has impeccable taste. DRage is going to get more shout-outs on this blog than anyone/thing else at this rate.

Interestingly (to me at least), before starting to write here, I was resolutely uninterested in a lot of video content, even though I know this is where the world is heading. People would always send me videos and I would be like, eh, I am not interested in watching that. I think video content preferences are so unique--and because video requires a time investment that print does not, they come out more strongly. I wonder how this will affect marketing and content production in the future, or the ways it already has. Or maybe my analysis of the situation is wrong, or generational. Maybe other people are more omnivorous video consumers.

Regarding viewing now, I've becoming more adventurous and interested, by baby steps. It always helps me to know the source is good--I know DRage and a few others will always serve me well.

art in the morning

2010-07-21T14:57:00.000-04:00

There's been a big rush of public art--both permanent, temporary, and completely ephemeral--in the past decade, likely the biggest explosion since the large metal sculpture that proliferated starting in the 1960s and last through the early '80s. Much of this new guard is good and it used to be what excited me most in contempoary art--the site specificity, the opportunity for unique engagement outside of the whitebox, the potential unexpectedness. Though my perspective has changed now (perhaps because of the proliferation?), really good pieces are still environment and vision-changing.*

I drive past this piece often while in LA and I just love it. I love it in the morning and I love it at night. It's hard to keep driving straight as I crane my head to catch it from multiple angles. It is among the most outstanding pieces I've seen.

Chris Burden (of shoot yourself fame)
Urban Light, 2008
202 restored cast iron antique street lamps, 320 1/2 x 686 1/2 x 704 1/2 in.
The Gordon Family Foundation's gift to "Transformation: The LACMA Campaign"

*I need to write a whole post on MIT's amazing job Percent for Art program, where a percent (1-3%, I believe) of the budget for any new building is put toward a new site-specific commission for the Institute's public art collection. New pieces by Cai Guo-Jiang (for Sloan!), Anish Kapoor (Stata Center), and Richard Fleischner (Media Lab) will be unveiled this fall. YAY! There's much to say here--there are a few existing pieces I just love (hello Sol Lewitt) and am paritcularly excited about the new Cai piece (such a good conception of public space and how the piece can change over time)--but it will wait.

too much?

2010-07-20T19:45:00.000-04:00

When you're most introspective, self-reflecting friend writes this and this blog:

perhaps tending towards too much self-assessment and reflection (because yes, there is such a thing), but to those of us who tend towards the same thing, it's like a guilty pleasure. like my bag of doritos in the middle of day.

...maybe you've gone too far. Let's keep this healthy, kids. A little lightness all around. Doritos are bad for everyone. (Speaking of which, I ate one bite of a churro last night that literally tasted like chemicals. Ew, disgusting. I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth for hours. So not only was I working late on stupid slides, listening to my team nit-pick one thing after another, I had the taste of chemical donut in my mouth. Gross.)

Also, the spirit of awesomeness, let's all take an afternoon break to get up and dance to this song:

It's my song of the summer--for running, driving, dancing, and any other sort of activity...

[Also, um, her dancing, is...and awesome]

Afternoon snacking

2010-07-20T16:45:00.001-04:00

I've been eating entirely too much but I couldn't resist this: cukes,
jicama, and mango with lime, salt, and spice. Yum.

dance-floor maniacs, architecture love, and a boat that floats

2010-07-20T04:08:00.000-04:00

Miami was a quick trip, but had some inspiring moments.

I made a boat. Or, more accurately, I decorated a boat, the good ship The Backpack [go team Dora the Explorer]) . You like those pink flags, I know you do.

Our baby looks good coming and going.

Mostly, this: I fell in love with a parking structure:

1111 Lincoln Road

Hezog & de Meuron

Mixed use parking structure, retail, event space (genius way to get around zoning laws).

All muscle, no skin. A parking sculpture.

Dying to meet the developer Robert Wennett.

After the love affair, I had a proper Miami evening: the W pool bar (downpour, hanging with the Israeli mafia) and then the old classic Mynt with dance party seriously underway. I was up on the couches. We headed up to the DJ booth. There may have been some booties shakin'.

Windswept, waiting for Lebron.

At 4:30, I looked at my watch. Uh oh, supposed to be at the airport in 1 hour. Still at the club. Have no shoes on.

Hop in a cab, bust a move back to the Ritz, quick change, back to waiting cab, bust a move to MIA. Make flight, pass out in first class (totally don't belong). Awake surrounded by children. Feel like a crack whore, last night's makeup down my cheeks. Still smelling smoky.

Rental car in San Diego, refuse to take off sunglasses, perpetuate cracked out exterior, straight to grandmother's--you look like hell! (or, rather, politely, you look exhausted). Shower, change, lie down 5 minutes, socialize. Argh. Funeral, socialize, Mormons. Family, eat, wild turkeys (not Wild Turkey, I wish, remember, Mormons), cousins, mausoleum so white. Succulent garden for Mary and Jesus. Compound, eat, pregnant cousins!, boulders, inland views, California I think I love you. Back, crash, New Yorker fiction, Friday Night Lights (any tears left?), quiet in my grandmother's house my grandfather built. Quiet quiet quiet. Sleep. Finally.

If that's a work event, this place might just be ok...

(nope, nope, still not ok, even if there are some like-minded dancefloor maniacs)

playing the edge of sentimentality

2010-07-19T20:31:00.000-04:00

I read Postsecret every Sunday (apparently Sunday is my day of sentimentality...). My brother first initiated me into the club and often I find what's posted cloying, or just plain uninteresting: our banal secrets. But sometimes I find what people share inspiring and uplifting and true. As the project has become more and more of a pheonomenon, I think it's become less powerful, in a way. Or perhaps, in another way, it has become more so--look at this intense and widespread need to connect and share, to free ourselves of our burden.

Anyway, this past week, this one got me:

Isn't this what we all wonder about former loves, even as the memories slip from pain to past? Maybe more interesting: what recalls you to me, but has no meaning to you? How do we find ourselves in such symmetry/assymetry? Was it always a step on/a step off all along? Oh, to understand how the heart ticks...

the target list

2010-07-19T19:43:00.000-04:00

Autumn targets:

Emily Rafferty (President, Metropolitan Museum of Art; Met lifer)
Thomas Krens (former Director, Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, NY; current senior advisor Guggenhim Abu Dhabi; expansionist extraordinaire)
Jeffrey Deitch (Director, LA MOCA; former downtown gallerist monopolist)
Maddy Briggs (Principal, Genzler; let's explore this architecture thing)
Eli Broad or Joanne Heyler (Director, Broad Art Foundation) -- first one scheduled! (August 7)
Robert Wennett (Developer, 1111 Lincoln Rd.--photos coming later today)
Strategy, Lincoln Center

One down...let's see how many others I can convince to meet with me. Some heavy hitters here.

Any additions welcome. Let's set some goals people! Let's see what's out there.

sunday evening center

2010-07-19T00:22:00.000-04:00

Flying out again tomorrow morning and feeling free.

Looking forward and looking back, wistful, but settled. Clarity gives me peace so that my mind is not so forward focused, but can work hard to evaluate the present and prepare and be open for what comes next. I get distracted by sideways tangents and inventions of the future world, but there is nothing sure in my life right now so better focus on what is at hand.

It is not always easy for me to be alone like this, but it is something that makes me strong and focused. It is not easy for me to always establish a routine, but it's what makes me centered and at peace. This week: back to the regular workouts, establish that discipline. Keep myself sharp. Don't let this slide, Rya. This is an opportunity.

There are big changes afoot. I don't know what they are, but I sense they are coming, and I sense this is all part of my preparation. I must make sure not to disappoint. I will see through what I have started.

saturday morning happy

2010-07-17T14:51:00.000-04:00

More like Saturday afternoon happy, brought to you and to me via my brother JtotheCtotheB.

In response to my current gchat status message, one of my favorites of all time (I know, Storypeople is a theme...I'll start finding other sources of inspiration...maybe):

i read once that the ancient egyptians had fifty words for sand & the eskimos had a hundred words for snow. i wish i had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that.

He sent me this, a treatise on Eskimo words for snow, and this:

have I explained turkish has two words for love? sevgi and aşk? and that sevgi is what you have for your family and that aşk is like the pure romantic love? (Also the love Sufis have for God, go figure) Anyway, aşk can only last three years I think and then afterwards fades to sevgi. The grammar is even interesting. I love you (also I like you) is "Seni seviyorum" which is the same way you would say "I like soccer" (Futbolu seviyorum). With aşk though, its different. Its not usually said to someone, but about how you feel about someone. You say "aşık oldum" or literally "I became in love". Instead of in the present tense, its already in the past. It's already something that happened.

I always love love love how language changes meaning. Two favorite parts of literature, courtesy of Milan Kundera: the description of the difference between compassion in English and its closest Hungarian synonym, which is closer to "co-feeling" in The Unbearable Lightness of Being; the unpacking of "nostalgia" in Ignorance.

In response to who knows what since Jewel is not exactly my favorite, but still this video is totally awesome.

Undercover Karaoke with Jewel from Jewel

I may have teared.

strength and love

2010-07-17T04:50:00.000-04:00

We had a workshop on women and leadership today, led by the same woman at the firm who wrote the book I've been reading on the topic. She is hilarious and irreverent and the workshop was a great correlary to what I've been thinking and experiencing this summer. In the workshop, we were forced to quickly and swiftly name our core strengths from a list provided (in the 5 buckets I've mentioned before). I scanned the full list, few jumped out. Some I was sure of...the others, less so.

I learned today that there is an assessment test [register, then go to survey of character strenghts] to go along with this framework and it was actually created by one of the very impressive psychology centers at Penn (go Quakers!). Given my predilection toward self-assessment and reflection, I of course took the test tonight. My gut check was largely correct:

Your Top Strength
Capacity to love and be loved

You value close relations with others, in particular those in which sharing and caring are reciprocated. The people to whom you feel most close are the same people who feel most close to you.

I can't imagine a strength I'm more proud of or one I seek to cultivate more.

[I also love that appreciation of beauty and excellence is considered a strength. It's my #3, second being perspective. The only strength I think they missed in the quite interesting list or strengths is resilience--a quality that is shown to be increasingly important to success and one I was either born with or developed.]

immediacy and oversharing

2010-07-16T20:57:00.000-04:00

I had a total overshare moment last night and I woke up this morning feeling the same way I've woken up after nights when maybe I didn't make such good decisions. Both physical and emotional sharing must have boundaries.

The conversation was with a colleague...a younger, male colleague and was likely a result of a lot of things--loneliness, transitions and my need to talk right now, but also some sort of immediate connection where I just knew it was safe. The overshare mostly involved work-related motivations and goals, but stemmed from the question, "why Chicago?," one that I have yet to find a good answer to. Nothing's independent, I guess, and I have a need to tell the whole of stories; parts left out feels dishonest. Not necessarily a good tendency if you want to respect boundaries--your own and others'.

I get off on connections, particularly those that are characterized by immediacy, and I push them, taking risks to transgress some of those boundaries. My closest friendships are with those where I literally can step right back in where we left off and there are no taboo areas (though of course, always places to tread gingerly). [Interestingly, it's different in romantic relationships, especially now as I get older. That immediacy is important, but so is caution and a slight detachment, perhaps almost to a fault these days. Also there are places not to tread there. Just do not go there.] With friends, that sense of intensity and immediacy (leading to the complete and blissful state of just being your whole self) is why I've been able to maintain such good friendships with people spread all over the country and, indeed, the world. I love love love that feeling of sitting over a glass of wine and just dishing--just getting it all out there and laughing and laughing and laughing (or crying, depending).

If I think the connection is there there, I'll often throw my whole self out there--or maybe even an exaggerated version of myself, just to test. And this is why the in-person is much better than any other interaction. Because it's a real test. Phone, text, email--everything else is just slightly different.

The overshare was over gchat and gchat offers some false sense of immediacy (hence the feelings of really exposure and vulnerability upon waking when I was like uh oh...I don't even know this person, this young chappie). In typically fashion, I then shared my feelings of oversharing with the young fellow, and true to his nature and my gut feeling, he was completley reassuring, complimentary, and reciprocal. Reassurance, compliments, and reciprocation--pretty much the best thing ever. Not bad for 23 years of age.

[People, do not worry, despite the dancing, this is not going to turn romantic.]

girls on bikes

2010-07-15T11:23:00.000-04:00

What is it about girls on bikes in the summertime that makes the boys goes wild? The hipster boy fantasy. Let's add stripes, a basket (and a bell!), long hair...you're gonna make a killing, girlfriend.

[eating turkey jerky [TJ's organic] this morning...strange and delicious]

all my friends

2010-07-14T23:48:00.000-04:00

I have fallen in love with my friends all over again this summer.

I have been trying to write this post for a week now and I just can't get it right. There is so much to say, yet of course nothing to be said. This arrived last week in my inbox (Storypeople again) and maybe just about sums it up:

Someday, the light will shine like a sun through my skin & they will say, What have you done with your life? & though there are many moments I think I will remember, in the end, I will be proud to say, I was one of us.

For this support, for this group, to be one of you, to be so inspired and so loved, and to be allowed to be so free and to love so much, I am eternally grateful. You each hold a part of me, and I a part of you. We can never fail so long as these hands support each other.

personal style

2010-07-14T23:22:00.000-04:00

Browsing through the fashion blogs in my reader today, I remembered being struck by an image from The Sartorialist some months ago (October 29!)

This was a personal style I loved, a look that really spoke to me.

It spoke to others about me, too: Meredith sent me the picture and said, "Thought you'd like this."

It's funny, when I look at it now, it doesn't inspire me nearly as much as it did. She is undoubtedly a beautiful woman, and I'd still likely wear that dress and those shoes. I love the effortlessness and the simplicity and I still wear outfits reminiscent of this (likely with a few more bracelets).

Just as I've been working this summer on creating a life I want, I've spent time thinking about creating the personal style I want. I have always been clear what I like and am very particular about clothing--fabric, silhouette, color, styling. There are some pieces that are just me and others, well, no way.

I've been particular since I was a child: my mother wanted to dress me in overralls and sweatpants and I insisted on dresses and skirts, all of which had to have pockets, and preferably were in the sophisticated colors of pink and purple.

My love of distinct style is part of my love of aesthetics and also of quality. I also credit the affinity to my close relationship with my paternal grandmother. She was an extraordinary seamstress and never left the house less than perfectly put together. She designed and sewed many of her own clothes and worked as a furrier when she first moved to New York from Vienna. I so clearly remember the smell of her vanity and the sound of her silks and furs rustling in the closet. That smell still reminds me what it's like to be a lady and the dresses she bought me on our yearly trips to Macy's remain hanging in my parents' attic--long outgrown but too precious to relinquish. My paternal aunt encouraged the tendency, too: my favorite activity when I went to visit her in Brooklyn--going to A&S (a now defunct department store where she once bought me a pink poodle skirt combination; I was maybe 10 or 12. Tragic).

In fact, pain points and aberrations aside (that blue lycra halter and pink poodle skirt combination are only a start), my person style is ever evolving as I grow and trends change. I love being a grown up now where the expectation of jeans/t-shirt casual is behind me. I love having the income (shhhh, business school loans) to invest in good pieces, especially jackets, shoes, and bags (though, come on, who can resist Forever 21 sometimes). I love having the confidence to experiment with clothing but still develop a look that is all me.

Even amidst this experimentation and development, though, I have never been able to point point or exactly define my style. I put time and effort into it and I know I dress well, or well enough (just the littlest effort gets you noticed, it seems). I am inspired by a lot of things but drawn to very particular looks (Giovanna Battaglia, Diane Kruger, Rachel Bilson, Olivia Palermo, though she also makes me want to vomit, Resese Witherspoon, sometimes) and designers (Bottega Veneta, YSL, Dries Van Noten, Prada, Helmut Lang, Costume National, Lanvin, Isabel Toledo).

So I asked Kira today, one of my most fashionable friends, what she thought, especially after rediscovering the above photo and feeling strangely disappointed. I think she nailed it: "You have a vintage vibe that is feminine but not flirty. It is that kind that has a sexy maturity to it. You are true to color and not one for the loud pattern but make a statement with unexpected shoes and accessories."

Once something is articulated, it is so much easier to start to develop around that idea.

Other inspirations: my most fashionable friends, Meredith, Jane, Kira, Liron, Magali, David R., and many people I used to work with, including both my boss and my mentor, my maternal grandmother's 1950-60s old photographs. I steal things from all of them sometimes (ideas, not articles of clothing).

I have to say, and I know this is terrible, but dress is one more reason I'm just not sure the corporate world is for me. At the museum, I came to the realization that there was simply no reason for me to buy work clothes: I could either wear party clothes or casual clothes to work. In fact, it was encouraged. Here, it's a different story. I get comments on my clothes every day (and I'm being fairly conservative, at least as much as I feel comfortable with) and they are complementary, but the essence is also--you stand out. I'm not sure that's in the job description; best to blend in.

I may be asking too much of work, of life, to want to be inspired and have creative license even in this way, but hell, it certainly makes each day more fun. Isn't it just better when you know you look good?

"You are unique, and if that is not fulfilled something has been lost." --the inimitable Martha Graham
(Lifted from Naked Cowboy Vintage)

lunchtime shenanigans

2010-07-13T16:59:00.000-04:00

I may have sung karaoke in the client's cafeteria today.

It was for charity. Here's to living life with just a little bit of crazy.

soccer I can get on board with

2010-07-13T10:35:00.000-04:00

Now this the World Cup I can care about:

I can't understand exactly what he's saying, but here's what I love: his smile at the beginning of the interview (those smile lines!), avoiding eye contact when he starts to thank people, the pause and the look as he then zeroes in on her, the sigh (that sigh!), the grab.

(Spanish goalkeeper Iker Casillas kissing her girlfriend, reporter Sarah Carbonero)

for a time

2010-07-13T00:58:00.000-04:00

There are some things, some people, who come along exactly when you need them: a catalyst, a reminder, a symbol. They are right for just a certain time, no more; pulling it longer only ruins it, sours it, but letting go is also painful.

We want things to last forever, to be in love, to connect and to build. As someone I respect immensely said recently, we long for the day when the heartache is over.

I'm not sure it ever will be. We are always choosing to leave something behind. We will always feel the twinge of nostalgia, the pinch of letting go, the pain of choosing the other path, of forsaking what might have been.

And even with near certainty, we always wonder, what if...

This is what Dan Gilbert, one of the inspirations of this blog, said leads to unhappiness. Instead, we must be content in what we have, if we just learn to satisfice. I'm beginning to wonder: there is a sweetness in this, too. And without pain, without the heartache, how will we ever recognize, truly, the joy, the love.

somewhere

2010-07-11T12:12:00.000-04:00

I'm not a die hard fan, though I admire what she does. She has an uncanny ability to pinpoint emptiness. Impossible to watch this and not feel it.

via Cheri, scout holiday, also a master at pinpointing.

saturday morning happy

2010-07-11T02:38:00.000-04:00

Missed Saturday morning happy because I was Saturday morning recovering* after a night out in Miami. Summer conference was a good chance to see good friends and colleauges, let loose a bit, push a few boundaries, and remember to take it in and sit with it a little. No need to always be thinking. Let's dance a little too.

Written a lot of half posts in the past few days. Sometimes things need to simmer.

*Recovering on first class flight back to Cali, not bad. Would have been better had I realized just before we were about to land that the seats reclined back all the way. Maybe if I hadn't gone straight from the club to the airport, I might have had my faculties with me a little more. More details on the weekend later, including boat building, creatives in the box, and the best parking structure of all time.

up in the air

2010-07-07T15:25:00.003-04:00

the conversations about points are not a thing of fiction: 48,000 until executive platinum, almost gold--hey, it's good to have apsirations, right?

[apologies for the meldorama and aggression last night. today is better. somewhat. hugs still appreciated.]

sex

2010-07-07T03:56:00.001-04:00

I've recently spoken of my gut reaction upon viewing to the room full of my summer cohort: the whole lot of them don't like sex. People who have worked there know exactly what I mean (and this is something I only share with those I know well), but those who don't know the corporate face look at me a little strangely, like: 1) well, that makes no sense, who doesn't like sex? and 2) what, do you go around proclaiming/exuding how much you like sex? It's not exactly professional [you oversexed hussy (ed. note)].

Well, thank you Camille Paglia (and Adah for sending it along) for elaborating my point (which is expressed to its fullest potential at the most professional analytic organization in the nation):

In the discreet white-collar realm, men and women are interchangeable, doing the same, mind-based work. Physicality is suppressed; voices are lowered and gestures curtailed in sanitized office space. Men must neuter themselves, while ambitious women postpone procreation. Androgyny is bewitching in art, but in real life it can lead to stagnation and boredom, which no pill can cure.

Camille certainly has a way with words, and though I think the article is a strange conglomeration of generalizations and stereotypes conducted as an extreme sport and connected with fog, the woman does at least have a point with this. [OMG, the Beyonce comment, really?!!!! And the whole second half of the article--is she really invoking jungle-ism?]

Let's live life a little less sanitized, thank you very much. I'd much prefer it raw (life, you filthy scoundrels, though, now that you mention it, maybe sex, too) and a little gritty. We can make it interesting, I promise. Please, notice my butt and Pilates stomach (again, Camille, you are off here) and I will admire your shoulders and hands and recognize that you are a man and remember that at our core, we are animals. Animals with a brain and a conscience--no you can't touch--but animals nonetheless who eat, shit, and fuck.

it was bound to happen

2010-07-07T03:28:00.007-04:00

First cry from the job tonight. You can't have my time from 7am through midnight and expect me not to break. I just can't do it. I'm bristling at the reins. I don't want team dinners--I want time to work out. I don't want to go over pages, I want to sleep or talk to people I love, or hell, even people I like, people I can really laugh with or snuggle into. I want to read The New Yorker fiction issue and The New York Times. I want life outside these Powerpoint pages.

I will come and I will work and I will give you my time from 7am-8pm. I can even care from 7am-9pm. I was fine until almost 10 tonight. I can give you that. Is 14 hours not enough? Please, give me the rest. Is it a contest to work more? Because I will gladly lose. I feel the resentment building, and the corresponding apathy. It is week four. It is too early and I don't know how to turn it around. I don't know what self-administered pep talk is going to work.

There is so much else I want to do and so many things I don't want to miss. I wanted to take that drive tonight. How can I stay patient, centered? How can I turn this positive? How can I find some control?

I need someone to see this fraying and give a hug and squeeze and a you can do it and a you'll be fine, just keep going, just keep going, you'll be fine, I'll be here, I'll be here, I'll be here. Pull me back together where the seams are loose.

[post-writing: This post makes me feel melodramatic and a little pathetic and more than a little whiny. It's day 1 after a relatively work-free long holiday weekend. They pay me extraordinarily well. The team is nice, they care about my success. The hotel, food, everything is free. It's only 10 weeks. Many others would take my place. Many others can hack it. What am I complaining about?

Then again, as two good friends reminded me again and again this year (thank you Amanda and Kira): Rya, it's ok not to be fine.
You never quite know just how much you value your freedom (or choice)...or, hey work, you're fucking with my abililty to plan.]

one of the lucky ones

2010-07-06T22:59:00.001-04:00

I can't help but share this email from my father.

Hi Rys,

Thanks for sharing and including us. This quite an undertaking, full of insight, questions, introspection, personal takes, and interesting observations. It took quite a while to get to the end, sort of going down a Rya rabbit hole. A fascinating and pleasant journey. I was particularly taken by 'competitive advantage' and your discussion of creativity (I have thought a lot about that one as well and could share some of my own experiences with that). I'm a terrible story teller too, but a pretty good analyst (which has held me in good stead).

Much love to you as you continue your life dance with the world. I'm happy to be in love with you everyday.
love,
dad

I have had many a conversation about my relationship with my father. He was the primary parent when we were growing up and it was my relationship with him that I think inspired my comfort in the world, ease and trust of the opposite sex, and confidence to be both serious and silly. As I've gotten older, my relationship with him has changed (my relationship with my mother has also changed--we've become close almost as peers--it's wonderful, but a post for another day), but I am still, through and through, a daddy's girl. He cheered me on at soccer games (and coached the team), read countless papers, helped me through all my mercurial back and forths, and has always always given me unconditional love, support, and unfiltered feedback. I am one of the lucky ones.

[Thank you for all of your support and love, inner circle. It's nice to have you here.]

in the spirit of independence day

2010-07-06T00:10:00.005-04:00

...i opened it up to the inner circle. yikes!
in the spirit of independence day, a peek into how we celebrated:

good friends, good views, just the right amount of learning, festive attire (rwb, fireworks, american denim)

"murdered out" Americana truck in Burbank

crawfish boil: country music, ping pong, corn and potatoes, special caramel popcorn, general hilarity

multi-channel communication

2010-07-05T21:33:00.007-04:00

I'm a terrible storyteller.

I am a big communicator, but sometimes I forget to put in context in conversation. I don't know why it's such a problem, but I often just start up a conversation as if I were already halfway into it, make oblique references, bounce around topics from line to line, have no clear antecedent to half my pronouns, get distracted in the middle of thoughts, etc. (This is true across all channels as anyone who has ever conversed with me multi-channel can attest.)

Communication was always something I thought I was good at. It was literally the only skill I thought I entered b-school with: I'd given a lot of presentations and participated in a lot of meetings, management, etc. Hell, I love to talk and share!

Of course, it turned out to be my worst grade first semester. I learned that I am in fact a shit communicator, in part for the reasons mentioned above. I bring grit and I bring enthusiasm, but I also bring lack of structure, multi-headed tangents, and hell, you know, sentences that start in the middle. [I also bring extra words, unclear or unparallel sentence structure, etc., but at least those things I already knew.]

In addition, I realized how roundabout many of my communications are. I am not always direct about saying what I want, what I think, or exactly how I feel. This is something I especially tried to improve upon this year. There is of course a time and a place for ambiguity, but so much time is saved (and anxiety or confusion avoided) when you say exactly what you mean and ask for exactly what you want. Plus, you learn so much more.

i recognize your face

2010-07-05T14:40:00.001-04:00

Facial recognition--the science of reading people's thoughts by their facial expressions--is an idea I am fascinated by. I love the thought that there is some underlying universal expressions that we share as humans that belie what we're truly thinking: the disgust before the platitudes, the disguised happiness, whatever we feel, our face tells and these tells are universal across nationality, language, gender, class, race, etc. Amazing.

I'm not usually a Gladwell fan (though his New Yorker articles are actually genuinely good--he should stick to long-form pieces like that instead of overblown books based on well-accepted and understood ideas) but this article (The New York, 8/5/02) on the practice is fantastic.

I'd like to become a better face reader. I've been caught out myself a few times lately...

brotherly advice

2010-07-05T14:36:00.001-04:00

JCB: "You are one mercurial motherfucker, Ry."
RCB: "No I'm not. Oh wait, yes I am. It used to drive [the ex] crazy."
JCB: "Yeah, I bet."

[re: a conversation about career]

home

2010-07-05T01:53:00.004-04:00

Independence day: hike, brunch, Griffith Park, sucking spicy crawfish, country music, murdered cars, fireworks (on TV--not ideal), good friends, good laughs, good day, good to be a citizen of this country--I think I like you LA.

"Welcome home" from the W staff reminded me of one of my favorite songs of the year and made me think about home, of which I have none--or multiple--right now.

Ahh home. Let me go home.
Home is whenever I'm with you.
Ahh home. Let me go home.
Home is when I'm alone with you.

That last line is clutch, even better than the second--when you find it, make it your own.

Feeling nostalgic for so many things tonight, home, wherever that may be, primary.

[note: I watched a number of performances before posting this one. They are all unique and often quite amazing. She is fantastic, so adorable--she dances exactly how I want to dance to this song. The one posted above is an early performance; I also love this one--look how much they bring even when no one's watching (radio show). Also interesting, they alter the last line of the song in later performances (above lyrics are recorded version): "home, you are me and I am you." I like the first better.]

[note 2: The original meaning of nostalgia: nostos=homecoming; algos=grief, pain, distress. Created in the 17th century to express the German heimweh. The pain of longing for home. Literally, homesickness.]

grandmotherly advice

2010-07-04T16:14:00.001-04:00

"Well, don't think too much, Rya. Your head might explode."

[re: a conversation about careers]