here's looking at you, kid

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

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

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

spoiled

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.