It would be impossible for me to craft a poignant post that would capture my feelings on the Obama presidency. (It would be a lot easier to write about how I feel about the outgoing administration. But I want to look forward, not behind - and, really, I can't quite capture the moment as well as a sign that was held up when Bush was getting on the helicopter that would take him out of the capital: "Heck of a job, Bushie." Pithy, and perfect in the denunciation of the worst presidency of my life.) This is a man I've been following for over 4 years, even before he gave the famous speech at the Democratic National Convention. I remember seeing him interviewed pre-speech, and thinking, Wow, this man is impressive. And after watching the speech, I remember telling my then-partner M., "That man is going to be the first black president in the United States in our lifetime." Of course even I couldn't predict it would be so soon!
Everything he's done since the election has done nothing to diminish my hope. And yes, let's not be afraid to use that word, hope. Let's not expect miracles, but there's nothing wrong with having some hope in the future. There's such a wonderful sense of optimism right now - it's infectious. Let's ride it out for a while, see how it fits.
The one thing I took away from his speech was a two-word phrase: non-believer. He included the scores of us who are not affiliated with any religion, saying we are part of the mosaic. It was nice to be included, so thank you President Obama. I look forward to eight years of your presidency.
Hail to the chief.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Friday musings
Maybe it's because it's Friday, or because the city is in a mild state of paralysis from the west-end blackout (amazingly, despite the fact that pretty much every home and building around my apartment was without power, my electricity hummed through the night), or that we're still experiencing terribly cold days (serving as a reminder of why I'm not much of a fan of winter; I've become a cold-weather wimp), or that my immediate supervisor is away until mid-next week, but I can't quite get my work mojo going. My pilot light must be out.
... and now it's a few hours later, and I'm home from said work environment. I actually managed to cobble together a few productive hours - and then celebrated the feat by having a glass and a half of red wine at 4:00 in the kitchen. (It was leftover from the staff xmas party; somebody had opened it, so naturally I felt compelled to indulge. I don't want the stuff to go bad, after all.) Ah, the weekend, and waiting on the lovely A. to come over.
So I finished reading All the Sad Young Literary Men last night. Not bad, but I had higher expectations. Not sure why, of course, since it's the author's first attempt at a novel, and the book screamed of self absorption. It was engaging, and it did bring me back to memories of my mid-20s. I have a ton of warm feelings around that period of my life, not to mention enough distance to realize it was important to my development. I think if things would have been overly stable and easy - I spent a chunk of it toiling away in near-poverty as a freelance writer - I might be a different person today. And since I generally like the person I am, it must have been important. (Ah yes, dime-store psychology again. One of my specialities.)
I guess the only big news on the reading front is that I'm going to tackle a beast next: War and Peace. Yes, that War and Peace, the one by Tolstoy, the one that's supposedly a classic. The one that, from the looks of it (I checked it out yesterday from the university library where I work) is going to put my back and shoulder out if I carry around it my bag. My friend M. was the one that convinced me to give it a shot. Over beers the other night, we got to talking about Obama and leadership (he seems far-less enamoured of the president-elect than me) . He says there are some "essays" in W & P pertaining to leadership that might be relevant to our time. (Ah, I get it, that's what makes something a classic: it's timelessness.) Anyway I'm somewhat daunted by the endeavour - I think the longest book I've ever read is Norman Mailer's The Executioner's Song, and the Tolstoy seems to have about 300 more pages - but also figure that winter is a good a time as any to read the tome. Wish me luck... I also have a couple of short story collections also on the go, to help break up any potential monotony.
Reading: War and Peace (most likely for the next year...), the Penguin Book of Canadian Short Stories
Listening to: in a 1970s mood of late, so some Jackson Browne, Fleetwood Mac, etc.
Watching: the doc Man on Wire
... and now it's a few hours later, and I'm home from said work environment. I actually managed to cobble together a few productive hours - and then celebrated the feat by having a glass and a half of red wine at 4:00 in the kitchen. (It was leftover from the staff xmas party; somebody had opened it, so naturally I felt compelled to indulge. I don't want the stuff to go bad, after all.) Ah, the weekend, and waiting on the lovely A. to come over.
So I finished reading All the Sad Young Literary Men last night. Not bad, but I had higher expectations. Not sure why, of course, since it's the author's first attempt at a novel, and the book screamed of self absorption. It was engaging, and it did bring me back to memories of my mid-20s. I have a ton of warm feelings around that period of my life, not to mention enough distance to realize it was important to my development. I think if things would have been overly stable and easy - I spent a chunk of it toiling away in near-poverty as a freelance writer - I might be a different person today. And since I generally like the person I am, it must have been important. (Ah yes, dime-store psychology again. One of my specialities.)
I guess the only big news on the reading front is that I'm going to tackle a beast next: War and Peace. Yes, that War and Peace, the one by Tolstoy, the one that's supposedly a classic. The one that, from the looks of it (I checked it out yesterday from the university library where I work) is going to put my back and shoulder out if I carry around it my bag. My friend M. was the one that convinced me to give it a shot. Over beers the other night, we got to talking about Obama and leadership (he seems far-less enamoured of the president-elect than me) . He says there are some "essays" in W & P pertaining to leadership that might be relevant to our time. (Ah, I get it, that's what makes something a classic: it's timelessness.) Anyway I'm somewhat daunted by the endeavour - I think the longest book I've ever read is Norman Mailer's The Executioner's Song, and the Tolstoy seems to have about 300 more pages - but also figure that winter is a good a time as any to read the tome. Wish me luck... I also have a couple of short story collections also on the go, to help break up any potential monotony.
Reading: War and Peace (most likely for the next year...), the Penguin Book of Canadian Short Stories
Listening to: in a 1970s mood of late, so some Jackson Browne, Fleetwood Mac, etc.
Watching: the doc Man on Wire
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Guilty Pleasures
Two songs that have played on my iPod today while at work: Culture Club's "Time" and "Rise Up" by the Parachute Club.
Shh, don't tell anyone.
Shh, don't tell anyone.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The forgotten post
Although I no longer consider myself a professional writer, I'm almost always writing in my head. That tends to be my internal dialogue: bits and pieces of words, sentences, fragments that I eventually hope to jot down. That's but one of the reasons why I wanted to revive this blog: I was hoping to get some of those words into some coherent form. The last few days, for example, I've been carrying around a post in my head about money. It's meant to be an expository piece about my feelings about the filthy lucre. It's partly inspired by a couple of lines from the first page of the novel I'm currently reading, All the Sad Young Literary Men:
"To be poor in New York was humiliating, a little, but to be young - to be young was divine. If you'd had more money than they had that year, you'd simply have grown old faster."
Basically this reminds me of my early days living in the city, post-undergrad: I was 22, had little money, didn't necessarily aspire to have big money, and struggled. Happily, however. I have wonderful memories of that time in my life, despite the struggles. Or maybe because of them?
Yet, I'm still struggling to find the requisite time and energy to craft interesting posts. (I'm also struggling somewhat with motivation: my readership is pretty much anemic. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing this blog for myself, and that any outside eyes is icing.) I should make more of an effort to write in the mornings when I first awake (I'm one of those annoying morning people), although since the holidays I've been going to bed later than usual, and thus struggling to drag my head off the pillow when the radio turns on in the early hours of the day.
So the post about money will be coming soon. I have such an evolving relationship with money, so stay tuned!
On the plus side, it's been a good weekend. Two wonderful meals with the lovely A. (chicken in the slow cooker on Friday - I'm going to buy my own slow cooker, mostly to make a stew - and tasty fish last night), a couple of films (Atonement, which is a good adaptation of one of a great novel, and Rachel Getting Married last night at the Revue), some face time with the family (my brother came over with my dad this morning to pick up the computer I'm giving to my niece, so we went to the bluegrass brunch at the Dakota Tavern), a good run in the park this afternoon, put some furniture and electronics on craig's list (I'm continually purging, in the hopes that I'll be a minimalist) and now relaxing this evening. Not sure yet what this coming week will bring.
Listening to: Godspeed, You Black Emperor (I'm still disappointed I didn't get to see them play at the Bloor St. Cinema a few years back)
Reading: All the Sad Young Literary Men
Watching: See films above.
"To be poor in New York was humiliating, a little, but to be young - to be young was divine. If you'd had more money than they had that year, you'd simply have grown old faster."
Basically this reminds me of my early days living in the city, post-undergrad: I was 22, had little money, didn't necessarily aspire to have big money, and struggled. Happily, however. I have wonderful memories of that time in my life, despite the struggles. Or maybe because of them?
Yet, I'm still struggling to find the requisite time and energy to craft interesting posts. (I'm also struggling somewhat with motivation: my readership is pretty much anemic. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing this blog for myself, and that any outside eyes is icing.) I should make more of an effort to write in the mornings when I first awake (I'm one of those annoying morning people), although since the holidays I've been going to bed later than usual, and thus struggling to drag my head off the pillow when the radio turns on in the early hours of the day.
So the post about money will be coming soon. I have such an evolving relationship with money, so stay tuned!
On the plus side, it's been a good weekend. Two wonderful meals with the lovely A. (chicken in the slow cooker on Friday - I'm going to buy my own slow cooker, mostly to make a stew - and tasty fish last night), a couple of films (Atonement, which is a good adaptation of one of a great novel, and Rachel Getting Married last night at the Revue), some face time with the family (my brother came over with my dad this morning to pick up the computer I'm giving to my niece, so we went to the bluegrass brunch at the Dakota Tavern), a good run in the park this afternoon, put some furniture and electronics on craig's list (I'm continually purging, in the hopes that I'll be a minimalist) and now relaxing this evening. Not sure yet what this coming week will bring.
Listening to: Godspeed, You Black Emperor (I'm still disappointed I didn't get to see them play at the Bloor St. Cinema a few years back)
Reading: All the Sad Young Literary Men
Watching: See films above.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
In "a bit of a mood"
I've struggled with my mood these past couple of days. Maybe this is retribution for writing about my general optimistic attitude about life. ("You think you're a happy person, do you? Well let me prove to you otherwise!") Or for raising the issue of politics (where, most of the time, I'm probably talking out of my ass). I've been feeling sad and bitter, and fighting off what I would call a low-grade depression. Probably - and hopefully - just a case of the blues.
Where is this mood coming from? It's partly the job. Maybe two weeks wasn't enough recovery time from a stressful December. More to the point, I'm somewhat bored and frustrated with the gig. Of course there are parts of it I absolutely love, but lately they seem to be outweighed by the less-savoury bits. Like feeling like the low person on the totem. Having no power or authority, that my day-to-day duties are dictated by someone other than me. You get the gist. This is something I'll have to work through.
I'm also feeling a mite annoyed that I have all these little chores to do over the next few days (get my new iPod fixed - yes, it took less than two months to break down - remove a hard drive from my old computer, reformat it for my niece, buy milk) that, for some reason, are getting me down.
I'm also feeling nauseous, which doesn't help.
So rather than bore and frustrate you silly with these annoyances of mine, I'll end this here.
Reading: Keith Gessen's All the Sad Young Literary Men. (Gessen is the founding editor of the interesting literary journal n+1.)
Watching: nothing, really.
Listening to: NPR's Fresh Air on my nano.
Where is this mood coming from? It's partly the job. Maybe two weeks wasn't enough recovery time from a stressful December. More to the point, I'm somewhat bored and frustrated with the gig. Of course there are parts of it I absolutely love, but lately they seem to be outweighed by the less-savoury bits. Like feeling like the low person on the totem. Having no power or authority, that my day-to-day duties are dictated by someone other than me. You get the gist. This is something I'll have to work through.
I'm also feeling a mite annoyed that I have all these little chores to do over the next few days (get my new iPod fixed - yes, it took less than two months to break down - remove a hard drive from my old computer, reformat it for my niece, buy milk) that, for some reason, are getting me down.
I'm also feeling nauseous, which doesn't help.
So rather than bore and frustrate you silly with these annoyances of mine, I'll end this here.
Reading: Keith Gessen's All the Sad Young Literary Men. (Gessen is the founding editor of the interesting literary journal n+1.)
Watching: nothing, really.
Listening to: NPR's Fresh Air on my nano.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
A political thought
I don't normally like to use this space to discuss politics. Not because I don't like the topic - I'm something of a political junkie, in fact - but because I hate to rant on a subject that is usually best enjoyed around a table, in the company of friends, preferably with a cup of coffee/pint of beer/shot of whiskey (pick your poison) close at hand. Also, it's nice to be challenged immediately if my opinion is ignorant or stupid - political discussions by their very nature are ripe for intelligent and healthy disagreement. Yet, a comment on a friend's facebook site has really stirred me to write a few words about the current situation in the Middle East between Israel and Hamas. (No need for me to recap the news to my readers. My guess is that you're all pretty up-to-date on world affairs - all three of you that visit this site, of course.)
I wouldn't necessarily call S. a friend but rather a good acquaintance. She's a classic facebook friend in that regard: someone I see only a couple of times a year (at most), never speak to on the phone, only occasionally exchange e-mail with, but who, except for her periodic updates on facebook, I've largely lost touch with. Although we used to work together, today we basically we travel in very different circles.
Her facebook update yesterday really got under my skin. Essentially it was a call-out to the Israeli soldiers in Gaza. "Stay safe," she wrote, "but go get 'em. We've gotta take care of our own first.'" My first reaction - after showing it to the lovely A. to use as an example of why I rarely if ever discuss Middle Eastern politics with friends, particularly as it relates to Israel (it's just too contentious) - was quiet acceptance. As long as I've known S., she's been a fervent, passionate and militant believer in the Jewish state. In fact, when I first started working with her about a decade ago, I took note of a bumper sticker affixed in her office cubicle: "My Israel includes the Golan." I'm never surprised when she takes a strong anti-Israel view of the world.
I too am a strong believer in Israel. I find it sad that there continues to be opposition to Israel's right to exist as a state, and that peace and stability in that region is so elusive. I can also understand its need to defend itself, particularly against an organization that seems intent on provoking Israel. All that said, this is not the place to argue what I feel is Israel's disproportionate response to the rockets fired into the southern part of its country. (As stated earlier, the Israeli issue is too massive for this feeble blog to properly debate.) Rather, it's the whole idea of S. using the phrase "our own" that really rubs me wrong.
I remember reading a wonderful Talk of the Town obituary in the New Yorker magazine many years of a long-time UN diplomat. He was American, and he said he often was queried by his fellow citizens why he was spending so much of his time trying to help those in other regions in the world rather than helping his fellow Americans. His response (and naturally I'm paraphrasing) was "I'm a member of the human race before I'm a citizen of any country." That simple phrase has stayed with me - in fact, it's something I've appropriated for myself many times!
In S.'s eyes, does being Jewish - or being a member of any race, religion, sect, sex, whatever - take precedence over the shared commonalities we all have as fellow human beings? Is it possible to be so cold and dispassionate about the loss of 500 Palestinian lives? Can there be no remorse? It strikes me that if seemingly reasonable and rationale people like S. have such an unhealthy view of "the other side," what chance do those in the belly of the region have of ever finding compromise?
I don't feel I've done a great job of explaining my point of view. Chalk it up to Sunday evening and having to go back to work tomorrow after a wonderful two-week break.
I wouldn't necessarily call S. a friend but rather a good acquaintance. She's a classic facebook friend in that regard: someone I see only a couple of times a year (at most), never speak to on the phone, only occasionally exchange e-mail with, but who, except for her periodic updates on facebook, I've largely lost touch with. Although we used to work together, today we basically we travel in very different circles.
Her facebook update yesterday really got under my skin. Essentially it was a call-out to the Israeli soldiers in Gaza. "Stay safe," she wrote, "but go get 'em. We've gotta take care of our own first.'" My first reaction - after showing it to the lovely A. to use as an example of why I rarely if ever discuss Middle Eastern politics with friends, particularly as it relates to Israel (it's just too contentious) - was quiet acceptance. As long as I've known S., she's been a fervent, passionate and militant believer in the Jewish state. In fact, when I first started working with her about a decade ago, I took note of a bumper sticker affixed in her office cubicle: "My Israel includes the Golan." I'm never surprised when she takes a strong anti-Israel view of the world.
I too am a strong believer in Israel. I find it sad that there continues to be opposition to Israel's right to exist as a state, and that peace and stability in that region is so elusive. I can also understand its need to defend itself, particularly against an organization that seems intent on provoking Israel. All that said, this is not the place to argue what I feel is Israel's disproportionate response to the rockets fired into the southern part of its country. (As stated earlier, the Israeli issue is too massive for this feeble blog to properly debate.) Rather, it's the whole idea of S. using the phrase "our own" that really rubs me wrong.
I remember reading a wonderful Talk of the Town obituary in the New Yorker magazine many years of a long-time UN diplomat. He was American, and he said he often was queried by his fellow citizens why he was spending so much of his time trying to help those in other regions in the world rather than helping his fellow Americans. His response (and naturally I'm paraphrasing) was "I'm a member of the human race before I'm a citizen of any country." That simple phrase has stayed with me - in fact, it's something I've appropriated for myself many times!
In S.'s eyes, does being Jewish - or being a member of any race, religion, sect, sex, whatever - take precedence over the shared commonalities we all have as fellow human beings? Is it possible to be so cold and dispassionate about the loss of 500 Palestinian lives? Can there be no remorse? It strikes me that if seemingly reasonable and rationale people like S. have such an unhealthy view of "the other side," what chance do those in the belly of the region have of ever finding compromise?
I don't feel I've done a great job of explaining my point of view. Chalk it up to Sunday evening and having to go back to work tomorrow after a wonderful two-week break.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
History lessons
I spent a big chunk of yesterday afternoon on my older PC desktop, moving files to a separate hard drive. I bought a MacBook earlier in the week, so I no longer need the Dell machine (which is becoming increasingly slower with each day - in fact, I think I heard it wheezing the other morning). I'm clearing it out so I can pass it on to my 16 year-old niece, who doesn't have her own computer. It's nice to be able to keep the thing in the family.
Anyway it's been an interesting exercise, to gander at some of the stuff on that machine. Tons of music, of course, and photos and videos. Most interesting, however, are the various snippets of writing that I've saved over the years: a few lines of poetry here and there, for example, or an idea for a prose piece that never came to fruition (my speciality, it seems), as well as various drafts of blog posts (some of which I never published for fear of embarrassing myself). I also stumbled upon a couple of "about me" things for those online dating sites (an exercise I've chronicled at length in other blogs, so no need to retrace that path!), along with drafts of e-mails to women who I was flirting with via the dating sites.
And how do I feel about revisiting that past? Surprisingly, it wasn't as depressing as I thought it might be. In fact, even though much of that whole period was marked by big change and emotionally wrought events - going to grad school (more than 10 years after my undergrad degree), a career change, the dissolution of a long-term relationship, venturing back into the dating world - I have fond memories of those topsy-turvy years. (It's also good to have some chronicle of those years.) It's similar to what I was telling the lovely A. the other day: whenever I harken back on my history, I only ever seem to remember the "good" and largely forget the depressing bits. I wonder if that says anything about my general outlook on life, which I've discovered veers toward optimism.
Ask me tomorrow, of course, and you're liable to get a different response.
Listening to: various NPR podcasts
Watching: Pride & Prejudice (the 1995 BBC version) on New Year's eve (watched the whole thing, so we were up until 3:00; so low-key evening, but still late), Brief Encounter and Days in Heaven are in the queue
Reading: Bolano's 2666 (about a third of the way through!)
Anyway it's been an interesting exercise, to gander at some of the stuff on that machine. Tons of music, of course, and photos and videos. Most interesting, however, are the various snippets of writing that I've saved over the years: a few lines of poetry here and there, for example, or an idea for a prose piece that never came to fruition (my speciality, it seems), as well as various drafts of blog posts (some of which I never published for fear of embarrassing myself). I also stumbled upon a couple of "about me" things for those online dating sites (an exercise I've chronicled at length in other blogs, so no need to retrace that path!), along with drafts of e-mails to women who I was flirting with via the dating sites.
And how do I feel about revisiting that past? Surprisingly, it wasn't as depressing as I thought it might be. In fact, even though much of that whole period was marked by big change and emotionally wrought events - going to grad school (more than 10 years after my undergrad degree), a career change, the dissolution of a long-term relationship, venturing back into the dating world - I have fond memories of those topsy-turvy years. (It's also good to have some chronicle of those years.) It's similar to what I was telling the lovely A. the other day: whenever I harken back on my history, I only ever seem to remember the "good" and largely forget the depressing bits. I wonder if that says anything about my general outlook on life, which I've discovered veers toward optimism.
Ask me tomorrow, of course, and you're liable to get a different response.
Listening to: various NPR podcasts
Watching: Pride & Prejudice (the 1995 BBC version) on New Year's eve (watched the whole thing, so we were up until 3:00; so low-key evening, but still late), Brief Encounter and Days in Heaven are in the queue
Reading: Bolano's 2666 (about a third of the way through!)
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