Remember being 10 and staring at your art teacher with her stringy hair, bohemian skirts, and kenya bags? Ever wonder how she was thirty and single, because wasn't everyone supposed to be married? Ms. G taught me how to swear in Arabic, she would crack wise, and was always ready with a wink. She always told us to create with our hearts. I remember telling my best friend, S, "Ms. G is a huge weirdo."
For the past week, I have been thinking about taking an art class. This Christmas when my niece asked me to draw something, the only thing I knew how to draw well was a cartoon of a eukaryotic cell. (Her mom drew a bunch of bunny rabbits.) Which is why Ms. G came to mind.
If I met Ms. G today, I'm sure we would be friends. I would be amused by her quirkiness, and her earnestness would be refreshing. Or maybe not. Maybe she really is a huge weirdo.
The line between eccentric and crazy is hazy at best. Like when you go into Anthropologie, and you see a ruffled sweater; is it cute or dowdy? It straddles a hazy line and is in desperate need of context. Cute on Zooey Deschanel, but the same sweater would be dowdy on Meryl Streep.
I decided to take stock of some of my stranger habits: buying Mega Millions Lotto tickets in the scariest neighborhoods as soon as the jackpot is over 100 mil, making Fimo art for members of the Fantasy Football league, short selling stock as a revenge technique, obsessing about my hair loss, telling my students to create science with their hearts, etc.. My conclusion was to stay away from 10 year olds, I am sure I am a huge weirdo in their eyes.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
What does "tar" mean?
For those of you who know me well, I am not a texter. In fact, I banned texting from my phone for a while. But then I got the iPhone and well... my texting ban crumbled. Now I am like a giddy 15 year old, texting nonsensical crap all the time. Okay not really, but it is a dangerous tool to have.
One problem is that since I am new to texting I am unfamiliar with all the acronyms. Such as: u=you, nit=night, etc...
On the last Trivia night of 2009, my team celebrated our crushing loss with several bottles of wine. Probably a mistake to be drinking on a Monday night, but I knew I was flying out of town on Wednesday, so I had little to do at work the next day.
Sigh, alcohol. Why do you cause so many problems? And why, why must I keep consuming you?
What started out as a nice Trivia night, ended up in drunken bad behavior at another bar a few blocks down. A rowdier one in which pool and name calling and singing with the juke box came into play. And apparently a lot of texting did too.
Here is my drunken text conversation with the leprechaun that night:
Me: Who is on the 500 and 1000 dollar bill? [9:28pm]
Leprechaun: Cleveland on the $1000 - for sure
Leprechaun: Mckinley on the $500 - wow I am good
Leprechaun: Wud you say I am ur lifeline?
Me: Crap, we had to know the 100,000 bill. [9:49pm]
Leprechaun: Do you want that too? U are demanding.
Leprechaun: Woodrow Wilson - never actually released (tho they were printed in 1934)
Me: Thanks. We lost. We were trying to guess what the question would be. If we only knew wilson ahead of time....
Leprechaun: Too bad :(
Me: Good night. Am going to buy a christmas round for the boyz. [10:31 pm]
Leprechaun: Ur too cute. :) I mean it when I say, I am extremely happy to have you back in my life.
Me: Ps the gemtlemen says not with su n sets pix. Sunrissses is what you send youths. [12:05 am]
Leprechaun: Hmmmm.... so I shud send sunrises??? I can do that too!
Leprechaun: U def have been drinkin.
Me: Dr. Tony. says sruff it. Leave it fo othetrs. [12:42 am]
Leprechaun: :) Call me when you get home. Want to make sure u r safe. U r too funny. Nit, nit.
Me: Tar. [1:06 am]
Me via random phones at the seedy bar with pool tables: Tar.
Leprechaun: U okay? [6:24 am]
Leprechaun: [picture of sunrise over the Charles] This is 6:35 am in boston.
End conversation
Seriously, what the hell does "Tar" mean? Is it a texting acronym? Why was it necessary to send it? My only recourse now is to reinstate the texting ban, at the very least for certain individuals.
By the way, while you are answering the first questions could you answer this too? How does Pat Robertson know that Haiti made a pact with the devil 200 years ago? Is he in fact the Devil? How else could he possibly be such an authority on the subject?
One problem is that since I am new to texting I am unfamiliar with all the acronyms. Such as: u=you, nit=night, etc...
On the last Trivia night of 2009, my team celebrated our crushing loss with several bottles of wine. Probably a mistake to be drinking on a Monday night, but I knew I was flying out of town on Wednesday, so I had little to do at work the next day.
Sigh, alcohol. Why do you cause so many problems? And why, why must I keep consuming you?
What started out as a nice Trivia night, ended up in drunken bad behavior at another bar a few blocks down. A rowdier one in which pool and name calling and singing with the juke box came into play. And apparently a lot of texting did too.
Here is my drunken text conversation with the leprechaun that night:
Me: Who is on the 500 and 1000 dollar bill? [9:28pm]
Leprechaun: Cleveland on the $1000 - for sure
Leprechaun: Mckinley on the $500 - wow I am good
Leprechaun: Wud you say I am ur lifeline?
Me: Crap, we had to know the 100,000 bill. [9:49pm]
Leprechaun: Do you want that too? U are demanding.
Leprechaun: Woodrow Wilson - never actually released (tho they were printed in 1934)
Me: Thanks. We lost. We were trying to guess what the question would be. If we only knew wilson ahead of time....
Leprechaun: Too bad :(
Me: Good night. Am going to buy a christmas round for the boyz. [10:31 pm]
Leprechaun: Ur too cute. :) I mean it when I say, I am extremely happy to have you back in my life.
Me: Ps the gemtlemen says not with su n sets pix. Sunrissses is what you send youths. [12:05 am]
Leprechaun: Hmmmm.... so I shud send sunrises??? I can do that too!
Leprechaun: U def have been drinkin.
Me: Dr. Tony. says sruff it. Leave it fo othetrs. [12:42 am]
Leprechaun: :) Call me when you get home. Want to make sure u r safe. U r too funny. Nit, nit.
Me: Tar. [1:06 am]
Me via random phones at the seedy bar with pool tables: Tar.
Leprechaun: U okay? [6:24 am]
Leprechaun: [picture of sunrise over the Charles] This is 6:35 am in boston.
End conversation
Seriously, what the hell does "Tar" mean? Is it a texting acronym? Why was it necessary to send it? My only recourse now is to reinstate the texting ban, at the very least for certain individuals.
By the way, while you are answering the first questions could you answer this too? How does Pat Robertson know that Haiti made a pact with the devil 200 years ago? Is he in fact the Devil? How else could he possibly be such an authority on the subject?
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Too much praise
On some nights you will find me across the street, eating my dinner with a bunch of elderly divorced guys at the bar. The food is not especially good, but it is nice to have a place where everyone knows who you are. Yes, it is my version of "Cheers."
Old divorced guys are catty or cranky, depending how you want to spin it. Sometimes we gossip about local celebs or other old divorced guys that are not there. Sometimes we make fun of the young people who come into the bar. But most of the time we spend our time kvetching.
Next Monday, I know exactly what I am going to tell the gang: it irritates me that people at work are so insistent in saying "good job" to someone who just gave talk. It irritates me on multiple levels 1) I feel obligated to say the same because I don't want to look like a bitch. 2) Most of the time the talk is horrendous. 3) I am a really crappy liar. 4) When someone says "good job" to me I wonder about their sincerity. 5)In order to avoid being insincere myself, I end up saying nothing and look like a bitch, which gives me anxiety.
On today's Yahoo finance page, an opinion piece about job dissatisfaction amongst American workers increasing dramatically since 1987 caught my eye. Especially, this sentence: "The Millennial Generation is entering the workforce with expectations higher than any generations before them," Grant [a management professor at U Penn Wharton]says. "This generation is not accustomed to delaying gratification. They are interested in getting rewarded and succeeding very quickly, and most organizations aren't set up to do this. You could expect a decline in satisfaction for that reason."
Is it possible too that a sincere pat on the back has lost its luster? That we spend so much time being nice to each other that true praise no longer seems like a reward?
Good thing I have a bunch of cranky people to tell this observation to, I have a feeling they will agree.
Old divorced guys are catty or cranky, depending how you want to spin it. Sometimes we gossip about local celebs or other old divorced guys that are not there. Sometimes we make fun of the young people who come into the bar. But most of the time we spend our time kvetching.
Next Monday, I know exactly what I am going to tell the gang: it irritates me that people at work are so insistent in saying "good job" to someone who just gave talk. It irritates me on multiple levels 1) I feel obligated to say the same because I don't want to look like a bitch. 2) Most of the time the talk is horrendous. 3) I am a really crappy liar. 4) When someone says "good job" to me I wonder about their sincerity. 5)In order to avoid being insincere myself, I end up saying nothing and look like a bitch, which gives me anxiety.
On today's Yahoo finance page, an opinion piece about job dissatisfaction amongst American workers increasing dramatically since 1987 caught my eye. Especially, this sentence: "The Millennial Generation is entering the workforce with expectations higher than any generations before them," Grant [a management professor at U Penn Wharton]says. "This generation is not accustomed to delaying gratification. They are interested in getting rewarded and succeeding very quickly, and most organizations aren't set up to do this. You could expect a decline in satisfaction for that reason."
Is it possible too that a sincere pat on the back has lost its luster? That we spend so much time being nice to each other that true praise no longer seems like a reward?
Good thing I have a bunch of cranky people to tell this observation to, I have a feeling they will agree.
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