Tomorrow, I'll be at the American Chemical Society's D.C. conference. When I was in the 10th grade, I failed chemistry. Not "didn't get a very good grade" or "didn't do exceptionally well on the final exam." I failed. Big fat F for the year. I blamed it on spending most of the year sitting the back of the class because my teacher didn't believe me when I told her I could not read the board from that vantage point and my mom didn't believe me when I told her I needed glasses until I tried to get my driving permit and failed the vision test. My mom blamed it (the poor grades, not the vision) on 9/11. Then again, everyone was doing that so I couldn't blame her. Terrorism seemed like an appropriate scapegoat for my inability to master the finer point of covalent bonds and titration. I was distracted by airplanes and anthrax, how in the world was I expected to remember Na was Sodium?
Really though, the was the conservation of matter. Maybe, just maybe you could tie that to 9/11 but it would be a stretch. I was fine in September. When we got to the conservation of matter, that's when I lost all grasp of ions, neutrons, and protons.
The way it's always been explained to me, essentially, is that matter is finite. It can be changed but neither created nor destroyed. In thermodynamics, it means that the reactants and the products must equal out. To me, it meant that I exist because something else doesn't. If this is any kind of closed system and I currently inhabit it, then there is something that existed, then me, then something after me. Maybe it was a bunch of amoebas. Or a family of otters. Eventually, I might be a small shrub. But I am right now, so the amoebas, otters, and bushes are not. It's like C.K. Louis says, "Some things are and some things are not...things that are can't not be...because then nothing wouldn't be. An you can't have, fuckin', nothing isn't, everything is."
For years, even now if I let myself think about it too hard and forget that it's completely ridiculous and scientifically unsound, I'd worry that my failures (that chemistry class included) meant that I was somehow wasting the matter bestowed on me by those benevolent otters. Would the otters regret their gift if they knew I was kind of a petulant shit who talked about writing but never actually did it? I read books upon books for my own amusement, but not the ones assigned for class. I faked headaches to get out of church and was too lazy to return library books on time. This is better than primordial ooze? I realize now that I simplified an incredibly complex theory into a thoroughly self-involved poor-me cop out. I got over it, I think. I'm twenty-four. I have plans, I'm not done with my life-sized checklist but that's perfectly acceptable. So what if I'm not living up to the otters. What do otters do for the universe? I have no fucking clue but I can't answer the question for myself either.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
This is worse than "Love Story"
Dear Taylor Swift,
This video promotes the stalking of innocent hunky football player types. What did the hunky football player types ever do to you?
The video opens with you watching someone else through their window. 1) That's a pretty slim patch of land between you and your neighbor so I can only assume you live in a magical land without zoning laws and 2) it isn't ok to read your neighbors lips through his bedroom window and infer that you can be his shoulder to cry on. Again, if you can read each others' writing, your houses are far too close and your parents should move.
"She wears short skirts. I wear tee shirts." Those are not mutually exclusive sartorial choices. Frequently in high school, I wore both short skirts and tee shirts. At the same time. It was like magic and you're an idiot.
"Standing right here, waiting at your back door. All this time how could you not know you belong with me?" I hope this this guy doesn't have a bunny or this could get heated.
Who keeps a bridal/prom gown just lying around in case hunky football player asks you to the prom...the night of the dance? Granted, I have outfits planned for occasions that don't exist yet, but they do not include the un-ironic use of tulle. Have some pride dear. And take off those glasses. American Apparel models wouldn't even wear those.
Also, when a girl in a music video is an evil boyfriend stealer, why does she have to have brown straight hair? See exhibit A and exhibit B. We, speaking for brown, straight-haired girls everywhere--we're a friendly accommodating bunch and not likely to go man-stealing just for the fun of it. I promise. I've never knowingly stolen someone else's fella. Honest.
This video promotes the stalking of innocent hunky football player types. What did the hunky football player types ever do to you?
The video opens with you watching someone else through their window. 1) That's a pretty slim patch of land between you and your neighbor so I can only assume you live in a magical land without zoning laws and 2) it isn't ok to read your neighbors lips through his bedroom window and infer that you can be his shoulder to cry on. Again, if you can read each others' writing, your houses are far too close and your parents should move.
"She wears short skirts. I wear tee shirts." Those are not mutually exclusive sartorial choices. Frequently in high school, I wore both short skirts and tee shirts. At the same time. It was like magic and you're an idiot.
"Standing right here, waiting at your back door. All this time how could you not know you belong with me?" I hope this this guy doesn't have a bunny or this could get heated.
Who keeps a bridal/prom gown just lying around in case hunky football player asks you to the prom...the night of the dance? Granted, I have outfits planned for occasions that don't exist yet, but they do not include the un-ironic use of tulle. Have some pride dear. And take off those glasses. American Apparel models wouldn't even wear those.
Also, when a girl in a music video is an evil boyfriend stealer, why does she have to have brown straight hair? See exhibit A and exhibit B. We, speaking for brown, straight-haired girls everywhere--we're a friendly accommodating bunch and not likely to go man-stealing just for the fun of it. I promise. I've never knowingly stolen someone else's fella. Honest.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
I wasn’t interesting. And he was. Interesting… and brilliant… and mysterious… and perfect… and beautiful… and possibly able to lift full-sized vans...
About a week before I left for the beach, I slinked into the Borders on 14th and F and did something I promised I never would. I marched right over to the large display in the center of the main level and picked up a copy of Twilight. I don't know quite what possessed me to do it. I'd rented the movie, and after watching it, asked my boss (who had previously admitted to reading part of the series but not finishing it because of the inanity of the writing) about various plot points and how they were expanded on in the book. This related mostly to vampire lore and the shapeshifter/werewolf Quileute mythology (which is apparently accurate. The "Cold Ones" legend is made up but writers make up mythology all the time to suit their purposes.)
I didn't take the book to the beach with me. Mostly because my mom might see me reading it and she's terrible about keeping her mouth shut. Also, I had a paper to finish and, on the off chance that the text was at all engaging, I elected that crunch-time was not the time to start it. But I wanted to know what the big deal was.
It was pretty slow goings at first. Meyer's fatal flaw is an inability to edit. Too many attempts at rhetorical flourish that fall flat. You see it a lot in beginning creative writers. Even more experienced ones really. Constructions that show a clear effort but get confused in an attempt at brilliance or epiphany. I know what it looks like because I've done it. I still do it. You think that every thing have to have meaning, metaphor, and really big words. Every writer could learn something from Hemingway.
Having said that, I read about 250 pages one night (mostly because I kept imagining Robert Pattinson. Really, I don't think anyone could blame me.) I get why it appeals to 15 year-old girls. Edward Cullen has the same qualities as Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester and how many of us have fallen in love with those two grouchy, mercurial dickbags? He's also more dangerous than them (well, maybe not Rochester.) Vampires appeal to women. Especially young women. They're sexually ravenous, eternally youthful, usually gorgeous, and completely obsessed with having you. It's not particularly Women's Lib-y of me, but women want to be consumed now and again. We want to be taken. The male vampire is that desire made literal. He's also the starring character in a cautionary tale about keeping your legs crossed and not talking to strangers. Again, if the stranger looks like Robert Pattinson, I'm pretty sure you're screwed one way or the other. Granted, Meyer's male lead is relatively cautious with the smooches but he has a soul of sorts and is trying to come to grips with the limitations of his own self-control.
I don't regret reading it but will probably just take the others out of the library instead. I also wish I had answered the imaginary craigslist ad, "Mormon writer seeks editor for YA story about teen vampires."
I didn't take the book to the beach with me. Mostly because my mom might see me reading it and she's terrible about keeping her mouth shut. Also, I had a paper to finish and, on the off chance that the text was at all engaging, I elected that crunch-time was not the time to start it. But I wanted to know what the big deal was.
It was pretty slow goings at first. Meyer's fatal flaw is an inability to edit. Too many attempts at rhetorical flourish that fall flat. You see it a lot in beginning creative writers. Even more experienced ones really. Constructions that show a clear effort but get confused in an attempt at brilliance or epiphany. I know what it looks like because I've done it. I still do it. You think that every thing have to have meaning, metaphor, and really big words. Every writer could learn something from Hemingway.
Having said that, I read about 250 pages one night (mostly because I kept imagining Robert Pattinson. Really, I don't think anyone could blame me.) I get why it appeals to 15 year-old girls. Edward Cullen has the same qualities as Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester and how many of us have fallen in love with those two grouchy, mercurial dickbags? He's also more dangerous than them (well, maybe not Rochester.) Vampires appeal to women. Especially young women. They're sexually ravenous, eternally youthful, usually gorgeous, and completely obsessed with having you. It's not particularly Women's Lib-y of me, but women want to be consumed now and again. We want to be taken. The male vampire is that desire made literal. He's also the starring character in a cautionary tale about keeping your legs crossed and not talking to strangers. Again, if the stranger looks like Robert Pattinson, I'm pretty sure you're screwed one way or the other. Granted, Meyer's male lead is relatively cautious with the smooches but he has a soul of sorts and is trying to come to grips with the limitations of his own self-control.
I don't regret reading it but will probably just take the others out of the library instead. I also wish I had answered the imaginary craigslist ad, "Mormon writer seeks editor for YA story about teen vampires."
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Why, yes. Yes, I am.
Dearest Craigslist,
Had I known that "Are you a fan of Herman Melville?" could be used to seduce and beguile men, I might have gotten in a great deal of trouble in recent months.
Then again, that the poster in question did not actually answer the question which might suggest that the woman who asked it was just attractive enough to get over a line as bad as "are you a fan of Herman Melville?" I'm pretty sure I'm not that woman considering mens' eyes usually go a bit glassy when mention Moby-Dick...unless they have also majored in English. Then it's a 50/50 chance that the eyes glaze over.
Had I known that "Are you a fan of Herman Melville?" could be used to seduce and beguile men, I might have gotten in a great deal of trouble in recent months.
Then again, that the poster in question did not actually answer the question which might suggest that the woman who asked it was just attractive enough to get over a line as bad as "are you a fan of Herman Melville?" I'm pretty sure I'm not that woman considering mens' eyes usually go a bit glassy when mention Moby-Dick...unless they have also majored in English. Then it's a 50/50 chance that the eyes glaze over.
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