When I moved to Chicago at the end of 2004 I had recently broken up with a long-term boyfriend, had been miserable in my old job and living situation and was apprehensive about moving away from friends in Nashville and even further away from family in North Carolina. I consoled myself by eating, an old habit that I could never shake and probably never will.
One morning, a few months after moving to Chicago, I decided I should see just how much I weighed. The last time I'd been weighed was during a visit to my physician's office the previous summer, some eight months prior. At that time my weight had ballooned up to a value as high as it had ever been.
I gingerly nudged the digital scale from against the wall. I pressed lightly on it with my right foot, awakening it from its slumber. The yellow digital display came alive and read "0.0". I stepped onto the scale, right foot first, and as I did the display blinked "---", indicating that the scale was calculating my weight. I delicately placed my left foot on the apparatus, my entire bulk now firmly on the scale, and waited for it to determine how much I weighed. I stared at the blinking hyphens, anticipating and dreading the number that would be displayed. Finally, the hyphens resolved and the display said, "Err."
"Err?" What on earth does that mean, I wondered.
I turned the scale over and looked at the instruction sticker adhered to the bottom. I scanned for what this message meant, and was shocked to find that this was an error message that displayed if the scale's maximum weight had been exceeded.
The scale's maximum weight was 330 pounds.
The realization that I weighed in excess of 330 pounds was sobering. At that moment I understood that I had two choices: to get bigger and bigger or to work to reduce my weight. It didn't take me long to decide to choose option 2. This was the heaviest I had ever been in my entire life, and I resolved that it would be the heaviest I ever would be.
I next had to determine the best course of action to lose weight. Never a slave to reason, I figured it would be best to go it alone and make all my decisions independent of a health care provider. Fortunately I have enough training in physiology and science that I can read and learn about nutrition and synthesize the information with relative ease. However I would say to anyone else, even a person with training in biology and medicine such as myself, that seeking out a registered dietitian is the better way to go. Talking to your physician is a good start, but most general practitioners are so overworked they don't really have time to do much beyond shove diet and nutrition pamphlets into your hand. Working with a dietitian or nutritionist, which I did several years ago, is helpful because they have more time to dedicate to you and can help you come up with an individualized eating plan based on your personal likes and dislikes. Perhaps more importantly, they become a person to whom you feel accountable regarding your weight loss. I found this accountability helpful, and others I know have expressed similar sentiments.
I knew that losing weight would be a long-term endeavor, and that keeping it off would require changing the way I ate, shopped, lived and worked. I wouldn't start a "fad" diet - fads are temporary, and I wanted my weight loss to be permanent. I would monitor myself minimally in the beginning, afraid of becoming discouraged because I wasn't progressing rapidly enough. I also assured myself that permanent change would take time, so I reasoned that to lose the amount of weight I desired to lose, 110 pounds, would require a minimum of two years.
During the next few months I would decide on a focus point - something I desired that I felt would be impossible to achieve without losing weight - and alter how I interacted with food. In the next installment I'll discuss my focus point and talk about changing my perceptions about food and eating.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Of Robert Frost and Old Friends
I originally wrote this entry two days ago. Even though I'm just now posting it, I've decided not to change the day references. Here's the original post.
I am writing this while sitting in the C terminal of the Nashville International Airport (BNA), awaiting my return flight home to Chicago. I left the Windy City yesterday morning and flew into Nashville, my home of eight years, to attend a birthday party for a friend from my grad school days. Because I was really uncertain whether or not my work schedule would allow me the luxury of this 31 hour trip, I didn't let anyone except for the folks directly tied to the party know that I was coming. (Sorry to any of my peeps in Nashville who were left unaware of my incursion!) Having not taken a real break from working since last October, I worked my ass off to make sure this trip would happen. In fact, to take care of things in the lab so that I could get out of town I went into the lab before dawn yesterday and I will go directly to work once I've dropped my bags off at my apartment this afternoon. But I needed this little break to recharge my dwindling spirits.
Although I was genuinely looking forward to it, I was a bit apprehensive about this trip. The friend whose birthday we were celebrating had arranged this party, and I was glad for him to have done it. Despite this I knew it might be awkward because this friend now lives on the West Coast and had several largely separate groups of friends in Nashville, representatives of each having been invited to the party. I was reasonably sure that, as in the days when we all lived in Nashville, this party would operate such that friends from each of the three circles would socialize mostly with the other members of their own cliques, and the host would have to spend his time vascillating amongst the various constituencies. The other possible downside was having to see a couple of folks on the invite list whom, frankly, I could go for a long time without seeing or speaking with. Despite these misgivings I came anyway because of the allure of seeing a couple of folks who, because of various circumstances, I have been unable to see for quite some time. And the relatively balmy temperatures in Nashville seemed particularly inviting given the miserable dregs of winter Chicago seems unable to shake off.
When I arrived in Nashville, my friend from Philadelphia came to the airport to retrieve me, and we spent the afternoon together, having lunch with another friend from New York and my best friend from college who now lives in Atlanta. After lunch my friend from Atlanta and I participated in a ritual leftover from our college days: the two of us go to clothing stores, I select outfits for her to buy, and then she leaves better dressed than when she arrived. We both admitted this exercise was a bit more fun when her parents were footing the bill, but we appreciated spending quality time together in the women's fashion aisles of several large department stores.
Finally the time came for us to go to the birthday shindig. We arrived and, at first, it felt as if the previous three years had not passed. Warm hugs were exchanged all around, everyone commented about how good everyone else looked - a mostly credible claim - and we all went inside. In a few minutes, though, everyone reverted to type and we spent the next couple of hours standing around in our old cliques, talking about old times, comparing everyone's current boyfriend to his former boyfriend and commenting about how everyone really looked. My Philadelphia friend walked around and chatted with members of each different group. This is truly one of his strengths, this ability to mingle amongst various social groups. The other friends and I mostly wondered why we were there.
The friend from Atlanta was in a unique situation from the rest of us, because she was really only friends with me. She knew my friend from Philly, but I was her entree into the group. As we sat, waiting for my New York friend to drag the friend from Philly away from two bears who were card-carrying and pistol-toting NRA members, I said to my friend from Atlanta that this weekend had served as a good reminder of why good things aren't meant to last. The friends from Philly and New York, as well as the one whose birthday we were celebrating, were the last remnants of a large group of friends I hung out with in the middle years of graduate school. These guys were my lifeline during a stretch of my life when I was very uncertain about myself professionally and socially. Having been largely unsuccessful in the dating world, these gay men became like surrogate boyfriends. They provided all of the social benefits of a relationship without any of the physical intimacy. With only a couple of exceptions, that was all I ever wanted from these guys.
We were a tight group, although there were several incidents of drama and tension, including of the sexual variety. (It was 12 gay guys, for pity's sake.) I never knew a closer group of friends, and likely never will again. For many of us coming out is like going through our teenage years all over again. We may be physically older and through with the more embarrassing aspects of pubesence, but we nonetheless have to deal with all the emotional baggage of asserting our own individuality and figuring out the often perilously thin line between platonic attachment and romantic longings.
Eventually the group split up. Petty jealousies, sexual betrayals and rumor mongering set the wheels in motion, but ultimately our careers got in the way. Many of us were students and anticipated moving on to actual employment once our degrees were finished. Others knew that Nashville was only a temporary destination as their occupations required them to relocate or take new jobs in different cities. I was among the last to leave, and I'm glad I stayed around as the most significant relationship of my adult life occurred in the last two years I lived in Nashville, once most of my friends had left the city to start new lives. Eventually a job took me away as well, and here I sit, waiting in the aiport of the city that was home for so long for a flight to the city that I call home now.
Last night was a stark reminder of the message from Robert Frost's poem "Nothing gold can stay." As much as I loved all these guys, I really only see the ones in Philly and New York, and another who now lives in Milwaukee. And there's a reason for this. Joyous times in life are precious and fleeting, and this is what makes them special. It's nice to think that we'll always stay friends with everyone we've ever been friends with, but that's the exception rather than the rule. As I get older losing friends seems less like a tragedy and more like the normal way of things. I have more friends to make in life, and some people whom I currently know and feel close to will fade from my life like the passing of a season. And that's okay.
The friend from the West Coast who threw the birthday party for himself last night admonished us to stay in touch. I hope we will, but I'm not counting on it. Sometimes you just know when it's over. And as I sit in the airport terminal, watching for the plane that will take me back to Chicago, I really feel only one thing.
I feel like it's over.
I am writing this while sitting in the C terminal of the Nashville International Airport (BNA), awaiting my return flight home to Chicago. I left the Windy City yesterday morning and flew into Nashville, my home of eight years, to attend a birthday party for a friend from my grad school days. Because I was really uncertain whether or not my work schedule would allow me the luxury of this 31 hour trip, I didn't let anyone except for the folks directly tied to the party know that I was coming. (Sorry to any of my peeps in Nashville who were left unaware of my incursion!) Having not taken a real break from working since last October, I worked my ass off to make sure this trip would happen. In fact, to take care of things in the lab so that I could get out of town I went into the lab before dawn yesterday and I will go directly to work once I've dropped my bags off at my apartment this afternoon. But I needed this little break to recharge my dwindling spirits.
Although I was genuinely looking forward to it, I was a bit apprehensive about this trip. The friend whose birthday we were celebrating had arranged this party, and I was glad for him to have done it. Despite this I knew it might be awkward because this friend now lives on the West Coast and had several largely separate groups of friends in Nashville, representatives of each having been invited to the party. I was reasonably sure that, as in the days when we all lived in Nashville, this party would operate such that friends from each of the three circles would socialize mostly with the other members of their own cliques, and the host would have to spend his time vascillating amongst the various constituencies. The other possible downside was having to see a couple of folks on the invite list whom, frankly, I could go for a long time without seeing or speaking with. Despite these misgivings I came anyway because of the allure of seeing a couple of folks who, because of various circumstances, I have been unable to see for quite some time. And the relatively balmy temperatures in Nashville seemed particularly inviting given the miserable dregs of winter Chicago seems unable to shake off.
When I arrived in Nashville, my friend from Philadelphia came to the airport to retrieve me, and we spent the afternoon together, having lunch with another friend from New York and my best friend from college who now lives in Atlanta. After lunch my friend from Atlanta and I participated in a ritual leftover from our college days: the two of us go to clothing stores, I select outfits for her to buy, and then she leaves better dressed than when she arrived. We both admitted this exercise was a bit more fun when her parents were footing the bill, but we appreciated spending quality time together in the women's fashion aisles of several large department stores.
Finally the time came for us to go to the birthday shindig. We arrived and, at first, it felt as if the previous three years had not passed. Warm hugs were exchanged all around, everyone commented about how good everyone else looked - a mostly credible claim - and we all went inside. In a few minutes, though, everyone reverted to type and we spent the next couple of hours standing around in our old cliques, talking about old times, comparing everyone's current boyfriend to his former boyfriend and commenting about how everyone really looked. My Philadelphia friend walked around and chatted with members of each different group. This is truly one of his strengths, this ability to mingle amongst various social groups. The other friends and I mostly wondered why we were there.
The friend from Atlanta was in a unique situation from the rest of us, because she was really only friends with me. She knew my friend from Philly, but I was her entree into the group. As we sat, waiting for my New York friend to drag the friend from Philly away from two bears who were card-carrying and pistol-toting NRA members, I said to my friend from Atlanta that this weekend had served as a good reminder of why good things aren't meant to last. The friends from Philly and New York, as well as the one whose birthday we were celebrating, were the last remnants of a large group of friends I hung out with in the middle years of graduate school. These guys were my lifeline during a stretch of my life when I was very uncertain about myself professionally and socially. Having been largely unsuccessful in the dating world, these gay men became like surrogate boyfriends. They provided all of the social benefits of a relationship without any of the physical intimacy. With only a couple of exceptions, that was all I ever wanted from these guys.
We were a tight group, although there were several incidents of drama and tension, including of the sexual variety. (It was 12 gay guys, for pity's sake.) I never knew a closer group of friends, and likely never will again. For many of us coming out is like going through our teenage years all over again. We may be physically older and through with the more embarrassing aspects of pubesence, but we nonetheless have to deal with all the emotional baggage of asserting our own individuality and figuring out the often perilously thin line between platonic attachment and romantic longings.
Eventually the group split up. Petty jealousies, sexual betrayals and rumor mongering set the wheels in motion, but ultimately our careers got in the way. Many of us were students and anticipated moving on to actual employment once our degrees were finished. Others knew that Nashville was only a temporary destination as their occupations required them to relocate or take new jobs in different cities. I was among the last to leave, and I'm glad I stayed around as the most significant relationship of my adult life occurred in the last two years I lived in Nashville, once most of my friends had left the city to start new lives. Eventually a job took me away as well, and here I sit, waiting in the aiport of the city that was home for so long for a flight to the city that I call home now.
Last night was a stark reminder of the message from Robert Frost's poem "Nothing gold can stay." As much as I loved all these guys, I really only see the ones in Philly and New York, and another who now lives in Milwaukee. And there's a reason for this. Joyous times in life are precious and fleeting, and this is what makes them special. It's nice to think that we'll always stay friends with everyone we've ever been friends with, but that's the exception rather than the rule. As I get older losing friends seems less like a tragedy and more like the normal way of things. I have more friends to make in life, and some people whom I currently know and feel close to will fade from my life like the passing of a season. And that's okay.
The friend from the West Coast who threw the birthday party for himself last night admonished us to stay in touch. I hope we will, but I'm not counting on it. Sometimes you just know when it's over. And as I sit in the airport terminal, watching for the plane that will take me back to Chicago, I really feel only one thing.
I feel like it's over.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Weight Tracker - Week 2
Despite having made it to the gym only one day this week, I was greeted by a happy scale this morning.
I've lost another 3 pounds since last week, so I'm very pleased!
I had hoped to post an entry this week about my weight loss story, but other things have taken priority (hello, the Oscars!) I will start that process soon, but as an entrée I'm posting this picture of myself at (approximately) my heaviest. This picture was taken about 3 years ago.
In this picture I weighed over 300 lbs. Black may be slimming, but it's not magic. It would be another year - and another 10 lbs. or so - before I'd actually start the long journey of shedding these excess pounds. Look for the story in the next week!
I've lost another 3 pounds since last week, so I'm very pleased!
I had hoped to post an entry this week about my weight loss story, but other things have taken priority (hello, the Oscars!) I will start that process soon, but as an entrée I'm posting this picture of myself at (approximately) my heaviest. This picture was taken about 3 years ago.
In this picture I weighed over 300 lbs. Black may be slimming, but it's not magic. It would be another year - and another 10 lbs. or so - before I'd actually start the long journey of shedding these excess pounds. Look for the story in the next week!
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Cruelty and Corruption
The proud have derided me cruelly,
but I have not turned from your law.
-Psalm 119:51
This is part of today's Bible reading from the Morning Prayer service of the Daily Office. I admit, I don't often observe the Daily Office, but during Lent I do try to explore ways of adding worship time to my daily life and will sometimes participate in morning or noonday prayer. Today, though, I sought out the daily office because of something I observed on the way to work this morning.
Every morning I take the Red Line train to get from my apartment in Chinatown to the University of Chicago campus. This morning as I was exiting the train at the Garfield station, I noticed two little girls sitting to the right of the door. They were sitting on their knees, facing towards the front of the train so they could see the passing scenery once the train started traveling along its tracks again. As I was stepping onto the platform I noticed that there was a message written on the back of the coat one of the little girls was wearing.
It said, "Sky is dirty."
I didn't really process this message until I was completely off of the train and walking on the platform towards the escalator. It occurred to me that these words were probably written on the coat by another child, a cruel insult to the girl who would be forced to wear this badge of shame every cold day. I can only assume that her parents were unable to launder the message from the coat, and I imagine that the reason she continues to wear this garment is because another winter coat probably isn't something she owns or her family can afford.
I realize I'm making a lot of assumptions here, and I could have misread the entire situation. Nonetheless this whole episode made me start thinking about cruelty. As I pondered cruelty, especially the cruelty of children, I winced to remember acts of cruelty that were perpetrated against me when I was a child, and of things I did and said that were intended to hurt or shame others.
I wondered what - if anything - the readings for the Daily Office might have to say about cruelty, and was intrigued to find the passage from the 119th psalm among the readings for today's morning prayer service. In the psalm the petitioner expresses how joyous it is to follow God's law, even though in doing so he must endure cruelty from those around him. The psalm eventually describes the value of God's law and how trusting in that law will deliver the petitioner into salvation through the Lord.
The recent municipal elections in Chicago, in which Mayor Daley won a sixth term, also got me thinking about cruelty, not to mention trusting in the law. Our mayor won re-election handily, despite the widespread (and, likely accurate) perception that he and his administration are corrupt. It doesn't matter, people have told me, if his administration is corrupt because the city is a cleaner, better place to live in than it was when he first came into office.
If corruption is the price we pay for a nicer city, is that not a price too dear? Someone even told me today with nary a hint of irony that the mayor may be corrupt, but he is fair. To me, that sounds like a convenient bit of double-speak that serves to salve one's conscience. If corruption is what keeps the city functioning, doesn't that require that someone is getting the raw end of the deal? And shouldn't we be concerned about them?
There is a phrase in the confession of sin we recite each week at church where we ask to be forgiven for the sins committed on our behalf. Living better through corruption is a sin committed by others on our behalf, and thus we are culpable for it. We would do well to remember that.
But we may be too cruel even to care.
but I have not turned from your law.
-Psalm 119:51
This is part of today's Bible reading from the Morning Prayer service of the Daily Office. I admit, I don't often observe the Daily Office, but during Lent I do try to explore ways of adding worship time to my daily life and will sometimes participate in morning or noonday prayer. Today, though, I sought out the daily office because of something I observed on the way to work this morning.
Every morning I take the Red Line train to get from my apartment in Chinatown to the University of Chicago campus. This morning as I was exiting the train at the Garfield station, I noticed two little girls sitting to the right of the door. They were sitting on their knees, facing towards the front of the train so they could see the passing scenery once the train started traveling along its tracks again. As I was stepping onto the platform I noticed that there was a message written on the back of the coat one of the little girls was wearing.
It said, "Sky is dirty."
I didn't really process this message until I was completely off of the train and walking on the platform towards the escalator. It occurred to me that these words were probably written on the coat by another child, a cruel insult to the girl who would be forced to wear this badge of shame every cold day. I can only assume that her parents were unable to launder the message from the coat, and I imagine that the reason she continues to wear this garment is because another winter coat probably isn't something she owns or her family can afford.
I realize I'm making a lot of assumptions here, and I could have misread the entire situation. Nonetheless this whole episode made me start thinking about cruelty. As I pondered cruelty, especially the cruelty of children, I winced to remember acts of cruelty that were perpetrated against me when I was a child, and of things I did and said that were intended to hurt or shame others.
I wondered what - if anything - the readings for the Daily Office might have to say about cruelty, and was intrigued to find the passage from the 119th psalm among the readings for today's morning prayer service. In the psalm the petitioner expresses how joyous it is to follow God's law, even though in doing so he must endure cruelty from those around him. The psalm eventually describes the value of God's law and how trusting in that law will deliver the petitioner into salvation through the Lord.
The recent municipal elections in Chicago, in which Mayor Daley won a sixth term, also got me thinking about cruelty, not to mention trusting in the law. Our mayor won re-election handily, despite the widespread (and, likely accurate) perception that he and his administration are corrupt. It doesn't matter, people have told me, if his administration is corrupt because the city is a cleaner, better place to live in than it was when he first came into office.
If corruption is the price we pay for a nicer city, is that not a price too dear? Someone even told me today with nary a hint of irony that the mayor may be corrupt, but he is fair. To me, that sounds like a convenient bit of double-speak that serves to salve one's conscience. If corruption is what keeps the city functioning, doesn't that require that someone is getting the raw end of the deal? And shouldn't we be concerned about them?
There is a phrase in the confession of sin we recite each week at church where we ask to be forgiven for the sins committed on our behalf. Living better through corruption is a sin committed by others on our behalf, and thus we are culpable for it. We would do well to remember that.
But we may be too cruel even to care.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Oscars Results
POST-OSCARS UPDATE:
I have to give some love to my Fug Girls - they have outdone themselves this year by live-blogging the Academy Awards telecast. Part of me wishes I'd known about this ahead of time so I could have followed their antics last night. The more rational part of me - I call him Walter - realizes that seeing it after-the-fact is better because (1) it's a nice recap of the night's events and (2) laughing uncontrollably to the point of apnea is not something you want to do in a room full of people, many of whom you've only just met.
Following an inauspicious start, I wound up placing third in the Oscars poll at the party last night! I correctly predicted winners in 13 categories. Here's a tally of my results:
CORRECT:
ACTOR - LEADING: Forest Whitaker
ACTRESS - LEADING: Helen Mirren
ACTRESS - SUPPORTING: Jennifer Hudson
CINEMATOGRAPHY: Pan's Labyrinth
COSTUME DESIGN: Marie Antoinette
DIRECTING: The Departed
DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: An Inconvenient Truth
ORIGINAL SONG: "I Need to Wake Up" from An Inconvenient Truth
BEST PICTURE: The Departed
SHORT FILM - LIVE ACTION: West Bank Story
SOUND EDITING: Letters from Iwo Jima
VISUAL EFFECTS: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
SCREENPLAY - ORIGINAL: Little Miss Sunshine
INCORRECT (WINNERS IN PARENTHESES):
ACTOR - SUPPORTING: Eddie Murphy (Alan Arkin - fantasy pick)
ANIMATED FEATURE: Monster House (Happy Feet)
ART DIRECTION: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (Pan's Labyrinth)
FILM EDITING: Blood Diamond (The Departed)
FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM: Pan's Labyrinth (The Lives of Others)
MAKEUP: Apocalypto (Pan's Labyrinth)
ORIGINAL SCORE: The Queen (Babel - fantasy pick)
SHORT FILM - ANIMATED: The Little Matchgirl (The Danish Poet)
SOUND MIXING: Flags of Our Fathers (Dreamgirls)
SCREENPLAY - ADAPTED: Notes on a Scandal (The Departed)
I think two that put me over the top (well, the top of the third tier, that is) are Original Song and Short Film - Live Action. I think only two of us predicted that Melissa would win Oscar, and I may have been the only one in our group to pick West Bank Story, which I did simply on a whim because of its similarity to the musical (and film) West Side Story. Ironically, it turns out this short film is exactly what I jokingly thought it would be, a spoof on the musical based in the West Bank of Israel, with Jews and Palestinians replacing the Greasers and the Puerto Ricans. I kinda think I wanna see it now . . .
I will be adding The Departed to my Netflix queue, as promised. In addition to being impressed by how many awards it won, most of the people in attendance last night had seen this film and were very complimentary towards it.
Best moment of the night? When Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas came on-stage to present the Best Director Oscar to Martin Scorsese. In case you missed it, Francis and Steven mused that they were asked to present this award because all three of them had won in this category previously. George Lucas protested that, indeed, he has never won this particular honor. I loudly stated to the television, "There's a reason you haven't won, George," a comment greeted widely with approval from others in the room with me. I felt very vindicated (I think George Lucas is wildly overrated.)
Worst moment of the night? When Celine Dion started singing Ennio Morricone. I detest the former and love the latter. I secretly - okay, openly - hoped that Maestro Morricone would slap Celine Dion squarely across the face when he walked past her. Can someone please explain the concept of phrasing to this woman? And for God's sake, can she buy some consonants to go with all those vowels??
That's it for this year! Now bring on the next slate of nominees!
I have to give some love to my Fug Girls - they have outdone themselves this year by live-blogging the Academy Awards telecast. Part of me wishes I'd known about this ahead of time so I could have followed their antics last night. The more rational part of me - I call him Walter - realizes that seeing it after-the-fact is better because (1) it's a nice recap of the night's events and (2) laughing uncontrollably to the point of apnea is not something you want to do in a room full of people, many of whom you've only just met.
Following an inauspicious start, I wound up placing third in the Oscars poll at the party last night! I correctly predicted winners in 13 categories. Here's a tally of my results:
CORRECT:
ACTOR - LEADING: Forest Whitaker
ACTRESS - LEADING: Helen Mirren
ACTRESS - SUPPORTING: Jennifer Hudson
CINEMATOGRAPHY: Pan's Labyrinth
COSTUME DESIGN: Marie Antoinette
DIRECTING: The Departed
DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: An Inconvenient Truth
ORIGINAL SONG: "I Need to Wake Up" from An Inconvenient Truth
BEST PICTURE: The Departed
SHORT FILM - LIVE ACTION: West Bank Story
SOUND EDITING: Letters from Iwo Jima
VISUAL EFFECTS: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
SCREENPLAY - ORIGINAL: Little Miss Sunshine
INCORRECT (WINNERS IN PARENTHESES):
ACTOR - SUPPORTING: Eddie Murphy (Alan Arkin - fantasy pick)
ANIMATED FEATURE: Monster House (Happy Feet)
ART DIRECTION: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (Pan's Labyrinth)
FILM EDITING: Blood Diamond (The Departed)
FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM: Pan's Labyrinth (The Lives of Others)
MAKEUP: Apocalypto (Pan's Labyrinth)
ORIGINAL SCORE: The Queen (Babel - fantasy pick)
SHORT FILM - ANIMATED: The Little Matchgirl (The Danish Poet)
SOUND MIXING: Flags of Our Fathers (Dreamgirls)
SCREENPLAY - ADAPTED: Notes on a Scandal (The Departed)
I think two that put me over the top (well, the top of the third tier, that is) are Original Song and Short Film - Live Action. I think only two of us predicted that Melissa would win Oscar, and I may have been the only one in our group to pick West Bank Story, which I did simply on a whim because of its similarity to the musical (and film) West Side Story. Ironically, it turns out this short film is exactly what I jokingly thought it would be, a spoof on the musical based in the West Bank of Israel, with Jews and Palestinians replacing the Greasers and the Puerto Ricans. I kinda think I wanna see it now . . .
I will be adding The Departed to my Netflix queue, as promised. In addition to being impressed by how many awards it won, most of the people in attendance last night had seen this film and were very complimentary towards it.
Best moment of the night? When Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas came on-stage to present the Best Director Oscar to Martin Scorsese. In case you missed it, Francis and Steven mused that they were asked to present this award because all three of them had won in this category previously. George Lucas protested that, indeed, he has never won this particular honor. I loudly stated to the television, "There's a reason you haven't won, George," a comment greeted widely with approval from others in the room with me. I felt very vindicated (I think George Lucas is wildly overrated.)
Worst moment of the night? When Celine Dion started singing Ennio Morricone. I detest the former and love the latter. I secretly - okay, openly - hoped that Maestro Morricone would slap Celine Dion squarely across the face when he walked past her. Can someone please explain the concept of phrasing to this woman? And for God's sake, can she buy some consonants to go with all those vowels??
That's it for this year! Now bring on the next slate of nominees!
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Happy Gay High Holy Day!
I'll be attending an Oscars party tonight because, well, we're pretty much required to (it's in the Gay By-Laws). In all honesty I'm really looking forward to the party because it's a great bunch of people and I think a good time will ensue. One of the de rigeur activities at any Oscars party worth its salt is a pool for predicting the winners. I hold out little chance of winning, since I'm horrible at predicting Oscar winners (Reese Witherspoon?) and I've seen about four movies in the past year, including The Last King of Scotland last night (BTW - underwhelmed).
Here are my picks, both as on my ballot and my "fantasy" picks:
ACTOR - LEADING:
Forest Whitaker is my poll pick because the buzz is totally on him, and for the past few years this category's been pretty predictable. My fantasy? Hard to say since I saw none of the other nominated performances, but I heard great things about Ryan Gosling in Half Nelson
ACTRESS - LEADING:
This category is a bit dicier (again, Reese Witherspoon?), but I'm going with the safe bet of Helen Mirren. I mean, I love Meryl Streep, and hers is the only performance of the five that I actually saw, but come on. The woman won her only leading actress Oscar for Sophie's Choice, despite all the wonderful acting she's done over the years. I doubt Miranda will put her over the top for statuette number two. The darkhorse here is probably Kate Winslet, although I think the best competition for Helen will come from Penelope Cruz.
ACTOR - SUPPORTING:
I picked Eddie Murphy, again going with the safe bet. I would love to see Alan Arkin take it, but frankly I don't think it's gonna happen.
ACTRESS - SUPPORTING:
Have to support the hometown girl and pick Jennifer Hudson. See also the "safe bet" argument above. Loved Abigail Breslin in Little Miss Sunshine, but she's no Tatum O'Neal. (That's a good thing, folks.)
ANIMATED FEATURE:
This one is a real dilemma, because by all accounts at least two of these movies sucked wind, thus I'm going with Monster House because it (supposedly) sucked the least.
ART DIRECTION:
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. Why? I don't know. I'd love to see The Prestige take this one, but I just remember that the last time a PotC movie was up it took a sizeable chunk of these awards.
CINEMATOGRAPHY:
Pan's Labyrinth. This movie has gotten such praise, and everyone that I know who's seen it has raved about it both as a movie and as a piece of visual artistry. I just don't see any of the others taking this award.
COSTUME DESIGN:
When in doubt, I always go for the period piece, so Marie Antoinette it is. I'd love to see The Devil Wears Prada take it, because it would be so campy.
DIRECTING:
The Departed is the heavy fave, so I think I'm gonna go with the word on the street and put my money behind Mr. Scorsese.
DOCUMENTARY FEATURE:
An Inconvenient Truth. My inconvenient truth? I've seen none of these, and this is the pick from the New York Times' Carpetbagger.
FILM EDITING:
I hate to be dismissive, but since I've seen none of these films I really can't make an educated guess. I'm gonna be boring and go with "B", which happens to be Blood Diamond, because I haven't picked a lot of "B"s yet. Hey, it worked for the SAT!
FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM:
Pan's Labyrinth: the Times picked The Lives of Others but did heap heavy praise on all the nominees, implying that this is where the true battle for Best Picture lies.
MAKEUP:
Again I'm going period and picking Apocalypto. Perhaps Mel Gibson will arrive sober and carrying his shiny new ADL membership card.
ORIGINAL SCORE:
As a musician, it's so hard for me to pick this winner without having heard any of the nominees. Based on composers, I'd love for Gustavo Santoalla to win for Babel because I just adore his music. For the non-cognoscenti among you, he scored Brokeback Mountain, and won the Oscar last year for Original Score. Sadly, I doubt he'll win back-to-back, so I'm going to go with The Queen because, well . . . moving on . . .
ORIGINAL SONG:
With three songs nominated from Dreamgirls I'm going out on a limb and picking "I Need to Wake Up" from An Inconvenient Truth. I mean, it's Melissa Etheridge and it's a song from a documentary, for Christ's sakes! How off the wall is that? This one, incidentally, I'm pretty sure I'll get totally wrong.
BEST PICTURE:
I saw exactly one of these nominees, and I guarantee it's the one with the longest shot of winning: Little Miss Sunshine. Frankly, as much as I enjoyed it, Best Picture material it really ain't, so I'm again taking the "safe bet" cue and picking The Departed. And if it wins the gold it's supposed to win tonight, I think I am gonna have to put this particular film at the top of my Netflix queue.
SHORT FILM - ANIMATED
Oh, God, who in the Hell cares? I'll pick "C" - The Little Matchgirl.
SHORT FILM - LIVE ACTION
West Bank Story. Does Tony die at the end of this one, too?
SOUND EDITING:
Letters from Iwo Jima: Always pick the war film for techie sound awards.
SOUND MIXING:
Flags of Our Fathers: See above.
VISUAL EFFECTS:
Pirates. For the love of Pete, it's competing against Poseidon and Superman Returns. If either of those wins then I'll go and eat Kryptonite on a sinking cruise ship.
SCREENPLAY - ADAPTED:
I'm going out on a limb here and picking Notes on a Scandal, even though I think that Borat is the fan fave and The Departed is the street pick. What can I say, I'm just a born risk-taker.
SCREENPLAY - ORIGINAL
Little Miss Sunshine had better win this one, because it does deserve to walk away with something for being one of the most well rounded films to come down the pike in a while.
That's it! I'll post an update on Monday and let you know how I did in the pool. But for now, let's roll out the red carpet and let the trash talking begin!
Here are my picks, both as on my ballot and my "fantasy" picks:
ACTOR - LEADING:
Forest Whitaker is my poll pick because the buzz is totally on him, and for the past few years this category's been pretty predictable. My fantasy? Hard to say since I saw none of the other nominated performances, but I heard great things about Ryan Gosling in Half Nelson
ACTRESS - LEADING:
This category is a bit dicier (again, Reese Witherspoon?), but I'm going with the safe bet of Helen Mirren. I mean, I love Meryl Streep, and hers is the only performance of the five that I actually saw, but come on. The woman won her only leading actress Oscar for Sophie's Choice, despite all the wonderful acting she's done over the years. I doubt Miranda will put her over the top for statuette number two. The darkhorse here is probably Kate Winslet, although I think the best competition for Helen will come from Penelope Cruz.
ACTOR - SUPPORTING:
I picked Eddie Murphy, again going with the safe bet. I would love to see Alan Arkin take it, but frankly I don't think it's gonna happen.
ACTRESS - SUPPORTING:
Have to support the hometown girl and pick Jennifer Hudson. See also the "safe bet" argument above. Loved Abigail Breslin in Little Miss Sunshine, but she's no Tatum O'Neal. (That's a good thing, folks.)
ANIMATED FEATURE:
This one is a real dilemma, because by all accounts at least two of these movies sucked wind, thus I'm going with Monster House because it (supposedly) sucked the least.
ART DIRECTION:
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. Why? I don't know. I'd love to see The Prestige take this one, but I just remember that the last time a PotC movie was up it took a sizeable chunk of these awards.
CINEMATOGRAPHY:
Pan's Labyrinth. This movie has gotten such praise, and everyone that I know who's seen it has raved about it both as a movie and as a piece of visual artistry. I just don't see any of the others taking this award.
COSTUME DESIGN:
When in doubt, I always go for the period piece, so Marie Antoinette it is. I'd love to see The Devil Wears Prada take it, because it would be so campy.
DIRECTING:
The Departed is the heavy fave, so I think I'm gonna go with the word on the street and put my money behind Mr. Scorsese.
DOCUMENTARY FEATURE:
An Inconvenient Truth. My inconvenient truth? I've seen none of these, and this is the pick from the New York Times' Carpetbagger.
FILM EDITING:
I hate to be dismissive, but since I've seen none of these films I really can't make an educated guess. I'm gonna be boring and go with "B", which happens to be Blood Diamond, because I haven't picked a lot of "B"s yet. Hey, it worked for the SAT!
FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM:
Pan's Labyrinth: the Times picked The Lives of Others but did heap heavy praise on all the nominees, implying that this is where the true battle for Best Picture lies.
MAKEUP:
Again I'm going period and picking Apocalypto. Perhaps Mel Gibson will arrive sober and carrying his shiny new ADL membership card.
ORIGINAL SCORE:
As a musician, it's so hard for me to pick this winner without having heard any of the nominees. Based on composers, I'd love for Gustavo Santoalla to win for Babel because I just adore his music. For the non-cognoscenti among you, he scored Brokeback Mountain, and won the Oscar last year for Original Score. Sadly, I doubt he'll win back-to-back, so I'm going to go with The Queen because, well . . . moving on . . .
ORIGINAL SONG:
With three songs nominated from Dreamgirls I'm going out on a limb and picking "I Need to Wake Up" from An Inconvenient Truth. I mean, it's Melissa Etheridge and it's a song from a documentary, for Christ's sakes! How off the wall is that? This one, incidentally, I'm pretty sure I'll get totally wrong.
BEST PICTURE:
I saw exactly one of these nominees, and I guarantee it's the one with the longest shot of winning: Little Miss Sunshine. Frankly, as much as I enjoyed it, Best Picture material it really ain't, so I'm again taking the "safe bet" cue and picking The Departed. And if it wins the gold it's supposed to win tonight, I think I am gonna have to put this particular film at the top of my Netflix queue.
SHORT FILM - ANIMATED
Oh, God, who in the Hell cares? I'll pick "C" - The Little Matchgirl.
SHORT FILM - LIVE ACTION
West Bank Story. Does Tony die at the end of this one, too?
SOUND EDITING:
Letters from Iwo Jima: Always pick the war film for techie sound awards.
SOUND MIXING:
Flags of Our Fathers: See above.
VISUAL EFFECTS:
Pirates. For the love of Pete, it's competing against Poseidon and Superman Returns. If either of those wins then I'll go and eat Kryptonite on a sinking cruise ship.
SCREENPLAY - ADAPTED:
I'm going out on a limb here and picking Notes on a Scandal, even though I think that Borat is the fan fave and The Departed is the street pick. What can I say, I'm just a born risk-taker.
SCREENPLAY - ORIGINAL
Little Miss Sunshine had better win this one, because it does deserve to walk away with something for being one of the most well rounded films to come down the pike in a while.
That's it! I'll post an update on Monday and let you know how I did in the pool. But for now, let's roll out the red carpet and let the trash talking begin!
Saturday, February 24, 2007
We're Here, We're Anglican, Get Over It
When I scanned the front page of the New York Times on Tuesday morning, I was drawn to two articles because of their striking images. The first was at the bottom of the page:
This image features The Most Rev'd. Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury (right) and The Most Rev'd. Donald Mtetemela, Archbishop of Tanzania. The image accompanied a news story discussing the recent Anglican Primates Meeting in Tanzania. At this meeting, the majority of Anglican primates rebuked the Episcopal Church in the United States for their ordination of the Rt. Rev'd. Gene Robinson, Bishop of New Hampshire and for their continuing blessing of same-sex unions.
The second image that struck me, and frankly gave me a bit of an uplift, was this one:
These two ordinary guys in New Jersey are registering for a license to have their union recognized by the State of New Jersey, which on Monday became only the fourth state in the union to recognize either civil unions or same-sex marriage.
These images and their accompanying articles bring into peculiar relief the huge chasm that exists in the cultural attitudes towards homosexuality - or, more to the point, non-heterosexuality - between the United States and nations of the global south. The latter grouping includes the vast majority of the worldwide Anglican communion. Being so great in number and influence, the primates who lead the constituent churches of the Anglican Communion in the global south, especially in Africa and Southeast Asia, have this week stomped their feet once again to rebuke the Episcopal Church in the United States for promoting the utterly ridiculous idea that non-heterosexuals are fully realized members of the body of Christ.
There's been a smattering of comment on this week's meeting from many sources, most of it coming from jubilant conservatives within the Episcopal Church. And who can blame them? I mean, I could hardly wipe the smile off of my face on Nov. 8 last year. Throughout this three-and-a-half year ordeal since Gene Robinson's election was assented to by GenCon, there have been two clear and consistent messages. The first is that the Anglican Communion was committed to listening and discerning the best way forward such that all the different factions could remain in communion with each other. The second is that the conservative churches within the communion would accept nothing less than a full renunciation of Gene Robinson's election - and possibly nothing short of a defrocking - as well as a moratorium on same-sex blessings.
Well, folks, we've gotten none of the first and seemingly half of the second. Anyone care to place bets on how this is going to continue to play out?
I've spouted a lot about this particular insanity in private conversations, and frankly I'm sick of the sound of my own voice. I have too many other things going on in my life to expend any more energy fighting these ridiculous men, some of whom wouldn't even deign to celebrate communion with our Presiding Bishop, the Most Rev'd. Katharine Jefferts Schori. So much for everyone staying in communion; these guys won't even take communion with us, much less stay in communion with us!
I'm not a theologian. I'm a scientist and I'm a pragmatist (I'm sure one led to the other, but I'm not sure in which order). I therefore approach this situation from that perspective. Here's what I see: Clearly there are a good number of folks worldwide, within and without the Anglican Communion, who don't really desire to be in communion with me, or at least not the version of me that lives fully and proudly as a homosexual man. And here's what I'm left with: There is one and only one thing more important than maintaining the order and familial bonds of the Anglican Communion, and that is maintaining the full dignity and humanity of every member of the body of Christ. Frankly if surrendering my own sense of self-worth as well as the hopes, dreams and callings of the next generation of gay men and lesbians who wish to have their unions blessed by their church or who aspire to be priests and bishops is the price that has to be paid to remain in "full communion," then I say to Hell with it. Kick me out of the club.
But I will - and pay attention to this, kittens - I will still show up.
You can ex-communionize me and the Episcopal Church all you want, I'm not leaving. I'll be the one standing outside with the basket of muffins. (I mean, what is church without coffee hour treats?) I'll watch, and I'll pray, and I'll work towards the Millenium Development Goals and I will revel and glory in all the wonderment and grace that is God's eternal love for us as made manifest through His son, Jesus Christ Our Lord.
So just stick that in your miter and bless it.
This image features The Most Rev'd. Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury (right) and The Most Rev'd. Donald Mtetemela, Archbishop of Tanzania. The image accompanied a news story discussing the recent Anglican Primates Meeting in Tanzania. At this meeting, the majority of Anglican primates rebuked the Episcopal Church in the United States for their ordination of the Rt. Rev'd. Gene Robinson, Bishop of New Hampshire and for their continuing blessing of same-sex unions.
The second image that struck me, and frankly gave me a bit of an uplift, was this one:
These two ordinary guys in New Jersey are registering for a license to have their union recognized by the State of New Jersey, which on Monday became only the fourth state in the union to recognize either civil unions or same-sex marriage.
These images and their accompanying articles bring into peculiar relief the huge chasm that exists in the cultural attitudes towards homosexuality - or, more to the point, non-heterosexuality - between the United States and nations of the global south. The latter grouping includes the vast majority of the worldwide Anglican communion. Being so great in number and influence, the primates who lead the constituent churches of the Anglican Communion in the global south, especially in Africa and Southeast Asia, have this week stomped their feet once again to rebuke the Episcopal Church in the United States for promoting the utterly ridiculous idea that non-heterosexuals are fully realized members of the body of Christ.
There's been a smattering of comment on this week's meeting from many sources, most of it coming from jubilant conservatives within the Episcopal Church. And who can blame them? I mean, I could hardly wipe the smile off of my face on Nov. 8 last year. Throughout this three-and-a-half year ordeal since Gene Robinson's election was assented to by GenCon, there have been two clear and consistent messages. The first is that the Anglican Communion was committed to listening and discerning the best way forward such that all the different factions could remain in communion with each other. The second is that the conservative churches within the communion would accept nothing less than a full renunciation of Gene Robinson's election - and possibly nothing short of a defrocking - as well as a moratorium on same-sex blessings.
Well, folks, we've gotten none of the first and seemingly half of the second. Anyone care to place bets on how this is going to continue to play out?
I've spouted a lot about this particular insanity in private conversations, and frankly I'm sick of the sound of my own voice. I have too many other things going on in my life to expend any more energy fighting these ridiculous men, some of whom wouldn't even deign to celebrate communion with our Presiding Bishop, the Most Rev'd. Katharine Jefferts Schori. So much for everyone staying in communion; these guys won't even take communion with us, much less stay in communion with us!
I'm not a theologian. I'm a scientist and I'm a pragmatist (I'm sure one led to the other, but I'm not sure in which order). I therefore approach this situation from that perspective. Here's what I see: Clearly there are a good number of folks worldwide, within and without the Anglican Communion, who don't really desire to be in communion with me, or at least not the version of me that lives fully and proudly as a homosexual man. And here's what I'm left with: There is one and only one thing more important than maintaining the order and familial bonds of the Anglican Communion, and that is maintaining the full dignity and humanity of every member of the body of Christ. Frankly if surrendering my own sense of self-worth as well as the hopes, dreams and callings of the next generation of gay men and lesbians who wish to have their unions blessed by their church or who aspire to be priests and bishops is the price that has to be paid to remain in "full communion," then I say to Hell with it. Kick me out of the club.
But I will - and pay attention to this, kittens - I will still show up.
You can ex-communionize me and the Episcopal Church all you want, I'm not leaving. I'll be the one standing outside with the basket of muffins. (I mean, what is church without coffee hour treats?) I'll watch, and I'll pray, and I'll work towards the Millenium Development Goals and I will revel and glory in all the wonderment and grace that is God's eternal love for us as made manifest through His son, Jesus Christ Our Lord.
So just stick that in your miter and bless it.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Weight Tracker - Week 1
I stepped onto the scale this morning and was greeted by the loss of 1.5 pounds. Considering that I had a healthy Mardi Gras weekend (which means I ate like a condemned pig), this is encouraging! Here are the data:
As promised, there are no absolute weight values (yet). It's all about trend, folks!
For next week's update I'll have been back on my regimen for over a week. If things happen as they did the last time I got strict I expect to lose at least three pounds by next Friday. If I don't I won't be crestfallen, though. Between now and then I'll begin telling the story of my lifelong struggles with weight. But not today - I've gotta work for a living!
As promised, there are no absolute weight values (yet). It's all about trend, folks!
For next week's update I'll have been back on my regimen for over a week. If things happen as they did the last time I got strict I expect to lose at least three pounds by next Friday. If I don't I won't be crestfallen, though. Between now and then I'll begin telling the story of my lifelong struggles with weight. But not today - I've gotta work for a living!
Thursday, February 22, 2007
I Look Really Good for My Age
I decided to throw some fresh paint on the old blog since I'm shaking things up a bit. The first thing I did was upgrade to the "new" Blogger that is linked to my Gmail account. I guess it offers all sorts of new features and whoopdee-doo things (the details can be found here), and eventually as I have time (ha) I'll explore them and see just how big a waste of time they all are. Figuring I'd start small and then get progressively more daring, I thought it might be nice to try a new template. Certainly with the "new" Blogger there might be, oh, I don't know, new templates?
Apparently not.
Indeed, the same old templates that were around the last time I upgraded are still around. One day maybe I'll become proficient enough at web design to make my own template. For now, I've decided to choose something that fulfills the criterion of being different than what I had. We'll see how long it takes for me to grow bored with it.
Before I upgraded, I was warned that changes I'd made in my original template might be lost. I figured, no problem, I can always get those back. Sure enough, when I previewed the new page some things had been retained and others lost. And, yes, I was able to replace everything that was lost. When I checked out my profile, however, I was a bit taken aback by what I had lost there -- namely 217 years:
Yes, my friends, according to my profile, I'm 250 years old. But check out the picture -- I mean, am I holding up well or what?
I'm not sure how that happened, really. I assume it was a glitch with the upgrade to the "new" Blogger. Just to ease my mind, I think I'll call Satan, just to make sure I haven't forgotten about some pact I might have signed several years ago . . .
Tomorrow is the first weight update! I hope you're excited! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and make sure that I don't have any American flags tucked away that have only 13 stars and labels that say, "From the Workshop of Betsy Ross."
Apparently not.
Indeed, the same old templates that were around the last time I upgraded are still around. One day maybe I'll become proficient enough at web design to make my own template. For now, I've decided to choose something that fulfills the criterion of being different than what I had. We'll see how long it takes for me to grow bored with it.
Before I upgraded, I was warned that changes I'd made in my original template might be lost. I figured, no problem, I can always get those back. Sure enough, when I previewed the new page some things had been retained and others lost. And, yes, I was able to replace everything that was lost. When I checked out my profile, however, I was a bit taken aback by what I had lost there -- namely 217 years:
Yes, my friends, according to my profile, I'm 250 years old. But check out the picture -- I mean, am I holding up well or what?
I'm not sure how that happened, really. I assume it was a glitch with the upgrade to the "new" Blogger. Just to ease my mind, I think I'll call Satan, just to make sure I haven't forgotten about some pact I might have signed several years ago . . .
Tomorrow is the first weight update! I hope you're excited! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and make sure that I don't have any American flags tucked away that have only 13 stars and labels that say, "From the Workshop of Betsy Ross."
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Weighed Down
I've been pretty silent on the blog for the past several months, primarily due to how busy I've been at work and with my other commitments. I've been particularly tired when I get home in the evening, and that's prevented me from becoming inspired enough to pop open the laptop and type up events from my day or opinions on current events. I feel no desire to fill this space with prattle. There are a few of you out there who read this, and I hate to disappoint.
It occurred to me recently that a big part of my fatigue has come from the fact that I haven't been treating myself very well for the past few months. I've put on a little weight (not much, less than 10 pounds) and I haven't been going to the gym nearly enough. This is a path I've traveled down before. I know I need to turn around, because I don't like the destination.
Today is Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of the liturgical season of Lent. As Lent is a time of preparation, I'm going to use this time to prepare myself for living the remainder of my life as a healthier, more active person. I've already gone a long ways towards that goal -- I've lost in excess of 90 pounds in the past two years. I still have 40 pounds to go before I reach my goal, and it's been hard to push myself towards getting that last bit of weight off.
As part of my usual Lenten disciplines of abstaining from meat and alcohol and fasting once a week, I've added two more disciplines. The first is that I'm giving up watching all broadcast television. Since I don't have cable, this means pretty much all TV. I will still allow myself to watch DVDs. I will not allow myself to watch episodes of currently airing programs on the internet; that feels like cheating to me. I am also exercising my right not to observe this Lenten discipline on Sunday so that I can watch the Oscars. (Sundays are feast days and as such do not require adherence to Lenten fasts. Don't believe me? Look it up.)
The second part - and the part which involves you, dear reader - is that I am committing myself to losing weight during the season of Lent. Not eating meat or drinking alcohol will certainly help. However, I feel I also need a little culpability. That's where you come in. I am hereby committing myself to updating this blog at least once a week with information on my weight loss. Starting Friday I will post a graph charting my weight. Each week I'll post an updated chart so everyone can see how my weight is trending. Because I believe in a certain level of mystery I won't publish my actual weight. The important thing is that the trendline moves downward over successive weeks, not the actual values that the trendline represents.
I am also going to start writing a series of blog entries chronicling my weight loss for the past two years. If others enjoy reading this, or are even inspired to pursue weight loss or other personal improvements because of it, then I will be immensely flattered and grateful. That being said, I am primarily doing this for myself. I want to show myself how far I've come in this time, and to remind myself why I never want to go back to the physical form I had. It has been hard for me to appreciate how different I look now than I did when I started this trek in spring of 2005. I think this is a common problem amongst people who have poor body image, and I certainly count myself among that group. I'm pretty sure that even if my body were model perfect then I'd only focus on whatever imperfections, no matter how small, I could find. As part of my blog entries I'm going to publish some pictures of myself that have been taken over the past three years. Even I find the difference striking.
I wish everyone a blessed Lenten season in anticipation of the glory of Easter. Until then, I'll see you in cyberspace!
It occurred to me recently that a big part of my fatigue has come from the fact that I haven't been treating myself very well for the past few months. I've put on a little weight (not much, less than 10 pounds) and I haven't been going to the gym nearly enough. This is a path I've traveled down before. I know I need to turn around, because I don't like the destination.
Today is Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of the liturgical season of Lent. As Lent is a time of preparation, I'm going to use this time to prepare myself for living the remainder of my life as a healthier, more active person. I've already gone a long ways towards that goal -- I've lost in excess of 90 pounds in the past two years. I still have 40 pounds to go before I reach my goal, and it's been hard to push myself towards getting that last bit of weight off.
As part of my usual Lenten disciplines of abstaining from meat and alcohol and fasting once a week, I've added two more disciplines. The first is that I'm giving up watching all broadcast television. Since I don't have cable, this means pretty much all TV. I will still allow myself to watch DVDs. I will not allow myself to watch episodes of currently airing programs on the internet; that feels like cheating to me. I am also exercising my right not to observe this Lenten discipline on Sunday so that I can watch the Oscars. (Sundays are feast days and as such do not require adherence to Lenten fasts. Don't believe me? Look it up.)
The second part - and the part which involves you, dear reader - is that I am committing myself to losing weight during the season of Lent. Not eating meat or drinking alcohol will certainly help. However, I feel I also need a little culpability. That's where you come in. I am hereby committing myself to updating this blog at least once a week with information on my weight loss. Starting Friday I will post a graph charting my weight. Each week I'll post an updated chart so everyone can see how my weight is trending. Because I believe in a certain level of mystery I won't publish my actual weight. The important thing is that the trendline moves downward over successive weeks, not the actual values that the trendline represents.
I am also going to start writing a series of blog entries chronicling my weight loss for the past two years. If others enjoy reading this, or are even inspired to pursue weight loss or other personal improvements because of it, then I will be immensely flattered and grateful. That being said, I am primarily doing this for myself. I want to show myself how far I've come in this time, and to remind myself why I never want to go back to the physical form I had. It has been hard for me to appreciate how different I look now than I did when I started this trek in spring of 2005. I think this is a common problem amongst people who have poor body image, and I certainly count myself among that group. I'm pretty sure that even if my body were model perfect then I'd only focus on whatever imperfections, no matter how small, I could find. As part of my blog entries I'm going to publish some pictures of myself that have been taken over the past three years. Even I find the difference striking.
I wish everyone a blessed Lenten season in anticipation of the glory of Easter. Until then, I'll see you in cyberspace!
Monday, December 25, 2006
The other night I was walking to church . . .
. . . from Harper Square. (For the uninitiated, this is an open pedestrian walkway/shopping complex in Hyde Park.) I had just eaten dinner with a friend at the Dixie Kitchen and (swear) Bait Shop. My arms were full of packages I'd received from my family via UPS to open up on Christmas Day. My pace was leisurely because I was uncharacteristically running on time, even early, for my choir rehearsal. There was nothing particularly remarkable about this evening, except for this: I was smiling.
I was smiling walking down Harper Ave., still smiling as I turned to walk west along Hyde Park Blvd., and then even as I walked north along Blackstone Ave. I was smiling.
Something changed on Thursday. I don't know what or how or why, but I don't care. It's a good change, and I'll tell you why.
A few months back, when the weather was a bit warmer, I was walking along Ellis Ave. from the zebrafish facility back to my lab. The temperature was pleasant and the sky overcast just enough to allow sun through the clouds without blinding not wearing sunglasses. All in all, it was a perfectly lovely moment in time. I was in a relatively good place with work, I was dating a perfectly nice boy and I was feeling in pretty good health.
Then a voice cried out, "Why you look so upset?" The disembodied voice soon revealed its corporeal form in a (seemingly) homeless man. I could only guess his age as "old" given his weathered face, although I know that living in desperate situations without access to adequate nutrition and healthcare can prematurely age a person. I think a more accurate description would be "older than I".
"If I was as young as you," the man continued, "I sure wouldn't walk around looking so upset."
Wow.
Do I really walk around looking upset? I guess I actually do, or at least I did that day. Shortly after that happened, things got a little rocky with work and in my dating life, as happens. But I let it get me down, and I couldn't shake that guy's voice in my head, "Why you look so upset?"
The sad truth was, I didn't know why, and I still don't.
It would be a lie to say that I've obsessed about this event every day since it happened. But I have been in a funk for a while now, and it's worried me a lot. But something wonderful happened on Thursday. I was walking down the street and smiling, and I wasn't even trying. I didn't consciously say, "Dammit, you're going to smile and have a good time whether you want to or not!" It just happened, and it's happened every day since. It won't be permanent, I know, but I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts. It is precious to me because it's a reminder that in life all things pass, both the good things and the bad. It seems sometimes like there are a lot more of the bad things, but I think that's not really true for most of us. I know upon rational examination that it's not true for me.
So today, on Christmas Day, I'm going to keep smiling. I kept smiling when I opened my "mystery" package from my mother, and it was two seasons of Golden Girls on DVD -- that I already own. I kept smiling when I opened the gift from my friend Kim, a beautiful martini glass-shaped Christmas ornament that was in about four pieces. I kept smiling when I discovered my cat would only play with his expensive new mechanized mouse toy when the motor was turned off, making it about $18 more expensive than it needed to be.
I am going to keep smiling because I have a wonderful family who are enjoying Christmas lunch right now, as I type this, in North Carolina. I can't be with them this year, for the first time in my entire life. But they're all safe and healthy and beautiful. I'm smiling because my friend Elizabeth called me today and I haven't talked to her since last Christmas.
And I'm going to smile because this happened on Christmas Eve many, many years ago:
In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled. This was the first enrollment, when Quirin'i-us was governor of Syria. And all went to be enrolled, each to his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to be delivered. And she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. And in that region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear. And the angel said to them, "Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!"
Best wishes for a Merry Christmas!
I was smiling walking down Harper Ave., still smiling as I turned to walk west along Hyde Park Blvd., and then even as I walked north along Blackstone Ave. I was smiling.
Something changed on Thursday. I don't know what or how or why, but I don't care. It's a good change, and I'll tell you why.
A few months back, when the weather was a bit warmer, I was walking along Ellis Ave. from the zebrafish facility back to my lab. The temperature was pleasant and the sky overcast just enough to allow sun through the clouds without blinding not wearing sunglasses. All in all, it was a perfectly lovely moment in time. I was in a relatively good place with work, I was dating a perfectly nice boy and I was feeling in pretty good health.
Then a voice cried out, "Why you look so upset?" The disembodied voice soon revealed its corporeal form in a (seemingly) homeless man. I could only guess his age as "old" given his weathered face, although I know that living in desperate situations without access to adequate nutrition and healthcare can prematurely age a person. I think a more accurate description would be "older than I".
"If I was as young as you," the man continued, "I sure wouldn't walk around looking so upset."
Wow.
Do I really walk around looking upset? I guess I actually do, or at least I did that day. Shortly after that happened, things got a little rocky with work and in my dating life, as happens. But I let it get me down, and I couldn't shake that guy's voice in my head, "Why you look so upset?"
The sad truth was, I didn't know why, and I still don't.
It would be a lie to say that I've obsessed about this event every day since it happened. But I have been in a funk for a while now, and it's worried me a lot. But something wonderful happened on Thursday. I was walking down the street and smiling, and I wasn't even trying. I didn't consciously say, "Dammit, you're going to smile and have a good time whether you want to or not!" It just happened, and it's happened every day since. It won't be permanent, I know, but I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts. It is precious to me because it's a reminder that in life all things pass, both the good things and the bad. It seems sometimes like there are a lot more of the bad things, but I think that's not really true for most of us. I know upon rational examination that it's not true for me.
So today, on Christmas Day, I'm going to keep smiling. I kept smiling when I opened my "mystery" package from my mother, and it was two seasons of Golden Girls on DVD -- that I already own. I kept smiling when I opened the gift from my friend Kim, a beautiful martini glass-shaped Christmas ornament that was in about four pieces. I kept smiling when I discovered my cat would only play with his expensive new mechanized mouse toy when the motor was turned off, making it about $18 more expensive than it needed to be.
I am going to keep smiling because I have a wonderful family who are enjoying Christmas lunch right now, as I type this, in North Carolina. I can't be with them this year, for the first time in my entire life. But they're all safe and healthy and beautiful. I'm smiling because my friend Elizabeth called me today and I haven't talked to her since last Christmas.
And I'm going to smile because this happened on Christmas Eve many, many years ago:
In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled. This was the first enrollment, when Quirin'i-us was governor of Syria. And all went to be enrolled, each to his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to be delivered. And she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. And in that region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear. And the angel said to them, "Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!"
Best wishes for a Merry Christmas!
Saturday, December 02, 2006
So Much to Say
It's been a really long time since I've posted anything on here. There are a lot of reasons for my incommunicado state, but one is of ultimate importance.
I'm not ready to share what's going on in my life with the world right now.
Nothing earth-shattering has happened. No one has died, there's been no significant illness, and I'm still employed. And it's certainly not the case that I haven't had anything to write about. Lots of things have happened that are worthy of blog entries -- relationships, football, the start of basketball, the firing of Chuck Amato -- but I'm just not ready to share my thoughts about them. I'm a little too wrapped up in my own issues right now to produce anything thoughtful and worthy of purview by others. I hope that will change in the near future.
I'm not ready to share what's going on in my life with the world right now.
Nothing earth-shattering has happened. No one has died, there's been no significant illness, and I'm still employed. And it's certainly not the case that I haven't had anything to write about. Lots of things have happened that are worthy of blog entries -- relationships, football, the start of basketball, the firing of Chuck Amato -- but I'm just not ready to share my thoughts about them. I'm a little too wrapped up in my own issues right now to produce anything thoughtful and worthy of purview by others. I hope that will change in the near future.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Football Season So Far
So far, it's not been a banner season for any of my teams.
The good news for the NC State Wolfpack football team is their ACC record (1-0) and their record against ranked teams (1-0). Any scientist worth her salt will tell you, however, that an n of 1 is meaningless. The big picture for my Pack is their overall record (2-2) and their record against Division I-AA teams (1-2).
I was willing to chalk up our loss to the University of Akron Zips -- and doesn't it just make it that much worse when you lose to a team called the "Zips"? -- to random chance. I could even go so far as to call it a necessary balance to the karmic scales from my freshman year. In that year, one of the best Wolfpack football years in recent memory, we went 9-3 and earned a berth in the Peach Bowl. We unfortunately lost to East Carolina University in an embarrassing 4th quarter debacle, but during that season we had some incredible wins. One of those was against the Thundering Herd of Marshall. After an onside kick, a controversial call went our way and we salvaged our season from the ignominy of losing to a I-AA team. (Marshall didn't return to I-A status until 1997.) Maybe our loss to Akron was written in the stars.
But the very next week we lost to Central Michigan by 20 points. Now we'd lost two games to I-AA teams. Two! It was just more than I could bear. Unable to win against these "easy" opponents, I held out little hope for a win against our next opponent -- the 20th ranked, Division I-A Boston College Eagles. Worse, it would be a conference loss since BC joined the ACC a couple of seasons back.
My cell phone is supposed to receive a text message with the final score after every NC State football game, but for some reason I didn't receive one last night. I honestly figured it was just God's way of sparing my feelings. So last night, having returned home from a lovely date, I braced myself and checked what I presumed would be the lopsided score against BC.
To say I was shocked that we beat BC 17-15 is quite an understatement. Then I found out that we won playing a redshirt sophomore quarterback. Holy Shit, what does that say about our recruiting? And that's not to take one iota of credit away from Daniel Evans. From the reports I've read online, he did a helluva job.
I think maybe the football players have decided they don't want Chuck Amato to be without a job. If they can continue to amaze us on the gridiron like they did yesterday in the next few weeks when we face other tough opponents, like Florida State and Wake Forest, then Chuck may be able to stay in Raleigh. If he loses the Carolina game, though, I think his days might be numbered.
And what can I say about my Titans? Frankly, nothing good. Despite a good passing game today, they still lost to the Miami Dolphins. In week 1 they lost to the Jets, and last week they lost to the Chargers. Now I know how all those Tennessee Vols fans feel when they see Peyton Manning and the Colts beat the Titans -- I hate to see the Titans lose to the Chargers, but at least that puts a win in Phil Rivers's cap.
I worry about my Titans, but I will stand by them through thick and thin! Hell, I've been an NC State fan all my life, so I defy the very concept of a fairweather fan.
Win or lose, football season is really just a dalliance to keep me distracted until the important stuff starts -- basketball season! So I'll just keep ducking and clenching my gut until the roundball starts in a couple of months.
The good news for the NC State Wolfpack football team is their ACC record (1-0) and their record against ranked teams (1-0). Any scientist worth her salt will tell you, however, that an n of 1 is meaningless. The big picture for my Pack is their overall record (2-2) and their record against Division I-AA teams (1-2).
I was willing to chalk up our loss to the University of Akron Zips -- and doesn't it just make it that much worse when you lose to a team called the "Zips"? -- to random chance. I could even go so far as to call it a necessary balance to the karmic scales from my freshman year. In that year, one of the best Wolfpack football years in recent memory, we went 9-3 and earned a berth in the Peach Bowl. We unfortunately lost to East Carolina University in an embarrassing 4th quarter debacle, but during that season we had some incredible wins. One of those was against the Thundering Herd of Marshall. After an onside kick, a controversial call went our way and we salvaged our season from the ignominy of losing to a I-AA team. (Marshall didn't return to I-A status until 1997.) Maybe our loss to Akron was written in the stars.
But the very next week we lost to Central Michigan by 20 points. Now we'd lost two games to I-AA teams. Two! It was just more than I could bear. Unable to win against these "easy" opponents, I held out little hope for a win against our next opponent -- the 20th ranked, Division I-A Boston College Eagles. Worse, it would be a conference loss since BC joined the ACC a couple of seasons back.
My cell phone is supposed to receive a text message with the final score after every NC State football game, but for some reason I didn't receive one last night. I honestly figured it was just God's way of sparing my feelings. So last night, having returned home from a lovely date, I braced myself and checked what I presumed would be the lopsided score against BC.
To say I was shocked that we beat BC 17-15 is quite an understatement. Then I found out that we won playing a redshirt sophomore quarterback. Holy Shit, what does that say about our recruiting? And that's not to take one iota of credit away from Daniel Evans. From the reports I've read online, he did a helluva job.
I think maybe the football players have decided they don't want Chuck Amato to be without a job. If they can continue to amaze us on the gridiron like they did yesterday in the next few weeks when we face other tough opponents, like Florida State and Wake Forest, then Chuck may be able to stay in Raleigh. If he loses the Carolina game, though, I think his days might be numbered.
And what can I say about my Titans? Frankly, nothing good. Despite a good passing game today, they still lost to the Miami Dolphins. In week 1 they lost to the Jets, and last week they lost to the Chargers. Now I know how all those Tennessee Vols fans feel when they see Peyton Manning and the Colts beat the Titans -- I hate to see the Titans lose to the Chargers, but at least that puts a win in Phil Rivers's cap.
I worry about my Titans, but I will stand by them through thick and thin! Hell, I've been an NC State fan all my life, so I defy the very concept of a fairweather fan.
Win or lose, football season is really just a dalliance to keep me distracted until the important stuff starts -- basketball season! So I'll just keep ducking and clenching my gut until the roundball starts in a couple of months.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Ahh, youth
I decided to take the 173 Lakeview Express bus into the Michigan Avenue shopping district this evening after I finished at the lab. The bus was only about one-third full, almost evenly divided between solo travelers and others voyaging uptown in small groups.
Next to me was a group of guys, UC undergrads. I couldn't help but overhear most of their conversation as we traveled from the Reynolds Club to Michigan Avenue. It was not dissimilar to conversations I had when I was their age, with my friends, green behind the ears in our first year of college. I had to bite my tongue to keep from answering some questions that came up in their banter.
"Where is the theater district?" (Dearborn, near Washington)
"There's a movie theater near the campus, right?" (Depends on your definition of near.)
"Who's the guy who they think wrote all of Shakespeare's plays?" (Christopher Marlowe - couldn't remember that one until I passed by Marlowe at Chicago and Michigan.)
It can become really easy to wax nostalgic about your own college experience when you work on a university campus and find yourself interacting with, or even just passively observing, undergraduates. When I see these kids, and hear them talking and telling their stories, I am so happy for them and hope that they know what an incredible time this is in their lives.
But I don't for one minute hope to go back and relive those days.
As wonderful as college was, part of its charm and allure is its transience. In the early nineties I prayed to get from assignment to assignment. I spent barely a moment thinking about the future because I didn't have the time to spend on such a seemingly inconsequential task. Now I'm living in that future. A small sliver of it is the present, but most if it is now the past, yesterday just as sealed and unrecoverable as my first day of freshman year.
Truth be told, back then, when I was so focused on getting through the day, I never knew it could be this exciting living in the now. Sure, there are good days and bad, but I've accomplished so much I wanted to do. I cautiously feel sometimes that I can actually sit back and enjoy what life has brought, all the gifts I've been given.
Sometimes I even look forward to what surprises will unfold next.
Next to me was a group of guys, UC undergrads. I couldn't help but overhear most of their conversation as we traveled from the Reynolds Club to Michigan Avenue. It was not dissimilar to conversations I had when I was their age, with my friends, green behind the ears in our first year of college. I had to bite my tongue to keep from answering some questions that came up in their banter.
"Where is the theater district?" (Dearborn, near Washington)
"There's a movie theater near the campus, right?" (Depends on your definition of near.)
"Who's the guy who they think wrote all of Shakespeare's plays?" (Christopher Marlowe - couldn't remember that one until I passed by Marlowe at Chicago and Michigan.)
It can become really easy to wax nostalgic about your own college experience when you work on a university campus and find yourself interacting with, or even just passively observing, undergraduates. When I see these kids, and hear them talking and telling their stories, I am so happy for them and hope that they know what an incredible time this is in their lives.
But I don't for one minute hope to go back and relive those days.
As wonderful as college was, part of its charm and allure is its transience. In the early nineties I prayed to get from assignment to assignment. I spent barely a moment thinking about the future because I didn't have the time to spend on such a seemingly inconsequential task. Now I'm living in that future. A small sliver of it is the present, but most if it is now the past, yesterday just as sealed and unrecoverable as my first day of freshman year.
Truth be told, back then, when I was so focused on getting through the day, I never knew it could be this exciting living in the now. Sure, there are good days and bad, but I've accomplished so much I wanted to do. I cautiously feel sometimes that I can actually sit back and enjoy what life has brought, all the gifts I've been given.
Sometimes I even look forward to what surprises will unfold next.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Just a Few Observations
In the course of a week I pass by a lot of people. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say I don't pay any particular attention to upwards of 75% of the people around me. The other 25% catch my attention for different reasons. I hardly ever pass by a cute guy without giving at least a sideways glance. Sometimes I'll see a particularly lovely woman and give her a good looking up and down.
Then there's that other 10% whom I must resist walking up to and offering a bit of advice. I resist because, frankly, it's just rude to approach perfect strangers and critique them. God knows I wouldn't want others to come up to me and offer me pointers on my hair or wardrobe on the occasional day when I'm not quite up to my best.
But some things are just too egregious not to elicit comment. These are the best gems.
1. A toupee is rarely a good idea. A mullet is rarely a good idea. A mullet toupee? You do the math.
(Seen on a UofC facilities worker.)
2. Capri pants are a bad idea for about 65% of women and, really, 100% of men. Why any man would purposely roll up the hems of his jeans to make them into ersatz denim capri pants I will never understand, even if he does have nice calves.
(Seen on a cute-ish guy with nice calves on the #55 bus.)
3. Ripped jeans are in. Tight jeans are in. Tight jeans with rips along the panty line are not in, nor should they ever be.
(Seen on a girl crossing the street in front of me outside my building.)
Then there's that other 10% whom I must resist walking up to and offering a bit of advice. I resist because, frankly, it's just rude to approach perfect strangers and critique them. God knows I wouldn't want others to come up to me and offer me pointers on my hair or wardrobe on the occasional day when I'm not quite up to my best.
But some things are just too egregious not to elicit comment. These are the best gems.
1. A toupee is rarely a good idea. A mullet is rarely a good idea. A mullet toupee? You do the math.
(Seen on a UofC facilities worker.)
2. Capri pants are a bad idea for about 65% of women and, really, 100% of men. Why any man would purposely roll up the hems of his jeans to make them into ersatz denim capri pants I will never understand, even if he does have nice calves.
(Seen on a cute-ish guy with nice calves on the #55 bus.)
3. Ripped jeans are in. Tight jeans are in. Tight jeans with rips along the panty line are not in, nor should they ever be.
(Seen on a girl crossing the street in front of me outside my building.)
Monday, September 11, 2006
Saving our Souls
I was standing in the bathroom of my house in Nashville, drying my hair -- oh, how long it's been since my hair has been so long that I had to blow it dry! I was listening to a horrible morning show on the radio, broadcast over the only station that the cheap radio I kept in the bathroom could receive clearly.
I was running uncharacteristically early that day. It was a Tuesday morning, and that meant lab meeting at nine o'clock -- sharp. I was only two or three days back into town, having returned from a trip to North Carolina. I had gone to my ten year high school reunion, and driven with my mother and younger niece to visit my father's sister in upstate New York.
The voice of one of the morning personalities emanating from the radio became different, more urgent. He said that a plane had collided with the World Trade Center building in New York. With each passing moment he shared more details, almost as soon as he got them, or so it seemed. Then, silence.
Turn off the radio, he said. Get to a television set or, failing that, turn the radio to a news station.
I ran into the living room and turned on the television. And I saw smoke billowing out of one of the World Trade Center buildings. I awoke my roommate whose bedroom door adjoined the living room. I grabbed my cell phone and called my friend Joel who, as far as I knew, was still in New York City and working downtown. I couldn't reach him and grew a bit panicked. About the time the plane hit the second tower, Joel called my cell phone. He had left the city a couple of weeks prior and returned to North Carolina; in our traveling about we had not kept up with each other in the previous few weeks. Reassured in the knowledge that no one I knew was anywhere near the scene of the tragedy occurring before my eyes, before the eyes of the nation and of the world, I forced myself to continue getting ready to leave for work.
During the drive to the lab I listened to the local NPR station, and heard about what happened at the Pentagon. At work we had our lab meeting, but none of us could focus on the task at hand. My boss assured us that there was nothing we could do, that we should get done what needed to get done that day and try not to think about the horror unfolding in the northeast. All day we tried to reach news websites -- CNN, the New York Times page, MSNBC -- all to no avail. We kept NPR playing all day, hoping to learn how this had happened, and who was taking responsibility, who would feel the full brute strength of a wronged United States of America marching in to avenge her innocent dead.
Ironically I had been in New York City over the Independence Day holiday just a few weeks prior. I had tickets to go to the observation deck at the World Trade Center, but decided not to go because of limited time. It will be there the next time I visit, I had reassured myself.
Since September 11, 2001, I have visited the site where the towers stood. I saw the movie World Trade Center on Labor Day, and was surprised that I was able to hold my emotions in check during and after the film -- just reading the review of United 93 in the New York Times a few monts earlier caused me to well up. I thought maybe, just maybe, I was emotionally ready to put this horrible event behind me. But I was wrong.
I have cried more times today than I can count -- during the singing of the national anthem this morning at the ceremonies at Ground Zero; as Dateline NBC was talking to survivors of United flight 93; as widows and widowers were speaking of their deceased spouses this morning.
But I know that my sadness now comes not only from the devastating tragedy of 9/11, but also from how badly President Bush and his administration have responded to 9/11, and how they have nearly exhausted every shred of goodwill and solidarity other nations expressed in the aftermath of the terror attacks. The President and his aides espouse the view that we must make America safer, and that secret CIA prisons, "alternative questioning methods" and the war in Iraq are all means towards that end.
Must making America safer necessarily require us, as a nation, to lose our souls?
Do we have to destroy everything that America stands for to keep Americans safe?
I pray not. Otherwise the nearly 3000 people who died that day, and the more than 2000 soldiers who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan, have all died in vain.
I was running uncharacteristically early that day. It was a Tuesday morning, and that meant lab meeting at nine o'clock -- sharp. I was only two or three days back into town, having returned from a trip to North Carolina. I had gone to my ten year high school reunion, and driven with my mother and younger niece to visit my father's sister in upstate New York.
The voice of one of the morning personalities emanating from the radio became different, more urgent. He said that a plane had collided with the World Trade Center building in New York. With each passing moment he shared more details, almost as soon as he got them, or so it seemed. Then, silence.
Turn off the radio, he said. Get to a television set or, failing that, turn the radio to a news station.
I ran into the living room and turned on the television. And I saw smoke billowing out of one of the World Trade Center buildings. I awoke my roommate whose bedroom door adjoined the living room. I grabbed my cell phone and called my friend Joel who, as far as I knew, was still in New York City and working downtown. I couldn't reach him and grew a bit panicked. About the time the plane hit the second tower, Joel called my cell phone. He had left the city a couple of weeks prior and returned to North Carolina; in our traveling about we had not kept up with each other in the previous few weeks. Reassured in the knowledge that no one I knew was anywhere near the scene of the tragedy occurring before my eyes, before the eyes of the nation and of the world, I forced myself to continue getting ready to leave for work.
During the drive to the lab I listened to the local NPR station, and heard about what happened at the Pentagon. At work we had our lab meeting, but none of us could focus on the task at hand. My boss assured us that there was nothing we could do, that we should get done what needed to get done that day and try not to think about the horror unfolding in the northeast. All day we tried to reach news websites -- CNN, the New York Times page, MSNBC -- all to no avail. We kept NPR playing all day, hoping to learn how this had happened, and who was taking responsibility, who would feel the full brute strength of a wronged United States of America marching in to avenge her innocent dead.
Ironically I had been in New York City over the Independence Day holiday just a few weeks prior. I had tickets to go to the observation deck at the World Trade Center, but decided not to go because of limited time. It will be there the next time I visit, I had reassured myself.
Since September 11, 2001, I have visited the site where the towers stood. I saw the movie World Trade Center on Labor Day, and was surprised that I was able to hold my emotions in check during and after the film -- just reading the review of United 93 in the New York Times a few monts earlier caused me to well up. I thought maybe, just maybe, I was emotionally ready to put this horrible event behind me. But I was wrong.
I have cried more times today than I can count -- during the singing of the national anthem this morning at the ceremonies at Ground Zero; as Dateline NBC was talking to survivors of United flight 93; as widows and widowers were speaking of their deceased spouses this morning.
But I know that my sadness now comes not only from the devastating tragedy of 9/11, but also from how badly President Bush and his administration have responded to 9/11, and how they have nearly exhausted every shred of goodwill and solidarity other nations expressed in the aftermath of the terror attacks. The President and his aides espouse the view that we must make America safer, and that secret CIA prisons, "alternative questioning methods" and the war in Iraq are all means towards that end.
Must making America safer necessarily require us, as a nation, to lose our souls?
Do we have to destroy everything that America stands for to keep Americans safe?
I pray not. Otherwise the nearly 3000 people who died that day, and the more than 2000 soldiers who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan, have all died in vain.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Viva la Trio!
Yesterday was the first public recital given by Trio, and I'm pleased to say it went off quite successfully! The performance was well received, and we even got enough of a free-will offering to pay our accompanist's fee. There was a bit left over to pay for part of the other incidentals (programs, food for reception, etc.) but we didn't quite break even.
The money is really beside the point, and I must say we were grateful to receive even enough to pay our accompanist! This recital was first and foremost our first opportunity to present ourselves to an audience, and that is such an important thing for a performer to do. A singer can hone and refine her product as much as she wants in the setting of a rehearsal, but until the singer actually puts herself "out there" for others to experience she isn't really making art. In the privacy of your own studio or rehearsal space "Sempre Libera" may as well be solfege.
The completion of this recital also marks the passing of one major stressor in my life. As lovely as it was performing yesterday, it has been a big drain on me learning music, memorizing passages, coordinating schedules, getting programs printed, etc., etc., ad nauseum. We don't have any more gigs scheduled right now, although one is pending for December or February. That gives me at least three months to return to my primary stressor in life, the transgenic (technically, conditional knockout) mouse I'm generating in the lab.
The money is really beside the point, and I must say we were grateful to receive even enough to pay our accompanist! This recital was first and foremost our first opportunity to present ourselves to an audience, and that is such an important thing for a performer to do. A singer can hone and refine her product as much as she wants in the setting of a rehearsal, but until the singer actually puts herself "out there" for others to experience she isn't really making art. In the privacy of your own studio or rehearsal space "Sempre Libera" may as well be solfege.
The completion of this recital also marks the passing of one major stressor in my life. As lovely as it was performing yesterday, it has been a big drain on me learning music, memorizing passages, coordinating schedules, getting programs printed, etc., etc., ad nauseum. We don't have any more gigs scheduled right now, although one is pending for December or February. That gives me at least three months to return to my primary stressor in life, the transgenic (technically, conditional knockout) mouse I'm generating in the lab.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
So Shoe Me
As of Friday morning, I was 1/2 a pound under my intermittent goal weight. This meant I had to do something to reward myself that was completely non-food related. (It's self-defeating to reward progress on a diet with food.)
I had thought of, and dismissed, several ideas for my treat over the months I've been working towards this goal. So I was a bit disappointed that, having met this goal, I didn't have anything in mind to celebrate this milestone.
As I was getting ready yesterday morning, selecting the appropriate ensemble best to complement my new (properly fitting) jeans, I realized that I didn't have any shoes that went well with them.
What an epiphany!
It became my mission last night to buy some cute, dress up/dress down black slides. And I even knew where I wanted to buy them: Nordstrom.
I also decided to be a satisficer, not a maximizer for this purchase. I set a price point in my head, decided on a basic style, and determined that I would buy the first pair that met my criteria.
I went to one other store first, just because I like doing business at that store and wanted to give them an opportunity to make me a sale. They had nothing that I really liked that wasn't well out of my price range, so I strolled down Michigan Ave, turned west at Ohio and walked to Nordstrom.
The first two sales people just made some very generic attempts to help. The third salesperson actually engaged me when I stopped at a pair of shoes that, while lovely, were out of my price range. When I told him I was interested in something similar at a slightly lower price, he showed me about 10 pairs of shoes.
I settled on these beauties. They were not the cheapest. They were not even on sale. But they looked -- and felt -- fabulous.
I also shopped at H&M for the first time. I am pleased to admit that I can actually wear their shirts -- not the slim fit, mind you, but still.
As I was browsing, I began to sense that I am a bit too old and, frankly, not quite gay enough to be in that store. That is, until a musclebound threesome (conservatively) in their 40s strolled past me, toting all sorts of T-shirts and other garments clearly too young for them to wear. It made me feel a little better. But I did pick up a couple of faboo shirts -- and for cheap!! (buy one, get one free on discounted merchandise) -- and I'm very excited to assemble the new look.
I had thought of, and dismissed, several ideas for my treat over the months I've been working towards this goal. So I was a bit disappointed that, having met this goal, I didn't have anything in mind to celebrate this milestone.
As I was getting ready yesterday morning, selecting the appropriate ensemble best to complement my new (properly fitting) jeans, I realized that I didn't have any shoes that went well with them.
What an epiphany!
It became my mission last night to buy some cute, dress up/dress down black slides. And I even knew where I wanted to buy them: Nordstrom.
I also decided to be a satisficer, not a maximizer for this purchase. I set a price point in my head, decided on a basic style, and determined that I would buy the first pair that met my criteria.
I went to one other store first, just because I like doing business at that store and wanted to give them an opportunity to make me a sale. They had nothing that I really liked that wasn't well out of my price range, so I strolled down Michigan Ave, turned west at Ohio and walked to Nordstrom.
The first two sales people just made some very generic attempts to help. The third salesperson actually engaged me when I stopped at a pair of shoes that, while lovely, were out of my price range. When I told him I was interested in something similar at a slightly lower price, he showed me about 10 pairs of shoes.
I settled on these beauties. They were not the cheapest. They were not even on sale. But they looked -- and felt -- fabulous.
I also shopped at H&M for the first time. I am pleased to admit that I can actually wear their shirts -- not the slim fit, mind you, but still.
As I was browsing, I began to sense that I am a bit too old and, frankly, not quite gay enough to be in that store. That is, until a musclebound threesome (conservatively) in their 40s strolled past me, toting all sorts of T-shirts and other garments clearly too young for them to wear. It made me feel a little better. But I did pick up a couple of faboo shirts -- and for cheap!! (buy one, get one free on discounted merchandise) -- and I'm very excited to assemble the new look.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
New Things to See
I've been on a quest to lose weight since March 2005. Since then, I've lost about 80 pounds and, as of today, about 10 inches off of my waist.
But until this week, I still felt like a fat person.
My perception of my own body is so skewed that I have a hard time focusing on the aspects of my body that have improved, and still primarily see the imperfections.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm by no means svelte, and I do have several pounds to go. However, in the past week I've really started to notice some positive changes in my body. Last night I was having my hair cut, and sat in front of a full length mirror for about half an hour. While sitting there, staring at myself in the mirror, I noticed how much definition I'm getting in my neck. I also noticed how powerful my forearms are starting to look. There are veins and sinews visible that previously were hidden. The other morning I was stretching while standing in front of the bathroom mirror, and I noticed that I have nooks and crevices in places where I haven't previously, as pretty much all the natural concavities of my body were covered in fat.
It's a pretty great feeling, seeing these changes. It's really reinvigorated me, and so did fitting into a pair of jeans tonight smaller than I've worn since I was in middle school. I'm about 34 pounds away from my goal weight, and I hope to be there by March -- the two year point. God willing and if the creek don't rise, I'll be looking for some new clothes in spring.
But until this week, I still felt like a fat person.
My perception of my own body is so skewed that I have a hard time focusing on the aspects of my body that have improved, and still primarily see the imperfections.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm by no means svelte, and I do have several pounds to go. However, in the past week I've really started to notice some positive changes in my body. Last night I was having my hair cut, and sat in front of a full length mirror for about half an hour. While sitting there, staring at myself in the mirror, I noticed how much definition I'm getting in my neck. I also noticed how powerful my forearms are starting to look. There are veins and sinews visible that previously were hidden. The other morning I was stretching while standing in front of the bathroom mirror, and I noticed that I have nooks and crevices in places where I haven't previously, as pretty much all the natural concavities of my body were covered in fat.
It's a pretty great feeling, seeing these changes. It's really reinvigorated me, and so did fitting into a pair of jeans tonight smaller than I've worn since I was in middle school. I'm about 34 pounds away from my goal weight, and I hope to be there by March -- the two year point. God willing and if the creek don't rise, I'll be looking for some new clothes in spring.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
The beginning of the end
When the first of August came, people mumbled, "Is today the first day of August? Gosh, I can't believe it's August already!" As the month progressed, the stirrings changed to, "August is just flying by so quickly!" Today, I received a Pottery Barn catalog in my mailbox.
The fall catalog.
It's official. Summer is so close to being over it might as well be the second runner up on American Idol.
I mourn the passing of summer here like I never have before because it means that winter is unpleasantly near. And winter in this city is just almost unbearable.
So soon the steady stream of hot, shirtless men running along Lake Shore Drive will slow to a trickle, and eventually dry up altogether. The plumes of water shooting majestically from Buckingham Fountain will cease, the speed limit will decrease along LSD, and the heat lamps in the CTA train stations will come to life at the press of a button.
On the bright side, I won't have to worry about dealing with the steet cleaners any more. At least not until April.
The fall catalog.
It's official. Summer is so close to being over it might as well be the second runner up on American Idol.
I mourn the passing of summer here like I never have before because it means that winter is unpleasantly near. And winter in this city is just almost unbearable.
So soon the steady stream of hot, shirtless men running along Lake Shore Drive will slow to a trickle, and eventually dry up altogether. The plumes of water shooting majestically from Buckingham Fountain will cease, the speed limit will decrease along LSD, and the heat lamps in the CTA train stations will come to life at the press of a button.
On the bright side, I won't have to worry about dealing with the steet cleaners any more. At least not until April.
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