Last week, I finally finished reading The Lexus and the Olive Tree, Tom Friedman's globalization manual that preceded The World Is Flat. I initially started reading it during freshman year, but, having no tolerance for economics, the introduction's lengthy explanation of the 1997 Asian financial crisis turned me off the book very quickly. I rediscovered it while perusing my bookshelf at the start of winter break and decided to give Friedman another try. After begrudgingly accepting that economics is a significantly important part of international relations, and I should probably stop ignoring it and instead try to understand it, I was determined to decode the eco-speak. After a two-hour conversation with Papa about how exactly the global financial system worked, I was ready to read the book.
After reading The World is Flat and thoroughly enjoying it, certain parts of this book seemed repetitive. Friedman's corny habit of naming every concept he explains, calling people left in the technological dust "turtles," instructing states to put on the "Golden Straitjacket" of capitalism, and watch out for the "Electronic Herd' of global investors, which comprises "short-horn and long- horn cattle," elicited more than one eye-roll from me, but it was entertaining and hey, it kept me reading. At times, Friedman's conversational tone and use of exclamation points irked me and I got the impression that some things were oversimplified, but for its purpose as an introductory crash course in globalization, the book worked.
The thing that struck me most while reading, though, was what a difference seven years makes. Although 2000 doesn't seem that long ago, reading the book made it obvious that a lot can change in that span of time. Friedman often quoted Larry Summers, who I only knew as the guy who made the sexist comments at Harvard, and mentioned Enron and Kenneth Lay multiple times. In the wake of the scandals that embroiled these two, I wonder if, as he looks back at this book, Friedman regrets referencing them so much.
But most of all, reading this book made it very clear how much of an impact Sept. 11 really had on the state of the world. While before everything revolved around technological advancement and economic development, now, virtually no decision is made without the lens of terrorism in front of it. It was weird, but reading the chapters on globalization's impact on other parts of the world, and the resulting backlash, made it easier to see how much 9/11 changed the way we view the world. He warns us about Super-Empowered Angry Men who could potentially use globalization to their advantage and lash out like never before. The passage on the 1993 World Trade Center bombing was just downright eerie to read:
"Ramzi Yousef is really the quintessential Super-Empowered Angry Man. Think about him for a minute. What was his program? What was his ideology? After all, he tried to blow up two of the tallest buildings in America. Did he want a Palestinian state in Brooklyn? Did he want an Islamic Republic in New Jersey? No. He just wanted to blow up two of the tallest buildings in America. He told the Federal District Court in Manhattan that his goal was to set off an explosion that would cause one World Trade Center tower to fall on the other and kill 250,000 civilians. (402)."
And sentences like, "America's Golden Straitjacket is producing enough gold - with a substantial budget surplus projected into the new millennium - to afford both social safety nets and trampolines [benefits to those burned by the globalization's search for the bottom line.] (450)" and just made me shake my head and think, "Not anymore Mr. Friedman, not anymore." And while it may be true that our military superiority means we can "project more power farther than any country in the world. And deeper too," that really hasn't done us much good since 2003, now has it.
I'm not saying Friedman shouldn't have written things like this; after all, hindsight is 20/20. It's just interesting to see how something that seems to be relevant and applicable just isn't sometimes. By the end of the book though, I still felt like I'd gleaned some valuable insight into the new world structure and power order, and even an understanding into what drove the world to the way it is now, post-9/11 and all.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Food in NYC Part 2
For lunch on our last day, Neeraj really wanted to go to Lombardi's - the country's first pizzeria. So, after walking several blocks to find a taxi (come on New York - what's up with that?) to Little Italy we headed. Though we'd been warned that long lines weren't uncommon at the city's famous eats, Lombardi's was the first place where we encountered a wait. And boy was it a wait - we literally spent about an hour just standing on the corner of Spring and Mott. After last night's Carnegie Deli experience, we were all saying this pizza better be pretty damn good. When we were in Chicago last summer, we waited about 45 minutes at this famous restaurant whose name fails me at the moment to get real deep dish Chicago pizza, and what we got left us underwhelmed.
But, I'm happy to say that this time, the food lived up to its reputation. We shared a house salad (Boy did it feel good to be eating real vegetables after yesterday's fat-fest) and a large original pizza topped with sweet Italian sausage and sauteed garlic spinach. Unlike the sausage crumbles that come on fast-food pizzas, this pizza had actual slices of sweet meaty goodness. The pizza was hot, the outer crust was salty and crispy and the inner crust melted with the cheese and sauce in my mouth. I quickly devoured my two slices too quickly, only to find myself saddened that the pizza pan on our table was already gleaming silver, empty of its famous pie. There's an hour wait (in 45 degree weather mind you) that was worth every minute.
For dessert we headed across the street to Rice to Riches. Normally, rice pudding isn't the first thing that comes to mind when craving dessert, but these guys have found a way to make it work, and work well. This isn't your mom's rice pudding, that's for sure. With flavors like Forbidden Apple, Hazelnut Chocolate Bear Hug and Sex Drugs and Rocky Road, it's got a signature New York edge. Unfortunately, their Spring Street location is the only one so far, though for 55 bucks, they'll ship you a 40 oz. tub (Imagine receiving a tub each of the latter two flavors - I think it'd be better than going to heaven itself).
Since we'd just gorged on pizza, Papa and I took the tiny 4 oz. to-go pack which only came in four flavors. We had chocolate chip flirt while Mom and Neeraj shared a bowl of eggnog rice pudding. In a city full of sights, it's nice to discover one on your own. Too bad the company isn't franchising yet. I'd highly recommend anyone traveling to the city to stop by both Lombardi's and Rice to Riches, and though they're across from the street from each other, both should be experienced on an empty stomach.
Our to-do list also included Serendipity 3 and the Magnolia Bakery (I promise Nancy, one day I will try their red velvet cupcake!), but you've got to leave something for next time, right? Plus, I think we already grossly overstepped our caloric boundaries for this visit.
But, I'm happy to say that this time, the food lived up to its reputation. We shared a house salad (Boy did it feel good to be eating real vegetables after yesterday's fat-fest) and a large original pizza topped with sweet Italian sausage and sauteed garlic spinach. Unlike the sausage crumbles that come on fast-food pizzas, this pizza had actual slices of sweet meaty goodness. The pizza was hot, the outer crust was salty and crispy and the inner crust melted with the cheese and sauce in my mouth. I quickly devoured my two slices too quickly, only to find myself saddened that the pizza pan on our table was already gleaming silver, empty of its famous pie. There's an hour wait (in 45 degree weather mind you) that was worth every minute.
For dessert we headed across the street to Rice to Riches. Normally, rice pudding isn't the first thing that comes to mind when craving dessert, but these guys have found a way to make it work, and work well. This isn't your mom's rice pudding, that's for sure. With flavors like Forbidden Apple, Hazelnut Chocolate Bear Hug and Sex Drugs and Rocky Road, it's got a signature New York edge. Unfortunately, their Spring Street location is the only one so far, though for 55 bucks, they'll ship you a 40 oz. tub (Imagine receiving a tub each of the latter two flavors - I think it'd be better than going to heaven itself).
Since we'd just gorged on pizza, Papa and I took the tiny 4 oz. to-go pack which only came in four flavors. We had chocolate chip flirt while Mom and Neeraj shared a bowl of eggnog rice pudding. In a city full of sights, it's nice to discover one on your own. Too bad the company isn't franchising yet. I'd highly recommend anyone traveling to the city to stop by both Lombardi's and Rice to Riches, and though they're across from the street from each other, both should be experienced on an empty stomach.
Our to-do list also included Serendipity 3 and the Magnolia Bakery (I promise Nancy, one day I will try their red velvet cupcake!), but you've got to leave something for next time, right? Plus, I think we already grossly overstepped our caloric boundaries for this visit.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Sneaking back home?
Papa just called me to ask if I was on my way home yet from a movie with friends.
Nothing weird about that right?
As I was talking to him, I walked out of my room, poked my head down the hall where he was sitting at the old computer and let him know I'd been home for the past hour, and had, in fact, walked past him on my way up to my room after returning.
Oh, dear.
Nothing weird about that right?
As I was talking to him, I walked out of my room, poked my head down the hall where he was sitting at the old computer and let him know I'd been home for the past hour, and had, in fact, walked past him on my way up to my room after returning.
Oh, dear.
Food in NYC
I now understand how people can go on vacation just for food. Besides seeing the Rockettes show, eating was basically the central focus of our trip to New York City. But after three straight days of eating out, I think I'm done with restaurants for a while.
Our first night we went to Tamarind, an Indian restaurant featured on an episode of the Food Network's $40 a Day with Rachael Ray. We weren't starving when we got there, since we'd eaten a very late lunch, but that didn't stop me from indulging as much as my stomach could handle, and then some. Seriously, over the past few weeks, I think my stomach capacity has doubled or something. I'm able to eat a lot more food at one sitting than I used to, but the scale doesn't register any changes (at least not yet). Very weird. But back to Tamarind.
I particularly enjoyed the Tamarind shiitake with its bitingly sour but tangy and aromatic sauce. The tandoori salmon was good and you can't ever go wrong with dal makhani, or lentils in a creamy tomato-based sauce, but the real show-stopper were the breads. The rosemary naan took an already fluffy piece of bread and injected it with flavor and olive oil. And since when has a dose of olive oil ever made anything worse? The pudina paratha, a layered bread with mint, was soft, buttery and delicious. Overall, a place I'd definitely recommend.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for next evening's restaurant: none other than the famed Carnegie Deli. As we were making our way through dinner, we realized a very important lesson. It seems that after a certain level of fame, some places seem to ride more on their reputation and less on the actual product or service. They know customers will come, so why bother, it seems.
The deli wasn't too far from the hotel, so we decided to walk, hoping that the calories we burned would soften the blow of the many we were about to consume. In multiple guide books I'd read that there's hardly any elbow room between tables, sandwiches are impossible to polish off unless they're shared, and the wait staff likes to take pangas (Hindi for make mischief) with new customers, so I prepared myself. What the guide books don't tell you is that the restaurant does not accept credit cards, so you'd better have some cash on hand, and that there's a $3.00 charge for sharing a sandwich (which is totally lame. Just increase to price of the already $25 sandwich why don't you). And no guide book in the world will take away your shock at the absolute excess of food that shows up on the table. (Though you can't complain they don't give you your money's worth).
Mom and Papa shared an open-faced pastrami reuben (which was basically a pound of meat slathered with melted cheese and slapped onto a plate). "Where's the bread?" Mom inquired after it landed in front of us. After poking around with her fork for a couple moments, she finally unveiled the poor sliver of processed flour that had the unfortunate destiny of holding up the meat mountain.
Neeraj and I shared the Club Dear, a triple-decker bacon monster. My strategy involved splitting half of the sandwich into two mini ones and double fisting them, alternating between bites of turkey and what essentially became a BLT. Neeraj took a different approach, removing some of the bacon and trying to shove some of the turkey in its place. Needless to say, I somehow managed to polish off my entire half while Neeraj ended up doggy-bagging the remainder of his. I didn't even realize how much I'd eaten until Neeraj made a comment about how he couldn't possibly eat all that bacon, and when I looked down at my plate, everything was gone. The guy sitting at our neighboring table looked at me in amazement. "I really don't know how I did that," I remarked somewhat sheepishly (I wasn't even stuffed yet. See I told you - more stomach capacity). "Oh I know how - I watched you do it," he replied. He and his wife were sharing the reuben too and we all joked about the ridiculousness of this food.
In all seriousness though, I don't know how I haven't yet died of heart failure after eating all that bacon. And though it seems I've fulfilled my life's quota of bacon, according to Karen, all Spaniards eat is pork and ham, so it looks like I won't be able to avoid it for long.
Despite all this, we still managed to make room for dessert, and I have to say, the deli's truffle torte cheesecake is quite the satisfying combination of cheesecake, chocolate mousse and chocolate sprinkles.
The whole deli experience reminded us of the time we ate at Boston's Cheers restaurant, the one of sitcom fame. That time too, we were swept up in its pop culture significance and ended up with food that was less than spectacular. So, some lessons: Just because a ton of famous people say something is good, it does not, I repeat, does not, mean it really is. Oh, and according to Papa, the Woodside Deli's reuben still reigns supreme.
Tomorrow: The NYC culinary experience continues - Famed pizzeria Lombardi's and the dessert gem that sits across from it.
Our first night we went to Tamarind, an Indian restaurant featured on an episode of the Food Network's $40 a Day with Rachael Ray. We weren't starving when we got there, since we'd eaten a very late lunch, but that didn't stop me from indulging as much as my stomach could handle, and then some. Seriously, over the past few weeks, I think my stomach capacity has doubled or something. I'm able to eat a lot more food at one sitting than I used to, but the scale doesn't register any changes (at least not yet). Very weird. But back to Tamarind.
I particularly enjoyed the Tamarind shiitake with its bitingly sour but tangy and aromatic sauce. The tandoori salmon was good and you can't ever go wrong with dal makhani, or lentils in a creamy tomato-based sauce, but the real show-stopper were the breads. The rosemary naan took an already fluffy piece of bread and injected it with flavor and olive oil. And since when has a dose of olive oil ever made anything worse? The pudina paratha, a layered bread with mint, was soft, buttery and delicious. Overall, a place I'd definitely recommend.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for next evening's restaurant: none other than the famed Carnegie Deli. As we were making our way through dinner, we realized a very important lesson. It seems that after a certain level of fame, some places seem to ride more on their reputation and less on the actual product or service. They know customers will come, so why bother, it seems.
The deli wasn't too far from the hotel, so we decided to walk, hoping that the calories we burned would soften the blow of the many we were about to consume. In multiple guide books I'd read that there's hardly any elbow room between tables, sandwiches are impossible to polish off unless they're shared, and the wait staff likes to take pangas (Hindi for make mischief) with new customers, so I prepared myself. What the guide books don't tell you is that the restaurant does not accept credit cards, so you'd better have some cash on hand, and that there's a $3.00 charge for sharing a sandwich (which is totally lame. Just increase to price of the already $25 sandwich why don't you). And no guide book in the world will take away your shock at the absolute excess of food that shows up on the table. (Though you can't complain they don't give you your money's worth).
Mom and Papa shared an open-faced pastrami reuben (which was basically a pound of meat slathered with melted cheese and slapped onto a plate). "Where's the bread?" Mom inquired after it landed in front of us. After poking around with her fork for a couple moments, she finally unveiled the poor sliver of processed flour that had the unfortunate destiny of holding up the meat mountain.
Neeraj and I shared the Club Dear, a triple-decker bacon monster. My strategy involved splitting half of the sandwich into two mini ones and double fisting them, alternating between bites of turkey and what essentially became a BLT. Neeraj took a different approach, removing some of the bacon and trying to shove some of the turkey in its place. Needless to say, I somehow managed to polish off my entire half while Neeraj ended up doggy-bagging the remainder of his. I didn't even realize how much I'd eaten until Neeraj made a comment about how he couldn't possibly eat all that bacon, and when I looked down at my plate, everything was gone. The guy sitting at our neighboring table looked at me in amazement. "I really don't know how I did that," I remarked somewhat sheepishly (I wasn't even stuffed yet. See I told you - more stomach capacity). "Oh I know how - I watched you do it," he replied. He and his wife were sharing the reuben too and we all joked about the ridiculousness of this food.
In all seriousness though, I don't know how I haven't yet died of heart failure after eating all that bacon. And though it seems I've fulfilled my life's quota of bacon, according to Karen, all Spaniards eat is pork and ham, so it looks like I won't be able to avoid it for long.
Despite all this, we still managed to make room for dessert, and I have to say, the deli's truffle torte cheesecake is quite the satisfying combination of cheesecake, chocolate mousse and chocolate sprinkles.
The whole deli experience reminded us of the time we ate at Boston's Cheers restaurant, the one of sitcom fame. That time too, we were swept up in its pop culture significance and ended up with food that was less than spectacular. So, some lessons: Just because a ton of famous people say something is good, it does not, I repeat, does not, mean it really is. Oh, and according to Papa, the Woodside Deli's reuben still reigns supreme.
Tomorrow: The NYC culinary experience continues - Famed pizzeria Lombardi's and the dessert gem that sits across from it.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
A new view of NYC
I don't know what it is about city life that appeals to so many people, myself included. I'm a complete product of my suburban upbringing, but for as long as I can remember, I've wanted to live in the city, specifically New York City. On my previous three trips to the Big Apple, I was enthralled with the glitz and glamor of it all. The neon billboards, the honking cabs, the bustling people; it was the only place I could see myself living.
But this time, things were different. I still enjoyed being in the city, but I wasn't jealous of everyone already living there as I had been before. What struck me most this time were the crowds. People are everywhere! I tried to tell myself it was just holiday tourists, but I remember there were just as many people when I went up for the Yankees game this summer. And it wasn't just in the streets. We wandered inside St. Patrick's Cathedral and Saks Fifth Avenue and both were teeming with crowds. (Though traveling has taught me that crowds are an inescapable part of seeing anything notable, from the beaches of Waikiki to the palace of Versailles. You'll never be alone). I felt like I couldn't even look at anything because I spent all my time dodging people in front of me and trying to stay out of the way of those behind me. We tried to see the lavish window displays up close but contented ourselves with glancing from further back on the sidewalk after noticing the lines that wrapped around the storefronts.
Now I understand why New Yorkers have an attitude all their own; they've got to spend half their time battling the tourist hordes lining every major street. That no-nonsense sarcasm was the other thing that I observed more this time. Like the crowds, I've always known it was there, but this was the first time it actually sort of bothered me. I get that you crossing guards are fed up with directing us stupid tourists, but you don't have to be so rude about it. In fact, you don't even need to open your mouth at all. Just blow your whistle, wave your hand and be done with it.
Finally, three other observations. The streets of New York all seem to have this unidentifiable smell, a mix of smoke from the food stalls, and I'm guessing the exhaust fumes from all the vehicles whizzing by. Whatever it is, it isn't really terrible (though I think Neeraj would probably disagree), so much as it is noticeable. The second: It seems a lot more people in New York smoke. Every other block I walked past, there was a person or two standing outside the building smoking. Then again, it may just have been all the European tourists outside the hotels that I was noticing. The third: I don't remember ever hearing so many foreign languages on the streets of New York. Once again, I know that the city is an extraordinarily diverse place that attracts tourists from around the world, and I found it refreshing that so many different people were here (not to mention the fact that they're injecting some money into our economy). A significant portion of those tourists spoke Spanish, which I only point out because it was quite the confidence booster being able to understand what they were saying (not to mention good mental preparation for what I'm about to do in less than a week).
Despite these observations, the whole reason why we went up in the first place, to see the Rockettes in their Christmas Spectacular, did not disappoint. The Rockettes did numbers as reindeer and clowns, but my favorite was their toy soldier act, which they ended with their famous falling down like dominoes line. This being the show's 75th anniversary, it ended with the Rockettes performing their kick line in sparkling crystal-covered costumes celebrating the diamond anniversary. Quite a nice way to round out the holiday season, if you ask me.
Coming up tomorrow: NYC - The culinary experience.
But this time, things were different. I still enjoyed being in the city, but I wasn't jealous of everyone already living there as I had been before. What struck me most this time were the crowds. People are everywhere! I tried to tell myself it was just holiday tourists, but I remember there were just as many people when I went up for the Yankees game this summer. And it wasn't just in the streets. We wandered inside St. Patrick's Cathedral and Saks Fifth Avenue and both were teeming with crowds. (Though traveling has taught me that crowds are an inescapable part of seeing anything notable, from the beaches of Waikiki to the palace of Versailles. You'll never be alone). I felt like I couldn't even look at anything because I spent all my time dodging people in front of me and trying to stay out of the way of those behind me. We tried to see the lavish window displays up close but contented ourselves with glancing from further back on the sidewalk after noticing the lines that wrapped around the storefronts.
Now I understand why New Yorkers have an attitude all their own; they've got to spend half their time battling the tourist hordes lining every major street. That no-nonsense sarcasm was the other thing that I observed more this time. Like the crowds, I've always known it was there, but this was the first time it actually sort of bothered me. I get that you crossing guards are fed up with directing us stupid tourists, but you don't have to be so rude about it. In fact, you don't even need to open your mouth at all. Just blow your whistle, wave your hand and be done with it.
Finally, three other observations. The streets of New York all seem to have this unidentifiable smell, a mix of smoke from the food stalls, and I'm guessing the exhaust fumes from all the vehicles whizzing by. Whatever it is, it isn't really terrible (though I think Neeraj would probably disagree), so much as it is noticeable. The second: It seems a lot more people in New York smoke. Every other block I walked past, there was a person or two standing outside the building smoking. Then again, it may just have been all the European tourists outside the hotels that I was noticing. The third: I don't remember ever hearing so many foreign languages on the streets of New York. Once again, I know that the city is an extraordinarily diverse place that attracts tourists from around the world, and I found it refreshing that so many different people were here (not to mention the fact that they're injecting some money into our economy). A significant portion of those tourists spoke Spanish, which I only point out because it was quite the confidence booster being able to understand what they were saying (not to mention good mental preparation for what I'm about to do in less than a week).
Despite these observations, the whole reason why we went up in the first place, to see the Rockettes in their Christmas Spectacular, did not disappoint. The Rockettes did numbers as reindeer and clowns, but my favorite was their toy soldier act, which they ended with their famous falling down like dominoes line. This being the show's 75th anniversary, it ended with the Rockettes performing their kick line in sparkling crystal-covered costumes celebrating the diamond anniversary. Quite a nice way to round out the holiday season, if you ask me.
Coming up tomorrow: NYC - The culinary experience.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas 2007
You know you've outgrown Christmas when "Santa" has to drag you out of bed to open presents.
Every year my brother and I get our sleeping bags and camp out in our parents room for the night. This year Neeraj wanted to watch a movie, so we camped out downstairs instead. Early this morning I hear some rustling and then there's Mom telling us to get up. Both Neeraj and I turn around and say we'll get up later.
"But Santa spent so much time at the mall and wrapping all the gifts," said Mom. Guilt-inducing as her voice was, Mom's tone brought to mind the image of an innocent child, head cocked sideways and eyes full of Christmas cheer. Oh how manipulative you mothers are. So droopy-eyed and drowsy (it was, after all, only 8:30 in the morning), Neeraj and I stumbled out of bed. By 9 a.m. (After I'd finally coaxed Neeraj out of my bed, which he dove into after heading upstairs to brush his teeth) we gathered around the tree and proceeded with the festivities.
It was a pretty good year, gift-wise. Three sweaters, a shirt, two pairs of earrings and a much-needed traveling cosmetic kit. And the best part - the day itself has gone well. Everyone has gotten along and we chatted with Nani Ma in India and Mamu's family in Luxembourg. Overall, it's been a good day and hopefully this good cheer will continue on into our New York trip. Speaking of which, Papa announced we're not taking a computer (!!) with us, so Overachiever will probably be silent for the next few days.
On that note, I bid you Merry Christmas and leave you with this letter to the editor appearing in today's Post:
Every year my brother and I get our sleeping bags and camp out in our parents room for the night. This year Neeraj wanted to watch a movie, so we camped out downstairs instead. Early this morning I hear some rustling and then there's Mom telling us to get up. Both Neeraj and I turn around and say we'll get up later.
"But Santa spent so much time at the mall and wrapping all the gifts," said Mom. Guilt-inducing as her voice was, Mom's tone brought to mind the image of an innocent child, head cocked sideways and eyes full of Christmas cheer. Oh how manipulative you mothers are. So droopy-eyed and drowsy (it was, after all, only 8:30 in the morning), Neeraj and I stumbled out of bed. By 9 a.m. (After I'd finally coaxed Neeraj out of my bed, which he dove into after heading upstairs to brush his teeth) we gathered around the tree and proceeded with the festivities.
It was a pretty good year, gift-wise. Three sweaters, a shirt, two pairs of earrings and a much-needed traveling cosmetic kit. And the best part - the day itself has gone well. Everyone has gotten along and we chatted with Nani Ma in India and Mamu's family in Luxembourg. Overall, it's been a good day and hopefully this good cheer will continue on into our New York trip. Speaking of which, Papa announced we're not taking a computer (!!) with us, so Overachiever will probably be silent for the next few days.
On that note, I bid you Merry Christmas and leave you with this letter to the editor appearing in today's Post:
I've had it with the fuss over whether to say "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas." For 30 years, my mother phoned me every Dec. 25 at 7 a.m. to say "Merry Christmas!" I'd reply, "Mom, we're Jewish," to which she would say, "I know, but I love the holidays. And what's wrong with peace on Earth and goodwill toward men?" Mom is gone, but her words seem more meaningful than ever.
TRACY LEVERTON
Vienna
Sunday, December 23, 2007
HTML > Me
ARGH. Why does html coding have to be so frustrating!?!?
I've just spent almost two hours trying to revamp the layout of this blog, and have accomplished nothing besides developing a strong urge to defenestrate this computer (hey, that's the first time I've managed to use that word in a real sentence). I really want to do something like this blog, with the light colored table layered on the dark background, but the blogger coding has all the metatags and whatnot built in and I can't figure out how to do it. Every time I try to insert a table or play around with the coding, Blogger's red warning text rejects my work. All I've managed to do is create the header I have right now, which is some basic thing I made in Paint since I'm just about the only soul in the world who doesn't have Photoshop.
Ironically, I found out earlier today that I pulled off an A in online journalism, despite my disastrous midterm where I forgot half the coding. Once again, I'm great at concepts, not so much at execution.
*sigh* Time for bed.
The worst part is, I know I'm not going to be able to let this go. As frustrating as it is, in a day or two I'll be back at the coding again, trapped in this vicious cycle of trial-and-error.
Okay seriously. Bed. Now.
Good night.
I've just spent almost two hours trying to revamp the layout of this blog, and have accomplished nothing besides developing a strong urge to defenestrate this computer (hey, that's the first time I've managed to use that word in a real sentence). I really want to do something like this blog, with the light colored table layered on the dark background, but the blogger coding has all the metatags and whatnot built in and I can't figure out how to do it. Every time I try to insert a table or play around with the coding, Blogger's red warning text rejects my work. All I've managed to do is create the header I have right now, which is some basic thing I made in Paint since I'm just about the only soul in the world who doesn't have Photoshop.
Ironically, I found out earlier today that I pulled off an A in online journalism, despite my disastrous midterm where I forgot half the coding. Once again, I'm great at concepts, not so much at execution.
*sigh* Time for bed.
The worst part is, I know I'm not going to be able to let this go. As frustrating as it is, in a day or two I'll be back at the coding again, trapped in this vicious cycle of trial-and-error.
Okay seriously. Bed. Now.
Good night.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Christmas Cheer: Better late than never
Earlier this week Mom and I were talking about how it doesn't feel like Christmas is right around the corner. Ever since I started college, it seems like the holidays just zoom right by. Before, I'd constantly drive by the decorated houses, walk by the Christmas displays at the grocery store and pass the frantic holiday shoppers at the mall. And since the television is always on at home and the radio in the car, the holiday specials, music and commercials were impossible to miss.
But in college, many a-day can go by without me ever setting foot off campus, meaning I miss all the signs that say it's Christmastime. True, some apartments put lights in the windows, but for the most part, everything looks the same. There's no time to go shopping or even venture beyond the campus bubble, since come December everyone has final projects, papers and exams to prepare for.
Also, it's just not that cold outside. It's hard to get into the holiday spirit without first wrapping myself in a scarf and gloves and clutching a hot cocoa in one hand and a shopping bag in the other :)
But yesterday, I think the Christmas bug finally bit me. I stopped by my old internship office to drop off my Christmas card and say bye to everyone before I head to Spain. I didn't realize that yesterday was the last work day before Christmas, hence only two of the five people were there when I showed up. Despite that, I still spent a nice hour or so chatting with them about school and next year. Their office was so festive, with Christmas cards taped to all the doors and mini Christmas trees adorning the desks.
Then I went out to lunch with some of the guys from school. There wasn't necessarily anything Christmas-y about it, but it was nice to see them one last time before I leave. After lunch I headed to the mall to start my Christmas shopping (Hey, I'm a college student; procrastination is in my blood). Despite the longish lines and the fact that every store I went to ran out of gift boxes, I still found myself humming happily along to the Christmas music playing on their stereos. (Though that was also probably because I actually found what I was looking for relatively quickly).
Later that evening, I was flipping channels only to find my favorite of all the Christmas specials, "A Year Without A Santa Claus" was on. You know, the one with the heat miser and the snow miser - oh how I love those rascals. It was great; I even got to sing along to all the songs since no one was home.
And I have a feeling the Christmas cheer isn't going to stop there. For years now, Mom and I have wanted to see New York City during the holidays, and this year it's actually happening. Right after Christmas we're heading up to see the Rockettes in their Christmas Spectacular, admire the gigantic tree and ice rink in Rockefeller Center and stroll past the elaborate window displays. And for me, it doesn't even end there, because I'll be in Spain for the Epiphany, which I learned yesterday is an even bigger deal than Christmas. So even if it got a little lost along the way, looks like the spirit of the season has finally made it to my doorstep.
Happy Holidays everyone!
Happy Holidays everyone!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
More WaPo Love
Continuing from yesterday; all the stuff I wanted to share before going off on the Front Runners tangent:
Post retail reporter Ylan Q. Mui became a holiday temp at Sam's Club for a day, and here's her evaluation (it ran yesterday). I can't explain why, but I really liked this piece. I've read a lot of her articles, and it's nice getting a glimpse at the person behind the byline.
Today's Business front has some tips (seven to be exact) to get your new computer running right, and then five things that should be on everyone's computer. All this computer talk, coupled with the fact that my mom found a trojan on my dad's computer, made me rush to mine and back everything up. As quickly as I can, I'll explain my beef with computers: You see, I'm a pack rat in real life, meaning I throw absolutely nothing away (though I've gotten a lot better over the past few years. This summer I actually brought myself to recycle all my old algebra II notes and chemistry lab write-ups, though it was quite the tearful good bye). So, when it comes to saving things on the computer, I feel the need to back up and save every single thing I type, even though we all know I'm never going to look at it again. The other thing that drives me crazy is that even though I'm not a terribly organized person in real life, on the computer, I want everything to be hyper-categorized in folders arranged by date and everything. You don't know how many hours I've wasted organizing it all, only to find out I messed it up somehow, and have to do it over again. (Man my eyes are going to haaate me for making them stare at this screen for so long). Okay, phew, enough with the rant; now back to interesting articles.
Quarter collectors rejoice! DC will be getting its very own quarter (as will Puerto Rico, Guam, the U.S. Virgin Islands, American Samoa and the Northern Mariana Islands.)
And on a side note - the English dork in me had to point out the beauty of this sentence:
I love it, just love it.
Complaining about the commercialization of Christmas? Then you may not like this Post piece on the cost of Twelve Days of Christmas. That's right, they found out how much each of the items from the famous carol cost, and it looks like the traditional turtledoves and leaping lords will set you back a little more than $36,000 (Though you may have to bend the rules a bit when it comes to the French hens and the maids-a-milking. Just read the article, you'll see.)
In other, more serious news, Fareed Zakaria's column, The Power of Personality, in this week's Newsweek, which I read at the dentist's office, made an interesting point that I wish other people would understand. America may be the dominant power in today's world, but it certainly isn't the center of the universe. Not everyone thinks like we do, and that is so important for us to understand.
And, on that slightly philosophical note, I'm off. Happy reading!
Post retail reporter Ylan Q. Mui became a holiday temp at Sam's Club for a day, and here's her evaluation (it ran yesterday). I can't explain why, but I really liked this piece. I've read a lot of her articles, and it's nice getting a glimpse at the person behind the byline.
Today's Business front has some tips (seven to be exact) to get your new computer running right, and then five things that should be on everyone's computer. All this computer talk, coupled with the fact that my mom found a trojan on my dad's computer, made me rush to mine and back everything up. As quickly as I can, I'll explain my beef with computers: You see, I'm a pack rat in real life, meaning I throw absolutely nothing away (though I've gotten a lot better over the past few years. This summer I actually brought myself to recycle all my old algebra II notes and chemistry lab write-ups, though it was quite the tearful good bye). So, when it comes to saving things on the computer, I feel the need to back up and save every single thing I type, even though we all know I'm never going to look at it again. The other thing that drives me crazy is that even though I'm not a terribly organized person in real life, on the computer, I want everything to be hyper-categorized in folders arranged by date and everything. You don't know how many hours I've wasted organizing it all, only to find out I messed it up somehow, and have to do it over again. (Man my eyes are going to haaate me for making them stare at this screen for so long). Okay, phew, enough with the rant; now back to interesting articles.
Quarter collectors rejoice! DC will be getting its very own quarter (as will Puerto Rico, Guam, the U.S. Virgin Islands, American Samoa and the Northern Mariana Islands.)
And on a side note - the English dork in me had to point out the beauty of this sentence:
"We get snubbed, disrespected, belittled, forgotten, overshadowed and minimized in every way," said WTOP radio political commentator Mark Plotkin, a virtual thesaurus of how the city is disparaged, denigrated, underrated and calumniated.
I love it, just love it.
Complaining about the commercialization of Christmas? Then you may not like this Post piece on the cost of Twelve Days of Christmas. That's right, they found out how much each of the items from the famous carol cost, and it looks like the traditional turtledoves and leaping lords will set you back a little more than $36,000 (Though you may have to bend the rules a bit when it comes to the French hens and the maids-a-milking. Just read the article, you'll see.)
In other, more serious news, Fareed Zakaria's column, The Power of Personality, in this week's Newsweek, which I read at the dentist's office, made an interesting point that I wish other people would understand. America may be the dominant power in today's world, but it certainly isn't the center of the universe. Not everyone thinks like we do, and that is so important for us to understand.
And, on that slightly philosophical note, I'm off. Happy reading!
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
The Washington Post's "Front Runners"
I love the Washington Post. Granted, it's the paper I've grown up reading it, but I love it nonetheless.
Since the media frenzy over the presidential election began what seems like eons ago, I told myself I wouldn't get caught up in it until 2008 (you know, the actual year in which the election will be taking place). And since the new year is now barreling down on us, I guess it's time for me to strap on my political thinking cap and dive into this mess. Enough with all the speculation, bring on the caucus results and lets get some answers.
But what does that have to do with my love for the Post, you ask? Well, luckily for me, just when I decide to start paying attention, guess what appears in the paper. Last week the Post ran a series called "The Front Runners," profiling the eight leading presidential candidates - three Democrats and five Republicans. Each day for a week, the paper ran a double truck biographical piece ("How (S)He Got Here") and three shorter pieces: "How (S)He Runs," "How (S)He Talks" and "How (S)He Looks" on the candidate of the day. On the last day, the paper also ran shorter pieces on Biden, Dodd, Richardson, Kucinich, Paul and Tancredo. Though I still can't tell you what each individual's plans are for immigration, social security or the war (though there is this extensive quiz on the Post's site that will tell you just that), I enjoyed reading about the people, not the candidates, who want to run my country.
The series wasn't a recap of each campaign's progress, it was a look at the individuals at the center of the campaign. I can look anywhere to find out where Clinton, Obama or Huckabee stand on a specific issue, but this series told me about Hillary and Barack and Mike, where they've come from and how they've gotten here. Sometimes we get so caught up in the debates, the stump speeches, the photo ops that we forget that at one point, these candidates were regular people. They were kids who goofed off in class, they were teenagers who argued with their parents and as much as all this media coverage bothers us regular people, the whole campaign process takes quite a toll on them.
But back to the series. I especially loved the tag clouds. (Here's Romney's, which I found interesting because "woman" wasn't the largest word for Clinton and "black" wasn't the largest word for Obama, but people still seem to characterize Romney by his religion). The Post created these graphics based on survey results where people defined the candidate in a word. This seems like just the type of thing our journalism professors keep telling us we need think about if we want to be successful in this field.
This whole series embodies what how we should be thinking. Yes, there was a paper component, but online, the series used flash graphics, videos, audio and regular slide shows, discussions, and comment boards - all the weapons in the online journalism arsenal. And while I haven't really looked at many of these online-only components, they are at least making use of the medium. So, from a student whose professors keep telling her the internet is the way to go, thanks WaPo for providing me with such a good example.
And on a completely unrelated note - I think I finally understand the meaning of that phrase, oh how does it go, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing? After learning some basic coding in my online class, I keep wanting to overhaul the layout of this blog, but every time I play around with the coding, Blogger's mean red text pops up and I'm left with the regular old layout I started with. *sigh*
Since the media frenzy over the presidential election began what seems like eons ago, I told myself I wouldn't get caught up in it until 2008 (you know, the actual year in which the election will be taking place). And since the new year is now barreling down on us, I guess it's time for me to strap on my political thinking cap and dive into this mess. Enough with all the speculation, bring on the caucus results and lets get some answers.
But what does that have to do with my love for the Post, you ask? Well, luckily for me, just when I decide to start paying attention, guess what appears in the paper. Last week the Post ran a series called "The Front Runners," profiling the eight leading presidential candidates - three Democrats and five Republicans. Each day for a week, the paper ran a double truck biographical piece ("How (S)He Got Here") and three shorter pieces: "How (S)He Runs," "How (S)He Talks" and "How (S)He Looks" on the candidate of the day. On the last day, the paper also ran shorter pieces on Biden, Dodd, Richardson, Kucinich, Paul and Tancredo. Though I still can't tell you what each individual's plans are for immigration, social security or the war (though there is this extensive quiz on the Post's site that will tell you just that), I enjoyed reading about the people, not the candidates, who want to run my country.
The series wasn't a recap of each campaign's progress, it was a look at the individuals at the center of the campaign. I can look anywhere to find out where Clinton, Obama or Huckabee stand on a specific issue, but this series told me about Hillary and Barack and Mike, where they've come from and how they've gotten here. Sometimes we get so caught up in the debates, the stump speeches, the photo ops that we forget that at one point, these candidates were regular people. They were kids who goofed off in class, they were teenagers who argued with their parents and as much as all this media coverage bothers us regular people, the whole campaign process takes quite a toll on them.
But back to the series. I especially loved the tag clouds. (Here's Romney's, which I found interesting because "woman" wasn't the largest word for Clinton and "black" wasn't the largest word for Obama, but people still seem to characterize Romney by his religion). The Post created these graphics based on survey results where people defined the candidate in a word. This seems like just the type of thing our journalism professors keep telling us we need think about if we want to be successful in this field.
This whole series embodies what how we should be thinking. Yes, there was a paper component, but online, the series used flash graphics, videos, audio and regular slide shows, discussions, and comment boards - all the weapons in the online journalism arsenal. And while I haven't really looked at many of these online-only components, they are at least making use of the medium. So, from a student whose professors keep telling her the internet is the way to go, thanks WaPo for providing me with such a good example.
And on a completely unrelated note - I think I finally understand the meaning of that phrase, oh how does it go, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing? After learning some basic coding in my online class, I keep wanting to overhaul the layout of this blog, but every time I play around with the coding, Blogger's mean red text pops up and I'm left with the regular old layout I started with. *sigh*
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Message from the diversity office...
Starting my sophomore year of high school, I got letter after letter from x college and y university each telling me that they had the prettiest campus or the smallest class sizes. I never paid them any mind since they all embodied exactly what I didn't want in a university.
But now the selfless marketing has begun again, only this time it's from schools I've actually heard of pushing their "world class" graduate programs on me via e-mail. And while the messages are irritating, there's one thing about them that has really struck a nerve. Now I'm not one to delude myself into thinking they're sending me messages because they actually think I would be a good student at their school. No, my address was just one of the couple thousand that was randomly selected from their list, right?
Well, not exactly. Apparently, the only reason these schools are showing any interest in me whatsoever is because of something I can't even control. Most of these e-mails, they've been coming from the "Office of Minority Programs," or some other diversity initiative. Say what you want about affirmative action and diversity and whatever, but not only do I find this irritating, it's patronizing.
Why is it that we still need to be doing things like this? Why do universities have to set up special visitation events and campus tours and information sessions for minority students or "students of color," a description I personally detest. What, is white not a color too? Don't tell me you're willing to give me special attention just because my skin is a little darker than yours. You might think you're giving me an "opportunity," but all it tells me is that you think my intelligence and my accomplishments aren't enough. Thanks, but I'd much rather be thrown into the pool with everyone else and be judged solely on my merits. Don't give me something unless I've completely and truly earned it. And being born an Indian doesn't count as earning anything.
I know I may be overreacting slightly, but it bothers me how we sometimes focus so much on things we can't even control. If we have to focus on something, it should be the socioeconomic gap. If you want to give someone a free trip to visit your school, give it to the person who may not otherwise be able to afford it. If you want to talk to someone about grad school, talk to the person who had to work their way through undergrad. Then again, who knows, maybe someone in that situation would find even that patronizing, just as I find this.
As much as I hate to admit it, I know it's there. It almost seems like it sucks to be a white male nowadays because everyone is so hell-bent on being diverse. I know, people say that white males have had their fair share of the spotlight and now its everyone else's turn. But now that we've established that everyone deserves an equal and fair chance, shouldn't we focus on hiring the best person for the job, or admitting the best students to the university, regardless of demographics?
But now the selfless marketing has begun again, only this time it's from schools I've actually heard of pushing their "world class" graduate programs on me via e-mail. And while the messages are irritating, there's one thing about them that has really struck a nerve. Now I'm not one to delude myself into thinking they're sending me messages because they actually think I would be a good student at their school. No, my address was just one of the couple thousand that was randomly selected from their list, right?
Well, not exactly. Apparently, the only reason these schools are showing any interest in me whatsoever is because of something I can't even control. Most of these e-mails, they've been coming from the "Office of Minority Programs," or some other diversity initiative. Say what you want about affirmative action and diversity and whatever, but not only do I find this irritating, it's patronizing.
Why is it that we still need to be doing things like this? Why do universities have to set up special visitation events and campus tours and information sessions for minority students or "students of color," a description I personally detest. What, is white not a color too? Don't tell me you're willing to give me special attention just because my skin is a little darker than yours. You might think you're giving me an "opportunity," but all it tells me is that you think my intelligence and my accomplishments aren't enough. Thanks, but I'd much rather be thrown into the pool with everyone else and be judged solely on my merits. Don't give me something unless I've completely and truly earned it. And being born an Indian doesn't count as earning anything.
I know I may be overreacting slightly, but it bothers me how we sometimes focus so much on things we can't even control. If we have to focus on something, it should be the socioeconomic gap. If you want to give someone a free trip to visit your school, give it to the person who may not otherwise be able to afford it. If you want to talk to someone about grad school, talk to the person who had to work their way through undergrad. Then again, who knows, maybe someone in that situation would find even that patronizing, just as I find this.
As much as I hate to admit it, I know it's there. It almost seems like it sucks to be a white male nowadays because everyone is so hell-bent on being diverse. I know, people say that white males have had their fair share of the spotlight and now its everyone else's turn. But now that we've established that everyone deserves an equal and fair chance, shouldn't we focus on hiring the best person for the job, or admitting the best students to the university, regardless of demographics?
Monday, December 17, 2007
It's a dental conspiracy
Since when has "selling things" been in the job definition of a dentist?
Last Thursday I had my regular cleaning and check-up, and everything was going along just fine until the actual dentist came to do his two second evaluation of my oral status. I've only been going to this particular office for about two or three years now, and of the three dentists at this practice, this guy had never seen me before.
After going through each and every tooth and pointing out to the hygienist, in incomprehensible dental speak, what was wrong with it (way to make my oral self-esteem tank there doc), he asked if I'd ever had braces, which I haven't. He asked if I'd be interested in them, since my front teeth are slightly out of alignment. I gave him my best look of incredulity, as if to say, I'm not an awkward middle schooler; why the heck would I voluntarily become a metal mouth? He went on to explain how nowadays they have invialign, and I could have the braces and nobody would know. Well, doc, that certainly changes my perspective.
Thanks, but no dentist raised this back when I actually was in that formative teeth period, and I'm actually quite pleased with my mouth right now, no matter how out of alignment you say it is.
But that wasn't all. He then said something about seeing an ENT because some canal pops when I open and close my mouth. Well doc, I said with a slight smirk on my face, I actually did see and ENT several months ago because of an ear issue, and he didn't find anything. Dentist responded by saying he could have them do some complicated sounding procedureish test thing, and I just didn't reply. He also talked at some length about teeth grinding, which I know I don't do. By this point I was just thinking, unless there's something of actual dental peril going on in my mouth, please stop asking me questions.
And then he told me some useful, albeit crappy news. I have two tiny cavities that need to be filled. Boo. I don't get it. I didn't get my first cavity until I was about 13, but now it seems like every time I go to the dentist, I have to get something filled. I brush, I even floss every night - how does that stupid sugar still remain? Maybe it's a conspiracy at the office and if you reject their braces ploy, they threaten you with a drill and some sealent. Well, buddy, it won't work on me. I may not enjoy being drilled into, but I'm not one of those who cowers in fear at the mention of a dentist. So there, drill all you want doc, but you can't convince me to get unnecessary things done in my mouth.
Why can't all doctor's visits go as smoothly as the one with my eye doctor last Friday, where I went in, read some letters, got my eyes dilated, read some more letters, and then Doc was like, hey everything looks great, see you next year. Quite uneventful and it makes for a very boring story, yes, but it was straightforward and simple, which, when it comes to doctors, is what you always hope for, right?
Last Thursday I had my regular cleaning and check-up, and everything was going along just fine until the actual dentist came to do his two second evaluation of my oral status. I've only been going to this particular office for about two or three years now, and of the three dentists at this practice, this guy had never seen me before.
After going through each and every tooth and pointing out to the hygienist, in incomprehensible dental speak, what was wrong with it (way to make my oral self-esteem tank there doc), he asked if I'd ever had braces, which I haven't. He asked if I'd be interested in them, since my front teeth are slightly out of alignment. I gave him my best look of incredulity, as if to say, I'm not an awkward middle schooler; why the heck would I voluntarily become a metal mouth? He went on to explain how nowadays they have invialign, and I could have the braces and nobody would know. Well, doc, that certainly changes my perspective.
Thanks, but no dentist raised this back when I actually was in that formative teeth period, and I'm actually quite pleased with my mouth right now, no matter how out of alignment you say it is.
But that wasn't all. He then said something about seeing an ENT because some canal pops when I open and close my mouth. Well doc, I said with a slight smirk on my face, I actually did see and ENT several months ago because of an ear issue, and he didn't find anything. Dentist responded by saying he could have them do some complicated sounding procedureish test thing, and I just didn't reply. He also talked at some length about teeth grinding, which I know I don't do. By this point I was just thinking, unless there's something of actual dental peril going on in my mouth, please stop asking me questions.
And then he told me some useful, albeit crappy news. I have two tiny cavities that need to be filled. Boo. I don't get it. I didn't get my first cavity until I was about 13, but now it seems like every time I go to the dentist, I have to get something filled. I brush, I even floss every night - how does that stupid sugar still remain? Maybe it's a conspiracy at the office and if you reject their braces ploy, they threaten you with a drill and some sealent. Well, buddy, it won't work on me. I may not enjoy being drilled into, but I'm not one of those who cowers in fear at the mention of a dentist. So there, drill all you want doc, but you can't convince me to get unnecessary things done in my mouth.
Why can't all doctor's visits go as smoothly as the one with my eye doctor last Friday, where I went in, read some letters, got my eyes dilated, read some more letters, and then Doc was like, hey everything looks great, see you next year. Quite uneventful and it makes for a very boring story, yes, but it was straightforward and simple, which, when it comes to doctors, is what you always hope for, right?
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Journalism Success
This post-graduate dilemma now has an added twist. A twist that kind of has to do with the VERY BIG NEWS I'm about to reveal. Okay-are you sitting down? Here it (drumroll please) is:
I GOT AN A IN JOURNALISM CLASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Not an A minus, mind you, but a solid, I actually-earned-this A.
Okay fine, so Prof may have been right when he told me last Monday after class that I'm really good at this whole reporting thing. And yes, I may now be able to pick up the phone and call complete strangers and ask them a bunch of annoying questions without panicking. But this totally does not help me figure out what the heck to do with myself after graduation. I told prof that, despite my journalistic success, I was thinking about going to grad/law school after graduation. Prof, who got a master's in history just so he could have it, said he could see me doing the law school thing, and suggested I try the whole jour thing for a year, and if I like it, go ahead and get the master's to have it, and if not, then go to law school.
Great - so the option of going straight to work is back on the table again. Even though I still don't think that journalism is necessarily my life's calling (at this point I have absolutely no idea what is). Then again, I shouldn't totally write off journalism until after I've truly worked in it (i.e. until after I've done my journalism internship). Who knows; I might actually enjoy it (and boy would my mind's life planning mechanism be overjoyed to hear that?)
I GOT AN A IN JOURNALISM CLASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Not an A minus, mind you, but a solid, I actually-earned-this A.
Okay fine, so Prof may have been right when he told me last Monday after class that I'm really good at this whole reporting thing. And yes, I may now be able to pick up the phone and call complete strangers and ask them a bunch of annoying questions without panicking. But this totally does not help me figure out what the heck to do with myself after graduation. I told prof that, despite my journalistic success, I was thinking about going to grad/law school after graduation. Prof, who got a master's in history just so he could have it, said he could see me doing the law school thing, and suggested I try the whole jour thing for a year, and if I like it, go ahead and get the master's to have it, and if not, then go to law school.
Great - so the option of going straight to work is back on the table again. Even though I still don't think that journalism is necessarily my life's calling (at this point I have absolutely no idea what is). Then again, I shouldn't totally write off journalism until after I've truly worked in it (i.e. until after I've done my journalism internship). Who knows; I might actually enjoy it (and boy would my mind's life planning mechanism be overjoyed to hear that?)
Thursday, December 13, 2007
3 papers in 4 days
That, my friends, is why I have been relatively silent for the past few weeks. The semester has ended and while the rest of this university prepares to start exams in about, oh seven hours, I am done. And by done I mean every assignment turned in, stuff moved out of the apartment, me sitting at my real home in my real bed done.
Yes, I've been writing papers since Saturday. And yes, there is so much stuff I meant to blog about but found myself too caught up in the end of the semester crunch to do so. And yes, I will write about all that stuff shortly.
But not tonight. Tonight I'm going to sleep so that I can wake up one more early morning and go pick up my visa. Only then, then can I finally let out that sigh of relief and try to enjoy the next three weeks as much as humanly possible before I board a plane to a foreign country an ocean away and get set for the craziest eight months of my life.
Yes, I've been writing papers since Saturday. And yes, there is so much stuff I meant to blog about but found myself too caught up in the end of the semester crunch to do so. And yes, I will write about all that stuff shortly.
But not tonight. Tonight I'm going to sleep so that I can wake up one more early morning and go pick up my visa. Only then, then can I finally let out that sigh of relief and try to enjoy the next three weeks as much as humanly possible before I board a plane to a foreign country an ocean away and get set for the craziest eight months of my life.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Silence
Silence has a way of sneaking up on you, and when you finally realize it's there, it stops you cold.
Ever since I woke up about 45 minutes ago (I don't have class on Tuesdays), I've been researching the history of the online magazine Salon for a paper I have to write. About a minute ago, I looked up from the computer screen and realized there was absolutely nothing going on around me.
No one is here in the apartment, the fan is off, there's no construction outside, no chatter of students milling about campus. The old light fixtures in the hallway are off, so they aren't buzzing annoyingly. For a second the wind picked up and was making noise outside, but it's gone now.
It's nice to have this brief break, nice to be reminded that no matter how crazy the world gets, it can all actually stop for a few glorious minutes.
Ever since I woke up about 45 minutes ago (I don't have class on Tuesdays), I've been researching the history of the online magazine Salon for a paper I have to write. About a minute ago, I looked up from the computer screen and realized there was absolutely nothing going on around me.
No one is here in the apartment, the fan is off, there's no construction outside, no chatter of students milling about campus. The old light fixtures in the hallway are off, so they aren't buzzing annoyingly. For a second the wind picked up and was making noise outside, but it's gone now.
It's nice to have this brief break, nice to be reminded that no matter how crazy the world gets, it can all actually stop for a few glorious minutes.
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