I once had this faucet that leaked, in my spare bathroom. At times it would trickle, eking out small, gurgling streams between steady drips. Metallic-edged pings and plops would sound throughout my apartment. Some days I wouldn't hear it all, until while immersed in some book or other quiet occupation a sudden "plip!" would rouse me from my reverie. I knew I should get it fixed, but I lacked motivation. In a way, the sounds were comforting and familiar.
Then, one day, it started to flow. The stream became a flood. Water surged from the faucet as forceful as a mighty river. It cascaded over the edge of the sink, covering the floor, suddenly over my toes and rising. The walls melted away, becoming water, and a chaos of swirling deluge rushed at me, the noise deafening. My waist was under, then my chest and as the water passed over my eyes I sunk further into the alluvium gathering around my knees. "I will drown," I thought calmly, the futility of my situation bringing serenity.
I blinked.
The water had disappeared, my clothes were dry, and the only sound was a quick "plip-plop" followed by silence. I went to my closet and dug out a wrench. Returning, I twisted that faucet with all the strength in my body. As though my very life force were flowing down through my arms, hands and fingers. Left to right, reposition. Left to right, reposition. Left to right, reposition. "Be quiet!" I screamed. "Stop your incessant dripping!" I pulled and turned until my hands felt raw and I collapsed, enervated.
For days I walked on eggshells, shoulders hunched with tension, hoping to hear nothing. Days passed, then weeks. I started to relax. Weeks turned to months, and before I knew it years had passed. I heard no more drips, but I never dared to use that faucet.
Recently a friend came to visit. After a few minutes spent catching up, he asked me for a drink of water. Heading into the kitchen, I grabbed a glass and turned the cold handle on my faucet. Nothing came out. "How odd," I thought. Turning the handle back, I tried the hot tap. Still no juice. I laughed, nervously, at the irony. I headed for the master bath, a quick, "Just one minute" uttered apologetically to my friend as I passed through the living room. In the bathroom, I tried the cold first again. Silence. "COME ON!" I thought as I turned both the hot and cold knobs as far as they would go, annoyed. I gave the tub knobs a try and was similarly disappointed.
My frustration turned to fear as I realized I had only one option left to me. I headed to the spare bath with trepidation. Almost comically, I pushed the door open so meekly one would have thought a horror movie villain lurked behind. But there was nothing comical about the dread I felt as I approached that sink, seeing my wan face in the mirror beaded with perspiration. Should I dare to turn the tap on? What if, like the others, this tap brought no water? Or perhaps more terrifyingly, what if the flood returned? I stood immobile, unable to decide.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Also, Marketing Unto Oblivion (or perhaps, observation)
I have been on a reading kick this year. We're just about three weeks into the year and I've already finished two books, am halfway thru a third, and about 40 pages into a fourth. The two completed have long been on the reading list (and the bookshelf) and I'm just now getting around to them.
The first was "Never Let Me Go" by Kazuo Ishugiro. I had read and enjoyed "When We Were Orphans" and "The Remains of the Day" so I was eager for another offering by Ishugiro. It did not disappoint. One of the things I love most about his writing is the depth of description he gives to the characters' thoughts and emotions. It makes them so relatable, and exerts a strong pull on me as a reader to empathize (and even compare to my own life experiences or past emotions). This book took that constant quality one step further. Written as a narrative of memory, Ishugiro's protagonist remembers in the way many of us do: she'll be telling one story and suddenly, realize that in order to properly tell it she has to tell us something else first, and on and on till each story is a beautiful, fractal tree of memories branching off in all directions but inherently related and connected. Some are just wisps, some are branches as thick as trunks themselves. I felt like I was listening to an old friend talk rather than turning the pages of a book. To boot, the story itself is quite moving and maintains a sense melancholy without feeling heavy. I really liked this book.
Next, I read "Things Fall Apart" by Chinua Achebe. Both my sister and my sister-in-law are English teachers, and so I had often heard about this book but never read it. I picked it up for two bucks at a used book store and finished it in about 4 days of evening reading. Full of lush description, it was a venture into a world sadly completely alien to me. I'm still thinking about it and haven't quite figured out what I want to say about it. I liked this book quite a lot too, but not as much as "Never Let Me Go."
The book I'm halfway through is "The Wordy Shipmates" by Sarah Vowell. I pick that one up, read 15 pages and put it down again. The subject matter, though written with humor, is a little heavy to be a page-turner. Since it's non-fiction I feel I can read it alongside whatever fiction I'm working on and it's not a distraction. The current fiction tome I am wending my way through (and the impetus for this post) is "A Scanner Darkly" by Philip K. Dick. I've read other Dick but hadn't yet cracked this particular volume, given to me for Hanukkah a few years back by my brother.
I was about 48 pages into this book when something infuriating happened. I had just started to get a feel for the characters. I was making conjectures about what their stories might be. Where was it all leading, I wondered, noticing clues hidden throughout the text like little nuggets of gold gleaming in a dark coal mine. I put the book down for a minute to chat with my mother (who was visiting for the weekend). When I picked it back up, I took notice (really for the first time) of the cover. Though the book was originally published in 1977, this particular edition had been published in 2006, shortly after the release of the movie version starring Keanu Reeves. The 'Waking Life' style animation of the movie was the theme of the cover, showing rough watercolor sketches of Reeves, Robert Downey Jr, and Winona Ryder with geometric shapes of varying sizes serving as a kaleidoscopic backdrop. In the top right hand corner, a bright lime-colored circle featured bold black words reading "NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE". "Man, they are trying hard to sell this book," I thought to myself. Then, I flipped the book over. Now, I don't know what possessed me to start reading the back cover (maybe I was hypnotized by all the cracked out colors) but I did it all the same. And do you know what it said? IT COMPLETELY SPOILED THE BOOK! I won't go into detail here because in case you haven't read it I don't want you to be similarly spoiled, but suffice it to say it contained a "Keyser Sosa size" spoiler - a spoiler of 'epic' proportions, if you will. Now, I'm sure the reveal it gave is not the most important thing in the book. More than that has to happen or there's not much of a story there. But an important cornerstone has been revealed! My sleuthing for clues was one of the most enjoyable parts of reading this story, as was the general feeling of anticipation often felt when reading books of the 'thriller' ilk. I haven't been able to pick the book back up for four days. I have developed a sad, apathetic attitude of "What's the point?" And I am PISSED at these publishers. Just as so much writing has become 'all flash no substance' so it seems has the marketing of said writing. "We can't get someone to pick a book of the shelf and buy it unless we garish up the cover or reveal the plot on the back! Better yet, let's do both!"
Anyway, I just felt the need to rant about this a little bit. It's very frustrating as a reader to see such blatant disregard of the author's need to spin a yarn. And it wasn't always like that. Most of the really old books I have (as my brother astutely pointed out) have little more than a title on the cover, and sometimes not even that! ((Sigh)).
Anyway, getting sleepy again. Worked from 8am to 10pm today!!! But tomorrow? Rangers/Hurricanes game - hurrah!!!! :)
The first was "Never Let Me Go" by Kazuo Ishugiro. I had read and enjoyed "When We Were Orphans" and "The Remains of the Day" so I was eager for another offering by Ishugiro. It did not disappoint. One of the things I love most about his writing is the depth of description he gives to the characters' thoughts and emotions. It makes them so relatable, and exerts a strong pull on me as a reader to empathize (and even compare to my own life experiences or past emotions). This book took that constant quality one step further. Written as a narrative of memory, Ishugiro's protagonist remembers in the way many of us do: she'll be telling one story and suddenly, realize that in order to properly tell it she has to tell us something else first, and on and on till each story is a beautiful, fractal tree of memories branching off in all directions but inherently related and connected. Some are just wisps, some are branches as thick as trunks themselves. I felt like I was listening to an old friend talk rather than turning the pages of a book. To boot, the story itself is quite moving and maintains a sense melancholy without feeling heavy. I really liked this book.
Next, I read "Things Fall Apart" by Chinua Achebe. Both my sister and my sister-in-law are English teachers, and so I had often heard about this book but never read it. I picked it up for two bucks at a used book store and finished it in about 4 days of evening reading. Full of lush description, it was a venture into a world sadly completely alien to me. I'm still thinking about it and haven't quite figured out what I want to say about it. I liked this book quite a lot too, but not as much as "Never Let Me Go."
The book I'm halfway through is "The Wordy Shipmates" by Sarah Vowell. I pick that one up, read 15 pages and put it down again. The subject matter, though written with humor, is a little heavy to be a page-turner. Since it's non-fiction I feel I can read it alongside whatever fiction I'm working on and it's not a distraction. The current fiction tome I am wending my way through (and the impetus for this post) is "A Scanner Darkly" by Philip K. Dick. I've read other Dick but hadn't yet cracked this particular volume, given to me for Hanukkah a few years back by my brother.
I was about 48 pages into this book when something infuriating happened. I had just started to get a feel for the characters. I was making conjectures about what their stories might be. Where was it all leading, I wondered, noticing clues hidden throughout the text like little nuggets of gold gleaming in a dark coal mine. I put the book down for a minute to chat with my mother (who was visiting for the weekend). When I picked it back up, I took notice (really for the first time) of the cover. Though the book was originally published in 1977, this particular edition had been published in 2006, shortly after the release of the movie version starring Keanu Reeves. The 'Waking Life' style animation of the movie was the theme of the cover, showing rough watercolor sketches of Reeves, Robert Downey Jr, and Winona Ryder with geometric shapes of varying sizes serving as a kaleidoscopic backdrop. In the top right hand corner, a bright lime-colored circle featured bold black words reading "NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE". "Man, they are trying hard to sell this book," I thought to myself. Then, I flipped the book over. Now, I don't know what possessed me to start reading the back cover (maybe I was hypnotized by all the cracked out colors) but I did it all the same. And do you know what it said? IT COMPLETELY SPOILED THE BOOK! I won't go into detail here because in case you haven't read it I don't want you to be similarly spoiled, but suffice it to say it contained a "Keyser Sosa size" spoiler - a spoiler of 'epic' proportions, if you will. Now, I'm sure the reveal it gave is not the most important thing in the book. More than that has to happen or there's not much of a story there. But an important cornerstone has been revealed! My sleuthing for clues was one of the most enjoyable parts of reading this story, as was the general feeling of anticipation often felt when reading books of the 'thriller' ilk. I haven't been able to pick the book back up for four days. I have developed a sad, apathetic attitude of "What's the point?" And I am PISSED at these publishers. Just as so much writing has become 'all flash no substance' so it seems has the marketing of said writing. "We can't get someone to pick a book of the shelf and buy it unless we garish up the cover or reveal the plot on the back! Better yet, let's do both!"
Anyway, I just felt the need to rant about this a little bit. It's very frustrating as a reader to see such blatant disregard of the author's need to spin a yarn. And it wasn't always like that. Most of the really old books I have (as my brother astutely pointed out) have little more than a title on the cover, and sometimes not even that! ((Sigh)).
Anyway, getting sleepy again. Worked from 8am to 10pm today!!! But tomorrow? Rangers/Hurricanes game - hurrah!!!! :)
Harumph
Such is the way of the world
You can never know
Just where to put all your faith
And how will it grow
Gonna rise up
Burning back holes in dark memories
Gonna rise up
Turning mistakes into gold
Such is the passage of time
Too fast to fold
And suddenly swallowed by signs
Low and behold
Gonna rise up
Find my direction magnetically
Gonna rise up
Throw down my ace in the hole
You can never know
Just where to put all your faith
And how will it grow
Gonna rise up
Burning back holes in dark memories
Gonna rise up
Turning mistakes into gold
Such is the passage of time
Too fast to fold
And suddenly swallowed by signs
Low and behold
Gonna rise up
Find my direction magnetically
Gonna rise up
Throw down my ace in the hole
Monday, January 17, 2011
Patience is a Virtue (I Lack)
Ever get that feeling, in your gut, where you think you've found the perfect moment for something? A kind of euphoria takes over, and as Warren Ellis said, "You could shag a million nuns and destroy their faith in Christ, from your chair." But then - tragedy - for whatever reason, you suddenly have an inability to execute. You listened to someone who told you to wait, or circumstances changed suddenly, or it snowed. Whatever. Then, you start to think the perfect moment has passed you by. And you start frantically analyzing all other moments, wondering if you've completely missed your shot or if another moment as perfect will come along, and then the worrying and the obsessing all coalesce into omfgmusttakeactionnowbecauseimissedit. And then, you realize that instead of being patient and waiting for the right moment, actually you've acted in what could quite possibly be the worst moment. That's me. Most of the time. ((Sigh.))
As much as life has been a joy lately, it has also been a challenge. I forget sometimes, because I was lucky enough to come to NC with a ready made social circle, that I am still building a life here. And that if I intend to stay, the blocks I lay need to be solid (and made of a substance fine enough not to embarrass me in front of the neighbors). Every behavior counts. Every day I should ask myself - "Who do you want to be today?" - and the answer should always be "The best possible person I can be." Aspiration is all well and good but without execution is worthless.
Tiredness has captured me and into her prison of sleep I shall go.
As much as life has been a joy lately, it has also been a challenge. I forget sometimes, because I was lucky enough to come to NC with a ready made social circle, that I am still building a life here. And that if I intend to stay, the blocks I lay need to be solid (and made of a substance fine enough not to embarrass me in front of the neighbors). Every behavior counts. Every day I should ask myself - "Who do you want to be today?" - and the answer should always be "The best possible person I can be." Aspiration is all well and good but without execution is worthless.
Tiredness has captured me and into her prison of sleep I shall go.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Hello, Internet, It's Me Beth
Today it occurred to me that so much of what gets posted to the internet is just people's way of reaching out in the digital era. Checking to see if anyone's listening. Or if anyone cares.
...tap tap. This thing on?
But seriously folks. All joking aside, I count myself amongst that population. Half the fun of posting status updates to facebook is seeing what causes people to respond, and what they have to say. The creating of a dialog. Can you imagine what it would be like if status updates were really just status updates? There was no commenting, likes, or dislikes? I'm certain way fewer people would do it.
Elsewhere in my brain at the moment, is a post I've been marinating on for a number of months but am even more eager to do of late. It's a long rambly exploration of gender comparisons (and interactions) in the workplace, but especially in the finance industry. Watch this space. Promise it won't be so long til next posting.
I leave you with one parting thought - just watched the movie Paper Heart and it was adorable. I give it a solid recommendation.
Cheers!
...tap tap. This thing on?
But seriously folks. All joking aside, I count myself amongst that population. Half the fun of posting status updates to facebook is seeing what causes people to respond, and what they have to say. The creating of a dialog. Can you imagine what it would be like if status updates were really just status updates? There was no commenting, likes, or dislikes? I'm certain way fewer people would do it.
Elsewhere in my brain at the moment, is a post I've been marinating on for a number of months but am even more eager to do of late. It's a long rambly exploration of gender comparisons (and interactions) in the workplace, but especially in the finance industry. Watch this space. Promise it won't be so long til next posting.
I leave you with one parting thought - just watched the movie Paper Heart and it was adorable. I give it a solid recommendation.
Cheers!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Cleaning Out My House, Cleaning Out My Closet
For the one who may have gotten away:
SP - N SXEM E WMI OPUI UTE, BDTZ DKJ MXGTP RA. X PNZC'F WAPXNVT FMA UULDIUSC PE FPIDFYIUTJ, PFKEGEY. XR DKJ QAAG RJAA XNGT UY, E'S SNRT UY W IDD JDI.
For the one in the dark:
HO - YDTDJ WGQ UADBQA LVT HDHJ UDG YDPF BWN, FWQHF RA.
For the one not meant to be:
ZV - XKBQYEBQX E BUXO NAZ OD FJNGUGHN, UY DJDYO IA QEKQ. XF BWH DNCWF GQI UY SPE YDT TFNSQXP ITNJV U'AA THJN SASA.
For the one who always made me laugh:
TE - N SXEM UDG MWS XJP BQ IK NAZ. :)
SP - N SXEM E WMI OPUI UTE, BDTZ DKJ MXGTP RA. X PNZC'F WAPXNVT FMA UULDIUSC PE FPIDFYIUTJ, PFKEGEY. XR DKJ QAAG RJAA XNGT UY, E'S SNRT UY W IDD JDI.
For the one in the dark:
HO - YDTDJ WGQ UADBQA LVT HDHJ UDG YDPF BWN, FWQHF RA.
For the one not meant to be:
ZV - XKBQYEBQX E BUXO NAZ OD FJNGUGHN, UY DJDYO IA QEKQ. XF BWH DNCWF GQI UY SPE YDT TFNSQXP ITNJV U'AA THJN SASA.
For the one who always made me laugh:
TE - N SXEM UDG MWS XJP BQ IK NAZ. :)
Friday, August 13, 2010
Please Support This!
If you get a chance, please hop on over to Boing Boing and check out this post. I think it's a petition worth signing. Organizations like this one, and like the Svalbard Global Seed Vault provide a crucial service in ensuring the biodiversity of our world. When reading "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver, she had an awesome stat in there (which I can't remember exactly) talking about the lack of biodiversity in our food. I think she said something to the effect of: 2000 years ago our ancestors ate over 80,000 species of crop; today we are down to around 200? I can't remember. I'll have to go to the library and look it up. Either way, check out the article, and if you feel like it, sign the petition. Cheers.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
A Recent Photo I'm Proud Of
I took the below picture on a recent camping and canoeing trip along the Delaware River. It's of my sister's dog, Enrique. I am quite pleased with how it came out. Click it for the hi-res version.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
R.I.P. Whitney
Whitney. Your obituary, though nice, insufficiently expresses all the great things about you. Here's what I will miss.
I will miss photocopying the NY Times crossword puzzle for you every day, and then meeting up in the afternoon to see which answers we were missing. I will miss how we'd be unable to get any additional letters, but then you'd invariably call me or come to my desk 2 minutes later with some flash of brilliance that occurred to you after I left.
I will miss going to the gym with you at lunch. I will miss getting to teach you all the things my trainer showed me that morning, and you teaching me all the things your trainer showed you. I will miss having a kindred spirit that both hated and loved working out at the same time. I will miss lying outside on the pavement and throwing a ten pound ball around and having all the people eating lunch look at us like we're crazy, and then just laughing about it. I will miss your crazy lunges and ridiculously long wall sits. You kicked serious ass.
I will miss gossiping about family drama, our clothes and shoes, what we cooked for dinner last night. (Speaking of clothes, btw, you were the only person I knew who could pull off those adorable flowered headbands without looking completely twee!) No matter what I brought up in conversation, you always had something to say, something to contribute. I loved your laugh, and loved to make you laugh, and appreciated it with genuine pleasure every time you told me I was funny!
I will miss bonding over photography and other artistic endeavors. I loved that we shared that passion. I'm sad that you never got a chance to show me any of your art - I really looked forward to seeing it. I hope wherever you are is as beautiful as the beauty your passion for art probably inspired in life.
I will miss having such a strong, amazing woman around. I still can't believe that story about how you had to swim a mile with a gaping head wound to possibly save your own life after your sailing students caused you to get in the head with a boom. I am in awe of how you cared for your brilliant yet savant sister. Your ability to stay calm and silent in an argument and wait for the other person to talk themselves into a hole was uncanny.
I am terribly sad that our connections did not have the chance to blossom into what would surely have been a long and fulfilling friendship. I will miss you and I will not forget you. You were taken too soon.
Rest in peace.
I will miss photocopying the NY Times crossword puzzle for you every day, and then meeting up in the afternoon to see which answers we were missing. I will miss how we'd be unable to get any additional letters, but then you'd invariably call me or come to my desk 2 minutes later with some flash of brilliance that occurred to you after I left.
I will miss going to the gym with you at lunch. I will miss getting to teach you all the things my trainer showed me that morning, and you teaching me all the things your trainer showed you. I will miss having a kindred spirit that both hated and loved working out at the same time. I will miss lying outside on the pavement and throwing a ten pound ball around and having all the people eating lunch look at us like we're crazy, and then just laughing about it. I will miss your crazy lunges and ridiculously long wall sits. You kicked serious ass.
I will miss gossiping about family drama, our clothes and shoes, what we cooked for dinner last night. (Speaking of clothes, btw, you were the only person I knew who could pull off those adorable flowered headbands without looking completely twee!) No matter what I brought up in conversation, you always had something to say, something to contribute. I loved your laugh, and loved to make you laugh, and appreciated it with genuine pleasure every time you told me I was funny!
I will miss bonding over photography and other artistic endeavors. I loved that we shared that passion. I'm sad that you never got a chance to show me any of your art - I really looked forward to seeing it. I hope wherever you are is as beautiful as the beauty your passion for art probably inspired in life.
I will miss having such a strong, amazing woman around. I still can't believe that story about how you had to swim a mile with a gaping head wound to possibly save your own life after your sailing students caused you to get in the head with a boom. I am in awe of how you cared for your brilliant yet savant sister. Your ability to stay calm and silent in an argument and wait for the other person to talk themselves into a hole was uncanny.
I am terribly sad that our connections did not have the chance to blossom into what would surely have been a long and fulfilling friendship. I will miss you and I will not forget you. You were taken too soon.
Rest in peace.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
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