Heutagogy

I've spent most of the past week unable to turn my head to the left fully. It started with last weekend's basketball session, was exacerbated by sitting in the front row for Batman IMAX, and then was pushed to another level by waves and boogie boarding on Tuesday. After a few more basketball games, I can't feel my left arm or turn at all. You should see me pathetically crawl onto bed while keeping my head supported and propped up.

Not to be overly dramatic but this is what it must feel like post-stroke. To have half your body become useless and dangling. I don't do well with inconvenience. I take perfect health for granted and any small uncomfortability makes me whine and create excuses for staying bedridden.

I blame my pillow. I suspect I've been sleeping perched on the edge of it, which strains the neck. As I'm about to set off travelling again, I fear that my body has become accustomed to sleeping in comfort. This won't do. One of the things keeping me young is the ability to sleep on any surface, without anything more than a towel on the ground to keep my head clean. Complaining about sleeping arrangements is a surefire sign I'm losing my edge. Hobos can't expect feathers and silk.

I finished I Feel Bad About My Neck and I Remember Nothing. They contain Ephron's reflections on getting old. The first one is a collection of essays about getting physically old, the second contains pieces about losing her memory. Not to Alzheimer's or anything, just simply to age.

People around me, mostly in their young thirties, love to say that they're getting forgetful in their "old" age. Perhaps it's just a thing people say. But what's going to happen when we're sixty? Will we remember anything? Will we have to?

After going through two books by Ephron, the logical next step was to read Caitlin Moran. So far her How to Be a Woman is exactly as I expected. Hilarious and great. I've seen Moran referred to as a "neo-feminist" but I'm not sure what means. Does feminism really need a "neo-" anything? Her book is part memoir and part ruminations about menstrual cycles, fat shaming, taming body hair, the lack of diverse porn, the shrinking real estate of lady underwear, hiring household help, and workplace sexism. Generally it's a statement on how disappointed she is in what feminism has become, and the direction it's going. She thinks feminisim should be less academic, more accepting, and much much louder.

I would recommend How to Be a Woman to everybody but also nobody. The friends I know who would be interested in this probably already know about it and the people that don't, well, don't. Perhaps I'm generalizing but most of my friends probably don't care to think about, much less discuss, the implications and causes of disappearing pubic hair. Or what to call your vagina. Or maybe my friends are having these conversations in secret without me. If so, please c.c. me in next time, I'm curious what you're saying.

Part of me wants to give this to my guys' book club to read and discuss. But that would be problematic since I don't have a guys' book club. (Does such a thing even exist?) And I can name only about three of my male friends who c/would read anything of this length. What I'm trying to figure out is what the male equivalent of How to Be a Woman is. Most of me fears it's something by Tucker Max. I did pick up a used book awhile ago titled Becoming a Man but it was a memoir about being in the closet. Interesting but not comparable.

I was told awhile ago that no man can be a feminist, that in fact it was an insult to the term. "A man can't be a feminist because they don't know what it's like to be a woman." Of course, this person also majored in women's studies and then decided to turn her back on all things feminist. However, her point is still valid. Do you have to actually be something to understand it? s.e. smith's post, "You Don't Have to Get It to Respect It" says no. Part of me says yes.

When white people say they know what it's like to be an ethnic minority, I have to scoff. Not because I don't believe that they believe it, but because it's impossible. Just like me understanding what being a woman is like. Impossible. I can read all the books, talk all the talks, maybe relate on some level, but at the end of the day, I haven't walked in those shoes. That applies across the board though. I'd still like to believe that males can call themselves feminist. In fact, Moran insists on it.

Moran is prolific. I read she outputs about 15,000 words a week and she wrote her first novel at thirteen, The Chronicles of Narmo, and had it published at fifteen. She also started writing for the Observer and the Guardian at seventeen. She's written for everybody. She's basically done it all. How can anyone not admire her?

• Caitlin on YouTube introducing her book (2011)
• They Don't Make Feminists This Outrageous Anymore
• The Guardian interview (2011)
• Neo-feminist Caitlin Moran on why being clever, funny and honest is better than presenting a sexy shield (2011)
• NPR: A Little Advice On 'How To Be A Woman'
• Moran interviews Lady Gaga (2010)

Also I was reading an article about how Iran's birth control policy is changing women's roles. For one, the ratio of men to women in college is now 35/65 there and some have called for affirmative action. For men. That's just ridiculous.

Recognize Its Authority

I can't be let near TV series. My friend came through with DVD sets for True Blood and Veronica Mars. I watched about four episodes of each. First, I never wanted to be a True Blood person, but dammit it's pretty good. The premise is interesting and well executed. Set in Louisiana, True Blood features a society where vampires and humans live in uneasy coexistence. There's an allegory to gays and such wrapped around the whole thing, as vampires "come out of the coffin," and many of the themes echo the struggle for mutant rights in X-Men. Throw in other X-related people like Anna Paquin (Rogue) and Lynn Collins (Silverfox), and I didn't stand a chance.

Veronica Mars is probably the one remaining teen series I knew I had to get into. I'd left it hanging around because I knew there was no way I wouldn't like it. Much like mothballing The Wire for a rainy day -- or month -- I hadn't touched Veronica Mars because I wanted to know that something great would always be lurking out there, waiting for me to consume it. Shot in San Diego, Veronica Mars is about a teen girl who helps her dad run his private investigation agency. The dialogue is witty, semi-young Kristen Bell still has facial expressions, and the many 90's song references made me chuckle every time. Plus the fashion styles from barely just over half a decade ago are pretty amusing. Remember when ribbon chokers were all the rage?

Of the two I'd recommend True Blood for everyone but I think Veronica Mars will stay with me longer.

Over the few days my friend was here, we hit up the zoo and the beach and a few other San Diego essentials. Back in college, I put together a "your visit to SD" page on my website. Fifteen years or so later, the itinerary remains about the same. The food choices have all changed, as our palates are now finer, but most of the activities would unfurl similarly. Basically I can entertain guests for about three full days before I'm exposed as the most boring host ever.

During our short visit to the zoo, the sun set rather quickly and most of the exhibits were too dark to see anything. After our bus tour of the grounds, we hustled through the west and north ends of the park, trying to catch the animals on our must-see list. In the end, we missed virtually all of them, but it was still fun to wander around the zoo with no crowds. In fact, for the last forty five minutes or so, after the park had officially closed, it was just the two of us strolling through the reptile house and frog area.

We wondered if zoo visitors ever got locked in, because we literally didn't see anyone else around. No announcements telling us the park was closing, no security cruising by in carts, nobody. I guess the prospect of hanging out with wild animals all night encourages everyone to leave eventually. But if we had wanted to, we could have easily hidden and stuck around to cause shenanigans. And then get eaten.

My friend really wanted to see the maned wolf -- a fantastic animal neither of us had ever experienced before -- but he/she/it just sat there and refused to get up. I even whistled at it, in an attempt to get its attention. No dice. My "not a wolf" whistle was useless.

I kind of hate it when people cluck at the animals, trying to get a good angle for their photo. Let the thing chill out already, they aren't here to please you. I don't understand people who need to take (crappy) photos of things when professional images exist. Really, is your rhino photo going to be better than the one online? This irritation extends to art pieces in particular. It's gross how people violate camera restrictions just to snap fuzzy photos of the Mona Lisa or whatever. I guess it's to prove you were there, or to document your experience. But you don't need a photo for that. It seems really pointless to take photos of stuff you'll never look at again, unless you're in the picture I guess. Even then it's probably stupid.

Of course, I was snap snapping away since I'm a hypocrite and have a moblog to maintain.

"Photography is the only major art in which professional training and years of experience do not confer an insuperable advantage over the untrained and inexperienced -- this for many reasons, among them the large role that chance (or luck) plays in the taking of pictures, and the bias toward the spontaneous, the rough, the imperfect."
-Susan Sontag (via Jay Caspian Kang)-

One July 4th a long time ago, my then girlfriend and I were at the zoo as night set in too. We cruised around hand in hand, just the two of us and a tiger or two. Many months later, when she was asked what was our most romantic time, she said it was that night. In typical fashion, I said, "That was romantic?"

It punctured another hole in our relationship and she literally hit me for saying that, for ruining a fond memory. I knew full well why she'd said that it was our most romantic experience -- we'd had a great time, and many wonderful pictures to prove it -- but I didn't want to admit it. Not with other people around.

Man, I was(/am) an asshole.

Unto Caesar

The world's most booming economy? Mongolia. Quick, name any (semi-contemporary) facts about Mongolia you know. If you're like me, you know next to nothing. It took me a second to even figure out if Mongolia was still a part of China. A few weekends ago we met a guy playing pickup ball and my friend invited him back to the house for the follow up BBQ. The kid was Mongolian and after unpacking his life story over the next few hours, I was still left curious. Both about his home country and his personal circumstances.

He was telling us how hard it was to get a job here because of his non-citizen status, his eventual goal to return to Mongolia because of the job situation here/there, and how smoothly he assimilated after moving here in his late teens. Our new friend moved from Mongolia to Pittsburgh to San Diego, and didn't learn English until he arrived -- he spoke Russian and Mongolian. Playing with him for the afternoon, we would have sworn he was a born and bred surfer dude. Ponytail, Quicksilver shirt, collapsible bike, laid back attititude. He explained that he had to just dive right in and learn everything quickly, immersing himself in American culture in order to fit in.

I could argue that despite him being only here a decade, he'd transitioned to being "American" faster than most of the FOBs I know who arrived way earlier. Instead of clinging to something familiar, he chose to dive right in. He was like, "You're the only Asians I've hung out with in awhile."

From this article about Mongolia's economy, I read that the unemployment rate for people between 18 and 29 is fifty percent in Spain or Greece. I don't know enough about economics to know if that means it's a great time to be there or if it's terrible. As president of the unofficial-official unemployment club, I'm sure I would have plenty of people to hang out with. (In the US, twelve percent of that demographic is unemployed.)

Lately I've been trying to think hard about what I want to do -- as opposed to leisurely think about it. The first step is removing the artificial barriers that have plagued me so far. No more "I'm too old to do that" or "it'll take too long." Thirty three isn't actually that old, and in the bigger scheme of things, there's at least another seven years to make something of myself before I turn into a lost cause.

We just did a podcast semi-related to this actually, about "making it," and I was trying to explain how I've crutches over the past five or so years to stay away from industries and occupations I might actually want to do -- albeit am currently unqualified for.

So no more "I can't do this because _____." Instead I'm trying to compile a list of things I would actually like to do, and which might be semi-viable. Some of this realization came on the heels of watching this documentary, Comic Store Heroes on National Geographic -- nobody should ever call it "NatGeo" -- about Midtown Comics in New York. It reminded me that twenty-something would have given anything to work in/around comics. It made me think of the things that I wanted to do when I was still in college, when everything seemed possible. Cultural anthropologist, psychologist, architect, entrepreneur, cartoonist, sociologist, etc. I went through three or four majors in college, and not one of them was writing. Or even English literature. I didn't take anything remotely reading/writing related until UCSD for a class or two. Poetry, children's books, the Brontes.

I'm trying to revisit those options. Or just make new ones. I mean, I was reading this article, "Hope: The Sequel," about the upcoming presidential race and got all fired up and thought, "What if I just go to Chicago and volunteer for Obama? What would that be like?" Being around people who care about something, who are passionate about something I know not much about, that would be interesting right?

Then I saw Jarhead and thought, "Man, the really craziest thing I could do now was to join the military." Sure I would flunk out in three seconds but if I'm looking for sharp turns, that would certainly be one. Another would be say, flight attendant. Yes, I just saw Catch Me If You Can. Basically I'm susceptible to anything right now, which seems like a good thing because I've been kind of thinking in a limited box recently.

Having actually worked at one of my dream jobs for awhile, I learned that the reality of it can often be underwhelming. However, that was years ago, and with just that one experience. Sure I decided then that I didn't like being a video game tester but that may not mean there aren't other things in the industry I couldn't have tried.

There's always time I guess, and more tries. 1-ups as it were.

"I have spent a great deal of my life discovering that my ambitions and fantasies -- which I once thought of as totally unique -- turn out to be cliches."
-Nora Ephron-

I also recently decided to stop saying "writer" when people ask what I do. One, it's a bit disingenuous. The amount of my time spent actually writing would really be an insult to the occupation. Second, I'm not being paid to write anything at the moment. And even if I were, I don't feel like it's necessarily right to be calling yourself something until you do it semi-full time. Okay my stance on that has shifted a little, but for the most part I still rant about the sort of aspirational occupations people give themselves. "No, you are not a photographer, you own an expensive camera." That's a conversation for another time I guess.

Three, I'm sort of sick of where the "I'm a writer" conversation goes. I'm like boring the shit out of myself before I've even finished replying. Technically I've been a writer since 2006, been calling myself one since 2009, and for me that's a long time to be something that I'm not sure I am. It'll be more accurate to say I'm a blogger. That I can commit to. But wait, I've never been paid to do that. Okay, "blogger" won't work either.

I'm gonna have to think about what I should say when people ask about my occupation. Going with "flute person" or "import/exporter" is not a fun answer. "Dilettante" for most accurate? I think I've enjoyed saying "unemployed" most of all. It tends to steer the conversation away from what I do pretty fast since there's an assumed shame. The less talk about work the better I say.

I used to avoid asking what someone did as long as humanly possible, it was like a personal challenge to never find out. I don't do that anymore. When I meet someone I'm pretty much assessing what I think they do based on their responses already. Sometimes it's surprising and a good conversation, usually it's not. I think I'm gonna go back to that, not asking people what their jobs are.

In the upcoming Looper, Bruce Willis is tasked with killing his younger self, played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. It's dawning on me that I could be possibly reaching back in time for twenty year old me. Like resurrecting him -- although it's arguable if he ever died. That's probably not a good sign. I should be going the other way on the timeline.

Double D

My friend just signed a two year lease on an apartment in Brooklyn. "Two year lease," I exclaimed. "You're crazy." This is a girl who bounces around the world more than everyone I know combined. She's constantly hopping from continent to continent and it wasn't until a year or so ago she managed to stay put. And now a two year lease. Apparently the deal was too good to pass up, it being rent controlled and all. Superior real estate will make anyone settle down.

I was talking to someone else the other day about coveting where other people live. Big house on the hill, condo with new fixtures, amazing views of the city, ginormous apartment in Chinatown, etc. I asked him what exactly he would enjoy about having such a place. Was it for his own happiness or partly also the thrill of having a show off spot? I guess it's really a matter of personal comfort. I mean, I'm more comfortable with high ceilings, strong showers, sweeping panoramas, and unlimited Wifi too.

When my friend was visiting me the other week, he said he understood why I stayed home in San Diego so much. There's just space. And coming from New York where that's a high priced commodity, he said he (kinda) got it, how I could stay here. That led me to wonder how long I could actually live in an enclosed urban space. I'd like to think it's forever but last time I tried, I desperately missed parking lots after only a year or so. And I wasn't even in the city city.

If you hang out online at the places I tend to, Brooklyn seems like the only place to be. Nobody ever talks about the charms of Manhattan, ever. But I still prefer it for its long avenues and constant on-ness. Walking around in Brooklyn just isn't quite the same.

• Why Can't the Bronx Be More Like Brooklyn?
• Brooklyn: A vertically integrated factory for literature
• As Brooklyn Gentrifies, Some Neighborhoods Are Being Left Behind

Going through some essays by Nora Ephron. Basically when you die, that's when people discover your stuff again. We knew that. Personally I've been put on a lot of people this year simply because of their posthumous tributes, or been reintroduced to their lesser known works. Christopher Hitchens, Maurice Sendak, Ray Bradbury, Adrienne Rich, Anne McCaffrey, Nora. I bet the people who have to pre-write obituaries know so much shit. They must sound so well informed at parties. I hope they have time to attend parties.

Currently listening to the new Frank Ocean. Off the first go I like it better than Nostalgia, Ultra, which was good but I didn't dig everything on it. This one though, smooth all the way through. I am pumping his songs through some True Image HR-6.5 speakers, which were unearthed from the garage and now have a little amp connected to them courtesy of AMR. With one push of a button my neighbors can hate me. "Yeah! It's a party in the USA!"

Eine Kleine Nachtmusik

Houseboating is the best thing in-between camping and hoteling. Basically it's got all the amenities you'd want -- beds, a kitchen, bathrooms, running water, and electricity -- but you feel like you're constantly outside. When camping, half the time you're wishing for a dip in the water anyway and since you're already drifting on a lake, you can just leap right in whenever. Houseboating is the future of vacations. Plus, Lake Berryessa was only about an hour outside of San Francisco. I'm pretty sure we're going to do it again because this experience was so great.

Things I learned from this trip: Never run out of beer. Especially when you are just starting to get into super serious flip cup. Don't let AMR hijack the dance party by putting in terrible DVDs and siphoning the crowd. Bring CDs in case the speakers don't allow you to jack in iPods. Bring extra speakers. Not all douchey looking guys in star spangled Speedos are actually douchey. Even if they board you like pirates, they will prove to be an interesting diversion. Floaties and noodles are very key for any swimming related activity. Smoking gloves double nicely as clean up gloves.

This last bit I knew already.

Also, I think the number one takeaway is that all group trips from now on can only be done twice. The first time nobody has any idea what to expect so the bar is set low and the resulting fun factor is invariably high. Post-inaugural trip there's all this talk of how fantastic it was and how you miss it already and can't wait to go again.

The following year's trip then gets bigger but then the comparisons set in. Sure it's still fun because it's another experience but there are some things that might have been more enjoyable with a smaller group. A nice size at our age is probably ten to twelve people. Any larger and people start to get claustrophobic. Or people-phobic. Personally I could still go twenty-plus but that just speaks to my continued immaturity. (I miss big groups sometimes.)

By the third trip, everything has collapsed and there's just way too many people and the activity has started to depreciate in fun value down to almost nil. What we need to do is prevent that by just not going a third time at all. Two and done! The only research I've conducted on this topic is analyzing the trajectory of our Tahoe trips circa 2009-11. To broaden our experience base, we'll just have to take more group trips to continue further testing.

I'd also like to somehow work this into my "any social group can only maintain its heyday for a maximum of two years" theory. Although I think we can pretty much close the book on that one, it's already a fact as far as I'm concerned.

Back in middle school, I went houseboating with my then best friend's family and it was one of the best vacations I'd ever had. We fished, jet skied, played white people Mahjong, all of it. It had been a dream of mine to repeat the experience. Our boat this time was bigger and better, and while there wasn't quite as much lazy star gazing as when I was younger, the experience itself was more fulfilling. Plus, it was nice being outdoors after six months cooped up in San Diego. I know, that sounds totally pathetic but it's true. I haven't spent three days in a row outside since last year?

A note of clarification: George and I didn't do the middle school houseboat trip together as most of our social lives back then were separate -- and not equal. It wasn't until post-college that we became one amorphous hangout unit. Yes, there was a time when we didn't have the same friends, enemies, and acquaintances. The other day I met one of her semi-new friends and was addressed as "Hey mystery twin!" I don't think we've had one of those moments in awhile. Although somehow George made an appearance in my friend's dream recently. I believe this friend has only met George once, yet George materialized in her subconscious.

"You [Jon] lived in a mansion with marble walls and granite floors. And George was mad because I was cartwheeling through the hall. And Ameer was taking a bath. And it leaked through the third floor ceiling. Ohhhh, and and and. You led this hundred person flash mob dance. I was like 'Oh he can dance?'"

Here's an interesting piece about auditioning for the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Our godsister plays harp for them and there are message boards online that chronicled the competition she had to beat out to get the position. Symphony fans waited with bated breath at each stage of her audition, anxious to see who'd moved on. Apparently after a year at the BSO, you can get tenure for life. That blew my mind a little. This could be her job like forever.

My godsister was here for the Mainly Mozart Festival a few weeks ago and my friend and I were able to go watch her downtown. In a shocker, I semi-knew the piece she was playing: "Overture: The Marriage of Figaro, K. 492." Actually most people would probably recognize it too as it's pretty common. If you want to get really fancy though, try this classical music Sporcle quiz. You'll be like "Damn, what is that called?!"

Semi-related: I also found blogs dedicated to creating sheet music of pop songs for the flute. Tomorrow I'm gonna try out "Firework" and "We Are Young." Cover your ears.