In Other News
I went to the eye doctor. Now, not only can I see more than five feet away from me for the first time in, I dunno, seven years, but it turns out I look hot in glasses.
9.24.2006
Arts Review
The Boy Detective Fails by Joe Meno
I don't know about you, but I loved the Encyclopedia Brown stories when I was smallish, and Nancy Drew when I was slightly older. So The Boy Detective Fails was kind of written for me. Joe Meno, one of Chicago's greatest literary treasures, takes his writing in a more fantastic direction by introducing us to Billy Argo, the Boy Detective who grew up and had a slight mental meltdown. But he's still on the case, and although the plot is a little whacked-out, the writing is engrossing and the characters the odd sort of people you want to hope the world is really full of. The best part about the book, however, is the book itself. I love it when someone remembers that print is an extraordinary medium (the Punk Planet people remember this yearly, I think), and do something really cool with it. This book comes complete with a separate story in secret code, which can be deciphered using a decoder ring you cut out of the back flap of the book. The ring also helps you unravel part of the mystery in the main novel. In addition, there are a few extra puzzles at the end of the book, just for people (like me) who enjoy that sort of thing. I shall wrap this up tritely, by saying The Boy Detective Fails succeeds.
Nicholas Kashian @ Acme Artworks, 1741 N. Western
The paintings have some beautiful colors, reminding me of the American Southwest and of Spain, those sort of sun-bleached and sepia tones, which makes sense because his subjects included bullfighters and Native Americans. They were interesting figures that seemed to be slightly mutant individuals, maybe about to fade away or take off in flight, isolated in spotlights. It's not the sort of art I need to own, but I was happy to ponder it for a bit. I was less happy to be accosted by a person who I believe was the girlfriend of the artist he's splitting the show with. She was a little too exuberant to have a conversation with, and I didn't particularly want to converse with anyone. But that shouldn't stop you from checking out this art, because, well, she probably won't be there when you go.
French Kicks @ the Double Door
Dudes, what happened? Did you not get any sleep the night before? Do you just not care anymore? That's fine if you don't, but don't get up on stage and fake it like that. It's just boring.
I don't know about you, but I loved the Encyclopedia Brown stories when I was smallish, and Nancy Drew when I was slightly older. So The Boy Detective Fails was kind of written for me. Joe Meno, one of Chicago's greatest literary treasures, takes his writing in a more fantastic direction by introducing us to Billy Argo, the Boy Detective who grew up and had a slight mental meltdown. But he's still on the case, and although the plot is a little whacked-out, the writing is engrossing and the characters the odd sort of people you want to hope the world is really full of. The best part about the book, however, is the book itself. I love it when someone remembers that print is an extraordinary medium (the Punk Planet people remember this yearly, I think), and do something really cool with it. This book comes complete with a separate story in secret code, which can be deciphered using a decoder ring you cut out of the back flap of the book. The ring also helps you unravel part of the mystery in the main novel. In addition, there are a few extra puzzles at the end of the book, just for people (like me) who enjoy that sort of thing. I shall wrap this up tritely, by saying The Boy Detective Fails succeeds.
Nicholas Kashian @ Acme Artworks, 1741 N. Western
The paintings have some beautiful colors, reminding me of the American Southwest and of Spain, those sort of sun-bleached and sepia tones, which makes sense because his subjects included bullfighters and Native Americans. They were interesting figures that seemed to be slightly mutant individuals, maybe about to fade away or take off in flight, isolated in spotlights. It's not the sort of art I need to own, but I was happy to ponder it for a bit. I was less happy to be accosted by a person who I believe was the girlfriend of the artist he's splitting the show with. She was a little too exuberant to have a conversation with, and I didn't particularly want to converse with anyone. But that shouldn't stop you from checking out this art, because, well, she probably won't be there when you go.
French Kicks @ the Double Door
Dudes, what happened? Did you not get any sleep the night before? Do you just not care anymore? That's fine if you don't, but don't get up on stage and fake it like that. It's just boring.
9.14.2006
Things Happen
You know how lots of things sometimes happen all at once, and then for a while nothing happens? I'm due for one of those nothing-happens times.
In the past month:
My best friend moved about 4,000 miles away.
My mom got sick.
My sister moved 2,000 miles away.
I missed getting a promotion everyone agrees I deserve.
Todd and I started looking for houses and realized that they're expensive when they're nice and they're in crappy neighborhoods when we can afford them.
The temporary cat went back to her permanent owner.
Todd's mouth fell apart and it's taking several dentists and a lot of money to put it back together.
Our car died and was brought back to life but is definitely still limping.
I don't know, it feels like every day I wake up and think, well, what's it going to be today? I just hope, nothing. Or at least something really good and not stressful. Like a surprise banana cream pie on the dining room table or my boss reconsidering her impossible requirements for that position which will continue to be un-filled so she can be a great big martyr about it. Or something.
In the past month:
My best friend moved about 4,000 miles away.
My mom got sick.
My sister moved 2,000 miles away.
I missed getting a promotion everyone agrees I deserve.
Todd and I started looking for houses and realized that they're expensive when they're nice and they're in crappy neighborhoods when we can afford them.
The temporary cat went back to her permanent owner.
Todd's mouth fell apart and it's taking several dentists and a lot of money to put it back together.
Our car died and was brought back to life but is definitely still limping.
I don't know, it feels like every day I wake up and think, well, what's it going to be today? I just hope, nothing. Or at least something really good and not stressful. Like a surprise banana cream pie on the dining room table or my boss reconsidering her impossible requirements for that position which will continue to be un-filled so she can be a great big martyr about it. Or something.
9.10.2006
The Medical Report
Mom's surgery went fine. She had to have a few lymph nodes removed as well, and after the surgery they realized that there were some precancerous cells near the original site that they're going to go back in and remove this week. But after that, all the cancer that the doctors know about will be out of her. Then it's just on to whatever treatment comes next. I guess it might not be chemo, it might be some kind of hormone therapy which is the latest rage and apparently both works better and doesn't make your hair fall out. So we're all hoping it's the kind of cancer that will respond to that.
During the surgery, my dad, Rose, and I were all hanging around in the waiting room. We went into the hospital at 8 am, she went into surgery at 1pm, and we didn't get to see her until about 5. I read about five different magazines, Rose just stared into space most of the time, and Dad was with Mom until they put her under, and then trying to stay cool, reading a little hardboiled detective novel. He kept it under control for a while, but once Mom was out of surgery (about 3ish) and was in recovery, where Dad couldn't see her, he turned all furious and pacing and was getting angry with nurses, receptionists, and any other individuals he had to talk to. He gets antsy any time he has to be apart from Mom, and in this situation it was obviously much worse. I've never seen anyone actually pace before. I thought that was something only for movies. But he paced. Continuously. For an hour.
But in any case, Mom's home now and it's been several days so she's back to her normal self, just a little sore still where they cut her open (unfortunately on her right side, and she's right handed, so it's tough for her to do a lot of things for herself because she can't really lift her right arm). But other than that, we're just glad that this first step is done with and now we're waiting to be told what's going to happen next. I've never felt so powerless against anything in my entire life.
During the surgery, my dad, Rose, and I were all hanging around in the waiting room. We went into the hospital at 8 am, she went into surgery at 1pm, and we didn't get to see her until about 5. I read about five different magazines, Rose just stared into space most of the time, and Dad was with Mom until they put her under, and then trying to stay cool, reading a little hardboiled detective novel. He kept it under control for a while, but once Mom was out of surgery (about 3ish) and was in recovery, where Dad couldn't see her, he turned all furious and pacing and was getting angry with nurses, receptionists, and any other individuals he had to talk to. He gets antsy any time he has to be apart from Mom, and in this situation it was obviously much worse. I've never seen anyone actually pace before. I thought that was something only for movies. But he paced. Continuously. For an hour.
But in any case, Mom's home now and it's been several days so she's back to her normal self, just a little sore still where they cut her open (unfortunately on her right side, and she's right handed, so it's tough for her to do a lot of things for herself because she can't really lift her right arm). But other than that, we're just glad that this first step is done with and now we're waiting to be told what's going to happen next. I've never felt so powerless against anything in my entire life.
9.03.2006
Oh Sure, I'll Get In On This
Everyone else in the world has commented about this stupid column in Forbes.com, although I don't see why because it's the opinion piece equivalent of the crazy guy on the bus: everybody knows you just don't make eye contact and ignore him. But this morning I've decided to get in on it, partially because of the linked article below. Don't worry, I'll skip the whole "of course you should marry a career woman because women are smart and capable and can do anything they want and women should rule the world and are totally awesome and better than you so HA!" thing.
Now: I want to point out this column in today's Chicago Trib. At first glance, it may seem to say that the writer of the original piece, Michael Noer, is an idiot for thinking that you shouldn't marry a career woman. But in reality, it's saying that he's an idiot for saying that you shouldn't marry a career woman. Apparently, it's OK to think stupid and potentially misogynistic things as long as you don't say them out loud, or worse, print them in an internationally read magazine.
But let's move on to what I'd really like to say. This may not apply to people who read Forbes, of course, or even to a lot of people who read the Chicago Tribune. But I think it applies to most people in America. The reason you should marry a career woman is because you need the damn money. I don't know anyone capable of raising a family on one income. And if your goal is that grand American dream of a house, two cars, a kid or two, and the occasional vacation, you better have some serious cash coming in. One person probably can't cut it. I know in the discussions Todd and I have about the future, the possibility of me staying home (or him staying home, for that matter) has never come up. Because we're both able to do basic arithmetic. And with your income cut in half, the numbers don't add up.
Again, this may not make sense for Forbes readers, because maybe they're like the people I see on TV with multi-hundred-thousand-dollar salaries and comprehensive benefits and stock options and bonuses. But I make a good salary and I get decent benefits, and there's no way I could buy a house and raise a kid on my own money.
OK, back to the article for one final note. One of Noer's arguments is that if your wife works, she'll meet people who might be better than you and will thus leave you for one of them. That's my favorite part of the entire piece. It's the part where Noer shows that he's not really concerned about the sociological, financial, and medical research done on this topic. What it shows is that he has a major inferiority complex and he's so sure that he's inadequate that he'd prefer to keep his wife locked in the house or perhaps a convent where she'll never see another man who might possibly in some way outshine him. You know what, Michael? There's always going to be someone smarter, someone taller, someone with more cash, someone who's traveled more widely or read more books. Unless you plan to chain your wife in the cellar, she's going to meet other men. But if you've got a halfway decent, respectful, loving relationship, she's not going to leave you for them just because they've got a newer car than you do. Of course, after reading this article, I wouldn't be surprised if she starting fucking the pool boy on principle.
Now: I want to point out this column in today's Chicago Trib. At first glance, it may seem to say that the writer of the original piece, Michael Noer, is an idiot for thinking that you shouldn't marry a career woman. But in reality, it's saying that he's an idiot for saying that you shouldn't marry a career woman. Apparently, it's OK to think stupid and potentially misogynistic things as long as you don't say them out loud, or worse, print them in an internationally read magazine.
But let's move on to what I'd really like to say. This may not apply to people who read Forbes, of course, or even to a lot of people who read the Chicago Tribune. But I think it applies to most people in America. The reason you should marry a career woman is because you need the damn money. I don't know anyone capable of raising a family on one income. And if your goal is that grand American dream of a house, two cars, a kid or two, and the occasional vacation, you better have some serious cash coming in. One person probably can't cut it. I know in the discussions Todd and I have about the future, the possibility of me staying home (or him staying home, for that matter) has never come up. Because we're both able to do basic arithmetic. And with your income cut in half, the numbers don't add up.
Again, this may not make sense for Forbes readers, because maybe they're like the people I see on TV with multi-hundred-thousand-dollar salaries and comprehensive benefits and stock options and bonuses. But I make a good salary and I get decent benefits, and there's no way I could buy a house and raise a kid on my own money.
OK, back to the article for one final note. One of Noer's arguments is that if your wife works, she'll meet people who might be better than you and will thus leave you for one of them. That's my favorite part of the entire piece. It's the part where Noer shows that he's not really concerned about the sociological, financial, and medical research done on this topic. What it shows is that he has a major inferiority complex and he's so sure that he's inadequate that he'd prefer to keep his wife locked in the house or perhaps a convent where she'll never see another man who might possibly in some way outshine him. You know what, Michael? There's always going to be someone smarter, someone taller, someone with more cash, someone who's traveled more widely or read more books. Unless you plan to chain your wife in the cellar, she's going to meet other men. But if you've got a halfway decent, respectful, loving relationship, she's not going to leave you for them just because they've got a newer car than you do. Of course, after reading this article, I wouldn't be surprised if she starting fucking the pool boy on principle.
9.02.2006
Boo
Yesterday morning, when I checked the weather forecast, New York was supposed to be washed away with severe thunderstorms and flash floods this weekend, part of the leftovers of Hurricane Ernesto. Realizing that this would make my flights and my visit pretty much miserable, I cancelled the trip.
This morning, flipping through channels, I saw the Today show, and other than being a bit chilly and gray, New York seems fine. Boo.
Oh well. Just as well I'm around here this weekend. It's a lovely summer-into-fall day here and I'm trying to get everything I need done around the house and the city, since I'll be suburban-bound most of next week, helping out my family during my mom's surgery and my sister's last week in town.
This morning, flipping through channels, I saw the Today show, and other than being a bit chilly and gray, New York seems fine. Boo.
Oh well. Just as well I'm around here this weekend. It's a lovely summer-into-fall day here and I'm trying to get everything I need done around the house and the city, since I'll be suburban-bound most of next week, helping out my family during my mom's surgery and my sister's last week in town.
