Insanity!!

Yaay!! Have finally figured out how to title my posts (the title bar needs to be physically turned on in the settings menu, how silly).

Interesting:
National Geographic has an article about a study that has made some preliminary findings that link weather (specifically rain and thunder storms) to traffic patterns!! The researchers think that increased pollution caused by the increased traffic on weekdays, particularly truck traffic, may explain why rainstorms are more frequent and heavier on weekdays. Apparantly, pollution releases tiny particles into the air, which then causes moisture to coalesce into tiny droplets. These little droplets then rise higher in the air than regular ones, which generally makes for a stronger, more intense storm. (The study was conducted in Southeast US.) How bizarro (in a totally logical way) is that?

Along the same, though far more humorous, line-- dairy cows have been cited by the government as "the main source of smog-forming pollutants in the San Joaquin Valley, California." It seems that the cows are only the latest livestock to be "branded an environmental health risk on account of their flatulent behavior," and that they emit more smog-forming gases than cars! Just think, everytime you pass gas, you may be contributing to the hole in the ozone. Bean lovers beware.

First off, it is absolutely, utterly despicable the way mainstream media has, for the most part, portrayed this recent explosion in the Middle East. Every headline, every article is about the large-scale Israeli retaliation--with all the emphasis placed on "large-scale" rather than "retaliation." Has no one noticed that three Israeli soldiers have been kidnapped by terrorist organizations? That Hezbollah rockets have been flying into northern Israel by the dozens, hitting Sfat, Carmiel and Haifa--all places I visited and LIVED IN. The Stella Maris, a beautiful, historical and multi-ethnic neighborhood in Haifa was hit. If the victims were Americans, the entire Middle East would have been flying under the U.S. flag hours ago. But nowhere in sight are pictures of the distruction wrought on Israel, or even stories about the particulars. Only clinical mentions of the new scars on Israeli land and then paragraphs on the indicidual bridges and runways hit in Lebanon. Only the Washington Post, in an editorial, seems to take the pragmatic approach:

"WHEN ISRAEL withdrew its troops from southern Lebanon in 2000 after more
than two decades of occupation, it also issued a warning: Any cross-border
provocations by Hezbollah, the militant Shiite group, would elicit a severe
military response. So there can be no surprise at the violent reaction to
Hezbollah's ambush of an Israeli patrol Wednesday, in which three soldiers were
killed and two others taken captive by the guerrillas. And there can be no doubt
that Iran and Syria, Hezbollah's chief sponsors, bear responsibility for what
has instantly become the most far-reaching, lethal and dangerous eruption of
cross-border fighting in the Middle East in recent years.

"Europeans and others in the international community are already
criticizing as excessive Israel's swift military response. Conspicuously they
have said comparatively little about the volleys of dozens of rockets Hezbollah
rained down on northern Israel yesterday. In fact, given the all-too-familiar
patterns of violence and retribution in the Middle East, the Israeli attacks are
entirely predictable, and precisely what Hezbollah and its patrons must have
expected and even wanted."

Also startling is how connected I feel to Haifa, and how bizzare it is to think that some of the very places I walked are now rubble. When the WTC was hit on 9/11, of course it hit close to home, of course it was scary, startling and everything else. But I hadn't been to the twin towers since I was very little, hadn't even walked by in years. Being that distanced made it surreal, yes it was a part of my home, but not a very big part--my life, my memories never really changed because those towers were never a signifacant part of my everyday experience. But this, in Israel, is different. Jack called yesterday to tell me that the Israeli army was shooting back from a promenade in Haifa--one that extends along the top ridge of the mountain from the Carmel Center to the Bahai Gardens and farther down. I took Jack to that promenade just seven months ago, pointing off in the distance to where, on a clear day, you can see the Lebanese border. To think that there are now tanks and other evidence of war on that beautiful street is startling. I have so many memories there, first with Deborah on our 10 hour hike through the city, then with the overseas group as we toured the Bahai Gardens, and with Jack. Though short-lived, that city, and particularly that part of it, will always feel like home some romantic, nostalgic way. How strange to know that it's under attack, to crave pictures of just how much damage has been wrought, and to not be able to find any, because though they won't say it, the "media" feels that the city, my city, deserves it.

For those West Wing fans out there:

Remember that episode where they're putting a poll in the field (I think it's the first season) and the opening scene is all of the main characters frantically editing and arguing over the wording of the questions and they keep saying that a particular question is "asymmetrical"? The question was do you think the country is "heading in the right direction or getting off track"? and CJ says that the question has been used for years and is proven to be an accurate predictor of the way respondants actually feel. Well, a survey we're working on now asks that very question about an initiative and it's making me think that the scene in the West Wing was evidence of a Frank Luntz contribution. How terribly exciting!

In other news, I watched an episode of Doogie Howser yesterday, my friend Sam purchased Season 2 and clearly we had to break it open. Insanity! I only vaguely remember the show from when it was on, but I do recall really liking it. It was hilarious to watch because the show was so obviously made in the 80s, complete with "lesson-learning" music that rivals what plays when the Tanners learn their big lesson in minute 23 of all Full House episodes. But more, Niel Patrick Harris was soooooo young! It was ridiculous to be looking at such a young version of a face I know so well. But even then he had gravitas and could deliver a line well, even if it was incredibly cheezy or a lip-synch to "Monster Mash." I kid you not.

Yesterday I received not one, but two birthday cards. Both from Janine. What's that you say? My birthday was three weeks ago and therefore terribly old news? Well, indeed. However, apparantly Janine had some difficulties with the U.S. mail services and something about camping which prevented said birthday card from arriving in a timely manner. A very funny facebook wall-post conversation resulted in an attempt to explain and understand the difficulties. However, the belated birthday cards made it feel like my special day lasted forever, and therefore the tardiness is excused.

Tonight I am going with my mom and sister to see my new cousin (just married into the family) in an off-broadway play, the quality of which I am slightly dubious. It's a collection of short plays that combine to form an ode to photography, or something like that. Though I like to think of myself as an open person, one thing I have realized that I am not particularly fond of is experimental, overly-artsy, or even just plain mediocre theater. Discovered this when I was obligated to watch an off- off-broadway performance of Macbeth and just couldn't get past the fact that the witches were wearing sand-colored unitards splattered with forest green paint and talked to their own hands when conversing with their "familiars." Dunsinane Castle will never be the same in my mind. It will also be weird to watch someone I actually know perform in a real production as opposed to college plays where it is acceptable to cheer obnoxiously when your friends make their entrances. I fear my conduct tonight may be less than emily post-caliber. I also fear I may fall asleep as the Doogie Howser watching kept me out until past 1am. I also slept like a rock and nearly broke the alarm in dismay when it went off this morning. Too early. Work starts too too early. I demand minimum wage laws be ammended to include a 10am workday-start statute. I hate waking up.

I've decided that today's word of the day is co-dependent. Must be said in small, British voice like Bridget Jones' friend in the first movie (played by actress who also does Moaning Myrtle in the Harry Potters) , otherwise it doesn't count. I also like reciprocity.

Ew. I just looked up the 10-day weather and it's basically going to be more of the same throughout. Very humid and scattered thunderstorms. I am horribly disappointed as I finally have a weekend all to myself and I fully intended to go out and enjoy the sunshine and summer breeze, but now it looks like I'm not going to want to be outside for anything. Bah.

Fantastically, I have actually had work to do today! The company is in the process of redoing the website (which is long-overdue) and I have been given the task of being the 6th pair of eyes to edit the whole thing. Equally exciting is that I've been given license to re-write wherever I see fit and they seem to like what I've been doing so far. It's definitely far different from the kind of writing I'm used to doing (persuasive papers and historical research) so it's an interesting excersise for me. I also love feeling useful.

However, I desperately needed a break. All the words were starting to meld together and I was losing track of the message--never good when writing for a public relations-type firm.

Last night's All-Star Game was very exciting. We almost dropped it, but a last-out triple saved our bums and we once again retain home-field advantage. And by "we" I clearly mean the American League of which I am an honorary member. My favorite thing about the All-Star Game is that I get the opportunity to cheer for players I would ordinarily not be rooting for. On any other day I would die before woo-hooing David Ortiz, but last night I got to "Come on, baby!" him guilt-free. It's also a nice showcase of talented players that I haven't been keeping track of because they haven't yet played my Yanks, a good look into what the rest of the season holds and what we may be facing.

It is nasty outside. The air is thick as pea soup and I sweated nearly a gallon just while I was standing on the subway platform (where it is extra hot and soupy). Very unpleasant because you then have to cram your sweaty-slick body up against other smelly, perspiring commuters and hope you don't stick together. Yet another reason why I think I have had my fill of New York for a while. It's just so unpleasant to be bereft of a sea-breeze.

Tonight I take advantage of New York's Restaurant Week (one of the reasons I still do love NYC deep in my heart, and have not yet fled to the Rockies). I am meeting Sam and Jody, our 6th grade Humanities teacher, for dinner at Bolo--an upscale mexican infusian restaurant that I think may be another Bobby Flay outpost. Mesa Grill, Flay's hit restaurant was excellent, boasting novel food alchemies with spice. I am definitely looking forward to Bolo, though not to swimming my way over to the restaurant. I hate arriving places completely drenched with sweat and over-heated to an uncomfortable degree making it look like you just hiked Everest in heels. And there's never a decent opportunity to recombobulate yourself before anyone notices. Bah! At least the office is freezing; the walk to the restaurant may be just short enough to only thaw me out rather than melt me into a puddle.

I have December, 1963 (Oh What A Night!) stuck in my head. It's my most recent purchase off of itunes, but I have yet to listen to it in full. itunes is 8 kinds of fantastic.

Interesting New York phenomenon:

It is inevitable that on the days that I am truly looking my worst, I am the recipient of that plague of all gothamettes: the construction worker/ delivery man/etc. cat call. First off, the entire practice of calling after women passing by is just ridiculous and distruptive to the long chain of thought I was inevitably engrossed in. As if any of us are going to stop in our tracks, turn around and ask the caller out on a date or for a quick smooch--particularly when they are so often considerably shorter than we are. But secondly, at least in my experience, more often than not it happens when I'm hardly a walking vision. Take today:

This morning I hit the snooze button no fewer than 5 times which automatically means that there is no time to shower, resulting in slightly greasy hair with odd fly-aways halo that gets worse as I sweat during my morning subway commute--gross factor 1. Was walking zombie, so threw on clothes from the top of the drawer resulting in less than inspired wardrobe. Have been blowing nose all day, causing the office to run out of tissues and forcing me to resort to paper napkins (ouch!) so have raw red nose and vaguely medicine-head dazed look about me--gross factor 2. Combined with a haze of sheer exhaustion brought on by 5,000 consecutive rounds of solitaire does not a knock-em dead dame make. Yet, strangely enough! was hollered at by a crowd of off-duty construction workers--in a language I do not understand (ironic that cat-calling seems to transcend language whereas asking directions never quite does)-- and was then told by a virtual stranger that I was lookin' pretty. Disregarding the fact that my dark sungalsses were hiding my puffy cold-hazed eyes, the latter comment was vaguely reassuring. However, still, how odd! And the fact that the strangers of New York City seem to feel I'm looking my best when I'm decidedly in shlump mode doesn't reflect well on what I look like when I'm actually trying to look good. Conundrum.

Anyway, have given up all pretense of trying to do something productive and have given into office trend of listening to music. Have been tuned into Galgalatz, the Israeli Army radio station which I frequently listen to online, and am desperately missing Israel! Between the radio and chats with Mara I cannot wait until I visit again and really do need to dive back into learning Hebrew. It's just plain embarassing that I don't have a working knowledge of any foreign languges, and will prove to be incredibly inconvenient when I finally manage to travel the world.

In other news, a recent study on psychadelic, or magic, mushrooms is making me nervous. According to the study, two-thirds of the participants who took magic mushrooms reported having euphoric experiences that were startlingly impactful and spiritual, some likening it to the elation of giving birth. While a full third reported having bad trips which scared them or made them feel awful, I'm afraid that the study's results are going to encourage people to experiment with magic mushrooms without looking into it and the possible consequences. Taking halucinagenic drugs is SO SO dangerous, and I know of several people who have died, including a kid at Brandeis two years ago who killed himself by slitting his throat and jumping out a second-story window while tripping on mushrooms. I may sound like a "mommy" or a public service announcement, but I'm really scared that people are going to take the results of the study as encouragement to experiment without realizing the huge dangers that are all too commmon. While the study is important because it may lead to distilling elements of the mushrooms to use in anti-depressant medication, I really hope news agencies take care when reporting the story. OK, that's it for the safety report.

I'm unusually excited for tonight's All-Star Game. I've been very into baseball this year, finally managing to watch whole games unlike last summer when I would often be so exhausted from camp that I would fall asleep before the 5th inning--however, am watching far fewer than I would like as I have to defer to my mom on occaision and she decidedly does NOT like watching baseball. Silly woman. Anyway, I terribly miss my traditional trips to Yankee Stadium for games with Dave Seid who abandoned me this summer to better his intellect with summer courses at Indiana. Silly boy. But I've been keeping better tabs on players this season and have been energetically cheering on my favortite Yankee, Bubba Crosby, who doesn't seem to be benefiting from my support. However, I have faith and I know that my man will come through before the end of the season. Come on number 19!!

Half an hour to freedom! I love the days I get out at 5pm. It's nice to feel like there's actually still some day left when work is over. One of the things I love most about college is that classes don't actually dominate the days. I'm seriously looking forward to senior year, the girls and I have all committed ourselves to numerous adventures, hopefully the Maine coast and a trip to the casino will happen quickly upon arrival. I'm also excited to get back into shooting, hopefully the Trap and Target club will still be going strong, and I'm going to finally track down the silly Habitat for Humanity people and get them to actually put me on their email list. Last time I tried they never added me and their office is in an annoyingly inconvenient spot on campus (yes, yes, right in the center, but on the THIRD FLOOR!) so I never hauled over to rectify. But this year I am determined to build a damned house, even if the effort to get there kills me.

I'm actually also thinking about volunteering with an animal shelter, if I can find one that's easily accessibly from Brandeis. I've gotten into my head that I want a puppy as soon as it's humanly possible for me to house and take care of one, so I figure I better make sure I learn what it actually means to take care of one. Never had a pet, unless you count the hand-me-down goldfish that lasted for 2 days, so this may be an interesting experiment.

Huzzah! Was just informed that there will be work waiting for me tomorrow. Bliss!

The most depressing part about having nothing to do at work is that, when there actually is something to do, it's really very fascinating. Though by virtue of a confidentiality agreement I can't actually openly discuss the work, I can say that it's all about word usage and public perspectives and "getting the proper message out" -- all things that I've always found interesting. More work! I demand more!!

Today's Times has an amusing and interesting Op-Ed about major league baseball hoisery and its importance to the history of America's past-time. Very well written by Paul Lucas, an ESPN columnist, "Field of Slobs" can be found here http://www.nytimes.com/2006/07/11/opinion/11lukas.html?_r=1&th&emc=th&oref=slogin or by going to the nytimes.com opinion page. Definintely worth a read.

As I mentioned yesterday, last night I went to see the new Pirates of the Carribean and I must say I was somewhat disappointed. Very little of the original's ingenuity and cleverness was evident in this one, and the film seemed to be a showcase for the special effects people even more than it was a Johnny Depp vehicle. That being said, I laughed heartily in all the appropriate places and was quite appreciative of the superb supporting cast (Stellan Skarsgaard!) and of the fact that I recognized all of them when no one else did--an esteemable trait of mine.

More importantly, it seems that our government has finally decided to meet the minnimum standards set by the Geneva Convention regarding treatment of prisoners of war. Putting aside the obvious--it behooves the U.S. to follow these standards as it safeguards our own soldiers, and that no civilized nation should employ such barbaric tactics, we're better than that-- my question is: who are these people who are capable of doing the torturing? I just simply cannot understand why torture exists in the first place because I cannot image anyone having the stomach for it. And yet some people do. Baffling.

Am currently riding the downward wave of a caffene buzz. Crested about a half-hour ago, and am now wearily tired and unable to focus. I think today calls for an early lunch. But what to eat? Hmmm. Dilemma.

I am sincerely hoping for nice, sunny weather this weekend as I fully intend to spend at least a few hours lying out in the grass. Not being a camp counselor this summer has deprived me of my necessary dose of "outdoors time." I desperately miss swimming every day, lots of sunshine, and playing softball with my campers (always nice to play with people of your own skill level). I can feel my Vitamin D deficiency and look with horror at my still-transparent skin. Might as well have been living in an igloo for all the real summer I've experienced so far. Clearly visits to the family on long island are in order, but for this weekend Central Park will have to do. Anyone looking at a free weekend, please contact me and we can put together a picnic of some sort. I am determined to feel like it's summer at last!

There are 42 sprinklers in the office's ceiling and 15 broken light bulbs and one very ugly shade of carpet.

Kleenex makes a very good hat.

In a desperate attempt to stave off boredom here at the office I have decided to actually post on the blog account I created in order to comment on my friend Mara's blog while she is studying in Israel this year.

Sadly, the lack of interesting things to do at the office translates into a lack of interesting things about which to comment on a blog. Hmm, seems this web journal thing may be dead on arrival. However, it is relieving to note that I am hardly the only one without a thing to do at the office. Actually, I should ammend that. I do have something to do, but I really, REALLY, don't feel like doing it right now. And so I am not.

Weirdly, when I have absolutely nothing to occupy myself with, random words and phrases from books and movies get stuck in my head and float around constantly repeating themselves in my brain. Right now "Jean-Luc Gespa," a name said by Anjelina Jolie in Mr. & Mrs. Smith, and "rashers of bacon" which was in a book I recently read, are alternating in my head. I will surely go crazy if it doesn't stop.

Have played eight thousands games of solitaire, and that's just today. I can feel my eyes straining from all this staring at the computer screen, which hardly seems worth it as my solitaire skills have yet to improve. Have also read the New York Times from virtual cover to virtual cover, including the obituary of an old friend of my dad's who died last week. Paul Nelson, the recently deceased, was actually an incredibly interesting man who introduced Bob Dylan to Woody Guthrie, thus creating the famous Dylan sound and rock music history with a single vinyl record. Paul also reviewed music for several publications including Rolling Stone, and rather famously nourished himself solely with Coca Cola, peanut butter candies and cigarettes. There is hardly a person I can think that would have made a more fascinating anthropological subject.

I am still fighting off the last vestiges of a stubborn cold and have taken to deep-throated sneezing which creates this awful noise which almost sounds like an elephant trumpeting. It's really quite embarassing in such a small and quiet office. It also hurts.

The saving grace of the insane boredom and emptiness of the office is that I have plenty of interesting things to do after work this week. Tonight I have a ticket to a screening of the new Pirates of the Carribean movie, courtesy of the lovely Susan Wagner. I am terribly excited and especially love seeing movies with Susan and Liz because they clearly love films as much as I do, which makes discussing and analyzing the movies we see all the more fun. Tomorrow is equally exciting as recently-returned Annie is joining me for sushi and baseball (two of my absolute favorite things).

Oh! After being thoroughly soaked a week ago while on my way to work (and having to strip off my sodden shoes and jeans and wear a sweatshirt as if they were pants--thus creating an MC Hammer-like look) I am on the hunt for a pair of Wellington boots. However, being the picky fashion traditionalist that I am, I am being very particular in the style of boot. If anyone sees hunter green Wellies, preferably with an adjustible strap at the top, selling for less than a fortune, please let me know! So far, have found a nearly perfect pair on the LL Bean website, but they're out of stock until August.

La! But I am still so bored. I think I'll pour a pitcher of water down the mail chute.