Power of the Metaphor

The way in which this speech is logistically arranged is almost ingenious and perfect representation of the layout of a perfect essay.
James Geary, metaphorically speaking | Video on TED.com

3 Most Intriguing Men of 2010

In lou of the end of the year, I bring you the three most intriguing men of 2010.

3-Joseph Gordon Levitt
He's been around since 3rd Rock From the Sun, as the awkward, long haired pre-teen. However, this year, he was cast in  Inception.  He's been a variety of sensitive teen-dramas, but this solidified his acting talents and versatility. I saw Inception  my second day in Austin at the Alamo Drafthouse. I was  just coming off my 4 day seeing-America-Kerouac romp, and while the movie was damn good, the end resonated deeply within me (partly because I was still in shell shock of new-everything- and I felt like I was constantly dreaming).

2-Sufjan Stevens
There's a long-winded man on the public radio I listen to who is obsessed  with Sufjan. He spent at least, ten minutes discussing the possible ways to pronounce his new album,  "The Age of Adz." one Wednesday morning as I was driving to work. He constantly praises Sufjan for his talents. And, justifiably, the album is  really fucking good. Sufjan might just be one of the best looking, artistically talented men around. And "The Age of Adz" is one of my top albums this year. Not to mention, he writes beautifully, both lyrically and in his creative prose.

1-James Franco
Acting out Alan Ginsberg is tough.   I thought Franco really captured the beat-counter culture that paved the road for the  modern-rebellion that followed a decade later. Franco read Ginsberg's poetry with the same fire and slightly awkward rhythm that came to define Ginsberg's style. Franco looks good in anything, (even with a curly perm in "Milk") but there was a certain natural air to Franco's take on Ginsberg, and the style of the time period. Which, coincidentally, is my favorite aesthetic dress for men. Regardless, Franco took on the role of Ginsberg and his poetry,  incredibly well.

 

Christmas Eve 2010

or "Oh, shit there's a bolt missing"

I was sitting in the Denver International Airport. I’d already been through a two and a half hour flight to 86 it out of Austin at 9am on Christmas Eve. I was beat. 50 hour work weeks, graduate school applications and a slew of happy holiday sweater/bike rides/rock hikes. I was tired. Dead. Tired. That morning I woke up at 6am to fix myself breakfast and make sure I had all the bbq, hot sauces and Mexican candy in my suitcase for Christmas.

I just wanted to smell the cold Washington air and feel the icy chill in my bones. I wanted it so badly.

My flight was late into Denver and I ran across the airport to catch my flight to Washington. My backpack bouncing as I ran across the “moving walkways” listening to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros in a skirt, tights and heels. The song was Home. This important ironic foreshadowing for the  rest of the narrative. It probably looked (and was) incredibly comedic. I arrived at the the gate just as they announced my name over the loudspeaker.

I get in the plane and sit down. I give up my window seat so the woman with the fat baby can sit next to her husband. I am now significantly squished in between a woman from Wyoming in Carhart’s reading Nora Roberts and an incredibly, oversized man, about the age of 45. He is spilling onto my seat and I am literally so squished I can't really move. He is breathing heavily and watching Fantasia on a mini-dvd player. I can smell his breathing. I just pray this flight doesn’t take very long and pull out a copy of “Vogue” that was given to me by a sorority-esque woman who was sitting next to me on the previous flight.

The man starts snorting. As if his breath wasn’t bad enough, he now has a sound! His strange, irregular breathing was then interrupted by an announcement. There was a bolt missing from the emergency seat and we were permanently stuck in Denver until it was a)fixed or b) we found another plane. Fuck the bolt, I want to go home and move about freely.

 I immediately get off the plane and begin wandering around the Denver Airport. I swindle a husband and wife into treating me to a whiskey sour. I sip it and make casual conversation with a couple from Minnesota before heading back to my plane.

Three and a half hours later (10 hours from when I left my apartment in TX) the plane is ready to fly. That bolt must have been incredibly important.
The flight is normal and I arrive in Washington, late, but in one piece.

The breath in the cold air and feel the icy chill in my bones.

There is no time to waste because I have to go to Episcopal Mass, one of the only traditions my family has, which is ironic because we are not religious. In the least. Immediately following my flight, I get in the car, drive into town and attend mass. I see my grandparents, I hug them quietly in the pew and sit. The bishop gives a sermon relating Charlie Brown to Jesus and Truth. We drink the wine and eat the bread. The mass is always longer than I remember. But, at least I grew up attending a Cathedral, which is never boring because I am surrounded aesthetically beautiful, intense religious imagery.

I also have a grandfather who was raised a Catholic in New York City during the depression. He is now hard of hearing and carries some kind of resentment for Christianity. In the silences, he said the following.

Dean: “Please feel free to fill out information cards at the end of your pew if you would like to get in contact with our church.”

My grandfather: “I wont’ feel out one of those. They just want my money”
And, the best, said during the sacrament,
My grandfather: “I don’t want to drink their wine. It’s crap.”

And, it was a Merry Christmas indeed.

Keep the soles moving.

I am not a fan of New Year's Resolutions, (it seems stupid to set a goal for a new year, and you should just do it because you want to)
but as 2010 was an awesome ride (like, whoa) I am looking forward to 2011. Here is why:

-10K run in March
-My 24th Birthday (salute! Officially in my Mid-twenties)
-SXSW
-80 degrees in March...
-Playing soccer
-Grad School, Fellowship, or I don't know teaching English in some foreign land.
-My friends & family visiting Atx
And, the general unknown after August..

The Relative Size of Things

Recently I was in an apartment that had a variety of maps as décor covering the walls. The maps were in the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom and the makeshift hallway.

We started talking about the idea of space (as in the space between countries) and the relation of people to this space, politically, socially and personally. I’ve always been fascinated by maps, and the way in which people express their external surroundings and the way in which countries position themselves on a map. 

"Old Map"

It amazes me that this map can exist, with somewhat surprising accuracy, considering there was no ‘objective’ at the time, (hey, they thought the Earth was flat). I also love the fact that N. America & Antarctica   represent such an incredibly large land mass. As if being unknown is equal to  a larger size size and significance.

Click to enlarge

Aussie "Upside down" Map- I love the fact that Australia orients themselves this way. 

And, one of my favorites, The Peter's Map: This is an area accurate representation...which really stirred up scholars back in the 70's. It used cylindric equal-area to show one  way in which the world is proportionally measured. Africa you are huge:

Africa-in proper size proportion to other countries:

It always amazes me that the size of W. Europe and N.America is so incredibly small. 

Postcolonial Trade Map-Because after seeing Africa, you realize power is not all about size...

Click to enlarge!

And, perhaps the most commonly used Map: Mercator. Just note how the map is centered around N. America. 

These are all maps representing the same thing, it just is so surprising how something so 'objective' (as in, there is only one earth to show) can take a variety of forms. 

The Holiday Cactus.

I have to say, my sense of time is severely fucked. It was 80 degrees on the first day of winter. I spent my weekend getting lost in boulders in jeans and a t-shirt.

However, nothing put me in my present place in time like a "holiday" cactus. Essentially, cactus grows here like trees, so it makes sense to decorate one accordingly. There are lights on them, some of even have ornaments  and I've even seen one dressed as a deer!

At first, I was pissed. "How dare someone decorate a cactus?" It rubbed me the wrong way. As the anger subsided, and the holiday mood took over, I realized it's kind of kitchy. There wasn't a lot here to get me in the holiday spirit. It's still hot and sunny. I recently received a sunburn. I still sit out on my balcony and read in my hammocks. It gets dark at 5:45.

 In all of it's strange decor, became one of the few things that reminded me of the upcoming holiday.

On an awesome sidenote: You can also eat cactus.  And it's quiet delicious!  Like many things,  here, they fry it and  put it in a burrito.

Folclórico, Step, Jesus and Lyle Lovett.

It's 76 degrees here, (and sunny) and the last week can be summarized by the last 24 hours. I attended the Winter Talent show for the school I work at (which, I love, love, love) and they had the following performances (back:to:back)


Ballet Folclórico-which, is NUTS.

Followed by Omega Ki-Step Team



followed by an poem about Jesus... a really, really intense poem filled with imagery and blood.



Then, while on the way to work this morning, I saw a car that painted, "Jesus is Coming!" in lime green letters in the window. I then heard the following Lyle Lovett song, as I passed the said car.



"If I had a pony, I'd put it in my boat...and ride it to the ocean"
UH...WHAT?! It might be sleep depravation but it was me, the highway, a Jesus car, and Lyle Lovett this morning. A brutal combination and symbol for all that random chaos I see on a daily basis, that has stopped allowing my life to make any sense.

Later in the day while sipping on Lone Star, I heard the following quote uttered by a Coked out hipster. "I'm sorry I'm late guys, I'm feeling really Larry David today, I've all all this coffee and I'm all sortsa neurotic"

Fake Plants, Pad Thai and Holographic Animals

Sometimes life can only be symbolically described by everyday occurrences. Ordinary, is, after all, only applicable to subjective understanding of one’s surroundings. Or, some postmodern bullshit like that, right?

The day after my return from thanksgiving, my friend and I, in a spur-of-the-moment craving wanted Thai Food. Hard. Call it estrogen cravings, call it random spontaneity for adventure, or exploration, it doesn’t matter. 

I searched  “Thai Food” on Karen, my incredibly untrustworthy GPS outside as we were parked in  an abandoned shopping center. We found a place 1.56 miles away on Manchatta. (pronounced: Man-cha-tah).

I get in my car, turn on the headlights and we drive. It’s a straight shot. On the way we listen to Beyonce’s "Ego." I feel good about my life in that moment, arranged perfectly in it's place in time. I turn up the radio. We car dance.

We walk in. The salad bar is covered in saran wrap. The ceilings and walls have a strange faded cream color. I see wood monkey statues sitting on the window in compromising positions. I already love this place. It’s like the kind of dive-bar that makes you feel right at home when you walk in. Places like this don’t have to throw around themed bullshit or pretentious demeanor with swanky posh furniture or facades. It’s simple. It’s real. They just want to give you food. Thai food.

Waiting to be seated, I hear the cry of a baby. I glance over the cash register and see a small Asian baby in a car seat. I don't really know what to do so I hope the waitress seats us soon. I wave to the crying baby in the car seat.

A petite woman walks up and leads us to our table. We sit down. There’s a playing card labeled, “10”. Table 10.

I look around and see metallic pictures on the walls, black light furry posters of tigers and holograms of waterfalls. On the television, which sits directly behind us, they are playing The Simpsons.

I order my food. It arrives seven minutes later and it is delicious.

I am surrounded by non sequitur décor, the sound of Homer Simpson, delicious food, good company, holographic animals and waterfalls and large awkwardly placed fake plants. A day earlier, I was sitting with my family at a café surrounded by a foot of snow. Life's weird and wonderful. 

Juxtaposition is beautiful and everyday, ordinary life should never be overlooked. Even if there are holographic asian posters on the wall. 

Happiness.

or here is 20 minutes worth sharing:

December 2010

It's officially the first day of December. And, it is going to be 80 Saturday! My idea of seasonal time is officially fucked.

Now, dear readers, October used to be my least favorite month, but I've now concluded since time moves differently in Texas, November is now my least favorite month here. December holds the promise of Christmas and New Years, an official close to the year as well as the promise to start a new one... November has Thanksgiving, a brief holiday and it takes away an hour of sunlight in the evening. This November, I might conclude, struck a deal with the el diablo y el infierno. I was not. a. fan and I am glad that it is the last month of '10.

My December began with the following quote:  (in regards to sex)

"If someone could get the milk for free, why would they want to buy the cow?"

"Fat Free or Skim, baby, it's all the same steak."

Life is too short to spend it unhappy. So---

Cheers to December- the month that allows me a week off to apply to graduate school & surprise 80 degree weather & home to see the friends and family.


Blogs coming up:
-The highly anticipated 'Flea Market' visit back in August (I've FINALLY figured the dynamic out)

-Classism in higher education (or why the fuck is it so expensive to apply?)
-Slam Poetry (words in motion)