Goshdang, I got a lot of nice presents! I hope you did, too. And, you know, enjoyed the other fun parts of the holiday.
Rotunda snow bank.
It wasn’t long before everything was either dirty or melting.
Snow day!
Okay, so it’s the third snow day. And I’m technically on vacation now. So. It’s not really a snow day at all. But still. Waking up a little late to the sound of mounds of snow sliding off of my building’s big slate roof and listening to Tori Amos’ Midwinter Graces while sipping a peppermint mocha, well, that’s winter heaven.
I do need to take a walk later to pick up some stuff and food and possibly for some last-minute shopping.
But then more PJs and soup and coffee/tea/cocoa and movies and books.
Hell, when it comes to relaxing and cozy comfort, I’m king.
Attractive enough to be a stripper?
Getting tea today at a local cafe’, I asked for my change in ones (for the bus). I joked with the lady who works there, “I don’t wanna steal all your ones.” She showed me her huge roll of ones and said, “When I get home, I have like thirty singles. People ask me if I’m a stripper or a dancer. I’m like, ‘Thanks, I guess, for thinking I’m attractive enough to be a stripper.’”
Things that annoy me this week.
Loud-talkers.
Extroverts.
People who think bitching and working are the same thing.
People who have a billion excuses, all of which are their own fault and so are not really excuses because they don’t excuse anything.
People who walk too closely behind you on the street.
People who drag their heals when they walk like cavemen drag their knuckles.
My caffeine addiction.
The amount of nose hair I have for my age.
The big streak of grey (!) in my beard that looks like toothpaste.
People who sit on the aisle of the bus with no one next to them when the bus is full and when elderly people then have to stand.
People staring at my sandals-and-socks feet.
Cars.
Red Envelope.
People who think they’re entitled to your time.
Inefficiency.
People who list their current annoyances.
Been walking so much the bus looks fast to me.
I’ve blogged a lot about walking. I know. It’s something that I don’t do enough (because I am lazy and impatient) but something I enjoy endlessly.
Wednesday, I was at a community meeting at St. Paul Street and North Avenue in Central Baltimore. It was supposed to last until 7:30 or 8:00, but it was over at 7:04 for pizza and chatting. I’d already done my “networking” before the meeting started, so I bolted to catch my 7:53 bus at the train station. On my way from my chair to the door, I thought, “Why should I bullshit in my office until my bus? I can just walk!” So when I left the building, I made a left and headed for home.
Sure, folks will chide you for walking through “that area” at “that time of night.” Dude, 7:00pm dark is not the same as 2:00am dark — and I don’t walk around anywhere at that time (except once in Carbondale when we walked from the train station to home in the dead middle of the night after a trip to Memphis, with a tiny flashlight – but that’s another story). I didn’t see anyone sketchy and in fact was the sketchy person to lady who halted her exit from her car until after I passed her around 24th Street. And for two young ladies carrying their groceries home above 25th Street.
Instead of driving or sitting on an empty bus or pedaling uphill, I got to peak into the big, old, stately houses on St. Paul Street (think 3-story rowhomes with big basements), at folks’ bookshelves and holiday decorations. I greeted a dozen dog-walkers. I caught the exam-time buzz as I cut through JHU to University Parkway. I scared a guy on the section of University Parkway there the streetlights are out and where it is completely pitch black. And, at the top of the hill, I saw the warm glow of the LED star lights in our windows, on the corner of the building, where warmth, my wife and a pasta dinner awaited. In all, I walked 3 miles in 45 minutes. Not that far, but fast, and I was tired. That distance is small for a hike, but pretty long in a smallish city like Baltimore.
It was an exceptional night. I read before bed and slept like a baby.
We planned some similar fun walking for Saturday, which is itself worthy of a post.
R.I.P. Orient Express.
The Orient Express is being replaced, in part, by high-speed trains. Being a huge fan of rail travel (I haven’t boarded a plane since 2002, when I was half-way through an MA, still ate meat and never heard of a blog), I have mixed feelings. While romantic, slow trains leave a lot to be desired. Fast trains do lack some of the charm of a dimly-lit diesel, but they do seem to attract riders who are tired of the hassle of flying or who are interested in the magic of trains, albeit moder ones. Still, I can imagine the thrill of a ride on the Orient Express, armed with a journal and pricked-up ears.
The Orient Express — the very name carries an aura of glamour and mystery. Van Helsing rode it to his battle with Dracula. James Bond romanced a beautiful Russian aboard it. And Agatha Christie set one of the best-known murders in literary history aboard that train.
Now the original Orient Express is itself about to become part of history. On Monday, the route will disappear from European railway timetables, a victim of high-speed trains and cut-rate airlines.
(Read more.)
This is one of my favorite times of the year for train travel, riding through the mountains and snow, with icy rivers and silent wind turbines churning on peaks. If everything works out, we should take a train journey to Southern Illinois before winter is over.
Good listening skills.
If you’re a good listener, be careful who you let come by this information.
Kicks from the belly.
We were up late last night, feeling Baby kick Mommy’s tummy. We’d never quite felt it before. I didn’t think I’d be able to feel it from the outside, but I could. I put my ear on Mommy’s bellybutton, in an attempt to, I don’t know, hear something. Mommy said, “There’ one!” just as something kicked me in the cheek! If we were still, we could see a few tiny bumps from the inside.
It’s amazing to me that something can be unreal (having a child) and real (seeing pictures and feeling movement and hearing the heartbeat) and surreal (HAVING A CHILD!).
21/22 week OB appointment.
Clean bill of health for both Baby and for Mama!
Too much wisdom literature.
A few years ago, my friend sent me a copy of Baltasar Gracián‘s The Art of Worldly Wisdom. It is, by the way, excellent reading. It calls to mind Marcus Aurelius and his Meditations, and I mean that in a very good way. I was reading it a bit last night, and of course, I was struck by just how damned smart and relevant the maxims still are today.
I was also struck by how I was reading them: as interesting bits of information. Not wisdom — interesting paragraphs. I thought that, perhaps, it was the text. Maybe it’s not as awesome as I thought. But I’ve noticed in recent months and years that I seem to gloss over even my favorites like Thoreau, the Buddha, Emerson, Nietzsche, et al. Am I getting dense? I don’t think so — though that is certainly a possibility, and there are certainly people who would say so. (Ahem.) I suspect that this is a result of studying philosophy for my entire adult life.
On the one hand, I think I might be somewhat numb to wisdom literature! I’ve read so many wise things that other people have written and acted on so little of it that it’s all just a bunch of clever words most of the time. When Aurelius reminds us that stupid people act stupidly and that we waste time and energy being upset about it, I still get upset when selfish people act that way. How else do selfish people act? Selfishly!
On the other hand, my philosophical undertakings have largely been academic ones. By that I mean that I also read and have read immense amounts of bullshit. We don’t act on philosophy; we write about it! And then we read about it and then write about that. And then read that and write about what’s been written about, etc. I think a part of me suspects that all wisdom and philosophy that we can read or learn from other people is just bullshit.
Am I claiming that a piece of philosophy that no one acts on is bullshit? Yes. Read some of my graduate papers that pissed off some of my professors (I was, after all, attacking their profession). I’ve felt that way for a long time, and that’s a large part of the reason I decided not to pursue a career in academic philosophy. Why, then, did I pursue a doctorate? I don’t know. You imagine that you might be a different case, that you can keep your integrity and still gitterdunn. Maybe I thought I would feel differently or that I might be wrong. Maybe I was just too stupid and stubborn to stop. That’s certainly the case now, where I’m finishing my PhD just to finish it and justify my time, energy and debt. (And, for the record, I got offered a spot teaching my own class at the exact school I always dreamed of teaching at just after my dissertation prospectus defense. So, ahem, for the record, I didn’t simply wimp out of the search for a job. I might have hurt the feelings of someone I care about who was looking out for me, too. I don’t know if I ever mentioned this.)
What’s my point? I don’t know. Maybe that the bullshit that gets forced on people in the academic discipline of philosophy poisons us against actually acting in a wiser fashion because the bullshit gets mixed in with the “real” wisdom (assuming that some of philosophy is actually wisdom literature, which I think is true). I have known tons and tons of philosophers, and only a scant few of them acted like wiser people for their study of philosophy. More likely, we just turn into snarky smartasses. I wish I could count myself among the people who have studied philosophy and thereby act wiser for it. Maybe it’s not philosophy. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s a flaw in the “type” of person who chooses to study philosophy for a living, since so few of us do anything about philosophy. But something’s amiss.
EPA: Greenhouse gases endanger human health.
Let’s put this into both the “Finally” and the “No Shit” columns:
The Environmental Protection Agency has concluded greenhouse gases are endangering people’s health and must be regulated, signaling that the Obama administration is prepared to contain global warming without congressional action if necessary.
EPA Administrator Lisa Jackson scheduled a news conference for later Monday to announce the so-called endangerment finding, officials told The Associated Press, speaking privately because the announcement had not been made.
(More.)
Dear Mr. Woods.
Dude, your wife is a supermodel. Not to be too crass, but I think something’s wrong with your penis, dude.
Chiapas gets it done.
Late-night dissertation editing leads to morning editing with a huge French press of coffee. Have I found the equation which dictates: More Coffee = Less Stress + More Work Accomplished? If so, does it work without this excellent brew from Chiapas?
Dear Loud Lady at Subway.
You can’t order something by pointing a finger at five sandwiches ten feet away on a board and saying, “Dat one.” Also, when the meat guy has put like five kinds of meat on your bread, you sound bizarre when you ask, “Ain’t dere bacon on dat?” Further, if you get pissed because you “wuuunt” a melt, you do have to actually use the word “melt” when you order. Finally, when you say, “You’ll get it right next time,” don’t get surprised when your friends who are seated and waiting for you talk smack about you in your absence — which they did.
You’re a bitch.
If I were the meat guy, you’d get spit, shit or worse in your next sandwich.
The loudest, most distracting people.
Why is it that the loudest, most distracting people are the ones who get the most upset when another person is noisy or distracts them? With the first part, you’d assume the absence of the idea[l] of conscientiousness. But with the second, you can imagine that it’s there. Is it dormant? Are some people elitists who really think that their own thoughts, noises and work are more important than other people’s? Well, some people are; I know people like this. But are the people I’m talking about like that? Like the person who plays loud music but gives you shit when you talk too loudly on the phone; or the person who calls you to bullshit during the work day, after you’ve told them you’re busy, and then actually cusses you out if you email them between 9am and 5pm?
I mean, saying something like, “People are all selfish,” would explain it. But I think that’s a sweeping bunch of dookie. I know some people who think about themselves more than others.
At least I think I know some.
The last three songs on Pandora.
“Down in a Hole” — Alice in Chains (Unplugged Version)
“Sour Girl” — Stone Temple Pilots
“Low” — Cracker
I think I have designed the finest rock station ever.
A modern sidewalk question.
When three people walk side-by-side down the sidewalk and force you out of the way: do you assume they are jerks because they act that way; or do you assume they act that way because they are jerks?
The scary thought: they probably drive that way, too.
Burned my belly.
I was making breakfast this morning in my underwear (the windows were fogged up from the cold outside). Making the second egg for egg/bagel/cheese breakfast sandwiches, I overdid the cooking spray. When I plopped the egg down, the butter spray splashed. Onto my belly. And now it’s not only extremely hairy, it’s got dozens of red bumps from tiny burns.
No, no pictures.
They don’t just teach writing in school.
Revising my dissertation, I wonder if working in higher education/community engagement, outside of an academic discipline, hasn’t been better for my prose writing? I have to write for university administrators, nonprofit and community partners regularly, not to mention sometimes writing in order to convince people to do something they don’t really want to do. There’s a lot of pomp and false wit in the dissertation that I would never put into something for other people to read on paper like that these days. Of course, blogging is full of pomp, almost necessarily so, so you probably haven’t noticed, as I haven’t until this morning. :)