1. I can't get work done unless I feel I'm in imminent danger
2. And therein lies the whole truth of college.
3. I've joined twitter because I love comedians and hash-tags that let me contribute to awesome lists, and also so I can make a stupid thought the basis of a whole new list.
4. Like for instance my first and so far only, 3 tweets have been #feminist films, in response to Moshe Kasher and they are:
Sirens of Titan
The Princess and the IUD
Mrs and Mr Smith
And as you can tell I'm pretty pleased with myself.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Recently
Last week
Had the perfect, most utterly flirtatious meetcute with a handsome man who found a book for me after the hapless store employee gave up on me. But he didn't ask my name, and when I left we were still strangers.
During a meal with a friend, was accosted by the boy sitting a foot away from me, who handed me his phone, all ready for me to give him my digits. And my name. I was so utterly shocked and appalled. I don't have the social graces to remove myself from these situations. I left screaming.
During the same meal with a friend, I finally found out the name of the cute waiter that I've been exchanging glances with for a year and a half. It's too perfect and fits so utterly into my life. He put his hand on my shoulder and we joked around, when we used to just shyly glance at each other from across the room. Names mean progress.
Had the perfect, most utterly flirtatious meetcute with a handsome man who found a book for me after the hapless store employee gave up on me. But he didn't ask my name, and when I left we were still strangers.
During a meal with a friend, was accosted by the boy sitting a foot away from me, who handed me his phone, all ready for me to give him my digits. And my name. I was so utterly shocked and appalled. I don't have the social graces to remove myself from these situations. I left screaming.
During the same meal with a friend, I finally found out the name of the cute waiter that I've been exchanging glances with for a year and a half. It's too perfect and fits so utterly into my life. He put his hand on my shoulder and we joked around, when we used to just shyly glance at each other from across the room. Names mean progress.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
This whole arranged marriage vs. "love marriage" business is doing my head in.
I talk to my Nepali female friends and it's a split. Half want a love marriage very badly but because they are graduate students and now 23-24-25ish, they have decided they are too old to try one and will most definitely have an arranged marriage.
The other half of the girls without a doubt want an arranged marriage. They have never dated before, are too afraid/shy to try (they tell me this- I am not inferring or passing judgment at all!), and are so relieved that they will have all of the trouble of getting a spouse worked out for them.
I look at married couples here and they seem (through my short short period of observation) to be very functional partnerships with appreciation and a general liking of one's partner. Arranged marriage is just how it's done- here is your spouse, make it works, voila it works because it has to.
I am of course only talking about all of this because I am thinking about my own life/future/etc. You can bring Camille to Nepal but you can't make her any less self-centered. That's how the saying goes, right?
I am thinking of my future. I can keep doing what I've been doing during my entire romantic adult life thus far and, every 2 years or so, keep finding a man 20 or 30 or 40 years older than me who I fall crazy nuts bonkers in love with, I can keep breaking my heart, I can actually find one with whom I can mutually commit. We can live with each other, get married, probably not have kids (but we'd have love which means a lot). We can have maybe a few decades of brilliant love, I can watch him die, and I can spend the remaining 30, 40, or 50 years of my life either alone or with some equally lonely and accommodating widower.
Or I could arrange myself a marriage with someone my age, with someone who I have similar goals to, with someone who I could form a strong partnership with. I could create the beautiful, strong family life I desire, creating the love that wouldn't present in my life in the form of romantic love. I could have a partner who I could grow old with, who I could depend on to be there, and I could be consistently very content.
Neither sound bad, neither sound great. You can't have everything, but what to choose what to choose?
My thoughts are too scattered. My energies are too scattered. I am too immature and irresponsible and unkind and uncertain for a good relationship. I don't think this is a phase.
I talk to my Nepali female friends and it's a split. Half want a love marriage very badly but because they are graduate students and now 23-24-25ish, they have decided they are too old to try one and will most definitely have an arranged marriage.
The other half of the girls without a doubt want an arranged marriage. They have never dated before, are too afraid/shy to try (they tell me this- I am not inferring or passing judgment at all!), and are so relieved that they will have all of the trouble of getting a spouse worked out for them.
I look at married couples here and they seem (through my short short period of observation) to be very functional partnerships with appreciation and a general liking of one's partner. Arranged marriage is just how it's done- here is your spouse, make it works, voila it works because it has to.
I am of course only talking about all of this because I am thinking about my own life/future/etc. You can bring Camille to Nepal but you can't make her any less self-centered. That's how the saying goes, right?
I am thinking of my future. I can keep doing what I've been doing during my entire romantic adult life thus far and, every 2 years or so, keep finding a man 20 or 30 or 40 years older than me who I fall crazy nuts bonkers in love with, I can keep breaking my heart, I can actually find one with whom I can mutually commit. We can live with each other, get married, probably not have kids (but we'd have love which means a lot). We can have maybe a few decades of brilliant love, I can watch him die, and I can spend the remaining 30, 40, or 50 years of my life either alone or with some equally lonely and accommodating widower.
Or I could arrange myself a marriage with someone my age, with someone who I have similar goals to, with someone who I could form a strong partnership with. I could create the beautiful, strong family life I desire, creating the love that wouldn't present in my life in the form of romantic love. I could have a partner who I could grow old with, who I could depend on to be there, and I could be consistently very content.
Neither sound bad, neither sound great. You can't have everything, but what to choose what to choose?
My thoughts are too scattered. My energies are too scattered. I am too immature and irresponsible and unkind and uncertain for a good relationship. I don't think this is a phase.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Meanwhile, in New York
My lovely raven-haired thick-as-thieves best friend forever is not here. You are having lots of adventures and dare I say, getting even the most dramatic and so appropriately what the fuck ailments to make your travels even more fraught with intrigue.
But meanwhile, in New York:
Today Cyndy and I were doing a crossword puzzle, and because of my pre-Med bio class that I thought I had taken nothing from, I knew that the answer to 4-down, protein in muscle cells, was myosin. Bam.
I think I mentioned this once before, but recently I was hired to be a paid contributor/blogger for an website, and today they sent me a contract and some tax forms so shit is really legit. It's exciting, and usually I feel like I jinx myself by bringing up my happiness too early in the game, before I've built up an appropriately thick wall of nonchalance, but I'm in the kind of mood where I can confront that bad and good things will happen to me whether or not my guard is up or I cross all of my fingers or I count to 17. And yes, I do all of those things.
But meanwhile, in New York:
Today Cyndy and I were doing a crossword puzzle, and because of my pre-Med bio class that I thought I had taken nothing from, I knew that the answer to 4-down, protein in muscle cells, was myosin. Bam.
I think I mentioned this once before, but recently I was hired to be a paid contributor/blogger for an website, and today they sent me a contract and some tax forms so shit is really legit. It's exciting, and usually I feel like I jinx myself by bringing up my happiness too early in the game, before I've built up an appropriately thick wall of nonchalance, but I'm in the kind of mood where I can confront that bad and good things will happen to me whether or not my guard is up or I cross all of my fingers or I count to 17. And yes, I do all of those things.
And lastly, since we are covering mitosis and meiosis in biology, I just want say that I think telophase is beautiful sometimes. And no, spellcheck, I did not mean 'telegraph' or 'cellophane,' thanks.
images via Science Photo Library
-Karen
-Karen
Friday, January 21, 2011
One of my favorite ways to cook eggs is to scramble them in a mug with some smoked Italian sausage and a few drops of soy sauce, and microwave them. I stole this idea from David Chang of Momofuku when he was interviewed on WNYC.
It's my favorite impatient, poor girl late night snack. I also like it because it had never previously occurred to me that it was possible to cook eggs in the microwave.
*Actually an old boyfriend once cooked us eggs in the microwave, but I quickly attributed that to white people magic, and filed it thus into my brain. But now the microwave is my bitch.
-Karen
It's my favorite impatient, poor girl late night snack. I also like it because it had never previously occurred to me that it was possible to cook eggs in the microwave.
*Actually an old boyfriend once cooked us eggs in the microwave, but I quickly attributed that to white people magic, and filed it thus into my brain. But now the microwave is my bitch.
-Karen
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