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  • Pleasures of Insomnia

    Sleep has become quite elusive in my life.

    Initially that didn’t seem like such a bad thing, bringing the potential for more productivity in the increased waking hours. But of course in such a state it’s more difficult to focus on things and I think I have become less productive.

    The cause of this insomnia uptick is probably multifaceted, but even without those factors it’s not like I have been a sleeping champ in recent history. Not long ago I was talking to a friend about sleep and figured that it has been a solid 4-5 years since I have slept through a night.

    Partly to blame is a wacky work schedule that began two years ago. It features a lot of overnight shifts — but not enough to let my body adjust to that as some sort of new “normal.” In practicality it essentially meant skipping a night of sleep every week for about eight months at my old job. Now in weeks where I take those shifts as a freelancer (like last week and this one) I am reminded of just how it feels to get that little sleep.

    Of course it doesn’t help when you do have time to sleep…and…just…can’t.

    It’s not easy to just drift off when you have a lot on your mind, especially when you’re lying there thinking things like “how the hell did I get myself into this situation?” Forgive me for any necessary vagueness that follows.

    A few weeks ago I found myself in exactly that situation — staring at the ceiling recounting the many steps and permutations of a personal relationship that jumped into rather uncharted territory. (I just wrote and erased a few things I probably shouldn’t say).

    Hm. OK. So there are some people who have compared me in certain ways to Jim from “The Office,” and hopefully Jim has reached a popular culture status that doesn’t require any explanation there. But there are certain aspects of the Jim character’s life that I want no part of. Sure, he seems to have just about everything he wants at this point, but there was a pretty rocky/borderline shady period to get there. I know several people who would not (or have not) let that kind of barrier hold them back, but that’s just not me.

    While part of my wants to grab the other party and yell things like “AHHHHHHH” and “NOT FAIR” and “YOU HAVE WHAT YOU WANT,” there is a friend side that says more calmly things like “just frustrated” and “drunk” and “it will be OK.” Right now I don’t know which side is going to win, or if there is a middle ground. Can the “friend” route possibly work without ending up right back in the same situation?

    In all relationships there are tough times. Some people hunker down and work through anything while others are better at cutting and running away. I’m probably better at option B, which is probably due to the Drama Avoidance chip embedded deep in my brain.

    Though even when you are in what should be the most drama-free situation possible (single, living with two longtime male friends), a girl can still leave you staring at a ceiling with three letters going through your head — w.t.f.

    Happy sleeping.

    April 27, 2010 insanity sleep Uncategorized
  • Tres Libros

    It would seem from my lack of recent posting that I forgot how to write, lost my computer, fell in a well, moved to a cabin in the wilderness without Internet access or was called away for a secret CIA mission in Tajikistan.

    But none of that happened. I was out of town for a few days, and other days just got filled with other things.

    A few of those involved reading books. Three of them to be exact. Since none of them really inspired the kind of reaction that would normally merit their own long post, I’m going to zip through them all here as a group.

    The first is “The Book of Basketball” by Bill Simmons. This will be the easiest post-book writing of all time: If you already read his stuff on ESPN.com and like the NBA, you will enjoy it. Though I must say it is probably 150 pages too long.

    Second on the list is John Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men,” one of those titles I felt like I should have read a long long time ago but never did. If you have been following my reading habits for any amount of time you should know that I think Steinbeck can do no wrong and this certainly follows that trend. My only regret is that I didn’t wait until it was warmer outside. There’s something about his writing that I think is best enjoyed when sitting in the sunshine with a light breeze rustling the leaves of nearby trees.

    A number of his books are quite short by conventional standards — somewhere around 100 pages. But the nature of his writing is such that you find yourself 80 pages into the story and not even cognizant that you are nearing the end. He spends so much time and so much care crafting a story involving a small cast of characters and taking place over just a few days. And yet despite the lack of pages, you feel as if you have been told a complete story and had all of your questions answered.

    The latest of the trio is Erik Larson’s “Devil in the White City.” This one is a longtime coming, since multiple people recommended it to me last summer and I finally got around to acquiring a copy and reading it. But it was well-worth the wait. I dog-eared a few pages, as I normally do, but in looking back I either don’t remember what seemed noteworthy or think it would give something away to those who end up reading the book.

    So I’ll keep it more generic, and in keeping with the theme of this post, short. If you enjoy history, you’ll be into the descriptions of how the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair came into existence. Considering the technology and building techniques in use at the time, it was really a remarkable feat of engineering and construction. Add in the auxiliary products and attractions that were first introduced at the event and you have a long list of things that are still very much a part of our daily lives.

    And then there’s the murder. Well, the murders. If you didn’t know it was a true crime story, you wouldn’t believe the actions of one of the main characters, a psychopath who eludes the detection of law enforcement at the time to perpetrate a borderline impressive list of dastardly deeds. Larson weaves the two storylines together with a superb use of historical background and primary documents to give a complete sense of what it was like to be in Chicago at that time. A very info-dense story at times, but well worth the read.

    April 18, 2010 books Uncategorized
  • I Am Writing

    I am writing I am writing I am writing I am writing I am writing I am writing…

    (bonus points if you know the literary reference)

    April 14, 2010 Uncategorized
  • Movie Mirrors

    It’s always interesting to watch an older movie and then go back and read how people reacted at the time and put it in context. This is especially true for movies that broke ground in the way movies are made and especially those that kick open the doors on societal taboos.

    After watching “Philadelphia” last night, and living as we do in the context of 2010, I was curious to see what the response was in 1993 when the movie was made. The story is credited as being one of the first to openly discuss not only AIDS, but also homosexuality.

    To anyone who has seen “Milk,” for which Sean Penn won a best actor Oscar, it is striking how tamely “Philadelphia” portrays the interactions of its gay characters. Granted, much of the film takes place in places like a courtroom and a hospital and doesn’t delve into the behind the scenes relationships that told much of Harvey Milk’s story. But even in moments of affection, I can’t recall anything more than a kiss on the forehead.

    Being 10 years old at the time, I didn’t exactly have my hand on the pulse of American culture in 1993. Thanks to the Internet and a review from Roger Ebert, the film is put in the context of that contemporary reality.

    In closing his review, Ebert writes: “Sooner or later, Hollywood had to address one of the most important subjects of our time, and with “Philadelphia” the ice has been broken. In a year or two, it will be time for another film to consider the subject more unblinkingly. This is a righteous first step.”

    It is in steps–sometimes very small–that cultural awareness becomes acceptance. Ebert cites the 1967 film “Look Who’s Coming to Dinner” as one of those groundbreaking works, a story he says is the first major film about an interracial romance. We are a long way from 1967, but the issue of whom others think it is acceptable for you to love is still very much a challenge for our society.

    In 2005, I was certainly old enough to remember no real backlash over “Guess Who,” a remake of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” (except of course those who hated Ashton Kutcher for many other reasons). At last year’s Oscars, Milk was nominated for best picture (Philadelphia was not nominated, though Tom Hanks won best actor).

    Progress, yes. But I wonder what they’ll be saying about us in 2025.

    March 31, 2010 movies Uncategorized
  • Seeing the Past

    The first register was open. Well, almost open; an older woman was swiping her credit card as the cashier bagged her last item.

    I walked over and put my items on the belt–some dishwasher detergent, toilet paper and some picture frames. It was a pretty ordinary trip to Target. As the cashier handed the receipt to the woman, I saw his face and was instantly taken back to the year 2000. Back then this Target hadn’t been built yet, but I worked just down the street at a sporting goods store.

    I worked there long enough to have dozens of coworkers, most of whom I would never expect to see again. I probably can’t even remember a lot of their names. The Target cashier today was wearing a name tag, but I didn’t need to look at it. I would remember Jim (not his actual name) 20 years from now. There was no reminiscing about our old days, however brief they were, and I am fairly certain he didn’t recognize me.

    I can imagine that a lot of people would find it odd to not mention that we used to work together, but the dynamic of our past really says otherwise. At the time I was a 17-year-old kid selling shoes for a little pocket money and to fill some hours of my week. I didn’t necessarily need a job, but it seemed like a good way to spend 20 hours a week. There were other kids there too, some from my high school and a bunch of others who went to other schools around the area. The managers were older, a few of them in college and the rest from the older set who had chosen retail as their long-term career.

    And then there were the adults who worked alongside the kids on the sales floor. This wasn’t exactly a novel situation in our store, but rather one you can pick out in just about any retail situation. Everyone has a different reason for being there.

    The younger set seems like they are always ascending to something else, usually working their way through school and counting down the days until their retail life is over. The job is a stepping stone, a blip on their career radar.

    Those just out of college are there as a stop-gap, a temporary gig to pay the bills while they figure out what to do with the rest of their life. It’s not an ideal situation, but what are you going to do? They are still young enough to totally fit in with their younger coworkers, and can even turn into sage advice-givers for those about to dive into the college world.

    Then there’s a huge gap to the next set–those who are at least in their mid 30s (though I have worked with several guys in their 60s). The ones in their 30s are in the toughest spot of all. Their story is always a bit sad, you can see it in their eyes as they give you the quick break-the-ice version the first day. A layoff, a couple of kids, just needed some money to get by for a while. You almost feel bad telling them about what you’re doing in school and which college you plan on attending. You know they understand fullwell that they are doing the same job as a high school kid.

    That is how I met Jim.

    He looks like a cross between actors Stephen Root and Rainn Wilson. My friend Ryan and I used to work in the women’s shoe department with Jim. Ryan and I felt like we sort of ran the show since we spent two years there and usually dominated the sales. We were hustlers (not in a scammer sort of way) who understood a certain system of getting to as many customers as possible while keeping our section clean. That last part was key to going home at a decent hour.

    It was clear early on that we were going to have a problem with Jim. Watching him approach customers was always an adventure. He would quietly sidle up to a woman holding a shoe, head tilted down, eyes aimed at the ground like he wanted no part of the interaction. His standard line was, “You want help with that?” in a tone that lacked any semblance of sincerity. It’s hard to imagine anyone was ever extremely confident they were going to get good service.

    Miraculously though, he did help a lot of customers. The byproduct of getting to so many people is that you inevitably have a lot of shoe boxes to put away. We called them “drags,” though I have no idea where that term came from. You bring out a shoe and the customer doesn’t want it, it’s your responsibility to put it back. Ryan and I had handled that volume so many times that we instinctively just put away a few shoes everytime we went to get a new one. That customer had to wait an extra minute, but it meant that we weren’t left with a big stack at the end of the day.

    Jim didn’t work that way. He used more of a pile system. He would usually get his customers onto adjacent benches and perform a day-long dance that would look to an outsider like he was trying to build a shoe fort. Every eschewed pair of shoes would go back in its box, and then get stacked on all the others. If we said something to Jim the piles would disappear from the sales floor…only to reappear in the stockroom. By the end of the day there might be 100 boxes that needed to be put away. Each one had Jim’s sales sticker on it. Since we had some sort of teamwork concept, we all had to stay and help put the shoes away. It didn’t matter how many department meetings we had, or private exhortations about the stacks, the same thing happened day after day.

    Jim wasn’t a bad guy, he just didn’t get the system. But then again, he had a lot going on in his life. I remember that he also had a part-time job with the county as a snowplow driver whenever we happened to get any snow. There were a few kids in the picture and a wife who seemed to call his cell phone 20 times a day. He wasn’t exactly integrated into the group of kids who went out for a slice of pizza after work.

    That was 10 years ago. Just as the kids are always talking about their next move, the guys like Jim have other plans. They seem to know a guy who is going to get them a job doing something in their former field, or at least something better. And so I would have hoped for nothing else for Jim. Even being a retail manager after college wasn’t exactly the highlight of my life, so I can’t imagine having to be an hourly salesman at his stage in life.

    That look in their eyes doesn’t disappear with time–it gets deeper. With each day, each month, there’s an increasing feeling of despair you can feel. There’s nothing you can do as the kid to make it go away.

    So there I was at Target today, with Jim ringing up my items. He had the look. As much as I would like to know what happened between our sales floor and the Target register, Jim wouldn’t want to tell me. There’s nothing the least bit wrong with any of those jobs, and having been there myself I have the utmost respect. But the look says it’s not what you want, not what you hoped for. Some of the fight is gone from you.

    Jim lived through the last 10 years–he doesn’t need to do it again to make small talk with one of the kids.

    March 26, 2010 shoes Uncategorized
  • Feeling Lucky, Punk?

    There are times in life where you just have to take a step back and say things like, “Is this really happening?” and “How long could this possibly last?”

    I have been on a pretty good winning streak lately, much of it involving sports but also regarding life in general. It’s definitely one of those runs where you start to think something incredibly bad has to come soon in order to balance out the universe, so I’m on the lookout for thunderstorms that may try to strike me down with their treacherous lightning.

    I posted recently about a string of prognostications about Olympic events, snowfall amounts and hockey games played by small children. If you missed that one, I came up on the winning side many more times than my roommate.

    Now that streak has extended to the NCAA men’s basketball tournament, where teams like St. Mary’s, Xavier and Cornell have propelled my bracket to ridiculous heights in several pools. Before Thursday’s third round, I am in the 100th percentile on ESPN.com. When people are posting things on your Facebook page like, “st. mary’s though? who makes that pick?! dammit!” you know there’s a certain amount of luck on your side.

    Since the end of the college football season I have also been taunting my brother (a Redskins fan) about the prospects of former Florida quarterback Tim Tebow being drafted by his favorite team. As a fan of the rival Giants, and not a fan of Tebow, nothing would make me happier than seeing him in a Washington uniform. While watching my NCAA basketball picks come through last weekend my brother sent me a text message that said the Redskins were giving Tebow serious consideration.

    ESPN also has a contest of sorts where you try to string together streaks of correct picks about sporting events called Streak for the Cash. It’s maddeningly entertaining. Sometimes you lose six games in a row, but sometimes the luck kicks in and you run off a streak of 10-straight correct picks. Of course when you get to 10 (as I did yesterday) it’s only a matter of time before you get a little ahead of yourself and make a dumb pick. Unfortunately UNC beat UAB last night and my streak is no more.

    Hopefully that will be enough of a lightning bolt for now and my bracket picks can continue their run.

    Though maybe I should be trying to raise the stakes a bit–cold call Bill Gates and ask him for a few million dollars, see if the Nationals will let me pitch on opening day, try to get a Taco Bell Express built in place of a neighbor’s house, find out if Mila Kunis wants to have dinner at that Taco Bell Express–you know, get while the gettin’s good.

    This is totally unrelated, but too neat not to pass along: A story about an artist who turns people into a canvas…of themselves.

  • It’s All Greek to Me

    It takes a certain mind to understand a lot of the complicated aspects of global finance. But even more difficult is being able to explain things like credit default swaps in language most people can understand and even do it with a bit of humor.

    If you are not listening to NPR’s Planet Money podcast, you are missing out on your best opportunity to understand important aspects of our world and to be highly entertained.

    One of their latest episodes (about 20-25 minutes each) featured a very simple premise: We want to understand the world of derivatives, so let’s buy one. Anyone who has been at least semi-conscious during the global financial meltdown has heard of derivatives, but they aren’t the easiest thing to wrap your head around.

    So the team pooled $1,000 of their own money and found a broker who could help them buy a piece of one of the derivatives. They described the entire process of sifting through potential buys and have set up an interactive web page to track the progress of their investment. You can find it here on their site. Scroll to the bottom to find the original podcast.

    You probably heard some news recently about the financial struggles of Greece and the reluctance of its European Union friends to want to bail them out. The crisis has put pressure on the countries using the euro and has brought questions of whether it is wise to continue having multiple nations united under a single currency.

    The Planet Money team crafted an interesting discussion of Greece and the euro with comparisons to the uniting of American states under one currency, and the amazing logistical issues that would go with dumping the euro in Greece.

    Enjoy that podcast here.

    March 18, 2010 Uncategorized
  • The Dr. is In

    If you are doing a Dr. Phil impression, you should be required to use the phrase “that dog just won’t hunt.”

    It captures just enough of folksiness with a mix of cliche and lends itself to a southern accent. If you’re dispensing life advice, that’s exactly the tone you should be setting.

    While I have been in conversations–usually with northerners–that feature a moment where the other party declares, “there’s the Virginia accent,” I definitely need to add a little extra to do a solid Dr. Phil. Though when it comes to the content of his message, apparently I have enough credibility already.

    In a completely inexplicable trend that is conspiring to cost me great amounts of sleep, I have apparently become some sort of life-help guru, especially when it comes to relationships. In the past few months no fewer than four of my friends have come to me to talk about their significant others–either current, future or desired.

    Maybe they just know I don’t sleep well and am probably likely one of the only people they know who will answer the phone at 2 a.m. Or maybe they have reviewed my sterling relationship history (ha!) and figure I clearly understand whatever issue is bothering them.

    Hard to say.

    I think the early hour of most of the calls has a lot to do with it; I’m not fully awake and thus they can just sort of talk themselves out while I keep conscious with an occasional question. It’s also possible that cliches exist for a reason. If you have heard something a hundred times maybe it has some truth to it. And if you have seen any of Dr. Phil’s work, you know that if it ain’t broke don’t fix it, actions speak louder than words and two wrongs don’t make a right.

    Now if only I could be asleep at midnight instead of posting a blog. I guess you could say my sleep tonight will be too little too late. I wonder if Dr. Phil can help with that.

    March 15, 2010 sleep Uncategorized
  • Two Friday Thoughts

    It’s Friday and I have two thoughts, each of which I will expand upon below.

    1. A subway car is a really awkward place to say goodbye to someone.
    2. Katharine McPhee is not Natalie Portman

    After a morning appointment in Washington, D.C., this morning I took the Metro back home to Virginia. When I boarded the train there were two young women sharing the seat just in front of mine.

    I would guess they are of college age, mainly because it was the middle of the day and they were talking about things that sounded plausibly like school assignments. At one of the first Virginia stations one of the girls got up to get off the train. She wrapped up the conversation and as she took a step towards the door she said “have a great day.”

    The train stopped. The doors didn’t open right away, leaving the girl to stand four feet away from someone she said goodbye to. She was left looking down at the floor for a solid 25 seconds. I don’t know how she fought the urge to turn and at least make some sort of remark to break the obvious tension.

    Last night I was watching the NBC show Community with one of my roommates (CA from earlier posts). This episode featured guest star Katharine McPhee, who I understand has some sort of American Idol fame.

    I think during the entire episode CA was trying to figure out who she was, because late in the show the following exchange took place:

    CA: “Oh, it’s that chick from Star Wars!”
    CJH: “Natalie Portman?”
    CA: “Yes.”
    CJH: “That is not Natalie Portman.”
    CA: “Yes it is.”
    CJH: “I assure you it is not.”

    If you read somewhat regularly, you may know I am a Natalie Portman fan and thus should be an authority on “is that Natalie Portman?”

    Compare for yourself:


    Katharine McPhee


    Natalie Portman

    I rest my case.

    March 12, 2010 metro Uncategorized
  • Folly Folly Foxenfree

    You’re almost 60 years old, and your wife wants a divorce. Your health isn’t exactly great thanks to the cancer you just beat back and it seem clear that your daughter–your only child–doesn’t like you very much.

    What do you do with the rest of your life?

    That’s the fundamental question answered in Paul Auster’s novel “The Brooklyn Follies.” This is the second Auster novel on my bookshelf, after reading “The Book of Illusions” in 2008. My thoughts on that title here.

    “Brooklyn Follies” shows how you can make the decision to dust yourself off, cast aside all of the negative aspects of your life and resolve to basically start over. The main character, Nathan, goes back to Brooklyn, the place where he grew up, and rebuilds his life one lunch and one project at a time.

    The beauty of Auster’s writing is the ability to start with a relatively simple cast of characters and bring out their complexity one by one. He’s then able to meld them together, amplifying those character traits in a way that wasn’t apparent on their own. When a new player enters the scene, there’s a sort of mystery novel element to each one, giving you the feeling that no matter how small their role now you know they are going to play a part in the larger story later on.

    My favorite example in this book is a young girl, Nathan’s great-niece. Early on you learn her mother is not exactly in the reliable department, foreshadowing a time when the mother’s decisions eventually force her to send the girl to her uncle (Nathan’s nephew, the mother’s brother). The girl, Lucy, is incredibly smart but suffers all kinds of issues from growing up in a less-than-stellar home environment. But she has quirks that you can’t help but laugh at sometimes.

    Her mother tells the story of when Lucy was in daycare, and the teacher called her mother with a concern: “When it came time for the children to have their milk, Lucy would always hang back until all the other kids had taken a carton before she’d take one herself. The teacher didn’t understand. Go get your milk, she’d say to Lucy, but Lucy would always wait around until there was just one carton left. It took a while for me to figure it out. Lucy didn’t know which carton was supposed to be her milk. She thought all the other kids knew which ones were theirs, and if she waited until there was only one carton in the box, that one had to be hers.”

    You can clearly see that scene playing out, the little girl leaning against the wall trying not to be noticed. Her eyes are wide as she slowly watches the milk cartons disappearing. She looks down and shuffles her feet, trying to act casually indifferent as the worry rages inside her. As the last kid in line approaches the carton she slips in behind him, ready to claim her milk and give a sigh of relief as another day in a system she doesn’t understand passes by.

    Nathan has a friendship with a rare book dealer for whom his nephew works. The nephew is a grad-school dropout who was studying literature and thus knows tons of random stories about authors. He tells one about Franz Kafka going to a park where he finds a young girl who is upset about losing a doll. He tells the girl that the doll went on a trip, which he knows because the doll gave him a letter. The girl asks to see it, and he tells her he left it at home but will bring it to her. Kafka goes home and composes a letter, from the point of view of a doll, and gives it to her. He writes one every day for three weeks, slowly separating the doll from the girl’s life until she’s no longer sad the doll has moved on.

    One reason I’m reading less so far this year is that I have been spending time on a writing project of my own, one that involves composing letters from a fictional person who also happens to be female. It’s a really interesting challenge to write outside of your “voice” especially when you are putting yourself in a perspective completely opposite of your life experience.

    A last interesting tidbit from Auster’s story. One of Nathan’s last ideas in the book is to create a service for “regular” people to commission their own biographies. If you’re famous, it’s not hard to get someone to write about you. If you’re famous enough, hundreds of writers will take on your life story. His idea is to create a sort of insurance where you pay a small amount each month and at the end of your life your relatives get a book about you.

    I wasn’t near the Internet when I finished the book so I couldn’t look to see if this kind of service actually exists, since it seems like a pretty logical enterprise. Today I spent about seven seconds on Google and found that for roughly $15,000 this British company will write a biography about anyone. Not sure if they’ll travel to the United States.

    March 1, 2010 books Uncategorized
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