is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Time, and Sun, and Always More Television.
Time, and Sun, and Always More Television.
Here�s an artsy photo of Hans Blix (the cat, not the U.N. Weapons Inspector). 
He is enjoying the sun as much as I am. Today we pushed up one of the storm windows and pulled down the screen, and we have the window open.
Yesterday I was talking to Chris on the phone, and he was talking about writing liner notes for a double album of B-sides that they are putting out in June or July, and that led him to start reading some of the liner notes to me (and they are hilarious) and then that led him to play and sing some parts of some of the songs for me over the phone, and as I was sitting there thinking that I am lucky and this was a perfect end to an otherwise hectic and unrewarding day, he said, �hey, I�m not wasting your time, am I?� Ha! Oh, Time.
One thing I left out of my description of the trip to Pennsylvania for the job interview was how much went wrong on the way there, and then throughout my stay. There was not one thing that went according to plan, or that accorded with my expectations going in, except for the part that only I had control over, which was my job talk. So, while I was there, I kept thinking I was hearing that cheesy bass-line that punctuates all the random moments of humor in a Seinfeld episode. That was how those three days went. It doesn�t mean that the days were terrible. Like I said, the people I met were great, and I�m glad I had the opportunity to be there. It just kept getting funnier that nothing went according to plan.
This morning I moved myself up to the next level in the Pilates world, thinking, �I am SO ready for this.� That is true only if �this� means �a reminder that I am tremendously uncoordinated and also likely to be in tremendous mid-section pain tomorrow.� Oh well. It�s good for me. Soon enough I�ll be able to keep up with this level, and then I�ll have to move to the next, where I�ll be reminded, once again, that I am not now nor will I ever be a ballerina.
My mom could have told you that from the get-go. From the time I was five and wet my pants (aka leotard) right before my ballet recital, to the various times during my teen years when, after my latest clumsy move, she would sarcastically say, �I should have named you �Grace,�� she has never been fooled.
TV again: After I made my complaints about the new U.S. version of The Office, I watched the episode about sensitivity training, which was actually fairly funny, though I still felt a lot of resistance toward it. My favorite part was when Steve Carell said to some guy who wasn�t playing by the rules, �this is an environment of welcoming, so you should just get the hell out of here.� Ha.
But I am going to have to insist that the best sit-com treatment ever of �sensitivity training� was on the short-lived Andy Richter Controls the Universe. That show was good! (Whenever I say, �This show is good!�, you can expect the cancellation orders to roll in fairly quickly. The major exceptions to this rule are Buffy and Angel, which probably survived only because they were on the WB. There are of course shows on that I watch regularly and which have been on for years. But they aren�t the shows that make me think, �damn, this show is GOOD.� Because usually, for me, �GOOD� means �pushing the boundaries of what TV CAN DO!�. And so, it is always goodbye to my good little shows.)
So, the people in the Andy Richter office are competing�for cash prizes�to recruit a person of color to work in the office. The Andy Richter character finds one and hires him but then inadvertently offends him�a black man�for reasons he can�t figure out. Turns out the black man is Irish. Andy: �Oh! Who cares about offending the Irish?!� So he gets sent to his boss. The boss gives him a stern lecture about diversity and tolerance, then asks what he said to get in trouble. Andy repeats his Irish joke. The boss says, �Oh! It was an IRISH joke. Who cares?!� And so on, up to the top of the company, where the top-boss happens to be the most stereotypical Irishman you could imagine.
...Don�t worry. I�ve got three dinner dates this weekend (none of them are actually DATES, ok?), so I�ll get pulled away from the television. My friend Jennifer, who also spent a year at Amherst College, said she got so depressed and hermet-like while she was here that she was constantly curled up in bed with a small television for which there was no remote control, such that she mastered changing the channel with her toes!
Also, in addition to watching a lot of TV, I have completed many cute and funny paint-by-number paintings with words left unpainted as extra message. (I keep meaning to put some up on the site but haven�t found a way to scan them such that sufficient detail is shown.) I also have done a lot more reading than I tend to get done in SF. Etc. Time is NOT wasting.
12:53 p.m. - March 31, 2005
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