The More The Mary-er!

NJ Supreme Court decision: A response to Dan's recent blog entry

2006-10-26T13:31:00.000-07:00

First, in order to understand anything I'm talking about, please read Dan's recent blog entry:

http://www.danielpwilliford.com/2006/10/speaking-of-marriage.html

Brilliantly written, Dan. You have captured most of my major sentiments regarding this decision, yet I can't help but wonder what the practical implications are of the NJ legislature's future remedy to the court's decision. My position for some time has been that same-sex marriage, as you note, reinforces the institution of marriage, and in a contradictory way, creates fewer options for same-sex couples in how they define their relationships. This ideological position is one that I struggle with and that which others have suggested is one of privilege and a bourgeois mentality. That is to say, while I hold onto my ideological goal of refusing the sanctification and privileging by the state of certain forms of relationship over others, the economic situation, etc, of many same-sex couples requires a more practical avenue (not to mention the crossroads the "gay and lesbian community" finds itself in)

So, I guess my question is what happens if and when NJ decides that equal benefits be conferred upon same-sex couples (but not heterosexual ones) under this new form of “union,” whatever its name? If Dr. Chambers (secondamericano.blogspot.com) is correct about the role of heteronormativity in explaining the disconnect between “protecting” marriage while simultaneously upholding equal rights for gays (which I certainly agree with), what does this separate form of union (i.e. separating the homos from the heteros) do to undermine that heteronormative worldview? In a very practical way, it seems heterosexual couples in NJ need to demand entrée into whatever form of union is granted to homosexuals—to demand that whatever form it takes, it includes not just same-sex relationships. And then what does that mean? What label is claimed, and does this necessitate any kind of equal treatment under the laws of other states (for example, when that couple applies for benefits in a state that does not have an alternative form of marriage)? Would it have any practical implications for the cause of non-heterosexually-unioned couples?

Anyway, I realize my comments are somewhat fuzzy. I hope to return to this topic soon when I can write coherently.

Thanks to Dan for his amazing entry!

Part II: The land of gouda and startlingly throaty g's

2006-09-16T03:19:00.000-07:00

Well, unfortunately, it has been much longer than expected since I posted the last entry. Ozzie's new apartment was supposed to have internet access long before this point in time (and still does not), which has completely thwarted my sincere commitment to writing regularly. As such, I am currently writing this blog entry while hanging over the ledge of the apartment balcony, connecting rather tenuously to the university's wireless signal off in the distance. Hopefully, I won't be cut off mid-sentence.

So, where was I? The last episode ended with a cryptic reference to a homeless woman and an "attack." Much has happened since this point, but to avoid anachronistic references, I think I will rewind a bit to one of the more memorable events of my time here. Ozzie and I were walking in the center of the city, when we were approached by a woman in the red-light district (obviously, we were walking through rather than to this part of town). She first spoke in Dutch and then, realizing I do not speak Dutch, switched over to English. She was small woman, rather thin, about 35 or so, and quite disheveled, really. I knew what was coming, of course, so I continued to walk, but slowed down enough to look at her. I answered that I did speak English (mistake numero uno), and she proceded to tell us that she had missed her train (what she was doing this far from the train-station in a touristy section of town, who knows...oh wait, well yes, it was clear). When I continued to walk, perhaps surmising that I was really not taking her seriously, she asked me, rather nicely in fact, if I could just speak to her for two minutes. I nicely, but matter of factly, said, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't." At this point, the sweet puppy-dog face she had previously been sporting contorted into a surprisingly vicious grimace and before I could blink, she was raising her arms, emitting a frustrated growl, and moving toward me at what seemed like lightning speed. At this point, my innate biological programming (that's funny if you know me) must have kicked in, because all I can remember is reflexively turning my shoulder to her and covering my face with my hands, not knowing what to expect. While extremely brief, moments like these have a way of extending their lives by a hundred-fold. The impact of her arm(?), fist(?), body(?) was not painful, but it was jarring, and in the moment, I was reduced to that single emotion of fear that is both debilitating and motivating at once. The blow caught me in the shoulder I had turned toward her. I could feel the force and frustration behind it, but there really was no pain--perhaps it ordinarily would have been but was suppressed by the adrenaline, or maybe she was really just too slight to do much damage, even to my own "frail" frame. Before I even knew what had happened, the woman turned, scowl intact, and made her way towards her next target. I was left there, thankful I hadn't been pushed over the side of the canal (or stabbed for that matter--the way she had raised her fist, in retrospect, seemed like she may have had a knife) but sort of sauteeing in the mix of adrenaline that was now coursing through my body. I was not hurt at all, but shaken to the core. In a way, it was just a minor event, no harm done physically, no insulting words exchanged, but the look in the woman's eyes and face, her Smeagol (Gollum)-like features, remained with me for the rest of the evening. I sure hope she was able to catch the next train.

Part I: The land of Gouda and startlingly throaty g's

2006-08-30T00:58:00.000-07:00

As many of you who no longer read my blog because I rarely post know, I am now in Amsterdam with Ozzie as he prepares to re-enter the world of academia. I've been here now for one week and as one would expect from any new foray into a different culture, much has been taken in, and much remains to be processed. I will begin with a few observations and an accounting of some particularly odd experiences.

As anyone who is even remotely familiar with Amsterdam is aware, the city contains some of the most interesting architecture in all of Europe. If you look up at the rowhouses, you'll see that every one of them has a hook at the top, through which a long rope can be strung and furniture hoisted to any of the many-storied windows. One will also notice that the buildings all seem to be tilting outwards, the top front of each buildings jutting out noticeably more than the bottom. This is so that as furniture is being hoisted upwards, it doesn't bang against the front of the structure. Simple, yet ingenious. The Dutch are like this in just about everything they do--simple, yet ingenious. Even the hundreds of bridges that criss-cross the canals are obviously built with great care in both design and efficiency. And this attention to design does not stop when it comes to ordinary household appliances. Think Ikea only with substantially more class and substantially less chance of snapping in half after just a few months. All of this is why I am completely dumbfounded by their toilets.

Let's begin with a review of familiar toilet construction, at least as it is known in the good ole' US of A. Round (or sometimes oval) bowl, filled about half-way with water, with a hole at the bottom back of said bowl. You may not have realized this, but the water is a very important feature of the Number 2 evacuation process, decreasing the amount of unappealing vapors that escape into the air. More explicitly stated, the poop drops into the water and, depending on diet, either floats or sinks to the bottom, and then is quickly and efficiently flushed away to never neverland. Or is it the nether netherlands. Except for the occasional splash, the system works pretty well. Now contrast this will the most popular toilet in the land of smoked salmon and legal marijuana. Round bowl at the top, but look inside the bowl and you will find a flat shelf with an edge that drops down to a hole at the front bottom of the bowl. That hole has a bit of water down there, but the shelf I mentioned has barely a puddle. Now I'm all for water conservation, but think about this for a moment. In case the above description is not lucid enough, let me bring it home. Due to the design of this toilet, one poohs onto a shelf(!) The pooh then sits there, almost completely free of water, until one of several possible hidden buttons in the room are pushed so that the pooh is washed off of the shelf and down through the hole. Meanwhile, the vast pooh-to-air exposed surface area allows for the maximum degree of vapor escape, creating a sort of Chamber of Excretions (Rouling's next title), in which you must steep until finished. I won't even get into the efficiency or lack thereof with which the water is able to fully wash the undesirable, mortality-reminding, material away. Don't even get me started on that inspiring design feat. Every time I need to use a toilet, I simply cannot understand how this made it through the boardroom. If it were the US, I would speculate on the influence of air-freshener lobbyists to the toilet industry, but that would be too cynical here in "Old Europe."

Next installment: Attack of the Strung-Out Homeless Woman.

Convolutions

2006-07-15T12:39:00.000-07:00

I had this amazing dream last night. I dreamt I was in class of some sort (totally far removed from my real world...and they say dreams are just consolidated memories!) and the teacher/professeur was Christiane--my lovely French superviser from the clinic. She had just finished up class and upon departing, uttered, "Okay, well, I guess you're all fired home--metaphorically speaking!" As she was leaving, we all sort of looked at one another dumfounded, and I exclaimed, "That doesn't make any sense. 'Fired home?'" Another student (a friend by the name of Max from high school) said, "Well, she just never makes any sense." He didn't realize she had forgotten something from the classroom and was coming back at that very moment, so she overheard him. We all sort of downplayed Max's comment and just admitted we were confused by her little expression. So she explained that back in her village, whenever an employer wanted to fire an employee, it was required that he/she go to that persons house to do it, and this fact lead to the expression "fired home" which basically just means "you're dismissed." Okay, so my dreams are not terribly exciting, but what I found so cool about it (as Ozzie pointed out) was that my own brain manufactured something it (my brain) did not understand and then explained it to itself! Isn't that weird? How could I not have understood what "fired home" meant or at least heard it as a familiar phrase when my own brain had just manufactured it? And then--to repeat myself--my brain decided to clear up the misunderstanding that it had just created by creating an entire context for the expression that it did not understand. Those are some levels of metacognition, and I feel I had nothing to do with it. I was just an outside (yet inside) observer to the intricate (and bizarre) workings of my own brain.

I don't give a dental damn!

2006-03-30T23:16:00.000-08:00

I had the strangest dental experience of my life today. Went to the dentist for the first time in something like 5 years. Ew, I know, right? But I haven't had any dental insurance and no problems with my teeth, so whatevs. I figure I take pretty good care of them. Anyway, after a series of rather painful ex-rays (I hate those little plastic tabs you have to bite down on, which occasionally grind into the roof of your mouth), the dentist came in to talk to me about my teeth. She began by asking about my last dentist and whether there was anything in particular I liked or disliked about my experiences. I thought this was quite nice. I told her I like that he was very gentle and always told me what he was about to do, "Ok Aaron, you're about to experience the most excrucating pain of your life, okay?" But then she asked me how I would rate how much I liked my teeth: "On a scale from 1 to 10, how do you like your teeth?" I was a bit confused, but generally, i'm okay with my teeth, I guess, so I said 9. She responded, "So, what is it about your teeth that you don't like?" Again, a little perplexed, so I said, "Well, I guess people are always concerned about having yellow teeth, so I guess I've always thought my teeth could be whiter..."
"Yes, what else?"
"Um....well I have a small gap between two of my back teeth and sometimes food gets caught in there..."
"I see, go on..."
"Okay, well I had braces, but since I've had them off, my bottom teeth have gotten a little bit crowded, but I'm not too concerned about it."
"Very good....And how would you feel if we could fix all of those problems?"
Riiiight. And so it began. I said, "Uhhhh, fine, I guess." ("Jesus! I would be like so eternally grateful I'd probably put you in my will!")

She then proceeded to ask me if I would like to hear about what she saw on the ex-rays, and ask me how I would like my information: a little bit of detail or a lot. What? I opted for more detail thinking more information was probably better than less ("you have teeth"), and she said funnily enough most PhD students ask for the detailed information. But this consisted of her pointing to a clay (or something) model of teeth and telling me where the potential problem areas were (and giving me the scientific names for the teeth she pointed to.) The whole thing was like talking to a computer that was inches from my face and almost life-like. In the end, I didn't have any cavities, but found out I grind my teeth, and I was given a run-down of all of my "treatment options" which included a $370 nightguard, a $575 whitening, and a multi-thousand dollar "invisaline" teeth straightening device (like removable, invisible braces). I didn't want any of that (except the nightguard, which I can't afford), so I politely said I would keep the "treatment options" in mind. Is this contemporary dentistry? I felt like I was being sold a new car or something. How would you feel if we could fix all of that for you?(?!) What? Go away! Just clean my teeth. That's all I wanted--just for someone to clean my teeth for me, for once in 6 years. Not some dentistry shake down. And I have to go back tomorrow for that, so they can double bill my insurance company. I think I may bite someone if they ask me anymore weird questions. "How clean do your teeth feel at present? How would it make you feel if we could make them cleaner with this power saw?"

Tahoe

2006-03-29T23:03:00.000-08:00

Well, it's happened again. Almost two months have gone by without a post. I'm terrible. One of my goals before coming out here was to keep writing entries, no matter how busy I got. I guess I got pretty busy.

Another quarter has begun in the town that is Davis. It's weird how life is divided up into different segments that become so salient in different periods of one's life. Spring quarter 2006. Fall semester 1998. I noticed one time at St. Mary's (college) that when I was taking certain classes, I would often consistently write the wrong dates on my papers--homework, etc. When I was taking chemistry for example, I would mess up the date. I kept wondering why the date was from a particular time period, and then I realized that the dates I was writing were from the semester in high school when I took chemistry. Isn't that weird? Maybe it was just a coincidence. Anyway, yeah, quarters. It isn't even a quarter, really...more of a trimester. I guess they call them quarters because there are summer sessions. But summer is much longer than any of the quarters of the school year, and besides, the are two summer sessions. Shouldn't we be calling them quintiles or something?

I finally went skiing up at a ski resort near Lake Tahoe. The drive up there was absolutely stunning. Ozzie and I took the little white pickup truck that has become our salvation for access to anything remotely exciting, and drove up the mountain to an elevation of about 8,000 ft. There was the one particularly frightening road along the side of the mountain such that I could pretty much look out my passenger window and see straight down over the side of an enormous cliff. It reminded me of that old footage of the car speeding off the side of a mountain into a ravine. I swear Hollywood must have used that same clip for a thousand films. I wonder how many takes it took.

Skiing was blissful...the second day. The first day up I had a problem with my boot. It was just too tight or something and kept crushing my toes. On accident, Ozzie and I took a lift up to an area where there were only black diamond runs. That coupled with the fact that I hadn't skied in about a year and the boot fiasco lead to an interesting ride down the mountain. I basically fell the entire way, and by the time I got down, my feet were hurting so bad I couldn't continue. The next day was much better, though. I got a better pair of boots and ended up skiing for about 5 hours.

We spent one night up there with my friends Chris, Paul, Christin, and Else-Marie. Funnily enough, I had some of the best sushi of my life there in the mountains bordering Nevada. Afterwards, we took a stroll across the border to NV (about 5 blocks from our motel) and visited a few casinos, strategically placed not more than 6 inches from the border. I played a few rounds of blackjack, but in the end, the house just had better luck. Funny that.

I've been trying to follow the various protests around the world. I'm quite concerned about this anti-immigration legislation that the House has put forward, not only making it a felony for undocumented immigrants to be in the country, but criminalizing any attempts by social workers, doctors, nuns, etc. to help them. It's just insane. Various cities across the country have seen the largest ever demonstrations. I guess that's the good news. Hopefully the threat of a political fallout with the legal voting immigrant population will be enough to outweigh the racist, fear-filled, public support of such types of legislation.

And in France, things are really heating up over the proposed legislation to make it legal to fire anyone under the age of 26 within a two-year period of hire without any justification. The protests are becoming reminiscent of the 1968 student uprising in support of workers' rights. Ozzie makes an interesting point that the legislation is intended to decrease unemployment, particularly among young people, 20% of whom are unemployed, (not counting students, I believe) by providing incentive to employers to hire in the first place. He says that in terms of economic history, lessening the restrictions on employers for their hiring practices (increasing flexibility of firing) has indeed, increased employment, and that perhaps the students' protests are misdirected--they should really be protesting the flexibility given to multi-national corporations whose policies threaten the security of jobs by uprooting from countries whose labor laws cramp their style and make it more profitable to do business elsewhere. It's such a complicated issue, but my sense is that allowing a corporation to fire an employee at any point up to two years after hiring them is excessive and could lead to discriminatory firing practices for which there is no oversight or retribution. At this point, I feel myself quite in favor of the protests and I'm on the edge of my seat wondering what will be the ultimate outcome. If nothing else, the French certainly know how to strike. Des greves, they call it. I am all too familiar with the process--when i went there to study in 2002, my university went on strike for over two weeks, taking out all of the desks and chairs from the classroom and piling them from floor to ceiling in front of all the entrances to the buildings. I'll have to see if I can dig out a picture to post. It was great. Oh, that was over an increase in fees, I think, or threats of privatisation of the universities.

Body Worlds

2006-02-06T20:50:00.000-08:00

This quarter, I'm enrolled in what is fast becoming my favorite class ever! It's called Body Theory, another course in the Critical Theory area here at Davis: http://criticaltheory.ucdavis.edu/

Today, one of the students gave a fantastic presentation on plastinated human bodies--real human cadavers that have been preserved in such a way that allows them to be exhibited in Museums and used in university settings. What's different about this than the "normal" preservation of bodies for a med school anatomy lesson is that the bodies are often positioned in various states of action, with various amounts of skin and muscle exposed--mostly the cadavers have been completely skinned with the exception of some lips and scalp--a few "accents," if you will. So I will. Well, some of the cadavers are playing chess, others dribbling a basketball. One was a pregnant woman with her 8-month fetus, intact and exposed, for the appropriate consuming gaze. The entire affair is framed in terms of the educational value of the display of these bodies, but also with a definite artistic/aesthetic quality. It's not that these two things are mutually exclusive, but it seems the justifications used for this display are a bit fickle and seem tailored to the particular audience they are trying to captivate. Maybe there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, I honestly don't know how I feel about the exhibits. The "artist" has received criticism from all ends of the political and social spectrum. One of the preserved fetuses was even stolen from a museum and has not since turned up! Suffice it to say, my curiosity was peaked by this presentation, and I find the whole thing fascinating, if not a little bit disturbing. Check it out for yourself! Perhaps I'll post again when I've collected my thoughts a bit more on the subject.

http://www.bodyworlds.com/en/pages/ausstellung_usa.asp

Meanwhile, Alberto Gonzales today defended the administration's surveillance program. I feel rather silly even commenting on something that seems so straight forwardly illegal, but I can't help but have the sinking feeling that these turds are totally going to get away with it! And if they do, it's the American people's fault! Not just the administration's. My sense is that people in this country, with a few exceptions, have completely fallen asleep. I'm guilty of this too. I have yet to make a phone call to my representative. I'm not one who puts all my stakes in polling, but it looks as though a majority of people don't seem to care that we're being spied on without a warrant! Even the poll questions that don't ask an idiot question like, "Do you think the administration is justified in warrantless spying to prevent a terrorist attack?" seem to indicate that a majority is fine with warrantless spying regardless of the specifics as long as it's part of the wider war on terruh. So, my official prediction is that Bushie and his cronies will come out of this one unscathed. Gonzales recently spoke at Georgetown lawschool giving a rather contradictory presentation of the defense rationale. During the middle of it, a group of about 10 or so (maybe more?) law students stood up, and unfurled a banner saying, "Those who would forsake liberty for the sake of security deserve neither" a quote from Ben Franklin. They had on Abu Ghraib hoods as well. Others stood and simply turned their backs to him in protest. After the speech, did Al stay to answer questions from these young, budding legal scholars? No! He got the hell out of there without answering one question. Fortunately, Michael Ratner, a constitutional scholar, was there to pick up the slack and point out all of the holes in his argument. How many people saw this on CNN? Anyone? Anyone?

Chomsky does it again

2006-01-15T12:29:00.000-08:00

I encourage everyone to read the latest interview with the ever-brilliant Noam Chomsky: http://www.alternet.org/story/30487/

I've recently been thinking more about refusing to pay part or all of the federal tax in protest of the use of those dollars used to murder and maim, oppress and subjugate, both the people of the US and especially those unfortunate souls around the world most directly affected by American imperialism. I found a pretty cool website discussing some of these issues: http://www.nwtrcc.org/

My understanding is that Chomsky went some time (about a decade?) without paying taxes and somehow avoided prosecution, despite, or perhaps because of, his notoriety (perhaps prosecution of a well-known intellectual and political activist would have fueled the flames of such a resistance). I also understand that there are plenty of individuals around the country who refuse to pay some percentage of the federal tax and who blatantly include a letter stating the reasons. So far, many of them have escaped prosecution as well, perhaps because the IRS is so understaffed that it cannot go after a few hundred or a few thousand dollars here and there when there are bigger fish to fry. Somehow, I'm doubtful that the IRS is putting large corperations above these "smaller" fish, which of course, makes me nervous. I should also say that most of the people who refuse to pay taxes for reasons of resistance, donate the entire amount to charitable organizations, rather than purchasing the latest gatchet from Apple. Anyway, this is all just a thought. Perhaps publishing a blog entry about my desires is not the smartest thing, but hey, if I don't pay my taxes, someone's going to know anyway.

I hear prison soups have improved in recent decades.

"Readin' up"

2005-12-12T21:03:00.000-08:00

So, someone (was it you, Ozzie?) referred to redin' up one's room in the comments section of my last entry. "To red up" or "read up" is something I grew up saying in my family (thanks to my mom). It means "to pick up" or "clean up" but unfortunately, 99.999% of the American population has no idea what it means, and so I have had to train myself not to say it anymore. It takes effort. Apparently, it is a colloquialism (sp?) originating somewhere in central Pennsylvania (thank you Wendi for any comments you care to share about PA) and most likely this origin is Pennsylvania Dutch, although I'm not sure. If you do a google search, and I have, there is one other entry for "red up." http://www.phrases.org.uk/bulletin_board/43/messages/709.html

And they are dead on when it comes to the use I'm familiar with: "Okay kids, it's time to read up your room." My mom is always readin' up something. She'll say, "Your room needs read up!" Note the conspicuous lack of "to be" in the above sentence, not that I really need to point that out. Yes, people, I'm a hick. Surprise, I'm from Hagerstown.

So, if you have ever in your life heard this expression (besides your contact with me), please let me know! I would love to know more about where it comes from.

Ready to go

2005-12-07T21:31:00.000-08:00

As you may have guessed from my sudden reappearence in bloggy world, it's the last week of the semester, and rather than working on the seeming endlessness of take-home finals and papers papers, I've decided to write a long overdue entry.

So far, I've met a lot of great people, but also some of the strangest. And not really strange in a good way, but just weird, in that "how did you get this way?" way. Every week, I have the painful experience of having to sit through between two and four professors present their research to the new graduate students or generally discuss what their interests are in what's called a proseminar. Some of them seem like normal humans, I suppose, but many seem as though they are shell-shocked or something. A general lack of sunlight and communication with the outside world. Today, we heard from a guy who does psychobiographies on famous people, some alive, some dead. He talked about the perils of doing research on the "live ones" and how people are so reluctant to do interviews and give him the materials he needs, and often requires that he outlive them. And even the "dead ones" are difficult because for a while, apparently the deceased's loved ones aren't so keen on letting him rummage through the attic for old journals and newspaper clippings. This prompted one of the grad students to ask, later in the session, "whether it's easier to get information out of the live ones or the dead ones" to which my friend and I, seemingly the only ones amused by the entire discussion, busted out laughing, along with few others who momentarily realized why the question was funny. The whole thing was surreal, especially since the prof given the talk looked a bit like Ed Brimley (the quaker oats guy) and had some interesting affective quirks that added to the overall amusement factor. Every session, we have to "introduce" ourselves to the different professors and tell them what our research interests are. Sometimes, right before it's my turn, I fantasize about making up something really bizarre and totally different each week, like "My research interests involve feline communication techniques in zero-sum gravitational vacuums" or "psychology" (arms folded, head turned to the side). Instead, I usually give some three-word answer like, "prejudice and stereotypes" which I'm not sure is my main interest but sounds psychological enough.

So! Thanksgiving was fun. I went to a friends house and had dinner with about 15 grad student vagabonds who didn't go anywhere for the holiday. We had really yummy food, including a vegetarian shephard's pie which was totally amazing. I won't gross you out with talk of fake meat and tofu cheese.

I'm really excited to go home for the holiday. Can't wait to see all of my favorite people in the world. My plan is to fly back to DC on the 19th, spend most of that week with my family and hopefully spend a good bit of time in DC between Christmas and New Years. Then it's back to CA on January 2nd. The quarter system is brutal. I hope to see a lot of you then! This blog has suddenly become a mass email. Sorry about that.

Peace!!

Ramblings

2005-11-01T20:44:00.000-08:00

I'd like to begin by directing my readers to yet another fantastic blog...not that I'm counting my own among the fantastic. On the contrary, I often sit down to write and find that my life has become so insular and static here in academia-land that I can't think of much that wouldn't bore the socks off a goat, as the old adage goes. Anyway, back to the point. Check out strawberryblog.com. You won't be sorry. An amazing intersection of wit, grace, and down-right hilarity at times, the blog is written by Wendi B., sister of another of my favorite people, Michael S. I don't know why, but the most recent entry "The Importance of Place" was particularly meaningful to me, as I attempt to navigate my new life on a different coast. I feel like there aren't enough people talking about the very points that dear Wendi addresses. It all fits in with the theme of "culture" that she has been writing about since her displacement from New Orleans after the hurricane. Anyway, I suggest you all check it out. I look forward to reading it every week.

I haven't had a wildlife update for a while, so I thought maybe you'd like to hear the selection of animals that have crossed my path (or I theirs--theirs?). I've been running a lot this week, part of my attempt at "stress" management. I put stress in quotes, because I realize my life is quite cushy and feeling stressed about the ridiculous and trivial struggles of the academic life seems...well ridiculous. Anyway, I usually run around this rather long, artificial...uh...river, would do you call it? It's not a lake, because it's way to skinny, and it's not a pond or a tributary by any means. It's just this 2-mile long water-way that doesn't go anywhere or lead to anything, or serve any "natural purpose," surrounded by various flora from different parts of the world. There's an Asian section and an "Australian" section, etc. This week, I saw two absolutely enormous jack-rabbits. They were each like the size of a large watermelon. I also spotted a woodpecker, a peacock (booh st. mary's for quietly "displacing" our peacocks!), and a baby white crane/heron. At the farmer's market this week, there were baby pigs and miniature baby goats. Not exactly "wild" but they were adorable.

So, apparently the rats and the cockroaches are bad in Davis. Who knew? You wouldn't imagine that could possibly be true in a place like this. You'd think they would have established a city ordinance or held a referendum banning them by now. I was told that the cockroaches will literally stare at you when you open the door to go outside and sort of boldly saunter into your house and set up shop. I'm just telling you, that's what I was told. I'm still new here.

I had my first test in like three years today. Statistics. Ick. The professor asked me how it was when I was handing him my test at the end of the class. Not trying to be a smart allick, but failing to avoid the inevitable, I said, "Well, now I know what to study." Then I proceeded to pat him on the back two times (no slide), and realizing the ackward situation I was in, quickly exited. This is becoming routine for me. Saying stupid things and then running away afterward. It's difficult to just embrace the awkwardness.

I wish I had a more exiting life to inspire creative and moving blog entries. Maybe next time will be a political rambling. Isn't that what the blogosphere has become all about? That reminds me of something. I was listening to the radio this weekend--npr, I think it was--and Andrew Sullivan (probably the most famous gay Republican in the country) was talking about the end of gay culture. He believes that the conditions that have come to constitute a "gay culture" have largely been overcome and that in the very near future, "gay culture" will no longer exist. He talked about the full "integration" of gay people into the mainstream of american culture as if it were necessarily a good thing and that once achieved, all would be fine. The pinnacle of that for him was gay marriage, of course. A valid perspective to propose for discussion, I guess, but the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. He believes that children who grow up gay in today's america don't face the same sense of isolation as he did and past generations have faced. To some extent, I can't disagree that at least there is a greater presence of gay people/culture to be encountered by young people, but I don't think I would jump right to the conclusion that this fact nullifies all the difficulties faced by those who struggle with issues of sexuality. In fact, I think to some extent, it may morph into an even more perilous situation for those who refuse to put themselves into the neat little catch-all box of "gay/lesbian culture." And I couldn't help but think how elitist it sounded--how white-centered. He never once mentioned the particular struggles of people of color or different cultural backgrounds (in an ethnic/racial sense) who are gay. Once again, it seems we are defining "gay culture" on the advancement of the white, gay, MALE, community. Assimilation indeed.

Well, in the words of click and clack, you've wasted another perfectly good 5 minutes reading my blog.

Write or call me anytime.

Introduction to Huh?

2005-10-18T21:15:00.000-07:00

Today, I discovered that graduate courses with the title words "Introduction to..." aren't. For three hours tonight, I sat at a conference table completely baffled by discussions of Lacanian discourse, signifiers and signifieds, the Phallus (but not the kind I'm familiar with), lack, desire, the Symbolic, the Real (which isn't really), the Imaginary, and the like. Completely over my head. It became apparent for whom in the class this was an "introduction to" and for whom it was "advanced." The "advanceds" won and the intro to's stayed pretty silent. I was quiet, except for an occasional, "I don't understand...so what if you're like blind, and can't see the mirror...do you, like, never enter into the Symbolic Order...and what the eff is the symbolic order, anyway?" There were a couple of occasions when I must have laughed or smiled at how strange everything sounded to my virgin ears because the professor asked me if I had something to add. I hate those moments. I tried to think of something in a few seconds of awkward silence, but couldn't. Oh well. I thought about how weird it is to be back in school and feel almost like I've never been before. It's a great class, though. No, it is. That wasn't sarcasm. Everyone always thinks I'm being sarcastic, but I'm not. No, really.

I feel very far away out here in Davis, CA. Sometimes I try to imagine what's going on with all of my friends at a particular moment. My mind's eye darts from the halls of whitman-walker over to ontario rd, down to an office I've never been to in Virginia, back up to Adam's Morgan, up to Frederick, or wherever else you people spend time. That's all. No punch line. Just a thought.

I'm very fractured tonight. Not even sure if I should post this one, because it seems like I really have a bunch of nothing to say...but you're the one reading it, not me! If I were you, I would have abandonned this blog a long time ago.

well, there it is. Maybe next time.

DC Does Davis

2005-10-16T12:32:00.000-07:00

Or is it Davis Does DC?...

A few weeks ago, not three blocks from my house in little ol' innocent Davis, CA, bandits broke into a bank armed with shotguns and proceeded to escape with a bag of loot. Unfortunately for them, the clever tellers had stuck one of those explosive ink devices in the bag with said loot and the whole plan was ruined. While the plan failed, Ozzie and I felt the attempt to make us feel at home was clearly a success.

I recently went to a party with some of the older psychology graduate students at Davis. One woman was there with her brother, and after a few minutes of conversation, we found out that both of their parents are clinical psychologists, which seemed perhaps a slight sore spot for the two of them. The brother quipped, "Don't ring any bells." We laughed and laughed! "You don't know what we'll do," replied the sister.

Favorite Word of the Week: phantasmatical (if anyone can define it, please let me know (Dan?)...dictionary.com isn't helping).

Let the Games Begin

2005-09-26T15:04:00.000-07:00

So, it's been a little while since I made a post. I was quite disappointed to have missed the anti-war demonstrations in DC this past weekend. I heard the numbers topped 100,000, according to the Washington Post, which in all likelihood, (mis)underestimated the total. At any rate, a formidable showing from people all over the country, who are just now starting to wake up a little bit. I just read as well that Cindy Sheehan had been arrested. I'm lagging back here on the west coast, so I'm sure everyone reading this is like, "Yeah, old news Aaron. Anything important that happens in this country, already happened before you woke up this morning. Oh, you're like, SO DC!

I've finally started classes, although I've been working as a graduate research assistant for over a week already. Today, I had statistics lab. We were learning to use a program called SAS for statistical analyses. I've never used it before in my life as was the case for all but one of my classmates. I don't know if it was because of the teaching style of the TA, or if my brain has experienced irreparable atrophy over the past 4 years, but I had no idea what was going on. He (the TA) was just reading some unintelligible script off the screen and verbally explaining what each term meant. Well, I guess I wasn't the only one having a hard time, because when we were asked to run something ourselves, this poor girl in front of me totally FREAKED out and had some sort of nervous break-down, tears and all. I thought to myself, "oh my, that's interesting." Meanwhile, there were some people around me typing away, and I looked back at my blank computer screen and pondered the inhumanity of it all.

I promptly opened internet explorer to check my email.

(Perhaps you'll see me back in DC in a matter of months)

Ozzie and I have been scoring big off of craigslist.com. So far, we've furnished our living room with two leather sofas (free!) and a beautiful, though "rustic," wooden table (also free) which Ozzie found on the side of the road. As vegetarians, I think it would be morally reprehensible to have purchased said leather sofas, but since we didn't pay, we'll consider them "freegan."

In other news, Judy Miller has testified before the grand jury and is now a free woman--if you read today's washingtonpost article, there is still so much stuff that doesn't add up in this case. But finally, this story is back in the news after a brief hiatus, a result of Hurricane Kat, and general lassitude from the media. Oh yeah, and there's Tommy Delay's indictment and a spattering of other quasi political disasters. Oh Bushie. Who's next?

May I just say how happy I was to see so many comments posted on the last entry I made? I hope that everyone will use this as a forum to update the network of friends on your goings-on. I doubt my pointless drivel will ever become a hotspot for widespread usage anyway, so might as well keep it in the friend-network.

One last comment about the bikes in Davis. It's really unbelievable. I was riding to school today, and there was literally a line of bike traffic stopped at a red light. It's nearly impossible to cross any of the streets on campus without waiting potentially minutes before there an opening (if on foot). Very reminiscent of Amsterdam, except most of the bikes are new and mountainy. Not nearly the same level of charm. It's still America, after all...wouldn't want to infuse too much culture into things, lest we forget where we are.

That's it! I hope to be better about keeping this updated in the future. It's been a busy time.

Farmers Market and Fresh Oranges from the Tree

2005-09-14T21:08:00.000-07:00

So, I felt like Eve today, picking succulent fruit from the orange tree in the backyard. I expected them to be dried out, or somehow not authentic (you know those California oranges), but they were quite juicy. I promptly offerred one to Ozzie and though skeptical at first, he took the bait. Mysteriously, I felt a bit dirty afterwards. Something just feels off kilter.

Yay oranges in the back yard! The first person who visits me out here has dibs on the juiciest ones!

Every Wednesday and Saturday, there's a farmer's market about two blocks from my house. If anyone wants to know who's driving up the population, look no farther than Davis, CA. There must have been 200 children under the age of 5 running about. They were playing in fountains and having a grand time. I'm always amazed at the resilience of little kids. Several of the 200 fell flat on their faces and after about 45 seconds of hard, sustained crying, they were running around as if nothing at all had occurred. It was a bit like watching the Indy 500. Anyway, Ozzie and I both have a surreal feeling about living in Davis. It's very Stepford Wives. Everything is clean and perfect. It's seems a bit too...everything. I guess I'm just used to the constant threat of being stabbed and the sport of making it home without getting a rock thrown at my head. There was this little band with three or four people singing classic rock, but like harmonized and stuff. This, unfortunately, added to the surrealism. Davis is beautiful and friendly, however, so don't get me wrong. It's just strange to be in such a different place.

Sorry to mention it, but there's a conspicuous lack of gayness here. And unfortunately for Ozzie and I, the first gay person outside of my mentor and another grad student we met happened to be a complete wacko. We were strolling through the farmer's market when a guy with a bright lime green shirt walked up to Ozzie and asked him is his belt was the same color as his shirt. Okay, no biggy. But then he proceded to ramble on for 10 minutes about himself and how he was just elected to some art council in Sacramento. I'm sorry, do I look like I care? I thought I'd been projected back to DC's little who's who scene. His mannerisms were conspicuously Stewart Smally (played by Al Franken on SNL: "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and doggonnitt, people like me"). Ozzie thought he had been drinking, but I'm pretty sure he was just crazy. I can't quite capture what it was about him, but trust me, it was destabilizing, to say the least.

Oh crap! I forgot to mention that Ozzie and I both won money at blackjack in Nevada on our way here! Ozzie started with $18 and left with $34, and I started with $0 and left with $30! Some excited woman gave me three chips worth three dollars and somehow, by the grace of goddess, and perhaps with ozzie's help, I turned that into 30. Needless to say, I left before my luck turned (or the casino decided it was time for me to loose).

Wildlife Update: Apparently, there are both barn owls and grey horned owls living in the trees near my house. Occasionnally, a grey horned owl shocks the Davis community by tearing apart a barn owl in mid flight.

California!

2005-09-11T19:12:00.000-07:00

Hi all.

This will be short. I just wanted to let those of you checking in that Ozzie and I have arrived safely in Davis. We spent today unpacking and getting settled. The weather is beautiful and Davis is cute as a Georgia peach.

Wildlife Update: Ozzie and I saw the following animals along the way: cows, sheep, cats, dogs, 1 porcupine (crossing the road in CO), several prairie dogs sipping water from rumble strips along the highway, and to our much amazement, a wolf carrying some sort of prey in its mouth as it darted right in front of our truck on a highway (I-80) in the Sierra Nevadas--the mountain range between NV and CA. Ozzie and I were shocked. Fortunately, we didn't knock the prey out of its mouth with the front of the truck...that would have been unfortunate, and, dare I say, ironic? Maybe like rain on your wedding day, but hopefully not.

Anyhoobs, I promise to write more about my trip soon!

Truck surfing and breaking wind

2005-09-07T17:31:00.000-07:00

Ozzie and I drove across Iowa and Nebraska in two days—about 19 hours of driving over the weekend. And in Nebraska, we learned a new skill, which we have named truck surfing. The highways there are almost completely flat, so we were expecting to get really great gas mileage what with gas prices, but what they don’t tell you about is the wind. The speed limit was 75, which despite the trailer, we have no trouble reaching, but with the strong wind, we were unable to get above 55 with the gas pedal to the floor!!! So, we discovered a little trick. Every time a semi (sema!) would come along, we would downshift into fourth gear, turn off the air conditioning and press the pedal to the floor to gain speed. Then we would swing in behind the tractor trailer, into its wake, and ride like the wind, using about half the gas. Every once in a while, the truck would be going too fast and we would get pushed out of the wake and we’d have to wait for the next truck, which was frustrating, but inevitably, another one would come along and we’d scream “hee-haw!” and ride that train…and ride it. So, all in all, Nebraska was pretty boring, if that’s all I have to report, but one doesn’t understand the exhilaration of truck surfing until it has been experienced. A person just can’t understand. Adding to the rush is the constant possibility of impending death if the truck driver decides to slam on the brakes.

A pit stop at a Subway near Lincoln proved culturally interesting. Oz and I were the only ones in the place until this 19-year old boy came in. mouth overflowing with explatives. He seemed to know the girl behind the counter and proceeded to woo her with his endless babbling about his "f-ing cool car" (which turned out to be a four door Oldsmobile Alero, circa 1999—hot damn!). He professed that he was doing quite well at his job, “making $10/hour putting stickers on glass and attaching it to a piece of medal,” which was enough to pay for his insurance and his car, especially impressive “considering all of the modifications” which looked like perhaps a spoiler and a few window tintings. All and all, this kid could have been from my home town of Hagerstown. I’m certainly not railing on this guy and his job, but there was something funny about the way he figured his rantings to be irresistible to the Subway girl. He told intriguing stories about how he would skid his car into the high school parking lot and when confronted about it by an administrator, would aggressively rebut, “What the fuck are you going to do about it?!” Soooo dreamy. If only I were a few years younger. Even funnier was that during this time, Subway girl was handing him pieces of broken cookie out of a large plastic bread bag. It was too cute. She seemed to giggle at all the right moments too, providing exactly the reinforcement he needed. She said like four words before he made his grand exit and sped off in said Oldsmobile.

On a different note, I feel compelled to recognize what happened in New Orleans just as Ozzie and I were leaving DC. Is it just me or do the words and actions of Bushie Bush in the past week prove once and for all what a turd he is? I just read the following quote from him as he arrived in Alabama:

"The good news is -- and it's hard for some to see it now -- that out of this chaos is going to come a fantastic Gulf Coast, like it was before. Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott's house -- he's lost his entire house -- there's going to be a fantastic house. And I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch. " (Laughter.)

You can read the entire speech at http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2005/09/20050902-2.html

The article I read justly points out that Bush seems to pick an odd example of loss and devastation invoking the name of an extremely wealthy and powerful political leader, rather than the thousands of poor and relatively helpless. Poor Trent. In the end, though, I suppose none of this will matter to the President or other leaders in the government. It just seems strange to me. The US spends an incredible amount of money and energy battling the impending and constant threat of terrorism, when the chances of any of us dying by terrorist attack are extremely low, yet when a powerful category 5 (what was thought to be, at least) is barreling down on the coast, sure to cause massive casualties and destruction, virtually nothing is done. At least sure up the oil rigs, I mean come on, don't you people have a heart?

Nebraska!

2005-09-04T22:40:00.000-07:00

Sunday night--late.

Ozzie and I just spent two days in Chicago with his friends Chris and Bryan. Twas a wonderful time and we even had time to take in a movie--The Constant Gardener. It was a bit slow, but still an excellent film.

Today, we drove across Illinois, all the way through Iowa and we are currently in a hotel in Lincoln, NE. There's not a whole lot to see between Chicago and here, at least not along I-80, so no crazy stories about gigantic marshmellows, or the world's largest buffalo teets.

Tomorrow, we will drive across the rest of Nebraska to Steamboat Springs, CO by way of Cheyenne, Wyoming. I'm a little worried about driving up the mountain with the Uhaul trailer, but Ozzie's truck has been a real trooper thus far, so hopefully no problems. I'll be sure to keep everyone posted.

Well, just a quick update. I'm getting sleepy, so it's off to bed.

first leg

2005-09-01T20:53:00.000-07:00

Somethiiiiing....not sweet....not so much tastey, as tactiley.....but not really soft at all...kind of springy and lettery....just under my fingertips....

Blogspot!

Hi everyone!! This is so exciting! My first blog! Yaaaaay!! Thanks especially to Dan for setting this up. I will try to check in from time to time along the way from Washington DC to Davis, CA. I'm currently in Pittsburgh staying with Ozzie's best friend in the whole wide world--Sabin. I don't have a picture of him, but I'll post one very soon.

None of this has sunk in yet for me. It seems more like a vacation at this point, like I'll be seeing all of my friends in a couple of days. Hmmm...I don't even thing I want to go there right now. It's too much.

Tomorrow, we drive to Chicago where we'll spend two nights--Friday and Saturday. I might be able to post again then, hopefully with some exciting news...like we passed a huge SUV on fire by the side of the road or something. That'd be cool. BTW, the cheapest gas we could find today was $3.25 a gallon. Whew! I'm glad I'm not driving cross country or anything. Well shit.

See, I'm already boring myself. Well, that's it for the first post. I have to get to bed, so I can get up early tomorrow and head on my Mary way.

Love to all of you!!!!

aaron

Road Trip!

2005-09-01T10:38:00.000-07:00

Aaron and Ozzie hit the road today for a two-week drive to CA! In the meantime, check out Aaron's new Flickr Photo Feed for party images. Yes, this will be the last time I post to his blog. Love you! -Dan

Go Get 'Em!

2005-08-24T22:05:00.000-07:00

We're gonna miss you boys! Make us proud out
out there in the big CA! -Dan