Today is a fantastic day. 'Cause it's August 25th: my Mom's birthday!!!!
And what's more... she's 50 today! Wow, what's it feel like to be a grown-up now, Mom? ;)
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Wein nach Bier, das rat' ich dir
Why is it that beer lubricates my German and makes it awesome, but when I drink wine, I can't speak a word? Someone explain this to me.
The opiate of the masses
I think finally figured out what annoys me so much about television.
Truth be told, it's gotten to the point where I almost hate TV -- the yammering voices of a cliched sitcom, the ominous music and sound-bite graphics of a slick news program, the commercials that all try to outdo each other to win your attention... I have never been much of a TV-watcher, and find that the more time goes by, the more impatient I get with the whole stupid business. I own a TV; but the only action it really sees is to play DVDs.
See, movies are great. They have a story, a message; someone is trying to express something through the multifacted narrative tool provided by film, and whether they do a good job or bad job, or whether I personally agree with -- or even understand! -- the sentiment being conveyed, the point is to communicate. A filmmaker has an idea, and wants others to listen. And unlike TV, which cycles on in an endless loop of rehashed garbage and advertisements, a film only asks a couple of hours of your time (not to mention will start and stop when you want it to!). Of course there are exceptions: sequels whose only point is to squeeze more revenue out of a previous success, adventure films that get so obsessed with the spectacle offered by CGI that they forget they're supposed to be telling a story; but these are the movies that seem to draw a bit from the TV genre in that their main purpose is to compete for your money, and any narrative goal of the filmmaker is incidental. For the most part, though, it still seems that the money of major film studios is just a resource that makes the filmmaking possible. The people who actually make the movie -- directors, writers, actors -- are all there because they want to tell a story.
We humans love stories. We learn, teach, identify, entertain, commiserate, empathize, dream through stories. The ability to communicate with each other so lucidly and vividly is an aspect of that one staggering talent -- language -- that only our lucky species gets to possess. And we have exercised and reveled in that ability since we began acting out hunting tales around the campfire. In film, the storytelling tools are just more advanced, but the spirit is the same. It's a community act: one person stands up and begins a tale, and the others watch and listen.
TV, on the other hand, is an entirely commercial enterprise. Whereas a movie is made by a specific, relatively independent team with one vision, and often (though of course not always) aimed at a selected audience, TV is the hash produced by a conglomeration of executives and advertisers, aimed at distracting as much of the masses as possible with one hand while they reach into the viewer's back pocket with the other.
What makes this whole scheme downright offensive is the way TV tries to engage its audience. When you slide a movie into your machine, you know you are about to view the manufactured presentation of a specific filmmaker. Even if it's a documentary film, most sensible filmgoers will realize that a movie is only so "real". But TV is sneakier. Of course everything you see on television is just as produced, just as carefully engineered and selected as that in a movie; but because it's presented in the form of "news", it suggests that you're supposed to lower your critical filter. It pretends to be educational; it tries to fashion itself as some kind of dispassionate lens onto truth. And yet (with the natural exception of local or non-profit programming), TV is just as fake as a movie, except without that essential desire to communicate. The purpose of TV is entirely to make money. Every show, whether canned sitcom, shocking drama, or appropriately grave news program, is designed to compete with each other for your attention. If there is any communication going on in TV, it is between the individual shows, not with the viewer!
I know I sound like some kind of conspiracy-theorist curmudgeon. TV is so normalized, such a part of the background of our western culture, that people hardly seem to really notice it. Our living rooms are arranged around the TV; conversation flows as easily over the topic of TV shows -- and the shared culture they provide -- as it does over real events. Hell, I pepper my conversation with as many Simpsons and Seinfeld quotes as anyone else of my generation. But it's exactly this normalcy that leads people to be indiscriminate about what they view. For every Seinfeld, there are three imitations with a recorded laughtrack, crammed with all the Sunny Delight and Mazda dealership commercials a thirty-minute slot can hold. Maybe that's what I like about the trend of the last few years of offering some TV shows on DVD. Removed from the advertising circus, the few unique, satirical, free-thinking delights like Scrubs and Family Guy can be enjoyed on my own terms.
I don't really remember when I stopped watching TV (obviously, I haven't missed it). But it's gotten to the point that just to hear a TV gibbering away in the airport feels invasive and unnecessary. When did this yammering barrage of flashy images and disposable contents get to be as normal as having the light on?
It makes me wonder what we'd be doing if we didn't spend hours on the couch being fed pointless, forgettable, barely-disguised advertisement. I don't think I'm naive enough to believe that the world would be significantly more improved, as we all exchanged TV for evenings at the soup kitchen or environmental action. But maybe we'd actually be talking to each other and getting a little exercise... getting to know the real world, instead of the flat, scripted one set to a laugh track.
Truth be told, it's gotten to the point where I almost hate TV -- the yammering voices of a cliched sitcom, the ominous music and sound-bite graphics of a slick news program, the commercials that all try to outdo each other to win your attention... I have never been much of a TV-watcher, and find that the more time goes by, the more impatient I get with the whole stupid business. I own a TV; but the only action it really sees is to play DVDs.
See, movies are great. They have a story, a message; someone is trying to express something through the multifacted narrative tool provided by film, and whether they do a good job or bad job, or whether I personally agree with -- or even understand! -- the sentiment being conveyed, the point is to communicate. A filmmaker has an idea, and wants others to listen. And unlike TV, which cycles on in an endless loop of rehashed garbage and advertisements, a film only asks a couple of hours of your time (not to mention will start and stop when you want it to!). Of course there are exceptions: sequels whose only point is to squeeze more revenue out of a previous success, adventure films that get so obsessed with the spectacle offered by CGI that they forget they're supposed to be telling a story; but these are the movies that seem to draw a bit from the TV genre in that their main purpose is to compete for your money, and any narrative goal of the filmmaker is incidental. For the most part, though, it still seems that the money of major film studios is just a resource that makes the filmmaking possible. The people who actually make the movie -- directors, writers, actors -- are all there because they want to tell a story.
We humans love stories. We learn, teach, identify, entertain, commiserate, empathize, dream through stories. The ability to communicate with each other so lucidly and vividly is an aspect of that one staggering talent -- language -- that only our lucky species gets to possess. And we have exercised and reveled in that ability since we began acting out hunting tales around the campfire. In film, the storytelling tools are just more advanced, but the spirit is the same. It's a community act: one person stands up and begins a tale, and the others watch and listen.
TV, on the other hand, is an entirely commercial enterprise. Whereas a movie is made by a specific, relatively independent team with one vision, and often (though of course not always) aimed at a selected audience, TV is the hash produced by a conglomeration of executives and advertisers, aimed at distracting as much of the masses as possible with one hand while they reach into the viewer's back pocket with the other.
What makes this whole scheme downright offensive is the way TV tries to engage its audience. When you slide a movie into your machine, you know you are about to view the manufactured presentation of a specific filmmaker. Even if it's a documentary film, most sensible filmgoers will realize that a movie is only so "real". But TV is sneakier. Of course everything you see on television is just as produced, just as carefully engineered and selected as that in a movie; but because it's presented in the form of "news", it suggests that you're supposed to lower your critical filter. It pretends to be educational; it tries to fashion itself as some kind of dispassionate lens onto truth. And yet (with the natural exception of local or non-profit programming), TV is just as fake as a movie, except without that essential desire to communicate. The purpose of TV is entirely to make money. Every show, whether canned sitcom, shocking drama, or appropriately grave news program, is designed to compete with each other for your attention. If there is any communication going on in TV, it is between the individual shows, not with the viewer!
I know I sound like some kind of conspiracy-theorist curmudgeon. TV is so normalized, such a part of the background of our western culture, that people hardly seem to really notice it. Our living rooms are arranged around the TV; conversation flows as easily over the topic of TV shows -- and the shared culture they provide -- as it does over real events. Hell, I pepper my conversation with as many Simpsons and Seinfeld quotes as anyone else of my generation. But it's exactly this normalcy that leads people to be indiscriminate about what they view. For every Seinfeld, there are three imitations with a recorded laughtrack, crammed with all the Sunny Delight and Mazda dealership commercials a thirty-minute slot can hold. Maybe that's what I like about the trend of the last few years of offering some TV shows on DVD. Removed from the advertising circus, the few unique, satirical, free-thinking delights like Scrubs and Family Guy can be enjoyed on my own terms.
I don't really remember when I stopped watching TV (obviously, I haven't missed it). But it's gotten to the point that just to hear a TV gibbering away in the airport feels invasive and unnecessary. When did this yammering barrage of flashy images and disposable contents get to be as normal as having the light on?
It makes me wonder what we'd be doing if we didn't spend hours on the couch being fed pointless, forgettable, barely-disguised advertisement. I don't think I'm naive enough to believe that the world would be significantly more improved, as we all exchanged TV for evenings at the soup kitchen or environmental action. But maybe we'd actually be talking to each other and getting a little exercise... getting to know the real world, instead of the flat, scripted one set to a laugh track.
Friday, August 17, 2007
The marital meal
My brilliant mother contributed this comment to the last post:
Yea, verily, this is wise counsel! I trust that none of our Gentle Readers was offended by the nutritional references of the last post, and assure them that this most sinful casserole -- together with "deviled eggs" -- will henceforth be considered Prurient Material and unsuitable for publication in this wholesome journal.
This forum will hereby commence only with topics of interest to Decent Folk: sex, alcohol, and maybe quiltmaking.
Yea, verily, this is wise counsel! I trust that none of our Gentle Readers was offended by the nutritional references of the last post, and assure them that this most sinful casserole -- together with "deviled eggs" -- will henceforth be considered Prurient Material and unsuitable for publication in this wholesome journal.
This forum will hereby commence only with topics of interest to Decent Folk: sex, alcohol, and maybe quiltmaking.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
A-Summering upon ye olde Hobbyhorses
So, er, I should be working on the blog entries. But when it's so pretty outside, it's hard to sit in front of the computer!
What is there to do in Germany in summer, you ask? Well, Bert and I spend much of our weekends with our butts slowly molding into the form of our bike seats -- much more of this and we're going to grow right into them. If native South Americans saw us on their shores, I'm sure they'd think we were cycletaurs.
Our last venture was down the lovely, tree-lined Neckar river, where we saw cool specimens like this:
I love the dog riding shotgun!
Then Bert turned around to capture me in all my glamourous attire:
Yeah. The South Americans would probably call me Queso-cotal for my pale limbs. (And cheesy puns.)
25 km later, we stopped for a nap under a tree.
Bert looks cute in all his gear, including the shorts... why else do you think I ride behind him?? ;)
In addition to biking, we've also been picknicking a lot on the banks of the Rhein River. It is beautiful: the sparkling river flows, glasslike, along the edge of a green grassy park, and we lie on a blanket and grill Bratwurst while watching the sun go down over the city on the far bank. The weather has been perfect and warm until long after the stars come out; except once, when it got windy enough that we had to batten down the hatches. I asked irritably, "What did our forefathers do when the weather didn't play along, and yet they didn't have any other choice except to cook over a fire?"
To which Bert replied, "They probably just retreated to the caves und haben Liebe gemacht."
I grinned. "Klingt besser als Kartoffelsalat."
At which point, Martin reached for the spoon and said philosophically, "Aber Kartoffelsalat ist auch nicht schlecht."
After it got dark, the girls were all given a tiny bottle of something (I think mine was Baileys), the cap of which we were expected to wear on our noses:
Last Sunday, Bert and Alex and I drove out through the Pfaelzer Wald until we reached the lake next to Burg Berwartstein. We set up our towels, and Alex dived easily into the water.
I dipped a toe in and shrieked. "This lake must have melted yesterday!"
Despite Alex's assurances that the water had to be at least, oh, two or three degrees above freezing, it still took me several minutes of inching, waiting for my lower body to go numb, and then inching some more until I could kick off for a swim. I still only lasted just a few minutes before retreating to the beating sun over our towels. We desert rats weren't meant for glacial mountain pools!
Anyway, so there's a little glimpse as to why the blog continues to be a tad neglected. If only it would rain or something here, so that I could spend a cozy day inside writing! Alas, that summer in Germany is just so darned fun. :)
Hope everyone else is having just as great a season!
What is there to do in Germany in summer, you ask? Well, Bert and I spend much of our weekends with our butts slowly molding into the form of our bike seats -- much more of this and we're going to grow right into them. If native South Americans saw us on their shores, I'm sure they'd think we were cycletaurs.
Our last venture was down the lovely, tree-lined Neckar river, where we saw cool specimens like this:
I love the dog riding shotgun!
Then Bert turned around to capture me in all my glamourous attire:
Yeah. The South Americans would probably call me Queso-cotal for my pale limbs. (And cheesy puns.)
25 km later, we stopped for a nap under a tree.
Bert looks cute in all his gear, including the shorts... why else do you think I ride behind him?? ;)
In addition to biking, we've also been picknicking a lot on the banks of the Rhein River. It is beautiful: the sparkling river flows, glasslike, along the edge of a green grassy park, and we lie on a blanket and grill Bratwurst while watching the sun go down over the city on the far bank. The weather has been perfect and warm until long after the stars come out; except once, when it got windy enough that we had to batten down the hatches. I asked irritably, "What did our forefathers do when the weather didn't play along, and yet they didn't have any other choice except to cook over a fire?"
To which Bert replied, "They probably just retreated to the caves und haben Liebe gemacht."
I grinned. "Klingt besser als Kartoffelsalat."
At which point, Martin reached for the spoon and said philosophically, "Aber Kartoffelsalat ist auch nicht schlecht."
After it got dark, the girls were all given a tiny bottle of something (I think mine was Baileys), the cap of which we were expected to wear on our noses:
Last Sunday, Bert and Alex and I drove out through the Pfaelzer Wald until we reached the lake next to Burg Berwartstein. We set up our towels, and Alex dived easily into the water.
I dipped a toe in and shrieked. "This lake must have melted yesterday!"
Despite Alex's assurances that the water had to be at least, oh, two or three degrees above freezing, it still took me several minutes of inching, waiting for my lower body to go numb, and then inching some more until I could kick off for a swim. I still only lasted just a few minutes before retreating to the beating sun over our towels. We desert rats weren't meant for glacial mountain pools!
Anyway, so there's a little glimpse as to why the blog continues to be a tad neglected. If only it would rain or something here, so that I could spend a cozy day inside writing! Alas, that summer in Germany is just so darned fun. :)
Hope everyone else is having just as great a season!
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Happy Birthday Conny!
Friday, August 03, 2007
Firstly...
Okay, so I should be going in order, but I just spent all morning uploading the photos from Matt's adventure (he's working on some mysterious project that required them to be sorted and labeled before he left -- still won't tell me what it is, yet!), and so am antsy to post them. Narrative is a-comin'... but first, the pics! :D
Summertime, and the livin' ain't easy
Sie ist wieder da, sie ist wieder da! I must apologize to Blogland for being so out of pocket of late. But as you can probably guess from the title, these have been some crazy last six weeks!
The title here refers to the fact that I have been hard at work traveling around to exciting destinations with friends and loved ones, spending money and engaging in various gastronomical adventures (and by this I mean of the drinkable variety). It's not easy, having fun all the time. Yet among the few downsides to such an occupation are 1) I haven't been spending this time in the increasingly more urgent job search and 2) my poor little blog is sitting forlorn at the door, waiting for me to come home to it! pets reassuringly There there, Blogchen.
So now, where to begin?? How about with where I'm at now: alas, no longer on the Weinstraße. The Fulbright teaching assistantship came to its official end on June 30th, and I moved out of my cozy apartment on that same day. Happily, in the same way that Shauna was there to help move me in, my mommy was here to help move me out. :) She arrived on an ICE on Tuesday morning, June 26th, and we spent the last few days merrily running around the Fatherland before moving me out of Neustadt, wrapping things up at the school, and hopping right away on a plane for Edinburgh.
I will say, with no touch of sarcasm or melodrama, that Scotland is the land of dreams. Shauna joined us in Edinburgh, and the three of us spent the next nine days in a sort of wonder before coming down out of the clouds to land in Dublin. There, we met up with Michael, and then the four of us continued our amazing trip until we all sadly parted on Sunday, July 15th. I still need to sit down and start sorting all these wonderful memories into narratives and picture albums; needless to say, that is top on the docket for this next week.
As for And Then What Happened, I had hardly been back in Ludwigshafen long enough to sort my hastily-moved suitcases before one of my best buddies, Matt Gallucci, came to visit from the States. He flew into Frankfurt on Tuesday, July 24th, and we spent the next ten days in a mad rush around Germania, stuffing ourselves, our cameras, and our souvenir bags with as many memories as possible before I had to take him back to the airport yesterday. It was an absolute blast. It was Matt's first trip to Europe, and it seems to have already infected him with the addictive nature of overseas travel -- we're already talking about the next trip!
Now, after six weeks of straight visiting and traveling, I am sitting here in my underwear on a Friday afternoon, at the new desk that Bert set up for me in what is now our room. I am already looking forward to the next big leg of the summer: flying back to the States to see all the friends and family who couldn't make it over this year. But for now, there are resumes to translate into German and contacts to start calling; insurances to schedule, finances to get in order, and lots and lots of green tea and multivitamins to consume after all the haggis, whisky, beer, and Schnitzel! But first thing's first: let the blogging begin! :)
Love to all!
The title here refers to the fact that I have been hard at work traveling around to exciting destinations with friends and loved ones, spending money and engaging in various gastronomical adventures (and by this I mean of the drinkable variety). It's not easy, having fun all the time. Yet among the few downsides to such an occupation are 1) I haven't been spending this time in the increasingly more urgent job search and 2) my poor little blog is sitting forlorn at the door, waiting for me to come home to it! pets reassuringly There there, Blogchen.
So now, where to begin?? How about with where I'm at now: alas, no longer on the Weinstraße. The Fulbright teaching assistantship came to its official end on June 30th, and I moved out of my cozy apartment on that same day. Happily, in the same way that Shauna was there to help move me in, my mommy was here to help move me out. :) She arrived on an ICE on Tuesday morning, June 26th, and we spent the last few days merrily running around the Fatherland before moving me out of Neustadt, wrapping things up at the school, and hopping right away on a plane for Edinburgh.
I will say, with no touch of sarcasm or melodrama, that Scotland is the land of dreams. Shauna joined us in Edinburgh, and the three of us spent the next nine days in a sort of wonder before coming down out of the clouds to land in Dublin. There, we met up with Michael, and then the four of us continued our amazing trip until we all sadly parted on Sunday, July 15th. I still need to sit down and start sorting all these wonderful memories into narratives and picture albums; needless to say, that is top on the docket for this next week.
As for And Then What Happened, I had hardly been back in Ludwigshafen long enough to sort my hastily-moved suitcases before one of my best buddies, Matt Gallucci, came to visit from the States. He flew into Frankfurt on Tuesday, July 24th, and we spent the next ten days in a mad rush around Germania, stuffing ourselves, our cameras, and our souvenir bags with as many memories as possible before I had to take him back to the airport yesterday. It was an absolute blast. It was Matt's first trip to Europe, and it seems to have already infected him with the addictive nature of overseas travel -- we're already talking about the next trip!
Now, after six weeks of straight visiting and traveling, I am sitting here in my underwear on a Friday afternoon, at the new desk that Bert set up for me in what is now our room. I am already looking forward to the next big leg of the summer: flying back to the States to see all the friends and family who couldn't make it over this year. But for now, there are resumes to translate into German and contacts to start calling; insurances to schedule, finances to get in order, and lots and lots of green tea and multivitamins to consume after all the haggis, whisky, beer, and Schnitzel! But first thing's first: let the blogging begin! :)
Love to all!
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I'm not sure the subject of potato salad is suitable for public conversation. It used to be that the sacred salad was only eaten in the privacy of a couple's own kitchen. Simply for nutrition, of course, not just for the pleasure of eating! Potatoes, mayonaise, egg, a little salt perhaps for some spice. But not too much spice. That might lead to indulgence above and beyond the sustenance of life. I hear, though, that people have begun to routinely add onions and celery to their potato salad to ratchet up the (blush) flavor. What is the world coming to? Next thing we know this most sacred of foods will be consumed by couples outside of the bonds of dinnertime and the evening news! And, please, let's have no talk of how those of other ethnic backgrounds make THEIR potato salad. After all, this is still a public forum and could accidentally be accessed by a child.