An Inspirational Poster that Doesn't Blow

Flu shots and Neil Patrick Harris

Last year, I got a flu shot at UT and had no adverse reaction. So, I thought, I'll get another one this year--because I'm in a new place and it'll be cold and there are all these germ-y college people around. So I did. And it blows.

I went to my new doctor last night; she is very cool and her office is, like, an inch away from my house... which is good because I had to stop and rest a couple of times on the way home from the shot. Now, part of my reaction may be my over-active imagination--I could actually feel the bad bits moving through the muscles in my arm. Seriously. And then I got light-headed and then I went to bed at 8:30. I think I even had a fever during the night. Awesome. Now my arm is sore, and I think I still have a fever--I NEVER get fevers. Am wondering if this is the doctor for me. She's obviously trying to kill people.

On a totally unrelated note (possibly induced by random-fever-related-inability-to-think), Neil Patrick Harris is delicious. Loved him in Doogie, loved him in Harold and Kumar, love him in "How I Met Your Mother." Plus, his bf is yummy. The End.

Bobby

When I first moved to Austin five (Five!) years ago, I was lonely. But one day, when I was walking through the parking lot of my apartment building, I heard a strange little howling. Lo and behold! It was a kitty, a dear, funny, sort of stupid kitty, caught in between a fence and a tree. I saved the kitty, planning to be a foster parent for a little while. But the kitty was wonderful, and the kitty became a part of my life.

Yesterday, the kitty died. He had a liver ailment, and he was really sick. His name was Bobby Doyle, and I will miss him.

For those in peril near a can opener

This morning, I sliced my finger open on the edge of an open can lid. Thought to myself, "I can totally handle this. Just keep chopping, and all will be well."

No dice. Had to lie on the floor of my kitchen while all the blood in my head rushed to the fingers on my left hand. Luckily, there is a rather comfortable throw rug there. And my kitty, who understands these spells, came to sit with me for a little while.

I am wondering if hypnotherapy/some sort of anti-psychotics could help me. I would be a Very Bad Vampire, kinda like this guy. Yech.

Universal memory

I am supposed to be working on my genre paper--which I've been sort of doing for several weeks now. For some reason, I agreed to write a paper using generic criticism to examine instances of simulated masculinity. I know nothing about generic criticism. I know nothing about masculinity. So it's been a roller coaster of reading about both of those things... with some pretty neat discoveries, and some not-so-neat ones. Come hell or high water, that thing is going to be done by the middle of this week--because then I have to finish the tenure application forms, the abstract for "Ninja Warrior," and midterm grades.

In the middle of the genre paper reading and percolating, though, I have been (mis)reading a couple of other things: Heidegger's "Being and Time," Chuck Klosterman's "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs," and Brad Warner's "Sit Down and Shut Up." Just like in grad school, different levels of salience highlight interesting connections between these seemingly different treatises on Buddhism and Being and "Saved by the Bell." The first thing is, of course, the shape and form of masculine performance. Each of these guys is doing alot of Really Masculine type stuff... which isn't bad or good. Just interesting. According to a dead German philosopher, a connoisseur of popular culture (he totally mentioned "Fifteen" which is this Canadian soap opera from the late eighties that I used to watch that NOBODY ever remembers. It had Ryan Reynolds in it. Seriously.), and a punk-rock-playing Buddhist monk, Being a Man is a business of knowing how to do things nobody else knows how to do, being very certain about knowing those things, and explaining lots of terminology in the process of the knowing. There are many dissimilarities, too, of course. But genre criticism is, after all, the seeking of similarities across different moments, right? Look at me, doing genre...

Not necessarily related to performed masculinity, another noticable similarity among these texts is a focus on/discussion about balance--or the lack thereof. In the pop cultural world of Klosterman, balance is a bad word. In H's world of World, balance is an imaginary--unavoidable and ignorable, bothatonce. And in Warner's world of practice, balance is a fact--whether or not we can recognize it. So, here is a a quotation for my dear anonymous, something that speaks to balance, responsibility, and the intersections between them:

"It's damned tough to practice that kind of compassion. But I can give you a little bit of incentive. No matter how unacknowledged your act of compassion, the universe always notices it. And the universe has a very long memory."

Results of Train Experiments

I just remembered that I never provided any conclusion to the possible train-travel-related events mentioned in a previous post, and, since I am mostly a fan of a satisfying denouement, I am going to do so now.
1) The "Denying the Laws of Physics" Possibility: When a wireless network is detected, will I be able to check my email before we Speed out of range?--- Um, no. And I may have messed up my computer's ability to detect wireless networks within range because I am a spazz. So, bad idea all around, apparently.
2) The "Agatha Christie" Moment: Will there be a mysterious/possibly homicidal maniac in the bar car?--- Luckily (or sadly, as the case may be) I was unable to detect any homicidal mania either in or near the bar car, so I never got to test my mettle in that way. My mettle was tested, however, by the vomiting baby--her mom had given her a lunch of hot dogs and Yoohoo earlier that day. Bad planning, I think. But after the sickness drama, me and the baby got to run up and down the train car, laughing... which was super-fun.
3) The Sandwich Debate: Should I bring turkey or tuna fish?--- I ended up taking a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a New York magazine, the NY Times, and several pieces of fruit. They were delicious.
4) The "Andele, Andele" Concern: Will I make it to the (freakishly early) train on time to check my baggage?--- Totally.
5) The "To Write or Not to Write, That is the Question" Discussion: Will I actually write my genre paper, or will I read the Neal Stephenson book that my friend loaned me instead?--- Nope. But I thought very hard about it. :)
6) The "Seat Partners" Dilemma: Who will be sitting next to me on the ride down? A charming, witty, handsome professor of Economics or the creepy, handsy guy from Eurotrip (Mi Scusi!)?--- Neither the handsy guy nor the professor made an appearance. But I met the cute/vomity baby, a nice older lady from NC who square dances, a Mom from Iraq with her two sweet boys, a graphic designer on his way to a presentation in Richmond (we chatted about performed masculinity and its boundaries), and a lovely Spanish lady en route to visit her mom.
7) The "Fall that was Promised" Conspiracy: When I get back to NY, will it feel like fall or will it continue to feel like hot, humid Texas (i.e. when will I actually get to wear my new sweater dress)?--- It was SUPER hot in NC. But today is a gorgeous, crisp, breezy fall day. Sweater dress is coming out on Monday, baby.

Be Afraid

In memory of dead-a-licious Halloweens past, I dedicate this scary post to my UT peeps. Mmmmm, Brains...

How to Survive Disappointing Wonderwoman Revelations

After I thought a little bit about my unkind post to dear Wonderwoman, I decided that she and I could both use a little forgiveness. Forgive me, gone-but-not-forgotten idol, for assuming that you could always be as wonder-ful to me as you were when I was five. I forgive you for needing a sandwich (and a wardrobe change) so desperately. And, since I can't share my pastrami with you, I'll share a little Leonard Cohen instead...

Concerns about Super Heroes

I was just looking for a picture of Wonderwoman (please don't ask why), and I came across this image:



Man, did I love Wonderwoman when I was little--had a bathing suit like her, birthday cake in the shape of Ww, imagined my own adventures in the jet... I used to terrorize the neighborhood boys by jumping out at them from various trees and bushes, yelling about justice and the Lasso of Truth. I also thought that she was beautiful--but that was sort of beside the point. In my five year old world, she mainly kicked alot of ass. But now I look at Linda Carter's picture, and all I can think is: She seriously needs a sandwich. And possibly some Wonderwoman underoos. That's what I get for re-visiting childhood memories of awesomeness: Amphetamine-drenched Super-heroes shaped by corsets & camera screens--anorexic, exhausted, and camel-toey. Ick.

Taking the train to North Cacky Lacky

Am going home this weekend--yea, the South! I am taking the train from Penn Station all the way down into the Piedmont. Below is a list of possible train-travel-related events:

1) The "Denying the Laws of Physics" Possibility: When a wireless network is detected, will I be able to check my email before we Speed out of range?
2) The "Agatha Christie" Moment: Will there be a mysterious/possibly homicidal maniac in the bar car?
3) The Sandwich Debate: Should I bring turkey or tuna fish?
4) The "Andele, Andele" Concern: Will I make it to the (freakishly early) train on time to check my baggage?
5) The "To Write or Not to Write, That is the Question" Discussion: Will I actually write my genre paper, or will I read the Neal Stephenson book that my friend loaned me instead?
6) The "Seat Partners" Dilemma: Who will be sitting next to me on the ride down? A charming, witty, handsome professor of Economics or the creepy, handsy guy from Eurotrip (Mi Scusi!)?
7) The "Fall that was Promised" Conspiracy: When I get back to NY, will it feel like fall or will it continue to feel like hot, humid Texas (i.e. when will I actually get to wear my new sweater dress)?

Audience Adaptation

If you want to listen to something both beautiful and creepy, click on this. It's web radio developed by the Music Genome Project, and the way it works is this:
1) You type in a band or song that you like.
2) The website generates a (sometimes funny) description of the musician/music type listed.
3) And then it starts playing music in the same style. You, the listener/guinea pig get to "thumbs up" or "thumbs down" the different selections.

I'm using it to talk about audience adaptation next week--it's AI and Rhetoric working together. Who knew robots could be so rhetorical? Dr. Who, maybe. And Dr. Baltar. And that guy from the Cantina who doesn't like Luke. And House, of course, because he knows Everything.

Cognitive Daily

would be a good name for a band. Turns out it's also a good name for a pretty neat website featuring a new cognitive psychology article nearly every day. The most recent article is about friends with benefits, and here is a link to an article about eyeballs and color-perception (thanks for the note, Dave!). Actually, it's almost more fun to read the comments following the article. But I think that is the case with most web-related writing.

Things to make your day worse

Dear President Bush,

You are a bad man. People who prefer to spend money killing people (Blackwater and Halliburton) instead of providing them with health care, education, and not being hired thugs (SCHIP Bill and last summer's bills to expand embryonic stem cell research and troop withdrawals, respectively) are often referred to as dictators, kingpins, and warlords. You are one of those people, but I don't know which label best suits you. I will get back to you on that.

I wonder if the money you spend on secrecy and wire-tapping might be better spent elsewhere. I wonder if the ethical and monetary debts you owe to your present and future citizens (as well as the rest of the world) will ever be repaid--and who will do the repaying. I wonder if all of the people you have murdered while you were governor of Texas and while you have been the Stolen President of the US are waiting for you in some other dimension. I wonder how you sleep at night. I wonder if you wonder these things.

Watching the Blackwater hearings as I read about your vetoes makes me feel dirty. Despite my votes against you, you have made me a party to your greed and ambition. This country and the world are worse places because you lived in them. What an awful legacy to leave.

Sincerely,
A Concerned Citizen

Two things to make your day better

First, you should dance to this:


Second, you should laugh at this.

You're welcome. I share because I care.

Something like a phenomenon, baby

I just got back from the DMV with my new New York license in my wallet.