It all started after a perfect autumn day in the Midwest with my best friend- a hike through fiery foliage, indulgence in Cincinnati signature chili and, of course, pumpkin spice lattes.
My flights to and from Ohio were: San Diego--> Denver--> Dayton, and vice versa.
The week leading up to my trip, I had been vigilant in monitoring the weather in both Denver and Dayton, late season thunderstorms and early snowstorms being threats in mid-October. This weekend, flying in and out of Dayton and Denver both ways offered clear blue skies and ideal flying conditions. No one could have guessed that San Diego, where the weather never strays outside of a twenty-degree spectrum, would be my travel kryptonite.
I should have known everything was running too smoothly to be true. In terms of air travel, I wouldn't even call my luck "decent." The first three legs of my journey had gone off without a hitch- no delays, and we even arrived early in Denver. When the plane's wheels left the ground on the fourth and final leg of my trip, Denver--> San Diego, I let my ever-present cynical shield down, exhaled a sigh of contentment, and nestled in to enjoy the cinematic magnificence of Lord of the Rings.
Big mistake.
Two hours into the flight, just prior to our initial descent, a message from the cockpit: the fog in San Diego is too thick to land and we're making a U-turn back to Denver.
Close to four hours on an airplane and I'm back to where I started, at 11:30 PM, with no flights until morning and work at 8 AM a thousand miles away. Is Southwest going to pay for my hotel? Is Southwest going to tip my hotel shuttle driver? Is Southwest going to pay me for tomorrow's lost wages? Is Southwest going to explain to my boss that I never miss work without giving notice like this? Is Southwest going to find me and pay for food at 2 AM when nothing in the airport is open? Negative.
Luckily, I'm sitting in the fifth row, so there's only 20-ish people that will be ahead of me for rebooking once we deplane. I figure I'll be on a flight first thing in the morning and get to work less than an hour late. Not too terrible.
Wrong.
Southwest sends two measly customer service reps to help 150 people figure out every aspect of their lives for the next 12 hours in a strange city. Twentieth in line, it takes me over an hour to reach the front. I ask for the first flight available to San Diego in the morning. They tell me 12:55 PM.
Wait a second. You have a Southwest plane here in Denver that is supposed to be in San Diego tomorrow, which means it will be empty in the morning. Why don't you just pile everyone back on that plane and fly us out to San Diego at 6 AM? I know there are a lot of logistics involved in running an airport, but stuff like this happens all the time- you're telling me there's not even a little flexibility? My customer service rep had no rebuttal to my logic. He actually agreed.
OK, fine. Work's scrubbed tomorrow... nothing I can do there. It looks really bad for someone whose only been there for a few months to not show up for work, but there was nothing I could geographically do.
Sleeping arrangements. If I had an early flight I would just sleep on the airport floor, but it's an afternoon flight- may as well find a hotel and get some shut-eye.
Grant the Great works on the hotel situation and finds me a decent deal at the airport La Quinta, one of the few hotels with a 24-hour free shuttle (remember, by the time I got my new flight it was 1 AM). Cabbing anywhere in Denver would land me in the poor house, everything's so spread out. So I call the La Quinta, make a reservation and ask for the shuttle to pick me up. This is an "airport La Quinta," but if you've ever been to the Denver Airport, you know how massive it is. The La Quinta was about 10 miles away from my terminal.
Ray, the desk attendant at the La Quinta, tells me the shuttle got in an accident earlier and they need to get a new one from their base. I ask how long that's going to take and he says the shuttle will pick me up in 15 minutes. Doable.
Twenty minutes later I call Ray back. He tells me 10 minutes, it'll be there.
Fifteen minutes later, Grant calls Ray. Ray tells Grant 10 more minutes.
And on.... and on.... for an hour and fifteen minutes. And the best part? The midnight airport construction. Nonstop jackhammering right next to where I'm supposed to be picked up.
2:30 AM rolls around and a janky, unmarked rapist van pulls up to the curb. A little foreign man rolls the window down and attempts to yell over the jackhammering to me.
"LA KWEENTAH?!" he shouts.
I sigh, survey the van, and give him my best "Why the hell not." I'm too tired/agitated for good sense.
Riding shotgun in the supposed "La Kweentah" shuttle, I throw a little prayer upstairs in hopes that I'm not about to be raped and murdered in Denver.
We actually pull up to a La Quinta. Phew. I check in, get my room on the smoking floor and on the way see a cockroach scuttle next to the wall. Yum.
I finally get to my room at 2:45 AM, take a shower, and watch Married with Children in vain hopes to fall asleep. I hadn't eaten since the chili in Cincinnati (which wasn't exactly agreeing with my stomach) because I was planning on coming home to a cereal feast in San Diego that night. Literally too pissed off and hungry to sleep, I toss and turn all night. Not a wink was had.
I won't go into too much detail about this next part but... of course, right on schedule... Aunt Flo decides to come visit first thing in the morning. It's not that I didn't know about its imminence- I just planned to be in San Diego when it happened. 31:1 odds the red river would runneth on this of all days... I have to scour five neighboring hotels before I finally return victorious from my tampon hunt. Do people not menstruate in Denver?
Finally, with some continental breakfast in my system, a fresh tampon and a brand new day to tackle, I head to the airport for what would turn out to be a (thankfully) much less eventful last leg.
Dayton--> Denver--> San Diego in 23 hours.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Modern-day foot binding
The added inches. The multi-million dollar American industry. The sensuous curve of a woman's calf, flexed ever-so-"naturally" by the boost of a high heel.
It's no secret that the high heel was invented by a man. But not for any of the reasons above-stated.
Any American woman who has any real grounding on the planet Earth knows that high heels are impractical, nonsensical- and just plain uncomfortable. They serve no obvious purpose other than to sexualize women, which they indeed do, but as a mere side-effect. They define the little-known muscles in most women's legs, wherein it was discovered that adding a few inches of artificial boost to a woman's heel could strenuously carve out some otherwise forgotten musculature. That's what they want you to think.
I am here to contend that modern men invented the high heel as a contemporary form of ancient Chinese foot binding.
Foot binding, for those who are unfamiliar, was a Chinese practice that emerged during the Song dynasty, but spread to as late as the early 20th century in aristocratic China. It was achieved by breaking the feet of the eldest daughter in an aristocratic family and wrapping them tightly in order to take off inches of the foot's length and reform the healed bones into tiny stumps. A barbaric procedure, foot binding would be considered a violation of human rights in today's society.
But how different, at its barest bones, is wearing stilettos from foot binding?
High heels were invented by men to immobilize women, both literally and figuratively. Foot binding, in its ancient form, was a practice meant to keep aristocratic young women "dainty" and enslave them to be future keepers of the home- it was what rich men wanted. Those women who did not have their feet bound were lower class and worked in the fields next to their husbands- a position of equality, albeit in destitution.
Let's examine the practicality of high heels. How fast can you walk in high heels? Is it even possible to run in them? How seamlessly can you move with six-inch, skinny, artificial inches between your achilles tendon and the earth beneath? Even the most experienced high heel-wearers among us will tell you: "Not very." The logic is simple: high heels were designed by men to immobilize the modern woman from straying too far from the home and and climbing the career/social ladder autonomously.
Think back to the early 20th century. High heels were not commonplace. Sure, there were some June Cleavers out there who wore heels (and pearls) when they did the laundry and cooked their husband's dinner. But June Cleaver's heels were about 1.5 inches high- not nearly the stiletto standard we all must adhere to in recent decades.
The advent of the feminist revolution in the mid-twentieth strangely coincided with a new invention: the ridiculously high, high heel.
That's right, folks- men feared the emerging power of women in American society and, being leaders in the fashion industry, sexualized ridiculous footwear from the top down- high heels became the standard of femininity and sexiness.
High heels have since enveloped the fashion industry, trickled down to the masses, and have become widely regarded as the standard of "sexiness" to all men, and foot-bound women, in the U.S. of A.
It's no secret that the high heel was invented by a man. But not for any of the reasons above-stated.
Any American woman who has any real grounding on the planet Earth knows that high heels are impractical, nonsensical- and just plain uncomfortable. They serve no obvious purpose other than to sexualize women, which they indeed do, but as a mere side-effect. They define the little-known muscles in most women's legs, wherein it was discovered that adding a few inches of artificial boost to a woman's heel could strenuously carve out some otherwise forgotten musculature. That's what they want you to think.
I am here to contend that modern men invented the high heel as a contemporary form of ancient Chinese foot binding.
Foot binding, for those who are unfamiliar, was a Chinese practice that emerged during the Song dynasty, but spread to as late as the early 20th century in aristocratic China. It was achieved by breaking the feet of the eldest daughter in an aristocratic family and wrapping them tightly in order to take off inches of the foot's length and reform the healed bones into tiny stumps. A barbaric procedure, foot binding would be considered a violation of human rights in today's society.
But how different, at its barest bones, is wearing stilettos from foot binding?
High heels were invented by men to immobilize women, both literally and figuratively. Foot binding, in its ancient form, was a practice meant to keep aristocratic young women "dainty" and enslave them to be future keepers of the home- it was what rich men wanted. Those women who did not have their feet bound were lower class and worked in the fields next to their husbands- a position of equality, albeit in destitution.
Let's examine the practicality of high heels. How fast can you walk in high heels? Is it even possible to run in them? How seamlessly can you move with six-inch, skinny, artificial inches between your achilles tendon and the earth beneath? Even the most experienced high heel-wearers among us will tell you: "Not very." The logic is simple: high heels were designed by men to immobilize the modern woman from straying too far from the home and and climbing the career/social ladder autonomously.
Think back to the early 20th century. High heels were not commonplace. Sure, there were some June Cleavers out there who wore heels (and pearls) when they did the laundry and cooked their husband's dinner. But June Cleaver's heels were about 1.5 inches high- not nearly the stiletto standard we all must adhere to in recent decades.
The advent of the feminist revolution in the mid-twentieth strangely coincided with a new invention: the ridiculously high, high heel.
That's right, folks- men feared the emerging power of women in American society and, being leaders in the fashion industry, sexualized ridiculous footwear from the top down- high heels became the standard of femininity and sexiness.
High heels have since enveloped the fashion industry, trickled down to the masses, and have become widely regarded as the standard of "sexiness" to all men, and foot-bound women, in the U.S. of A.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Are You There, Superman? It's Me, Lisa
It is an indisputable fact that society uses entertainment as a means of escape from life's realities. In relatively recent history, technology has provided a universally affordable, high-involvement form of entertainment: feature films.
Escapism suggests that we as an audience are most entertained by what the world is lacking at the time of engagement. In terms of movies, this means when times are good, we tend to like dark, destructive, apocalyptic flicks. When times are bad, we tend to enjoy hopeful movies with happy endings.
Think back to the 1990s. Bill "It's the Economy, Stupid" Clinton was president. The Dotcom bubble was expanding without end. The economy's growth was an average 4.0% per year. And, not coincidentally, the top 10-grossing films in the U.S. included:
Jurassic Park (1993): A power outage at a dinosaur theme park causes a slew of bloodthirsty carnivores to wreak havoc and kill almost everyone on the island.
Independence Day (1996): Hoards of aliens come to Earth and obliterate all major cities and their landmarks, including the White House.
Titanic (1997): A tragic love story based on one of the most historically devastating events in U.S. history.
Armageddon (1998): Asteroids hit a space shuttle and wipe out New York before a team of oil drillers barely blows up the Big One right before it decimates the planet.
Fast-forward to 2008-present day. The worst U.S. economic recession hits since 1930s. The economy spirals like a turd in the toilet while big business continues to be cloaked in greed-fueled scandal and bipartisan bickering in Congress solves nothing. It should not be surprising that since 2008, each year's top-grossing film has been about superheroes conquering evil:
The Dark Knight (2008): The ever-vulnerable citizens of Gotham City need Batman to save them from the Joker and his thugs.
Avatar (2009): A world in peril is saved from an evil big-business owner ready to ruin a world for economic gain.
Iron Man 2 (2010): Well, Toy Story 3 was actually the top-grossing movie in 2010, but Iron Man 2 was a close third. You just can't beat Disney/Pixar. Anyway, Iron Man 2: The protagonist must save the world from the U.S. military, which has stolen his armor design and plans on using it for devious purposes.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows Part 2 (2011): Ol' Harry finally defeats Voldemort and saves both the magical and muggle worlds.
The Avengers (2012 so far): A band of superheroes combine forces to save the world from hostile alien threat.
This is not coincidence. With the economy crashing, unemployment stuck at 8%, deficits looming, the Middle East imploding, Europe going bankrupt, white kids going on killing sprees, banks and financial offices getting bailout after bailout yet resuming their corrupt ways, widespread terrorism sowing fear into the soil on every continent... the box office doesn't lie.
THE WORLD NEEDS SAVING.
Escapism suggests that we as an audience are most entertained by what the world is lacking at the time of engagement. In terms of movies, this means when times are good, we tend to like dark, destructive, apocalyptic flicks. When times are bad, we tend to enjoy hopeful movies with happy endings.
Think back to the 1990s. Bill "It's the Economy, Stupid" Clinton was president. The Dotcom bubble was expanding without end. The economy's growth was an average 4.0% per year. And, not coincidentally, the top 10-grossing films in the U.S. included:
Jurassic Park (1993): A power outage at a dinosaur theme park causes a slew of bloodthirsty carnivores to wreak havoc and kill almost everyone on the island.
Independence Day (1996): Hoards of aliens come to Earth and obliterate all major cities and their landmarks, including the White House.
Titanic (1997): A tragic love story based on one of the most historically devastating events in U.S. history.
Armageddon (1998): Asteroids hit a space shuttle and wipe out New York before a team of oil drillers barely blows up the Big One right before it decimates the planet.
Fast-forward to 2008-present day. The worst U.S. economic recession hits since 1930s. The economy spirals like a turd in the toilet while big business continues to be cloaked in greed-fueled scandal and bipartisan bickering in Congress solves nothing. It should not be surprising that since 2008, each year's top-grossing film has been about superheroes conquering evil:
The Dark Knight (2008): The ever-vulnerable citizens of Gotham City need Batman to save them from the Joker and his thugs.
Avatar (2009): A world in peril is saved from an evil big-business owner ready to ruin a world for economic gain.
Iron Man 2 (2010): Well, Toy Story 3 was actually the top-grossing movie in 2010, but Iron Man 2 was a close third. You just can't beat Disney/Pixar. Anyway, Iron Man 2: The protagonist must save the world from the U.S. military, which has stolen his armor design and plans on using it for devious purposes.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows Part 2 (2011): Ol' Harry finally defeats Voldemort and saves both the magical and muggle worlds.
The Avengers (2012 so far): A band of superheroes combine forces to save the world from hostile alien threat.
This is not coincidence. With the economy crashing, unemployment stuck at 8%, deficits looming, the Middle East imploding, Europe going bankrupt, white kids going on killing sprees, banks and financial offices getting bailout after bailout yet resuming their corrupt ways, widespread terrorism sowing fear into the soil on every continent... the box office doesn't lie.
THE WORLD NEEDS SAVING.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Ocupado
I've always found the rigid sexual dimorphism of public bathrooms extremely frustrating. The reason for this is, quite simply, because I am a woman.
Not only a woman, but a no-nonsense-in-the-bathroom type woman. A woman entirely jealous that men never have to wait in bathroom lines.
There are few better feelings than triumphantly hunting down a bathroom in a public place. There are few worse feelings than being jarred upon entry by a long line comprised of complexly-clothed ladies with huge purses awaiting a full house.
So there you stand, internally conducting the cost-benefit analysis of leaving or waiting it out. Then you come to the conclusion that the line has already grown behind you, and the chances of your finding another, line-less bathroom in the vicinity are slim at best, given your lifelong history of small bladderedness. So you wait.
And wait.
The standoff begins. That blood-boiling standoff between the awkward, silent line that can hear all but a pin drop in the stalls, and the occupants of the thrones. Neither budge. The toe-tapping ensues.
And the eternal question which has plagued me for a lifetime remains: Just what takes women so long in the bathroom?
My original assumption (at age six) was that everyone was like Superman, but slow. And instead of phone booths, people summoned their alter-persona superheroes in bathroom stalls. A few years later I figured everyone else just pooped in public all the time, until I realized that there were never any poop sounds coming from the stalls. Another hypothesis was that they were called "restrooms"- not toilet rooms, which I've always thought would be a more fitting name- because maybe women actually did just go sit on the toilet to rest (or even fall asleep!). Then, right before puberty, I feared that dealing with "Aunt Flo" would mean literal hours lost from each day to be spent in the bathroom. In time, all of the aforementioned postulations were debunked and it was back to the drawing board.
And now, as a seasoned almost-24-year-old, I still have no idea what my XX chromosome counterparts do behind that latched door.
I'm usually in and out of the stall in 30-45 seconds, tops. I realize this may be faster than the norm, seeing as how my still-squatable quads render seat covers useless and I try to plan for optimum efficiency (i.e. getting your toilet paper ready while you're going- not rocket science, people). But in reality, unless you are ill, the bathroom stall should be a place of rapid, efficient business.
Ladies, I implore you: Let's take a cue from the fellas, because how many times have you seen a line spilling out from the men's room? We should be getting in, getting out and getting on with our lives.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
America's problem with tying the rainbow knot
And now a post on America's in-vogue topic: gay marriage.
Having grown up in a fairly conservative family, then attending perhaps the most liberal university on the planet, I've seen the gamut of the polemic political spectrum (except maybe the middle, which is where I ironically place myself). I've discussed politics with aspiring Rush Limbaughs and have personally heard the rhetoric of barefooted, naked tree-huggers named Dumpster Muffin and Squirtle. The point being, I've been exposed to a lot of different political views in my young adult life.
I can usually identify with or at least understand both sides of an issue. Usually. Such is not the case for gay marriage. I can neither empathize nor even begin to comprehend the extreme hypocrisy of the far-right in its disapproval of homosexuals marrying.
To begin, the far-right's entire foundation of homosexuality as sin is unfounded. Those with any shred of legitimate literary and biblical knowledge know that word meanings have evolved in the past 2,000 years, even though the Bible's diction remains constant. For example:
Futhermore- and a lot of extreme conservatives seem to conveniently forget this- the Bible actually does name some specific sins. Unambiguously. Verbatim. In the interest of time, let's just focus on the Ten Commandments (super-abridged):
1. You shall take no other gods before the one true God- Money. Hunting. Scotch. Ronald Reagan- all things old white conservatives worship.
2. No idols- See above.
3. Do not take the Lord's name in vain- A lot of conservatives seem to think God's last name is "Damnit."
4. No laboring on Sundays- It's the 21st century and the economy's in the toilet, a lot of us have to work on Sundays. I'll give the 1%-er conservatives this one, but let's be honest- the Fourth Commandment is pretty much a luxury.
5. Honor your mom and dad- I'm sure Rick Perry never did anything to piss off his ma and pop during his boyhood days at N***erhead Ranch.
6. No murder- In unfoundedly sending our soldiers to the Middle East to aimlessly police the whole region, 6,431 American soldiers have perished in Iraq and Afghanistan since 9-11.
7. No adultery- This seems to be the one most forgotten. Newt Gingrich. Herman Cain. Arnold Schwarzenegger. John McCain. Rudy Giuliani. Rush Limbaugh. So much for the "sanctity of marriage" argument.
8. No stealing- Big business presidents and CEOs engaging in financial immorality? Never...
9. No lying- See Commandments 7 and 8.
10. No coveting of others' good fortunes- AKA the foundation of capitalism.
But two people of the same sex wanting to legally formalize their union and receive the benefits of legitimate monogamy? That's just wrong.
Until far-right conservatives prove to the nation that they are as Christian and morally pure as they claim to be, hiding behind the Bible on this one will hold no water for me or anyone else who can recognize hypocrisy. Here are two lines straight from the Bible they should try out: Let he who is without sin cast the first stone (John 8:7), Judge not lest ye be judged (Matthew 7:1). How can individuals so mired in sin have the gall to condemn another's harmless lifestyle choice as God's most frowned-upon? Marriage is nothing but two names on a piece of paper that, when signed, enacts legal implications for the signers. What does that matter to anyone but the parties involved?
Surely, far-right conservatives have enough of a brain to recognize their own religious hypocrisy. My question then is, what the hell are they so afraid of?
To each his own. Live and let live. Just because gays should be able to marry doesn't mean everyone will "turn gay" and have to tie the knot with a dude.
Having grown up in a fairly conservative family, then attending perhaps the most liberal university on the planet, I've seen the gamut of the polemic political spectrum (except maybe the middle, which is where I ironically place myself). I've discussed politics with aspiring Rush Limbaughs and have personally heard the rhetoric of barefooted, naked tree-huggers named Dumpster Muffin and Squirtle. The point being, I've been exposed to a lot of different political views in my young adult life.
I can usually identify with or at least understand both sides of an issue. Usually. Such is not the case for gay marriage. I can neither empathize nor even begin to comprehend the extreme hypocrisy of the far-right in its disapproval of homosexuals marrying.
To begin, the far-right's entire foundation of homosexuality as sin is unfounded. Those with any shred of legitimate literary and biblical knowledge know that word meanings have evolved in the past 2,000 years, even though the Bible's diction remains constant. For example:
"The longest biblical passage on male-male sex is Romans 1:26-27: 'Their women exchanged natural intercourse for unnatural, and in the same way also the men, giving up natural intercourse with women, were consumed with passion for one another.'
"The Greek term para physin has been translated to unnatural, when it should read atypical or unusual. In a technical sense, yes, the Stoic philosophers did use para physin to mean unnatural, but the term also had a widespread popular meaning. It is this latter meaning that informs Paul's writing. It carries no ethical condemnation."
-Daniel A. Helminiak, "What the Bible Really Says about Homosexuality", CNN.com
Futhermore- and a lot of extreme conservatives seem to conveniently forget this- the Bible actually does name some specific sins. Unambiguously. Verbatim. In the interest of time, let's just focus on the Ten Commandments (super-abridged):
1. You shall take no other gods before the one true God- Money. Hunting. Scotch. Ronald Reagan- all things old white conservatives worship.
2. No idols- See above.
3. Do not take the Lord's name in vain- A lot of conservatives seem to think God's last name is "Damnit."
4. No laboring on Sundays- It's the 21st century and the economy's in the toilet, a lot of us have to work on Sundays. I'll give the 1%-er conservatives this one, but let's be honest- the Fourth Commandment is pretty much a luxury.
5. Honor your mom and dad- I'm sure Rick Perry never did anything to piss off his ma and pop during his boyhood days at N***erhead Ranch.
6. No murder- In unfoundedly sending our soldiers to the Middle East to aimlessly police the whole region, 6,431 American soldiers have perished in Iraq and Afghanistan since 9-11.
7. No adultery- This seems to be the one most forgotten. Newt Gingrich. Herman Cain. Arnold Schwarzenegger. John McCain. Rudy Giuliani. Rush Limbaugh. So much for the "sanctity of marriage" argument.
8. No stealing- Big business presidents and CEOs engaging in financial immorality? Never...
9. No lying- See Commandments 7 and 8.
10. No coveting of others' good fortunes- AKA the foundation of capitalism.
But two people of the same sex wanting to legally formalize their union and receive the benefits of legitimate monogamy? That's just wrong.
Until far-right conservatives prove to the nation that they are as Christian and morally pure as they claim to be, hiding behind the Bible on this one will hold no water for me or anyone else who can recognize hypocrisy. Here are two lines straight from the Bible they should try out: Let he who is without sin cast the first stone (John 8:7), Judge not lest ye be judged (Matthew 7:1). How can individuals so mired in sin have the gall to condemn another's harmless lifestyle choice as God's most frowned-upon? Marriage is nothing but two names on a piece of paper that, when signed, enacts legal implications for the signers. What does that matter to anyone but the parties involved?
Surely, far-right conservatives have enough of a brain to recognize their own religious hypocrisy. My question then is, what the hell are they so afraid of?
To each his own. Live and let live. Just because gays should be able to marry doesn't mean everyone will "turn gay" and have to tie the knot with a dude.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
FrauduLENT
This post is written in the spirit of Mardi Gras, though not under the influence of spirits.
Mardi Gras, or "Fat Tuesday," has been celebrated in Europe since the Middle Ages. Sometimes referred to as "the feast before the fast," it is meant to be a period of indulgence before Ash Wednesday and the following 40 days of Lent penance.
Originally a Roman Catholic practice, many Protestants have embraced Lent in their churches as well, making it fairly common amongst Americans in today's society. Though it is never mentioned in the Bible, the practice of Lent is derived from the 40-day period during which Jesus fasted in the Judean desert whilst being tempted by Satan.
Ah, Lent. In modern America, another prescribed opportunity to push the reset button and better your life for 40 whole days. Then, come Easter Sunday, the self-fulfillment and pride you'll have for "being good" for 2.8 fortnights will find you back to your old self again.
Lent, as most of you know it, is a farce.
As far as I'm concerned, the practice of Lent for most Americans is cut from the same cloth as New Year's resolutions. Only Lent is worse. At least New Year's resolutions are sectarian; modern American Lent is under the guise of being an actual religious holiday. Today's practice of Lent, when compared to its original intentions, is a slap in God's face. Why? Because it is penitent-less. Now, in staying true to my beliefs on New Year's resolutions, I don't participate in Lent either. But I know plenty of people who do- rather, think they do.
Here's a fact that is going to blow some of your minds: Lent is not about what you give up. It's about what you do in the place of what you give up.
More breaking news for all you Lent-ers: God does not care about how fat you are or how much Jersey Shore you watch. Surrendering sweets, relinquishing reality T.V., abstaining from alcohol... these are all great things to do to better improve your stock on earth, but it doesn't necessarily mean you're impressing the Big Guy upstairs.
Lent, as it was originally intended, is a period in which you're supposed to carve out a certain chunk of your day (a chunk in which you normally do something else, regularly) and spend that time with God, fast, and offer service to the poor (read more here). And the "no red meat" thing? Yes, you are supposed to do that. But you're also supposed to give up lots of other eats, fasting regularly to convey to God that you believe He alone can sustain you. In other words, your opting for the chicken nuggets instead of the Big Mac at McDonald's this Friday is not going to bring you closer to Sainthood.
This post isn't meant to be sanctimonious or in any way admonishing. As I've already stated, I don't even participate in Lent. Be you atheist, Hindu, Catholic, Pagan, Taoist, et al.- I'm just trying to objectively shed some light on the masses on what this now-pseudo religious event is really about.
Then again, modern American society has cheapened every originally-religious holiday already (Christmas= Santa, presents, fruit cake; Easter= bunny, candy, painted eggs), so I guess Lent is just dutifully falling in line. At least we're consistent.
Tonight, as you don your masks and beads, hoist your chalices, tune into Real Housewives and pig out on sweets, remember to pause for a moment and enjoy it- because chances are you'll be giving up one of those indulgences in your misguided yet good-intentioned next 40 days of "Lent."
Thursday, February 2, 2012
50 things I miss about Berkeley
1. Pink House, and those who resided in it
2. The view from the Big C
3. Wednesday nights at AIA
4. The smell in Edwards Stadium right after they mow the field
5. The "Happy, Happy Happy" Guy
6. Intermezzo salads (RIP)
7. Coach Z
8. 40 oz. Mickey's from Derby Market (and my best friends, the Nepalese guys behind the counter)
9. GBC sandwiches
10. Random turkey sightings up by Memorial Stadium. Yes, the animal.
11. The lady with one huge dred on campus who yells at everyone
12. 2am West Coast cheesy sticks (841-WEST... I think it's in my brain for good)
13. Ali Eslami (NOT!)
14. Sunday nights at Kip's (late August- early November)
15. Sloshball at the Kerr
16. Scooter mobs
17. The Goonies
18. Gorkula
19. Sleeping in Wheeler Auditorium (whose bright idea was it to make those seats so comfy?)
20. Themed-parties at Carlton House freshman year
21. Golfing at Tilden Park
22. The Yoshua preacher, and his majestic black man's voice
23. Sitting on Sproul and seeing everyone you know walk by
24. JT and Maite
25. The 51 bus
26. The GO! BEARS! cheer during the last 5 minutes of the half
27. Pink House wine and game nights
28. Free beer at Bear's Lair (thanks Rosie, Tracy, Kechi, Tasha... etc.)
29. Never beating Omo at 169
30. Constantly being around people who are too smart for their own good
31. Zachary's Pizza
32. Noon pick-up at Underhill
33. Singing "You Will Always Be My Baby" at the end of every bus ride
34. Walking by daily protests in Sproul, and not even knowing what they're for most of the time
35. Having a weird co-op kid in your class
36. The view from the Lawrence Hall of Science parking lot on a clear night
37. The annual "black dress" parties
38. Kerr dining hall brunch
39. Bombing down Dwight from Golden Bear on my scooter right after a Tuesday practice
40. Walking down Telegraph and rating its weirdness that day at the end
41. Gypsy's pollo gorgonzola... followed by Yogurtland
42. Trying to find enough seats together to accommodate your whole party at Doe Library, especially during finals
43. Walking everywhere
44. Going to the Haas training room knowing you're going to leave feeling better
45. Friday night post-game dinners at Gina and Bak's... with JoJo's amazing meals
46. The practices before we played Stanfurd
47. Spontaneous trips to Fenton's
48. South Seas
49. Sunsets from Strawberry Canyon
50. People constantly popping into Pink House, unannounced, to hang out or just say hi
... I could go on, but I'll leave it at that. Fellow Berkeleyans- feel free to share some of your favorite things about Berzerktown.
2. The view from the Big C
3. Wednesday nights at AIA
4. The smell in Edwards Stadium right after they mow the field
5. The "Happy, Happy Happy" Guy
6. Intermezzo salads (RIP)
7. Coach Z
8. 40 oz. Mickey's from Derby Market (and my best friends, the Nepalese guys behind the counter)
9. GBC sandwiches
10. Random turkey sightings up by Memorial Stadium. Yes, the animal.
11. The lady with one huge dred on campus who yells at everyone
12. 2am West Coast cheesy sticks (841-WEST... I think it's in my brain for good)
13. Ali Eslami (NOT!)
14. Sunday nights at Kip's (late August- early November)
15. Sloshball at the Kerr
16. Scooter mobs
17. The Goonies
18. Gorkula
19. Sleeping in Wheeler Auditorium (whose bright idea was it to make those seats so comfy?)
20. Themed-parties at Carlton House freshman year
21. Golfing at Tilden Park
22. The Yoshua preacher, and his majestic black man's voice
23. Sitting on Sproul and seeing everyone you know walk by
24. JT and Maite
25. The 51 bus
26. The GO! BEARS! cheer during the last 5 minutes of the half
27. Pink House wine and game nights
28. Free beer at Bear's Lair (thanks Rosie, Tracy, Kechi, Tasha... etc.)
29. Never beating Omo at 169
30. Constantly being around people who are too smart for their own good
31. Zachary's Pizza
32. Noon pick-up at Underhill
33. Singing "You Will Always Be My Baby" at the end of every bus ride
34. Walking by daily protests in Sproul, and not even knowing what they're for most of the time
35. Having a weird co-op kid in your class
36. The view from the Lawrence Hall of Science parking lot on a clear night
37. The annual "black dress" parties
38. Kerr dining hall brunch
39. Bombing down Dwight from Golden Bear on my scooter right after a Tuesday practice
40. Walking down Telegraph and rating its weirdness that day at the end
41. Gypsy's pollo gorgonzola... followed by Yogurtland
42. Trying to find enough seats together to accommodate your whole party at Doe Library, especially during finals
43. Walking everywhere
44. Going to the Haas training room knowing you're going to leave feeling better
45. Friday night post-game dinners at Gina and Bak's... with JoJo's amazing meals
46. The practices before we played Stanfurd
47. Spontaneous trips to Fenton's
48. South Seas
49. Sunsets from Strawberry Canyon
50. People constantly popping into Pink House, unannounced, to hang out or just say hi
... I could go on, but I'll leave it at that. Fellow Berkeleyans- feel free to share some of your favorite things about Berzerktown.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Air Travel Manifesto
Let's chat about flying.
Thanks to great pioneers of the skies in the early 20th century (including but not limited to the Wright Bros.), we have the phenomenal ability to fly in near-absolute safety 35,000 feet in the air at speeds of ~500 MPH. We often take it for granted, but the reality that we can travel from coast to coast in six measly hours is quite incredible.
In the mid-twentieth century, passenger flying really started to take off. Pan Am was in its glory days, people dressed to the nines to fly, and mini packs of cigarettes were offered to passengers like peanuts are today. Flying was classy and romantic-- hell, Frank Sinatra even sang about it.
Nowadays, fares are cheap and the unwritten code of behavioral protocol is no more. In the past four months I've been on twelve flights, six of which were 5+ hours. That's a lot of time spent in airports, on various aircraft, and, well, around people I wouldn't otherwise choose to be within forty yards of. It's a peculiar and unique environment. Once that heavy, unforgiving door at the gate ominously slams behind the last passenger, you're stuck with about 100 strangers and their annoying habits in a miniscule 1,120 square feet of cabin space for hours (if you're on a 737, which I usually fly).
Other people are weird- we all know that. It's a universal truth. This subjective altruism can present uncomfortable and frustrating situations, especially during air travel. As a result, in my never-ending quest to point out and solve the world's ills one blog post at a time, I aim to identify and rectify those annoying travel situations.
Most people see problems. I see solutions. Therefore, I have compiled a manifesto of universal air travel etiquette by which everyone should abide.
1. If you know you have a small bladder or IBS, don't sit by the window. Get an aisle seat. No one appreciates having their attention torn from a book or movie because you have to pee or defecate every half hour.
2. Leave the kids at home. If grandma and grandpa really want to see them, they can eat cat food for a few weeks to save up enough money to make the trip to you. But if you absolutely have to bring them, slip 3x the recommended amount of Benadryl into their applesauce before the flight. In my 23 years of life my family never flew anywhere together because my parents knew the unprecedented havoc that would ensue- you're welcome.
3. If you have to get up and stretch your legs in the aisle, make it brief and don't linger. And if you MUST stretch, refrain from thrusting your ass and/or crotch into the faces of those seated in the aisle. I can't tell you the amount of saggy old man scrotum I've almost punched because of this. Respect those boundaries, folks.
4. The row of chairs in front of you is not a leverage tool. If you have to get up and are for some reason too weak to do so with your own God-given muscles, use your OWN chair for a crutch. There are people in front of you, and they do not like to be drawn back then catapulted forward as you make your way to the aisle.
5. As long as we're on the subject, just don't touch the seat in front of you at all. Period. No exceptions. And if you need to use your tray table, pull it down and put it back very gingerly. Chances are the person seated in front of you has nerve endings and an inner ear.
6. Don't put the toilet lid down as you exit the lavatory. There is absolutely no need to do this. The suction system will already ensure that there is no lingering smell from your airport-burrito output. The only thing you are doing in putting the lid down is annoying the person after you who wants to touch the least amount of surface area possible; having to touch something that comes in direct contact with the toilet seat is the worst possible scenario.
7. One minute rule for the bathroom. You're trapped in a plane- the lavatories aren't going anywhere and neither are you. Wait until you're prairie-dogging it so a line doesn't form in the aisle while everyone else is waiting for your hemorrhoid-inducing pushes to expel rock-hard BB pellets. Just leave them in there and let them ripen until they're ready to come out on their own accord. It's a safety issue, really.
8. Stay within the confines of your seat. If you're spilling over into the other seats, lose weight or buy two tickets for yourself. And don't be an armrest hog- compromise. A good rule of thumb for being a pleasant neighbor is to draw imaginary lines from your armrests all the way out to the seats in front of you, and do not cross those lines while seated.
9. Upon arrival, let everyone seated in front of you exit the aircraft first. If you're one of those people who absolutely needs to pop up out of their seat right when that bell dings to smushedly stand in the aisle for 10 minutes before the door opens, it doesn't mean you have the divine right to straight-arm everyone in front of you to get off the plane first. Respect the logical system. The 3 minute difference is not going to kill you.
10. If you're sick, sneeze/cough/hack/wheeze/whoop into the crook of your elbow, nowhere else. We don't need your Asian bird flu or bubonic plague freely cruising around the cabin airspace.
11. If you have friends on the flight with whom you need to gab, do so in an indoor voice. The entire cabin doesn't need to hear about your yeast infection or how many chicks you got busy with in Vegas last weekend or the details of your last colonoscopy.
12. Don't bring your enormous, 49 lb. suitcase on board expecting to carry it on. All you'll achieve by doing this is holding up the boarding process while you idiotically try to shove it in a space in which it clearly won't fit. After your struggle (and inevitable loss) with physics and argument with the flight attendant that you "swear it fit the last time you flew," you'll have to check it anyway. Save us all the time and drama.
There you have it folks, my Air Travel Manifesto. Feel free to contribute if you think I've left anything out.
Thanks to great pioneers of the skies in the early 20th century (including but not limited to the Wright Bros.), we have the phenomenal ability to fly in near-absolute safety 35,000 feet in the air at speeds of ~500 MPH. We often take it for granted, but the reality that we can travel from coast to coast in six measly hours is quite incredible.
In the mid-twentieth century, passenger flying really started to take off. Pan Am was in its glory days, people dressed to the nines to fly, and mini packs of cigarettes were offered to passengers like peanuts are today. Flying was classy and romantic-- hell, Frank Sinatra even sang about it.
Nowadays, fares are cheap and the unwritten code of behavioral protocol is no more. In the past four months I've been on twelve flights, six of which were 5+ hours. That's a lot of time spent in airports, on various aircraft, and, well, around people I wouldn't otherwise choose to be within forty yards of. It's a peculiar and unique environment. Once that heavy, unforgiving door at the gate ominously slams behind the last passenger, you're stuck with about 100 strangers and their annoying habits in a miniscule 1,120 square feet of cabin space for hours (if you're on a 737, which I usually fly).
Other people are weird- we all know that. It's a universal truth. This subjective altruism can present uncomfortable and frustrating situations, especially during air travel. As a result, in my never-ending quest to point out and solve the world's ills one blog post at a time, I aim to identify and rectify those annoying travel situations.
Most people see problems. I see solutions. Therefore, I have compiled a manifesto of universal air travel etiquette by which everyone should abide.
1. If you know you have a small bladder or IBS, don't sit by the window. Get an aisle seat. No one appreciates having their attention torn from a book or movie because you have to pee or defecate every half hour.
2. Leave the kids at home. If grandma and grandpa really want to see them, they can eat cat food for a few weeks to save up enough money to make the trip to you. But if you absolutely have to bring them, slip 3x the recommended amount of Benadryl into their applesauce before the flight. In my 23 years of life my family never flew anywhere together because my parents knew the unprecedented havoc that would ensue- you're welcome.
3. If you have to get up and stretch your legs in the aisle, make it brief and don't linger. And if you MUST stretch, refrain from thrusting your ass and/or crotch into the faces of those seated in the aisle. I can't tell you the amount of saggy old man scrotum I've almost punched because of this. Respect those boundaries, folks.
4. The row of chairs in front of you is not a leverage tool. If you have to get up and are for some reason too weak to do so with your own God-given muscles, use your OWN chair for a crutch. There are people in front of you, and they do not like to be drawn back then catapulted forward as you make your way to the aisle.
5. As long as we're on the subject, just don't touch the seat in front of you at all. Period. No exceptions. And if you need to use your tray table, pull it down and put it back very gingerly. Chances are the person seated in front of you has nerve endings and an inner ear.
6. Don't put the toilet lid down as you exit the lavatory. There is absolutely no need to do this. The suction system will already ensure that there is no lingering smell from your airport-burrito output. The only thing you are doing in putting the lid down is annoying the person after you who wants to touch the least amount of surface area possible; having to touch something that comes in direct contact with the toilet seat is the worst possible scenario.
7. One minute rule for the bathroom. You're trapped in a plane- the lavatories aren't going anywhere and neither are you. Wait until you're prairie-dogging it so a line doesn't form in the aisle while everyone else is waiting for your hemorrhoid-inducing pushes to expel rock-hard BB pellets. Just leave them in there and let them ripen until they're ready to come out on their own accord. It's a safety issue, really.
8. Stay within the confines of your seat. If you're spilling over into the other seats, lose weight or buy two tickets for yourself. And don't be an armrest hog- compromise. A good rule of thumb for being a pleasant neighbor is to draw imaginary lines from your armrests all the way out to the seats in front of you, and do not cross those lines while seated.
9. Upon arrival, let everyone seated in front of you exit the aircraft first. If you're one of those people who absolutely needs to pop up out of their seat right when that bell dings to smushedly stand in the aisle for 10 minutes before the door opens, it doesn't mean you have the divine right to straight-arm everyone in front of you to get off the plane first. Respect the logical system. The 3 minute difference is not going to kill you.
10. If you're sick, sneeze/cough/hack/wheeze/whoop into the crook of your elbow, nowhere else. We don't need your Asian bird flu or bubonic plague freely cruising around the cabin airspace.
11. If you have friends on the flight with whom you need to gab, do so in an indoor voice. The entire cabin doesn't need to hear about your yeast infection or how many chicks you got busy with in Vegas last weekend or the details of your last colonoscopy.
12. Don't bring your enormous, 49 lb. suitcase on board expecting to carry it on. All you'll achieve by doing this is holding up the boarding process while you idiotically try to shove it in a space in which it clearly won't fit. After your struggle (and inevitable loss) with physics and argument with the flight attendant that you "swear it fit the last time you flew," you'll have to check it anyway. Save us all the time and drama.
There you have it folks, my Air Travel Manifesto. Feel free to contribute if you think I've left anything out.
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