Just When You Thought I'd Never Write Again

I actually wrote a post this weekend, about a little bumper car incident Paul and i had last week-- but I thought I might offer it up for this other blog at my new internship. If they want it, I'll post a link...and if not, you'll see it here soon.

So...that whole bailout thing is some crazy shit, huh? Maybe they'll eventually approve it, it seems more likely than not, but what I have a hard time wrapping my head around all the sudden is this:

I'm poor. I live in a sweet apartment, in a sweet neighborhood. I eat sushi from Whole Foods for dinner and attend one of the most expensive universities in the country. And I am more than broke, I am in the hole. If you add Paul's hole to my hole, you will find us at the bottom of a chasm really. We are just riding on our loans, which we keep getting I guess because education means "prospects." We are living on our prospects and not much else.

And so is the rest of the country, from our fellow individuals to our major institutions.

Paul has mentioned in the recent past the fact that the last time gas prices went up--this was the early 70s--people actually stopped buying gas. His theory on why?
There were no credit cards.

Times have changed.

Quick Update

I'm sick. My right tonsil hurts and has white stuff on it. I think lymph node on the right side of my neck is tender, and my right ear feels a little weird, too. But what really sucks is how TIRED I am...i've got a lot of good stuff to do, and also just a lot of stuff I need to do...but instead I have to sleep--which I like to do, but it's time consuming. I also have to take echinacea and drink this alkalizing twig tea, which is neither here nor there.

I got an internship that I'll talk more about later--I'm excited except I'm worried I won't feel great by the time I start. I may have to push my start date back a week.

I've yet to get the Feng Shui book I found in our school library's catalogue.

I have, however, unpacked three more boxes.

That's all for now.

Feng Shui deficiency

We're unpacking. All of our furniture has acquired dents and dings and other sorts of damage in the moving process. It's sad, I keep discovering more. Like the one bookshelf that didn't look like pressed board with wood-grain contact paper on in (even though it is kind of that) now has a big scratch on the front. Thick wire somehow has broken through the box spring, the dresser has sustained some water damage. Makes me sad...but I comfort myself by reminding myself that I didn't pay more than 50 bucks for any of it. But then I get sad because all of it replaced kind of nice real wood furniture that I owned when last I lived in LA but gave away because it was too expensive to ship...and it would have looked kind of nice in this apartment. But then I remind myself that not to get so attached to material items, and that none of it matters except for having a really cute laptop and fast internet.

But I have felt a yearning lately for the space around me to feel good--like a better energy, you know? Which brings me to my new interest in Feng Shui which I'm not going to get to I realize because it's time ot start unpacking the kitchen...but I'll be back.

Thoughts on Urban Planning-Lockers?

At the age of five, when I began my taxpayer-funded public schooling, my kindergarten teacher assigned me a square plastic bucket with my name on it where I could keep my thermos of juice, crayons, glue and scissors and pieces of glittery paper for my mom. In grade school, I hung my coat on a hook at the back of class, put my lunch on a shelf, kept my books in my personal desk. In high school I had a locker in the hall and in one the gym, though some days I kept my clothes in the car.

Now, however, I'm spending $20,000 of my own hard-earned (or hopefully to-be-earned) cash per semester at one of the top universities in the country. Parking is both scarce and prohibitively expensive, and the lunch halls are crowded. On any given day I ride a well-attended public bus and walk across campus on foot with my lunch, purse, laptop computer, textbooks, scripts and a gym bag. And now there is no storage of any kind. I feel like a homeless camel, and in classes I pick up my camel hooves to avoid stepping on other students bags that are too stuffed to fit under chairs.

I asked about this and was advised to "make friends with someone who lives nearby" and see I could put things there.

This is not uncommon situation. At FSU, because I was teaching in the English Department, I had an office, but many were not so fortunate. Interestingly, the film school there, which is housed at the stadium, did have lockers for each of its students, but I don't know if the film school administration actually thought of this, or inherited them from the athletic department.

Who plans these things? Perhaps it's simply people who have offices and desks and drawers where they can put their lunch. Or perhaps it's people who are so passionate about "higher order" concerns that practical considerations get bypassed. That's how we get opera houses that seat hundreds, but only have five bathroom stalls.

According to the website, our new cinema arts complex being built will be stunning and will alleviate the space issues we now face, such as minimal office space for adjunct professors and a shortage of classrooms. The main structure alone will cost over 75 million dollars to build and another 25 million to furnish. It will house post-production suites, classrooms, screening rooms, conference facilities, and administrative offices as well as a 200-seat theater, an exhibition hall and a café.

In the face of all this, it seems petty to ask…but will students have lockers?

Some Things I Hate

(I wrote this post in the airport heading to Indiana for a high school reunion, but of course due to lack of connectivity, could not post in real time. Reading it now I wonder if I should perhaps have been contemplating, old friends, wondering how the intervening years had treated them...but instead I fumed about the aiport. But in a way that is living in the NOW, which many current psychologist-authors advocate.)

I now officially HATE flying. There used to be some sense of anticipation, of adventure. This is gone. I’ve never been a big Marxist—but coming to airport makes me feel like a dehumanized proletariat commodity being manipulated and consumed by a Philip K. Dicksian capitalist machine.

I hate how because I’m not a World Class Elite passenger, I no longer have the option of being checked in by a human being. (See how they do that, they take away a standard service, but then put up this sign with words like “World Class Elite” to make me hate,not them but myself for not being in that caste. Really, is anyone flying to Indianapolis on Northwest truly "elite?"

I hate how they added the $15 dollar surcharge for my FIRST checked bag. I, of course, must check a bag because I own containers of fluids greater than 4 ounces. I could, instead invest in a number of trial size bottles. Or I could resolve to live without deodorant, sunscreen or make-up for the weekend, but I’ve already invested a certain amount of time and money toward going to see friends I haven’t seen for twenty years, I figure I might as well do it with deodorant.

I hate how I have to throw away my bottle of what is clearly water, and buy another bottle of water for $4 once I have reached the “sterile area.”

I hate how they call the gates a “sterile area.” I just walked in bare feet across the same rubber mat that thousands of other people have walked on. Set all my bags and excess clothing in buckets that just had contact with the bottom of hundreds of pairs of shoes. It doesn’t feel sterile.

I hate paying $8-$11 for a sandwich in said sterile area.

I hate how they taunt you with this thing called “Free Public Wi-Fi” that makes that weird icon but doesn’t do anything. Is it not for the public? Or is it not really wireless? And I hate how ungenerous they are with their “real” wireless.

However, I LOVE my phone with data service, because now I can check my emails in places where large organizations are skimpy with their services.