Dollarific

It's amazing what you can get at a dollar store these days. A small sampling of items available at the local Dollar Tree that I would expect to cost more than a dollar:

- a big bottle of shampoo or conditioner
- a two-gallon jug of cranberry-apple juice
- a shower curtain
- a plate, bowl, or mug
- a pack of three toothbrushes
- baby clothes
- a jigsaw puzzle
- a mop
- a tablecloth
- a package of stationery with eight cards and envelopes
- a Halloween costume

Too bad I don't actually need any of those things. I wish they sold guinea pig hay, contact lenses, and omega-3 flax oil supplements.

My Favorite Canid

Yesterday I visited the maned wolves again. They looked so cool and regal, stalking around in the dusk. Despite having lived at the zoo for years, they act like they've never managed to get used to people. I like the way they're so responsive to visitors' approach because it gives me the feeling that I'm in the presence of a real wild animal - an animal that will bolt if I make sudden movements, or relax and perhaps come closer if I freeze.


One of the most interesting things about them is the way they pace - moving both the legs on a side at a time. You can see the one in the bottom picture doing it. Giraffes do it too. They're the only two species I know of that pace. I wonder if okapis do. Is it something to do with being tall and long-legged? It looks like it would throw them off their balance though. Wish I was a field ecologist with a grant to study it.

Just Passing Through

I read last night that the average person will live in six different places and have ten different jobs over the course of his or her lifetime.

I must be above average, because I'm only a few years out of school but I've already lived in eleven different places and had thirteen different jobs.

The worst place I lived was probably the house with the Pumpkin Parlor. There were some good afternoons when I had the house to myself, and I could bake cookies, and the living room was flooded with sunlight, and I had my birds with me. But then my housemates would come home and start blasting rap music, often so loud I couldn't even have a phone conversation when I was in my room with the door shut. Plus, they never paid their share of the utilities so we were always having the electricity and water turned off. The worst job I had was at the pet store, because my manager was a Gulf War veteran who would stand up close to me and scream in my face like a drill sergeant. Luckily neither of those periods in my life lasted too long.

The best place I've lived (after my childhood home - so many good memories there, it has to go in its own category) is where I live right now. And the best job I've had is what I'm doing right now. So, I guess I have no cause for complaint.

Mini-Adults

Kids dressed up as miniature grown-ups make me feel uneasy in a way I can't explain. The other day I saw a huge poster filling the window of babyGap, showing a four-year-old in a little three-piece suit and tie, and another kid wearing a corporate-looking sweater over a collared shirt. Both had angelic expressions on. It made me want to say, "Auhhhh!" and run away.

I think kids should wear tee-shirts that get popsicle stains on them, jeans with holes in the knees from crawling around on the floor with the dog, clothes from thrift stores that they're going to grow out of in a few months anyway, and they should not care what they're wearing. For special occasions, they should wear something clean. Giving them miniature adult outfits is like apologizing for them being kids: "I know, he is short, but look, he is just a miniature corporate accounts executive like everyone else! Just wait a few more years and he will actually be human!"

Planning Ahead

I wish I was calmer. I wish I didn't have to psych myself up to make phone calls. I wish I didn't get heart flutters on Sunday nights when I know I have to go to work the next day (though my job isn't even that bad). I wish my dad had a job. I wish my brother had a job and a girlfriend. I wish my friends could find their soulmates and be happy. I wish there were homes for all the homeless guinea pigs in the world. I wish there weren't any antibiotic-resistant strains of bacteria. I wish coral reefs weren't threatened. I wish we could have a baby. I wish there weren't any factory farms. I wish everyone had love in their lives.

There. That takes care of my birthday wishes for the next 12 years.

A Conversation

R: Here, let me do it. You're just going to mess it up.
L: Urgh! I was doing just fine. Oh, all right.
R: See, I'm doing it much better.
L: I know. They always say I don't know what you're doing. But it's just because you've had more practice. If I had that much practice, I'd be as good as you.
R: There's no good time when we could give you that practice though. It's just a lot easier to let me do it all the time.
L: Well, say you got hurt. I'd have to take over. Wouldn't it be better if I was prepared ahead of time?
R: Let's just hope that won't happen.
L: All right. On the other hand -
R: Ha.
L: - maybe I should be glad I don't have to work as hard as you do. I can just pretty much hang out all day.
R: That's true. Sometimes I get pretty tired.
L: Looks like you're about done there.
R: Yep. What do you want to do now?
L: Let's twiddle our thumbs.
R: OK!

Hope You Like Jamming Too

The jamming went great! Today for lunch I'm eating a peanut butter and homemade raspberry jam sandwich. It's like I'm in Little House on the Prairie.

Time and Tide

...wait for no man, and neither do raspberries. We picked them on Sunday, right off the vines - they were warm and perfect and delicious. Now it's Tuesday morning and despite having been refrigerated the whole time, they're already starting to get a haze of mold. I threw out the moldy portions, shoved the containers in the freezer - take that, moldies! - and tonight I'll probably mix up what's left with some honey and water on the stove, and try to make jam. Wish me luck.

Growing Up

Some things I thought I'd never grow out of:
1. Swimming at the pool. My brother and I used to groan out loud when they blew the whistle for Adult Swim. We never wanted to get out. We couldn't wait till we were 18 and could stay in the pool as long as we wanted. Then, we turned 18. And magically we no longer felt like swimming for more than half an hour at a time.
2. Monopoly and other board games. I loved those rainy Sunday afternoons when the whole family would get together in the den and play board games like Monopoly, Clue, Balderdash, Taboo, or Risk. Even now I get a flicker of joy at the thought of them. Then I remember that it's actually kind of pointless to spend an afternoon moving little squares of cardboard around on a larger square of cardboard, and all my eager anticipation dries up.
3. Barley sugar sticks. All the different flavors: rum butter, watermelon, sour apple, peach, blueberry (turns your tongue a violent shade of violet). Wait till I'm grown up and I'm allowed to buy as much as I want, I thought (my parents limited me to ten at time, or a dollar's worth). Now all I can think of is how they develop that sharp edge that cuts your tongue as you suck on them, and the sickening sweetness of them, and yes the blue tongue, which no longer seems quite so appealing.

Things I'm glad I haven't grown out of:
1. Pets. Being with animals - playing with them, taking care of them, petting them, talking to them, socializing them - is still one of the best things I can think of doing with my time. If I could, I'd have a whole houseful.
2. Books. I still love reading. The knowledge of a good book waiting for me at home gets me through the day sometimes. I read an article recently about how Americans' literacy abilities are dropping (not basic literacy, but ability to read and understand long or complex passages). The article's article argued that this could be a good thing, since the average American doesn't need to read much any more. I think it's something to really be concerned about though. Ability to read complex works keeps us in touch with the world, opens our hearts to art, inspires us. Any loss of ability or pleasure associated with reading is a sign that our intellectualism is slipping.
3. Being with my family. We're still close as can be. I can't imagine living away from them, somewhere I couldn't go home and hug them whenever I wanted.

Things I didn't expect to grow into:
1. Bunions, if that counts. I thought that was an old womanish problem caused by, I dunno, not enough exercise or a failure of willpower or something. I value the ability to get anywhere I need to, on my own two feet. It upsets me that I sometimes can't do that any more, if I'm wearing the wrong shoes or my feet are hurting too much. It's no longer a question of will - my body is just simply letting me down.
2. Cleaning. I enjoy it a little too much.
3. Being the kind of person who (no matter how introverted and shy and scared I think I am, from the inside out) other people occasionally describe as courageous.

What?

It seems like the world is getting noisier. Lately I've noticed that if I'm watching a movie on TV in the evening, I have to close the apartment windows in order to hear the dialogue properly - the grinding roar of traffic literally drowns it out. And walking down the street with a friend, I feel like we have to almost strain our voices to have a conversation over the traffic and other street noises. I wonder if I'm getting more sensitive, or maybe losing hearing in the upper registers now that I'm old. I read that this does happen. Some men literally can't hear their wives any more as they get older, since their voices are higher-pitched and those are the frequencies that are first to go. Anyway it makes me impatient with city living. I just want to be somewhere quiet and peaceful, where I don't have to strain.

Rhymes

Apparently people are more likely to adopt careers that rhyme with their names. The proportion of dentists named Dennis is disproportionately high, for instance. I guess kids named Gus Jiver or Kinvestment Wanker just don't have much of a choice about their destinies.

This might explain my career indecision. Erin rhymes with ...nothing. Maybe "swear in", but it's a bit of a stretch. Should I be an official oath-overseer?

The Depressing Post About Frogs

So here's the post I wrote last week.

I was thinking about a talk I went to on amphibian vocalizations and ambient noise. The speaker played a few tapes of frogs singing at a pond - a rich tapestry of creaking, warbles, trills, and other noises, against the background of insects, reeds in the wind, blackbirds, etc. It sounded very nice.

Then he played another tape where you could hear a plane fly overhead, and the frogs hushed down right away, almost like the sound was physically squashing them down. After the plane passed, they started up again cautiously. The scientist measured volume and frequency of vocalizations at several different locations and plotted them against air traffic, and found that frog songs were consistently depressed each time a plane went overhead. Sometimes this happened every 3-4 minutes, all day long.

I was struck by the idea that people in the plane were completely unaware of the impact they were having on these little frogs so far below them, but they were hurting them all the same. With a plane flying over every few minutes, the frogs' singing time is significantly shortened, and their stress hormones are elevated, causing their reproduction to be less successful. Just another nail in the coffin for amphibian populations, which are already crashing from pollution and habitat destruction worldwide. And just another metaphor for the impact human activities have on natural environments everywhere. It's like the whole of nature is flattening down in fear every few minutes. This is the kind of thing that makes me very sad.

Revelation at 5 PM

No wonder I've been feeling off-kilter all day. Mobius bra, full frontal twist.

Whew

Someone's put a lei of carnations around Gandhi's neck. On a day as loaded with significance as today, I can't help but think it's more than just a tribute, it's a symbolic gift intended to avert harm. As if to say, "This is where our hearts are. Don't strike." I'm just relieved nothing awful happened.

Do I Know You?

I'm really bad at recognizing people. You know how most people say, "I'm awful with names, but I know your face"? I'm good with names. If I can see it written down, or hear it and picture how it's spelled in my head, I'll probably remember it. But I seem to have trouble recognizing faces. I think I read too much as a kid, and it permanently warped how I learn things.

I find myself looking at someone across a restaurant, or at a park, wondering, "Is that who I think it is?" Sometimes the person I suspect it is is someone I know very well, so I should recognize them straight off. Yet I hesitate. There are bad consequences to guessing wrong on either side.

One time I smiled and then turned away from a colleague who had greeted me in a store. I thought it was a stranger just making a friendly comment - noticed the resemblance to my colleague, of course, but thought it couldn't actually be him. The next day at work, he asked me about it and I realized with a thunk of dread how rude it must have seemed.

Another time I saw a girl washing her hands in a campus bathroom and thought it was an acquaintance. I greeted her happily and asked how she was, and said I hadn't seen her around much lately. She smiled back at first and said, "Fine thanks!" but then her brow furrowed and she stopped making eye contact with me in the mirror, and I realized, staring at her, that she wasn't someone I knew at all. "Who is this freak acting like my friend?" she must have thought.

If only everyone walked around with big blocks of identifying text pinned to their clothing, then I would have no trouble.

50 Ways to Leave Your Job

Today I was thinking about all the fine distinctions between ways of leaving a job. Near the bottom of the ladder, you just quit or get fired or throw down your dishtowel and walk out. Further up, you get terminated, or give notice, or inform your superiors that you were "offered another position" (like you hadn't been looking - like someone just beat down your door and offered it to you). And if you're really high up in the world, you don't get fired. You can only be asked to step down - or perhaps you can resign in protest.

It must be scary to leave a very high-profile job, especially over some furor that blew up at the last minute. What if you liked what you were doing? What will you do next? If that job was your life, which high-profile jobs must so often be, leaving it unexpectedly would feel like falling into a bottomless pit. Do CEOs ever get asked to step down - and say, "oh, no thanks, I think I'll stay on"? And do people who resign in protest really do it on a moment's notice, or have they been unhappy for months and are just waiting for an excuse to go? Why do they think they can make the situation better by leaving and relinquishing whatever control they had over it? It's not like they're going on strike, and if the situation changes, they'll reconsider and come back. It seems like they're shooting themselves in the foot.

I hate the way jobs so often consume your identity like some kind of creeping vine, the way people define you based on what you do. I never want my job to be that important in my life. Perhaps because I'm holding it at arm's length like that, I am never going to be offered a job that important. I'll stay firmly embedded in the ranks of peons, with termination or being "offered another position" my only ways out.

Buffy and Dicey

Yesterday I watched the first two episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She looks so cute as a high school sophomore - with her round baby cheeks. Watching Buffy always makes me feel better because no matter how hard my life seems, hers is way harder, way more unfair, more dangerous, more scary - yet she approaches everything with confidence. It makes me glad that all I face are the slings and arrows of occasional social disapproval, which really doesn't matter. At the end of the day, I can go home and have a cup of hot chocolate and play with my guinea pigs. At the end of her day, she has to go hang out in the graveyard and fight vampires that are bigger and stronger than she is, and that just don't care she is only a kid.

I'm also reading Cynthia Voigt's awesome Tillerman series. Which also makes me feel better. My life is easier and a smoother ride in every way than Dicey's.

A Careening Career

Today I gave some serious thought to my job and my career. I'm not very happy in my work any more, for a variety of reasons. I'd like a job where I was a little higher in the organization, where I could do projects of my own instead of just facilitating what others do. I'd like to have a position that values my degree and allows me to use what I learned in school - right now I am lower ranking than people who have less education than I do, but much more aggression. I'd like a job that makes a positive difference in the world.

The more I try to think of jobs I could do, though, the more I feel that I'm just not suited to anything. I'm so sick of all the corporate games. The one-upmanship, the need to rush to claim credit (whether or not you deserve it), the need to constantly promote yourself and seek more challenging opportunities (whether or not you want them), the relentless, unvarying necessity of covering your ass all the time. It exhausts me. I just want to be somewhere where I can honestly be myself, and where that's all right. I want to be able to let down my guard without getting stabbed. I work with nice people, for the most part, and it's not an ambitious, money-hungry crowd, or we wouldn't be in this field. Yet even the mild corporate politics that pervade our office are too much for me at times. I can't compete - or, I just don't want to.

Walking home this afternoon, I tried to think of a job I'd rather do. I passed the library. I'd rather be a librarian. I passed the grocery store. Or a cashier. I walked past some old homes with dewy lawns and climbing roses. I'd rather paint roses all day, big old roses spangled with dew. Oh! There's a guy trimming the roses. Maybe I should be a professional gardener. There's the elementary school. I could be a school secretary. Anything, just so I can stop being a corporate rat. It's turning my stomach.

I am talking like I need some time off, but that can't be it - I just had a long weekend. This feeling is more like laziness, sheer unwillingness to do the work that must be done. But I'm not usually lazy about my job. I think the long self-esteem downward spiral that started when I accepted a job I was overqualified for (following the advice of everyone I knew who urged me to "never mind about the money, do what you love") has just started to cross into officially-depressed-about-work territory. Being depressed makes it harder to rev up the energy to get out though. Especially when on the surface my job looks better and pays better than other things I could imagine myself doing. So, for the time being I am stuck.

Happy Friday

If I don't do a 'happy' post soon, no one will read this any more. I have some thoughts about frogs that I want to record, but it's depressing so I'll save that for a few days down the road.

So, here are three things I'm happy about:
- I don't work in a meat-packing plant (the most dangerous job in America according to Fast Food Nation).
- Monday is a holiday.
- Family and home life, which is sooo much more important to me than a career, is good and solid and brings me genuine happiness.

And now here's my latest favorite joke:
Three guys are driving through the Sahara Desert when their car breaks down. They're a million miles from anywhere. They get out and start walking. The first guy takes a bottle of water with him, the second guy takes an umbrella, and the third guy rips off the door of the car and takes that with him.

As they hike across the endless sand dunes, they see a figure approaching. It's a mysterious bearded man in robes. He says, "In my search for wisdom, I would like to ask you each a question."

He asks the first guy, "Why did you choose to bring that bottle of water?" The first guy says, "Well, it's a desert, so I thought I might get thirsty." The man nods and says, "Ah, very wise."

He turns to the second guy and asks, "Why did you bring that umbrella?" The second guy says, "Well, I thought I might want some shade." The man nods and says, "Very wise."

Then he asks the third guy, "Why did you choose to bring that car door?" The third guy says, "Well, I figured if I got too hot, I could just roll down the window."

Ha ha ha! But wait, there's more:

The mysterious figure then reveals himself to be a genie. "Since you have answered my questions, I will grant each of you a wish," he says.

The first guy says, "I wish I was back home with my family!" The genie bows and says "You have your wish," and the guy vanishes in a clap of thunder.

The second guy says, "Boy, I wish I was someplace cool, like skiing down the mountainside at Vail!" The genie bows and says, "You have your wish," and the guy vanishes in a clap of thunder.

Then the genie turns to the third guy and says, "And what is your wish?" The guy says, "...I just want my friends back."