I've been addicted to 'House' lately, one of the few American shows that I'm still fairly new to (a lot of 'Two and a Half Men' rerun action!) and feel like watching in London. I think the plot lines of the show aren't that interesting, but Hugh plays a really complex character, a genius doctor who has a limp and is addicted to painkillers, and is awful to everyone around him.  He manages to play the role with so much authority (including the most perfect American accent for a Brit),  and with so much subtlety. You know that there is a lot going on in this character, and that he has full of contradictory texture. Even the plot can be a little thin at times, he more than makes up for it.

I managed to catch an episode of 'A Bit of Fry & Laurie,' his old sketch show with Stephen Fry which made me laugh aloud!  

So I have been posting a lot of stuff on facebook about my favourite singer/songwriter of the moment, Colin Meloy, who also heads my favourite band of the moment, The Decemberists.  People have been asking me questions about why he's worthy of so much internet space and occupies such a large portion of my brain.   I thought about it and made a list:

1) He writes lyrics that you might need a dictionary to understand (kind of different from the usual pop fluff)
2) He interacts with his audience rather than giving a heavily styled show
3) He supports local organizations in Portland - like the amazing Jackpot Records, who recently opened a new store
4) He speaks candidly in interviews about himself and his music
5) His music draws upon myths, fables, and stories from many different cultures - he writes outside of his own experience (convincingly)
6) He wears glasses

Okay, so number 6 is really my bias, but in a world of Lasik and contacts, it's nice to see fellow myopics proudly wearing their specs!

I found out yesterday that some I know has breast cancer.  We are not very close friends, but she is someone I admire and find interesting and kind.  When things like this happen (illness, injury, incident), the worries of our lives seem rather hollow.   There are a few hours of shame when we reconsider how sorry we felt for ourselves because of paper deadlines, not-so-nice bosses, unpleasant conversations, or getting short-changed.  Then we realise that we should stop worrying so much about our own lives and start thinking about the bigger picture. 

Well, this is what I do anyway.

But what surprises me is how quickly this perspective fades away and how easily I fall back into the same routine of worrying about the small stuff which in the grand scheme of things, don't matter at all, which will probably  be completely irrelevant, and perhaps laughable when I'm older.  I wonder if this is because the bigger things are too painful to process or to abstract to consider over long periods of time.   I really wish I were the sort of person who could maintain perspective, but in the meantime, I think I'll probably continue worrying about everything...

This New York Times article, which is now 2 years old, has something interesting things to say on the subject, especially the last line:

Aging: Getting Older Along With the Bluebird of Happiness

Working in advertising is characterised by a number of things, one of which I find immensely interesting: the fact that most people in the 'account planning' departments have something outside of work that they'd 'rather be doing,' 'will do someday,' 'do in my spare time.'  These things range from playing in a bands and writing novels to exotic dancing and baking vegan brownies...   I, too, am among the legions who have another life which swells within me at inopportune times like client meetings. Some people I know have made the choice to leave the corporate world behind and give their passions their full attention.  Some have triumphed in their endeavours, and others have failed. But most people I know who have taken the plunge, claim to be happier, despite the change (often drastic) in circumstances their professional choices have required. I wonder: is it okay not to choose?  Is it okay to live your life with your foot in two camps?  When the imaginary lines are drawn in my head, I know which side I would stand on.  It's just when they're drawn in real life that I find them problematic.

The one thing I've noticed is when filling out forms that ask you to specify your occupation, and my response is 'writer,' I get all tingly.  Surely that says something?

We spent the afternoon at the Barbican Centre, which is one of my favourite cultural places in London.  We started by seeing the new Guillermo Del Toro, El Orfanato/ The Orphanage.  It was much more scary than I expected, particularly ending which was horrific in that X-Files kind of way.  What I really loved about the film was the careful way in which it was shot which kept the film out of cliche land. It has been a very long time since I've seen a film that scared me in that way. 




Then we went up to the gallery to see:

"Martian Museum of Terrestrial Art
Anthropologists from outer space set out on a mission to understand life on earth. Imagine that they begin their mission by examining the curious phenomenon that human beings call ‘contemporary art’. What does Art tell them about human life and culture?"

I really liked the idea that the art was organised according as though Martians had sent anthropologists to classify it.  It made me think about art differently, and somehow took the pressure off.  Although I usually value what curators have to say about art, I think it's important to take away our own interpretation.   I see people holding their audio guides in museums, careful to read every card on the wall.  But sometimes in doing this, we forget to ask, how does this art make us feel?  What  does it remind us of? What do we like about it? What we think the artist was trying to do?

This is taken from a really inspiring blog:

talking to prospective PhD students

Two undergrads just asked me what it’s like to do a PhD. You are trying to get me in to trouble again, aren’t you? Well, how much worse can it get? This is what I’ve been telling prospective PhD students for years — and I might as well tell you.

• don’t do it! Life is too short, a PhD is too long. There are a million other ways to spend your life which are more rewarding both personally and financially. Check out the drop-out rates from PhD programmes: why do you think the students are leaving? Consider the opportunity cost: by doing a PhD what is it that you are not doing? When you turn 32, your friends will start to make mega-bucks while you still will struggle to get money for a bus pass.

• a PhD is for life. Doing a PhD is not just getting a bit more education, it is a long arduous journey that will profoundly change you in a number of ways. You might not like what the PhD turns you into, or your girl/boyfriend might not like it. In fact half-way through he/she is likely to leave you. Take another look at people who already have PhDs. Do you really want to become like them?
• funding. It costs some 10,000 pounds per year to do a PhD in the UK, plus living costs. Nothing a university does is worth this money. I certainly don’t want you to work part-time stocking shelves in the Bodyshop in order to pay my salary. Make sure you have full funding before you begin — or better yet, make sure you are born independently wealthy.
• don’t expect any worldly rewards. There won’t be any, at least not any worldly rewards that justify all the hard labour. Over the door to each PhD seminar room there is a sign which says ‘Abandon all hope ye who enter.’ Few people will read what you write, or if they do they read only in order to tear you apart. If you are unlucky this will include your supervisor. Once you have the doctorate you are unlikely to get a good job, or a job in a place where you want to live, or in the place where your spouse already works.
  
  
• all the rewards are intrinsic. They are the rewards associated with the reading, thinking and writing itself. Do you get a happy, glowing, feeling when the computer starts up in the morning? Does your pulse quicken when you walk through the gates of the library? Will your heart momentarily swell with pride when you’ve conceived of a particularly pregnant sentence? If these simple, everyday, pleasures aren’t good enough, don’t bother.
• go West young man/woman! The best American universities are far better than the best European. This is particularly true for PhD programmes. In the US PhD programmes have two years of course work during which you interact closely with the professors and discuss real intellectual questions with your peers. And above all, American universities usually pay you rather than you paying the them. Difficult to beat!
• as a PhD student you will for the first time produce knowledge rather than just consume it. To produce knowledge is hard, lonely, exasperating. It is also the most noble activity any one can engage in. Thought, refection, critique is what makes us human. As a PhD student you will belong to the select few who have an opportunity to take a step away from the world and to study it with the tools of science and philosophy. For a little while you will find yourself responsible for the perpetuation of human civilisation. If that sounds fun to you — if you cannot think of anything more exciting — welcome, you are one of us.

Posted by Erik on Thursday, April 6th, 2006 at 9:37 am.

(death cab for cutie)                                                                         (the decemberists)

- Images: Dunechaser, Flickr

The Death Star Canteen.

This morning at an ungodly hour, I listened to NPR's streaming newscast, and I heard a really great thing:

'In the absence of real news, there is a lot of speculation...'

It was a story about Eliot Spitzer, but I am so pleased that NPR actually pointed out the difference between fact and speculation.  It suggests that we know that there aren't any new developments about Spitzer, but we know it's on your mind, so we're going to demonstrate how people are speculating about what will happen.

Why do people watch Fox news when they can listen to NPR?

Last night we met my younger cousin Jon, who is in the UK for Spring Break, at the Wellcome Collection, for the final day of their exhibition on Sleep.  As always, the Wellcome's take on this very nebulous theme was interesting and educational.  What was particularly interesting was a section on how and why people crave their own bed, and how that is a by-product of affluent Western cultures, that has since spread into developing countries.  They talked about how having one's own bed is still actually a luxury as in many parts of the world people either don't have such a space, or have to share it with a number of people.  This is nothing new, but it made me think about how ironic it is that we're affluent enough to have our own beds and yet we are happy to sacrifice sleep for work. 

It was also fun watching Jon read the sections about the importance of regular sleep cycles and shrugging his shoulders after just having said to me, 'So the night before I left for London I decided that I wanted to get to bed early. Around 3 I said good-night to my house mate, who happened to have some jug wine in his room, so we killed it until 7 instead.'


- Image: The Wellcome Collection
__

In other news, Jon brought his iPhone with him which I drooled over at Thanksgiving, but after seeing it again, I really really really really want one.  Damn you, Apple, for making all my technology seem obsolete a year after I've purchased it. 


-Image:  http://www.lekowicz.com/wren_forum/category/memories/

So last night I had a three way call with my friends Jodi & Evan.  They're in the States so it was a little late for me, but totally worth it!   It made me think about how important is to call people rather than just e-mail them. We were talking about how at one time in our lives we knew the details of each other's lives, what we ate for breakfast, our schedules, our taste in music, our favourite foods.  Maybe this is due in part to being in college when time is measured in classes, and when you live next door to your closest friends.  Having said this, it is extremely comforting to talk about the minutiae of their lives, rather than the overall themes.  Life's in the details after all.

I have been buying CDs again after a long hiatus.  I usually buy them used on Amazon, but decided last night that I would do something different.

The gratification of going into a store and sorting through the badly named categories (indie-pop, indie-rock, and my favourite, 'world') is really different from buying something online. There is that lovely possibility of finding something because you're in the wrong section and making an impulse buy. Somehow it doesn't happen that way on Amazon because they're always recommending music 'you might like' rather than random stuff you haven't heard of. 

Anyway, I went in the store to buy Chris Walla's new album, Field Manual, and came out with Joni Mitchell's 'Blue,' and The Postal Service''s 'Give Up' (Ben Gibbard & Jimmy Tamborello).  I know that the connection between Walla and Gibbard is obvious, but I love the fact that it was actually Joni Mitchell that led me to The Postal Service, and not some bot grouping my tastes together in a succinct manner on my 'recommended page' on Amazon.   Maybe it's good to let chance in the door sometimes, especially when it comes to music. 

As for the three albums, they are all excellent in their own way, and I think it's time to relocate to the Pacific NW because apparently that's where all the good musicians come from.

Persepolis, by Marjane Satrapi is the best graphic book I have ever read (this sort of implied I've read a lot of them, which isn't exactly true). Well, let's just say it's one of the best books I've read in my life. To communicate themes of oppression, revolution, sexuality, spirituality, communism, and much more in the form of a comic and still be able to make what you say powerful and provocative is surely the work of a genius.  I have yet to see the film which  I know garnished rave reviews, but in the meantime, add this one to your list.


- Image: http://colinresponse.files.wordpress.com/2007/12/persepolis.jpg

-Comic courtesy of http://xkcd.com


Pwned 

A corruption of the word 'Owned.' This originated in an online game called Warcraft, where a map designer misspelled 'owned.' When the computer beat a player, it was supposed to say 'has been owned.' Instead it said, so and so 'has been pwned.'

It basically means "to own" or to be dominated by an opponent or situation, especially by some god-like or computer-like force. "Man, I rock at my job, but I still got a bad evaluation. I was pwned."

- Definition courtesy of www.urbandictionary.com

[Error: close lj-embed tag without open tag]</div>

I watched 'Californication' for the first time - and loved it. Who knew there would be life for David Duchovny after The X-Files. I've always been fascinated with Los Angeles, and after a friend moved there a few years ago (a die hard New Yorker) and transformed into a tanned, new-agey type of person, I'm starting to think there is something in the water. People say it's a plastic place occupied by materialistic shallow people. LA is TV like while NY is theater. I don't think I could ever live there mostly because I enjoy variable weather, but I think it's time for another visit.
------------------

I really miss learning things that are quantifiable and finite.     While I love problems that don't have one definitive answer, there is something immensely satisfying about ones that do.   They're cleaner somehow.   I didn't get the Math gene the rest of my family has so while my brother can appreciate Calc, the mere thought of that class in high school makes me shudder.  On the Tube the other day, I saw a man with a paper which looked a bit like this.  He would occasionally scribble something down, or shake his head, or smile.  I wanted to ask him what he was looking at, but then again, maybe it's better not to know?