Neither hair nor there

oh it's been so long that my cookies have expired! So much has happened which is interesting and significant or at least amusing, but that will take longer to write and I want to be sure that I don't squelch my moment of remembering to post by getting lost in silly things like "wording" or "style"

So, I will venture down a familiar well-trodden path simply because it's inexplicably come up recently in several of my friend circles -- even without being initiated by me. So I figure it's something in the air. Or hair. Really, that's the issue. Why is it that hair salons seem to feel compelled to have a cutesy name? Down the street from me here is "Sahaira." Ms. O has her ire raised by anything which includes "Shear"... Shear Madness, for example. I do have a soft spot for "Curl Up & Dye". It makes me giggle.

What are your favorites? Any particular gems? Let's start a collection.

It's 2006

It's a new year and I believe that blogging protocols require that we bloggers pay some attention to this fact. There are several standard formats for this: 1) A retrospective of the previous year, 2) Resolutions for the new year, 3) Top ten lists of events or the like from the previous year reflecting rage, stupidity, hilarity, or fabulousness, 4) Predictions for the new year, 5) General summary of the way too cool and rockin' party which culminated in a really hot kiss on the stroke of midnight, or 6) Whining about feelings of loneliness and the lack of a really hot midnight kiss with expressions of regret or self-loathing.

In reviewing this list, I consider what I'm thinking about at this moment and find that I'm not fitting any form particularly well. I am thinking primarily about plans, which I suppose are not far from resolutions, but somehow feel not quite the same. I'm not interested in setting myself up for self-flagellation or feelings of failure if I don't achieve my plans. I'm looking to create a map, something on which I can always find my way again if I get distracted and start wandering (I prefer that terminology over "lost"). Wandering is a way of life for me and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

Enough pre-amble. Now for content:

I am thinking that this will be a year in which I'll try to re-connect and strengthen my bond with friends, in which I will consciously try to do things that make me happy and grounded, and in which I will spend more time thinking about just how lucky I am. I spent much of 2005 feeling isolated and dwelt on things that were gone, which (if you kept up with what was happening in my world) was not an unreasonable reaction, but not one which was fun or particularly good for me. So if you're a friend of mine, feel free to hold me to writing and calling more often and to going out dancing, climbing, chatting, biking, cooking, hiking or whatever else it is that you think you and I might enjoy doing together. (I wouldn't turn down a hot kiss either). Together is a key word for me this year. You might also experience more "thank you's" from me for random things, and know that I'm thinking about that more often.

As for feeling lucky, I always do, even when I'm down. I'm a lucky girl. I'm just going to do that more consciously now.

What brought this on? Well it's not some new-age realization as much as exhaustion. Most of the time I'm a pretty happy gal and for over 5 months now I've just been not me. I'm tired and I need to turn it around. You all know that I'm an action gal so now you also know I have some kind of plan.

When was the last time you took stock of the good things in your life? What would happen if every time you complained about something or felt treated unfairly that you tried to spend an equal amount of time thinking about something good? It really could be anything as far as I'm concerned. I was happy this morning for getting a yummy breakfast and then having time to take a nice long hot shower. How about you?

Verbal Tightrope

I'm housesitting and there's a crew here doing some renovations on the house. The main guy is probably somewhere in his 40s and today he has two young men helping him (all are white). I'm currently sitting in a part of the house where I can hear most of their conversations, but I'm working on transcriptions, so I'm not getting everything. Somehow, the execution of Tookie Williams came up. One of the young men, sounding sure that he's among friends, says that "killing him was fucked up." The older man strongly disagrees, "Bro, he killed 4 kids, bro!" (I appreciated the bookending on that statement, a technique he would continue to use to emphasize his points). One of the young men has stopped talking, so now it's down to two. They argue the case, the young man citing Tookie's self-professed innocence and various news reports, the foreman making plain statements of fact that Tookie took contracts out on people and various other things I couldn't catch. At some point, I gathered, the older man pulled a form of knowledge rank mentioning a fact based on his own experiences in jail. This left the assistant with no reply. The conversation lull was short, though, and in the next part I heard the older man was saying something (in truth, several somethings) negative about black women. All black women. At this, the young man seemed to be caught between feeling the urge to challenge the racism and needing to come off as a cool construction guy -- and he was challenging his boss. He decided to take the sex option and asked, "Are you serious that you've never thought any black woman was just smokin' hot?" This failed. I'm not sure what happened next, but at some point the foreman asked, "Bro, how can you sit there and tell me I'm a white supremacist? Bro!" I was sad to have missed the lead in to that. The next defense was odd. I pictured the older man shaking his head as he said, "Bro. You've known me for years and for 20 years I've lived in LA the whole time." I'm not sure how that proves that you're not a racist, but I guess that was the final word because afterwards he declared he was going out to smoke a cigarette.

The two young men were then left alone. I heard the gritty sounds of grout applied between spanish tiles. The argumentative young man said, "I don't know. I just don't see how you can say that shit." The second young man offers a sidestep: "You know P. He just is what he is. That's just it." Then my favorite line of the night, the one that catalyzed this post, a plaintive cry from someone who feels strongly that racism is bad, that it should be challenged, but is also unwilling to appear unmanly or to ostracize himself from the group, the verbal tightrope walking of the liberal on a (newly discovered to be) conservative blue-collar job... the young man says, "Thing is, as soon as I figured out I like pussy, I didn't care what color skin it was wrapped in."

And that really was the final word.

An abundance of hugs

This morning I cuddled with my friends' 2 1/2-year-old daughter. She sat on my lap and we read together. Then I picked up her giggling squirming body sideways and did a few bicep curls punctuated by belly kisses. After, I found myself thinking that it was too bad that belly kisses and giggling generally disappeared from an adult world -- only re-introduced when children make an appearance. I missed them. This whole "sexual attraction" thing really messed up a basic joy, something that we should all share.

This must be another reason I'm happy to be back in the Bay Area. My friends here hug. And we hold each other while dancing. But I think even more, it's the hugs. Last night, in a jazz bar, a large group of us hung out together, and joking/hand holding/casual touching/sitting close is just part of that scene. And I know that I've felt better ever since my return.

Science has made it official: people need to be touched. Hugs can make stress less damaging and are especially beneficial for women. A recent study looked at the long-term impact of a childhood without hugs (and other "loving parenting"). Raised in their first years without love, those kids did not develop essential hormones.

Do you have an abundance of hugs? If you have some to spare, spread them around.

face at rest

When I was younger, I noticed that some people looked angry or sad when their faces were at rest. That is, when they weren't thinking about anything in particular -- or at least they didn't look like they were thinking about anything. I noticed this when people were walking down the street. Some people looked like upbeat, but more seemed to be frowning than anything. Still others looked vaguely sad... I felt sorry for them.

I decided that I wanted my face to look friendly and, if possible, to look like I was happy as my normal state. I wanted my natural resting face to be a smile. I thought that would make me more approachable. Part of me wished that most people could have happy resting faces. I don't think I thought I could start a trend or anything, but I knew I wanted to be part of that happy crowd. So I practiced. Whenever I realized I hadn't been thinking about anything in particular, I tried to freeze my face in the expression it had and check if it was frowning or if my lips were tight or anything like that. I consciously relaxed the muscles in my face until I thought I looked unbothered and perhaps even contented. I find I still search through my facial muscles to be sure that they're not tensed up and relax them. I've done this several times while typing this out tonight.

I don't know if it worked or not, but I am frequently the one asked for directions or approached in groups. Maybe it's my unconsciously welcoming and relaxed expression. Maybe more people should have that. Are you frowning now? Have you frowned today? Stop!

The MicroKillers are here!

In case you all have been feeling too calm lately and needed to get nervous about something, I thought you'd like to watch a couple of shows about pandemics. National Geographic is going to air the first two of the MicroKillers series I worked on -- "Ebola" and "Super Flu" -- on November 13 (9pm & 10pm) and 19 (2pm & 3pm). (You'll have to have National Geographic Channel to see them.) That second episode will answer many of the questions I've heard tossed around in the news lately about this whole avian flu & mutation thing. After you watch it, you might be temped to challenge me with: "Are those numbers real?" and "Could that really happen?" I would answer: Absolutely. I was particularly manic on the flu episode to get the epidemiology & mathematics right.

As an added bonus, you might catch my name flying by in the credits after words like "Assistant Director," "Writer," and "Researcher."

Nov 13 schedule
Nov 19 schedule

checking myself in the central valley

The drive from LA to San Francisco crosses through some of the most foreign territory I have ever seen. I can more easily imagine myself living in a rainforest or a desert -- and I don't think it's (just) romanticism or ignorance. I've been to those places. Perhaps it is ignorance of the central valley. I simply can't imagine what I would do there. It is also an environment in which I expect the natives to be utterly, unmovably hostile to one of my kind. In my mind they believe things I can never support, they remain dogmatically closed-minded in the face of information. They will judge me. Perhaps because I enter their world with a bias written across my face, glinting off the nose ring. I judge them without knowing them. I remember the times I have tried to reach out and have had bibles thrown at my head -- (true story) -- and I take these episodes and extrapolate them unfairly across landscapes barely populated by people I've never met. In those times I always managed to find some way to communicate, have actually managed to find commonalities, but I came away exhausted, drained.

I do not want to be doing that much work as I head north to restart my life. At some point, even in a gas-sipping Tercel, it is necessary to exit my iPod-filled environment and venture out into a tiny slice of this world. A gas-station perched on the edge of it. A business catering to those of us who just pass through. A place where the workers really only talk to each other because they never expect to see any of us again. A world low on "regulars." ... or at least that's what I think. My liberal, mediating, diplomatic, one-world-lovin' self is wrapped tight in her stereotypes, pumping gas in the heat of the Central Valley. An enormous truck with tires half the size of my car pulls in, towing an aluminum motorboat. Looks like fishin' time. An older man materializes from the driver's side, dressed in camouflage with sunglasses and a hat pulled fairly low. The contrast between our vehicles is comical, but we're hooked in to the same pump, opposite sides. We both start for the handle of the windshield washer at the same time. I step back with a gesture saying "go ahead" and he startles me completely with a warm smile and a soft voice. He says, "No. No. You go ahead." And he means it. No taunting. Nothing but a big beaming smile and a gentlemanly moment. And I think I really have to check myself because that was totally unexpected. I have moved so far away from expecting goodness in this place that I was caught off guard. It is sad to be startled by a smile.

I finish and pass the squeegee on to him. I smile. He gives me another smile and a thanks. I am done, and I pull away, knowing he would still be there pumping gas into that tank for a while. Perhaps he thought about that, too, knowing he could wait. Or perhaps he's just a nice guy with a good smile and a sweet voice who was there to make me think a little.

idiot synchronous crazy

Bert's tagged me for my idiosyncrasies. This is a conversation that started after I was talking about a couple I know who revel in each others little quirks. It's interesting to think about the quirks you have that you don't really notice (because they're yours). Probably I wouldn't come up with the same list as anyone who dated me or lived with me. But, I was tagged, so here are the ones I can identify:

• My aversion to mayonnaise is just not normal. Especially considering that I'll eat just about anything else.
  
• Similar to Bert about keys... I usually hold my keys in my hand when closing the door to my house or car (even if I checked it a couple times on the way down the stairs) or at least I'll touch them or pat them as I close the door.
  
• When it rains, I crave ice cream.
  
• I'm afraid of jumping. Even if I'm only standing on a log and need to jump off it. Like a foot high or so. I'll do it, but my heart will pound. Climbing a 300 ft. wall is not a problem. Just the jumping.
  
• There are certain things that I feel can only be written down on paper with a pen. I've tried to switch to a computer, but it just keeps me from thinking.
  
• I prefer to eat food either with my fingers or with a spoon out of a bowl. I'll use a fork or chopsticks, but it's sometimes not as satisfying.
  
• Sometimes I just dance around by myself.
  
• I don't like to write with blue ink.
  
• I wash my hands a lot, particularly when I'm cooking. But it's not a germ thing. I just don't like the feeling of having gook on my hands.
  
• If I like a restaurant, I try to taste everything on the menu (unless something has mayonnaise... heh). I also tend to order combo plates.
  
• I like to practice eating and writing with my left hand. I've experimented with writing with my foot. I practice finding my way around with my eyes closed. Apparently I'm preparing for some major physical injury...
  
• When I'm by myself and thinking through things, sometimes I emphasize a decision or a realization by saying the last part out loud. Usually twice. (Not sure I should admit this)
  

I tag Koji for his idiosyncrasies. I know he's got 'em.

"I can't find the positive side of apartheid"

Today: Sentences you don't hear/say everyday... but I do.

"I can't find the positive side of apartheid."
"She was just calling to verify my mathematical model."
"Try seven days. There should be thousands dead at that point."
"Thing is, I have to figure out this terrorist plan by Monday."
"The poor macrophage is just implicated in all our scenarios."
"So how many people could you infect on the Tube?"
"I know. It's just walking that line between really scaring people and making sure it's actually accurate."

Really. I'm a nice person who is a pacifist. But I work in documentaries and these conversations are my life.

godwottery

From: A Word A Day
godwottery (god-WOT-uhr-ee) noun
1. Gardening marked by an affected and elaborate style.
2. Affected use of archaic language.
[From the line "A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!" in a poem by Thomas Edward Brown (1830-1897).]

I confess that I may sometimes be accused of godwottery... I happen to love archaic language. I revel in the specificity of certain words and in outdated (or no-longer-applicable) connotations. I very much enjoy learning words which were created for a specific purpose, to connotate a state or a thing that might otherwise have been overlooked or forgotten -- particularly, of course, if it also could suggest a particular feeling or moment in time. (More on the word "cenotaph" later...)

Sometimes the language that I love and use is not actually archaic, simply falling out of favor or fashion. I feel that I have a certain responsibility both to use the extensive vocabulary I inherited (and, admittedly, cultivated) and am also sad to watch words fall into some forgotten abyss. We have a living language, and part of life is death, but I grow so attached to some words...and even more attached to concepts which reflect a certain time or place.

English is fascinating for its breadth and flexibility. I enjoy the random and unexpected results when things grow wild. This is not to say there's anything wrong with a godwottery garden, just think of it when you next see an abundance of topiary and gnomes.