Quodlibets

Friday Random Ten (New IPod Edition--I know you are but what am I?)

1. Get Off This -- Cracker
2. I Believe in Love -- Dixie Chicks
3. Monkey Wrench -- Foo Fighters
4. Your Favorite Thing -- Sugar
5. Mercury (Live) -- Counting Crows
6. Plenty -- Sarah McLachlan
7. Bye, Bye Baby -- Janis Joplin
8. Soul Meets Body -- Death Cab for Cutie
9. King of the Rodeo -- Kings of Leon
10. Little Things -- Bush

I do love my new iPod.  The color screen (it's huge!) is awesome, and I love seeing album covers on it.  I made some changes (no more live Dave, at least for a little while) and added a few things, but it's the same stuff that was on the old one.  Hopefully, this one will shuffle better.  We'll see.

I also want to point out this story.  I'm not sure where this is coming from--I found the link to it on Hacking Netflix--in terms of authority, etc, and I could do without the glowing references to Wal*Mart, because I hate that company.  But all in all, I think that the main point--Apple and Netflix have to be careful with their best customers--is right on.  S and I are obviously Mac-addicts--and use them exclusively at home--and we are the people that Apple's bad customer service hurts.  HOWEVER, in Apple's defense:  S has been having big problems with his new 60-gig iPod (new at xmas), and this week we took it into an Apple store to be looked at.  The dude at the Genius Bar barely looked at it before he was offering to replace it.  No charge.  No questions asked.  Both of us had heard horror stories about Apple's customer service, so this was, suffice it to say, a shock.  He couldn't have asked for better treatment, and if anyone deserves it, he does.  He is unfailingly loyal to Apple.

As for Netflix, well, we use it.  And I know a lot of people who do.  Now S and I, we're not big volume customers of Netflix.  We use the three-at-a-time plan, and we just don't watch movies that often.  We rarely have to wait for a new release (we're not asking for them right away, though), and our movies ship as soon as we send new ones back.  We're not being throttled, is the point I'm getting at.  However!  I do recommend Netflix to people ALL the time, and the thought that I might be throttled at some point angers me.  I don't understand why Netflix would punish their best customers, who it seems to me might get up and leave if things get bad enough.  And these are the early adopters, the ones who spread the word about Netflix.  It just seems backward--which is what the article is saying, after all.

Moral Animals

My sister posted a link today to this study, which I've seen bouncing around some of my favorite blogs (can't remember specific ones right now).  Kate relates it to her friendships, and wonders if some of her friends secretly have a problem with her atheism--and it worries her.

But I've been thinking about it a lot too, in an entirely different way.  Morality, it seems, is something you can only acquire through a belief in God.  Or so the majority of Americans think.  But why then, would I do the right thing, ever?  If right or wrong is contained solely in God and Jesus, and those teachings, than I clearly cannot have any sort of way to tell right from wrong.  So why am I not running around cheating?  Or lying and stealing?  I feel like I have a sense of morality, and that I know what is right and wrong.  It could be my parents' influence, or society.  It could be that I've picked up some moral code from the books I read.  But who cares where it came from?  What I'm concerned about is WHY I do good things, WHY I choose to do the right thing when the situation calls for me to make that decision.

I can't remember where I read this, but somewhere, I read a synopsis of this idea:  If you are an atheist, what is propelling you to do good things?  It's not God, it's not a fear of hell, or the desire to get into heaven.  You do good things because you genuinely want to do good things.  I'm not sure if the person who wrote this was saying that it's a more pure reason for doing good things than because you HAVE to, but there it is.  I'm not jockeying for a place in heaven, nothing is compelling me except the vague desire to be good.

At the same time, I'm not sure I really believe in altruism.  It's a concept I've been toying with since The Fountainhead (senior year of high school), and if altruism is false, it means I'm doing good things to make myself feel better.  Which is really no different than the person who is trying to get into heaven. 

Anyhow, you can see how I could be turning this over and over in my head.  I'm not sure what I think.  I do, however, emphatically think that morality has, in the end, very little to do with what, if any, God you worship.  But I also think that many of the issues that average Americans think are black and white are in fact gray, and maybe, in their eyes, that makes me immoral.  There is no set "correct" morality.  There is no one morality for all Americans.  (I don't consider swearing or homosexuality immoral; I would guess many, many Americans do.  Thus, morality is fluid.  Who is correct?)  I don't have an answer, here, I just have more questions.  But I think that the principle that guides my morality--is it harmful to another?--is pretty solid.  And I don't believe in any sort of conventional god.

Back on the wagon

Tonight, for the first time in weeks, I made a new recipe.  I'd been lusting after this one since Monday night, when S presented me with a small present from his mom--one of Giada DeLaurentiis' cookbooks (if that's spelled wrong, oh well.  The book's not in front of me, and I'm too lazy to look it up.).  I don't love Giada, because I think she looks too skinny to be a cook.  She looks like she doesn't eat the food she cooks, and that annoys me.  However, I will admit that her food is infinitely more accessible, at least cooking-wise, than that other maestro of Italian food, Mario Batali. 

Anyway, the recipe.  Farfalle with Turkey Sausage, Peas and Mushrooms.  Primo delicioso.  It wasn't that difficult to make, and it tastes very good.  I really like the taste of turkey sausage in things.  I think it's almost better than regular Italian sausage.  Anyway, I didn't cut the recipe in half, because that's a pain in the ass with sausages, and I used fewer mushrooms (and baby Portobellos to boot) because the packages aren't in the size she specified.  I also used WAAAAY less oil, and I don't think it's missing anything.  And it's better for me.  (In general, I think cookbooks use too much oil.  I'm not sure if it's just my tastes, but it's too heavy and greasy.  I usually end up cutting out at least half of the oil from any given recipe.)  I didn't season according to her quantities either, but added as much as I thought it needed.  I season by eye these days.  (Unless I'm making sloppy joe.)

So yeah.  I would recommend it.  I could see myself making it again, but next time, I'd like to make it for someone else, who could enjoy it with me.  Sometimes I'm so sad that S doesn't like this kind of thing, only because I like to share good food.  I want him to taste it and tell me that it's as fantastic as I think it is.  Regardless.  Yum yum.

5 Random Things that Suck about ANY Workplace

1. (This one really applies to any place, ever, in the entire history of the world.)  It sucks when you walk into an area of the building populated by, say, the public, and all you can smell is FART.  You're only interested in going about your business, but the smell is so foul you can't breathe through your nose.  So you furtively look around, trying to peg who it is--the guy reading the newspaper?  The girl with her laptop?  The old guy on the phone?--and trying to figure out where the smell is worst, so that you can avoid that area at all costs.  And then you try to finish what you need to do quickly, so you can high-tail it away from the sour, sick smell of fart.
2. When co-workers bring food in that doesn't taste good.  Because then you invariably have to choke it down in front of them while exclaiming--"Oh, isn't this the most marvelous ________.  Can I have the recipe?"  By the same token, it's not good to bring food in unless you're certain that the food is so good no one will be able to resist it.  No one likes going into the designated food room and seeing their platter of goodies untouched.  Furthermore, YOU don't like to choke down someone's crap, so don't make people choke down yours.  That said, if you can handle the basics of cooking, and you're willing to follow a recipe, you can't go wrong bringing in, say Rice Krispies'  treats.  Or brownies from a box.  But don't experiment on your co-workers.
3. There is always one person who knows where everyone else is, and how long their breaks were, and what they've done that day.  Don't be that person.  That person sucks.  That person sucks because they spend more time keeping tabs than doing work, and frankly, they're probably not your boss.  It's good to know where your immediate supervisor or supervisees are going to be, and you should pay attention to memos that announce where people will be when, but otherwise, be vague about what you know.  No one will think the worse of you, and you come off well to whatever co-worker someone is trying to find.
4. You know who else sucks?  The person who stands by the time-clock with their coat on, holding their bags, waiting for two or more minutes to punch out.  We've all been there, and I'm sure we've all done it.  But the longer you wait, the more like a chump you look.  If you got up from your desk early, dawdled through your end of the day procedures, and you still get to the time-clock early, that's your fault.  Punch out and take the hit.  Next time, wait at your desk until the moment you can punch out, and then you're likely to get an extra two to three minutes onto your time-card. 
5. The bathrooms.  The bathrooms at any and every workplace suck.  Either you have to share them with the general public--made up of people who don't bother to wipe the seat, piss on the floor, splash water and soap everywhere, and stink it up--or you have some little hole-in-the-wall with bad lighting, yellow water, and a toilet seat that slides back and forth every time you move.  The mirror makes you look bad in these bathrooms, public or not, so you're convinced the pimple on your face looks worse than it does.  And of course, if it is a little hole-in-the-wall, every time you have to shit, one of your coworkers will try to open the locked door during your travail, and then stand outside waiting for you to be done.  Thus, it will be known that YOU are the one who makes the stinkiest damn shit this side of the Mississippi, a fact that will be rapidly dispersed to all your co-workers, who will snicker quietly from then on whenever you go near the bathroom.  You'll blush every time.

In which I purchase more stuff

I bought a new iPod yesterday.  There are several reasons for this.  One, my iPod quits universal shuffle mode at about song 350.  If I reach 350 songs, the iPod abruptly flashes to the Apple screen and I have to start all over again, which is annoying, and ties into reason two I wanted a new one.  I'm sick and tired of hearing the same 500 songs over and over again.  I really like universal shuffle mode (because I don't have any seasonal music on my iPod) because I really like all my music.  However, out of 3100 songs, my iPod consistently plays the same 500 or so, no matter what I do.  And it pisses me off.  I'm sure there are songs on this thing that I've never heard, which is stupid.  Shuffle should actually be a shuffle, not a replay of the same songs from yesterday which were the songs from the day before, etc.

My third reason for wanting a new iPod deal with battery life.  I barely get six hours of battery time.  And to get six hours, I have to listen to the thing straight through, and not change songs.  Ever.  I hate that.  I am a manic song skipper.  I love skipping songs.  Because sometimes, you're just not in the mood.  Reasons four and five are slightly frivolous, but honestly, I really just wanted a color screen and album covers to show up when I've bought something off of iTunes (lots of songs, if you consider the Q101 mix).  Those aren't things that technically needed replacing--I didn't need to replace the black/white mini-screen with a phat color one, but nonetheless, I wanted to.  Sixth, I wanted the back of my iPod engraved.  Thus, I didn't go buy my iPod at the Apple store, which I easily could have done when I was dress shopping yesterday, but I got home and ordered in online. 

I was all set to have -ManoPod- engraved into the back, but when I tried that out, it looked kind of bare.  So I tried out a few different phrases, different ways to type the same things, etc, and ended up with this:  I know you are but what am I?  As lame as it is, I think I love it just a little bit more than I should.  I erased it five million times, and tried five million other things:  initials, song lyrics, some form of ownership and other sorts of lettery goodness, but I kept coming back to it.  So yeah.  When my iPod comes later this week, it'll say, I know you are but what am I?  Like I said, I'm a little bit in love with it.

My old iPod, the big fat 40-gig one, will be going to my sis, Kate, who only has an iPod mini.  It's not perfect, for all the reasons I outlined above, but it's better than a mini.  Because it'll hold way more music, and Kate can finally have the Q101 mix.  But now that I'm thinking about it, Kate might have to get a new cord (?) for the iPod, because the cord that I use is a firewire cord (my iPod is old, came with firewire connection, not USB) and PCs don't have firewire, do they?  Still, that's a small price to pay for a 40-gig iPod.  Anyhow.  Yay for a new iPod!

What are we doing?

If you want to watch a heart-rending film, check out "Tying the Knot".  It's both life-affirming and desperately sad, all at once, which is just about the best way to descibe same-sex marriage, I think.  It's life-affirming to know that so many people love each other so much that they're willing to commit their lives to one another, and it's desperately sad that they're not allowed to, in the eyes the law.

I've talked about it before, and I'll talk about it again, but when I watch films such as this, I can't help but talk about it.  I can't help but want to cry and rip my hair out; I can't help but want to stand up and scream.  Arguments against same-sex marriage make no sense to me, but that's not news, since I don't believe in a Christian God, or the Bible.  I don't believe tradition is enough of a precedent (for if it were, women would be the property of men upon marriage, interracial marriage would be outlawed, etc etc.) for keeping marriage the way it is.  I don't believe that tradition=right.  And I certainly don't understand how we can categorically deny full humanity to a person, just because of what consenting adult they fall in love with.

And it blows my mind that so many people want to institutionalize their prejudice and hatred with some sort of Constitutional amendment saying that anybody who loves someone of the same sex is wrong, and isn't allowed, legally, to do so.  You can frame the debate any way you want--economics, tradition, Bible, blah blah blah--but this too, like so many issues, boils down to fear and hatred.  Only this issue is harder to understand than most, because this issue concerns two people, and whether or not they are allowed to love one another.

But I'm preaching to the choir.  I'm saying this to people who most likely agree with me.  So mostly, I'm just saying it to get it out of my head.  To have my rant.

Stuff

There are days that just beg for a cigarette, and this is one of them.  The first warm days of spring are perfect for opening your sun roof, turning the music up, and smoking while driving.  (Don't worry, people who hate the smoking, I didn't do it, though I longed for it.)  I mean, I really don't miss smoking when it's cold and icky or rainy or snowy.  Who wants to go stand outside in uck just to inhale some nicotine?  Not me.  But give me beautiful weather, and I start craving a cigarette.  And loud music.

In other news, I went out today and bought two dresses.  I may return one, but in light of the fact that I have 5 weddings (two without dates, but scheduled for sometime next spring/early summer) between now and June '07, three before November, it seemed like a good investment.  I've never been good at finding dresses, so this is pretty odd.  Although they both will need DRASTIC alterations to be wearable, it's worth it if I have two dresses by the end.  Nothing will EVER fit me off of the rack.  Nothing.  I'm used to it by now.  Regardless, it's sort of a weight off my shoulders, having at least one wearable dress.  And one is black, which makes it eminently useful.

Because you know, that's what I'm known for, eminently useful purchases.

Friday Random Ten (Oh, the boredom! edition)

Before I start the random ten, I'd just like to say that it is impossible to listen to the Blue Oyster Cult without thinking of Will Ferrell beating on a cowbell.  And that's a-okay.

1. Mercury -- The Counting Crows
2. Committed -- Pete Yorn
3. World Leader Pretend -- R.E.M.
4. Time Is Running Out -- Muse
5. Simple Pages -- Weezer
6. You Were Meant For Me -- Jewel
7. Clear Spot -- Pernice Brothers
8. Wicked Game -- Chris Isaak
9. Friday I'm in Love -- The Cure
10. Seven Nation Army -- The White Stripes

I could meme all day (and another diversion)

I've spent the majority of my morning looking for 75 (or 74?) bands in this picture.  I actually found it at a different site first, but came to realize that the version I was looking at was cropped.  Anyway, I found 46 bands by myself, and needed help for the rest (though I could have found at least 50 if I'd had the whole picture from the beginning.)  Funnily enough, no Pearl Jam.  If you've got some time, see what you can come up with.  If you're looking for a better quality version of the poster, try doing some sort of web search.  That's how I found the rest of the 75 (or 74).

And now for the meme.  (Hey, I'm bored at work, okay?)

What time did you get up this morning? 6:24, when S came in a woke me up to say goodbye.

Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds.

What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Failure to Launch..

What is your favorite TV show? Right now....Grey's Anatomy.

What did you have for breakfast? S'mores Granola Bar.

What is your middle name? Margaret.

What is your favorite cuisine?  All of it.

What food do you dislike?  Squash, any kind.

What is your favorite potato chip?  Can you have a favorite?  Depends on my mood.

What is your favorite CD at the moment? My iPod + my shiny new Transpod = no need for CDs.

What kind of car do you drive? 2000 BMW 323i

Favorite sandwich?  That's hard.  In a pinch, tomatoes and mayonnaise on sourdough.

What characteristics do you despise?  Willful ignorance.

What are your favorite clothes?  Shoes and purses.

If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?  Rome.  Now.

What color is your bathroom?  Ha.  White, with gray and black accents.  Including S's pictures.

Favorite brand of clothing?  Nope.

Where would you want to retire to?  I can't even begin to think about that.

Favorite time of day?  Evening.

Where were you born?  IL

Favorite sport to watch?  Football, probably.

Coke or Pepsi? Diet, caffeine-free coke.

Are you a morning person or night owl?  If I can stay up late and sleep late, I will.  But now I work at 7:30 am.

Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone?  Um.  No.

What did you want to be when you were little?  Various things, but I specifically remember the dolphin trainer phase.

What is a favorite childhood memory?  Playing Star Wars with the cousins.  (I was Leia.)

What are the different jobs you have had in your life?  Library page, gopher, balloon tech, bookseller, library assistant.

Nicknames?  Mano, and one that is too embarrassing to write down.

Any piercings?  Ears, nose.

Eye color?  Brown

Ever been to Africa? No.

Ever been toilet papering? No.

Been in a car accident? Yes.  Both as a child and as an adult.

Favorite day of the week?  Again, no.

Favorite restaurant?  Oh man, this is like asking a mother which child is her favorite.  How can I choose just one?

Favorite flower?  Daffodils.

Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?  There's no ONE store.  First I'd go to DSW.  Then Borders.  And then I'd probably go to Field's, for purses.

Bedtime?  10:00

Last person(s) you went to dinner with?  S.  Is that right?  Yes, S.

What are you listening to right now?  "Superstition" Stevie Wonder

I am not a commodity; I am not my weight

There is a fast and furious discussion going on around the internets about this concept of "false advertising" in reference to women's bodies.  To fully understand what I am about to say, you must go read this post, and at least some of the links in it.  It's an incredibly interesting discussion, and I wanted to sleep on the issue before I spewed forth my venom.  I also want to say that almost without exception, it seems every woman in this discussion is a mother, or is actively pursuing motherhood.  That is the impression I get from all the reading I've done.  As you know, I am not a mother, nor do I have any desire to be one.  But I don't think, in the end, that fact is all that important.  I'm just pointing it out in the interests of disclosure.

First of all, the phrase "false advertising" as it relates to human beings makes me want to puke.  I hate the thought of myself as some sort of product that I have to "sell" to people.  I especially hate the idea that I am a product that S "bought", because it puts me in the position of a slave, in the position of something owned, and I find that repugnant.  Ultimately, it puts S in a position of power over me.  It gives him the absolute right to have a say in every single thing I do, from the clothes I buy and wear, to the music I listen to, right down to the color I paint my toenails.  Now, I feel confident that S wouldn't be such a micro-manager of his assets--I'm pretty sure he'd let me have toenail autonomy.  But damn, it's sick to be thinking this way!  The issue of control and power in relationships is very important, and to me, it's important that I know that we are equal, in every way.  We can't be equal if I see myself as something I "marketed" to him, something that he "bought."

Secondly, I cannot bear people who stop loving someone because they change how they look.  If there is anything more certain in life, I'm not sure what it is--people change.  We wrinkle, we gray, and yes, we gain weight.  Our bodies slow down; it's the natural way.  If S expected me to look 25 until I died, well, I'd worry about him.  And then I'd break-up with him.  Post-haste.  I like to think that he accepted our relationship on the understanding that I'm not static.  Not in any way, but certainly not in looks. 

Let's look at an example.  Hair.  When he met me, my hair was short.  Like, short short.  Not even an inch long short.  His hair?  Long.  Down his back, pony-tailed every day.  Now?  My hair is long, down to my shoulders.  Longer than it's been in years.  His?  Short.  As short as mine was when he met me.  And in the intervening years, I've had bright red streaks, no color, various lengths, blond highlights and my current red/blond streaks.  Do I care how he feels about my hair?  Not really.  I hope that all he cares about is if I keep it clean.  If he's going to break up with me because I color my hair, I don't want him.  Sure, it's a bonus if S likes my hair as much as I do, but I'm not letting anyone dictate how I can and can't wear my hair.  Point blank.

And I really feel this way about every single appearance issue we can talk about (short of the issue of hygeine, which is a completely different issue; I don't consider weight a hygeine issue--cleanliness is a hygeine issue).  If he doesn't love me no matter what I look like, then he doesn't love me.  And he's amazing on that count.  He never cared what I weighed, and he doesn't care now.  He didn't understand when I started WW, because he thought I was beautiful.  He thinks I'm beautiful now, and he never, ever mentions any sort of difference.  And damn it, that's how I want it.  I want to know that my worth to him has NOTHING to do with how I look, and everything to do with who I am.  His worth to me can't even possibly be measured in appearance, so I don't think he can measure mine that way. 

I'm not sure what else to say about this, except that all the issues that come up in the discussion after this relate to how, as a society, we've become obsessed with fat.  And I hate it.  I obviously struggle with it, and I hate reading stories of women who think it's okay to condemn themselves (and others) for carrying a few extra pounds.  For being a 6 instead of a 4, a 16 instead of a 14, and so on.  It seems to me that instead of being unhealthily obsessed with this, and thinking our partners have a right to be obsessed with our weight, we just need to be, to just exist.  It's a struggle, there's no doubt about it.  And I can't imagine how much worse it would be for me if I had a partner that said hurtful things about my weight.  I can't imagine staying with a person who did say hurtful things about my weight, first of all.  But I especially can't imagine the struggle for self-esteem; I struggle enough, and S is perfect about this sort of thing.  It is, I think, the height of cruelness for any partner to add to the hurt and struggle by saying something, no matter how helpful or positive they think they're being.  I sincerely can't imagine what would compel someone to do such a thing.  It only ever hurts. 

So I guess, long story short, the answer to the question is:  No.  No, you don't have a responsibility to look a certain way for your partner.  You don't have to live up to some non-existant promise that you'd always look the way you do now.  You don't have to lose or gain weight at the pleasure of your partner, and you don't have cut your hair or shave your legs or wear make-up or not for him/her.  All you have to do is be the person you are, and hope that the two of you love each other enough to weather the changes each of you will go through.  Superficial and otherwise.