Hello there. It's been so long since I've posted, I can hardly believe you're even reading this right now. Have you been waiting since January, checking my blog each day, thinking to yourself "maybe today..." and then letting out a long sigh when you find that my blog's latest post is still the one about some book? Well, today you will sigh a sigh of relief, because I'm back! And I'm here to write about coffee.
I have been addicted to caffeine for a long time. I don't remember when it started, but it was somewhere between high school and college. It flared during the summer after my senior year, when I was watching Gilmore Girls excessively while house sitting. The gilmore girls are hopelessly addicted to coffee, and they speak about coffee every 5 seconds. All that mention of coffee, combined with boredom and the novelty of being in someone else's house, I started drinking coffee about 3 times a day.
Four months later and I was living in New York City, working two jobs, one of which was the closing shift at Starbucks. Working at Starbucks fanned the flame, to say the least, and before I knew it I was drinking a venti iced red-eye on the way to work in the mornings. (A red-eye is coffee with a shot of espresso in it.) My addiction continued unchecked for another year, give or take a couple months.
Last winter, I vowed to make over my life. I had started doing yoga, and I wanted to begin a macrobiotic diet. Macrobiotics doesn't allow caffeine (or meat, dairy, tomatoes, or alcohol), so I tried to quit cold turkey. I have to say it was extremely difficult to cut off all vices in one fell swoop, and all of them slowly crept back into my life. But I did manage to stop drinking coffee and switched to black tea. I stayed with black tea until very recently, when coffee slowly came back into my life, and now I am a lunatic for the stuff again.
Now, you might say, black tea has almost as much caffeine as coffee, so what's the big deal? The big deal is that I can function in the mornings before I have tea. I don't have dramatic ups and downs in energy level. I don't turn into a huge b-i-t-c-h or fall asleep at my desk if I don't have a cup of tea in the afternoon. Coffee, though, has a vice-like grip on my brain, and it makes me nuts.
So, I'm going to start over. I know what's coming: blinding headaches for a couple days, irritability. But I know that it's worth it, and I think it will help to write about this endeavor in this here blog, and I hope you'll bear with me. I'm going to take a step-down approach, switching to black tea first, and then down to green tea.
The sad irony is that what fuels my determination to quit coffee is, in fact, a giant cup of coffee.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Chronic City
Well, I have just been tantalized by the deliciousness over at my friends' blog "Tea and Limpets," and am now moved to contribute something to the blogosphere as well. While I didn't bake any bread or create a dessert of mini brownie pie shells filled with mousse, I have been reading a pretty great book. In my last post I talked about how excellent characters can override my experience of reading a terribly written piece of literature. Now, though, I am soothed by the deliciously long sentences of Jonathan Lethem.
"Chronic City" is Lethem's most recent novel, and so far I think it is his best. I read "Fortress of Solitude" and "Motherless Brooklyn" in college, and I loved both of them. Both FOS and MB play with different narrative styles: FOS is in 3 sections: the first from the point of view of a little boy living in Brooklyn, the second an extended fictional liner note written by the same boy, and the third from the point of view of the boy many years later as an adult. "Motherless Brooklyn" is narrated by an autistic man. In "Chronic City," the narrative easily moves between first and third person, but always stays true to itself, and is not as self-conscious as either of his two earlier books. (He has written many other novels and short stories, but I haven't read them all.)
When I was living in New York I actually met Jonathan Lethem twice. The first time was at the Cooper Union (location of the Lincoln-Douglas debates), where he was discussing the work of a science fiction writer whose name escapes me. At that meeting I was overcome with excitement at meeting my then-favorite author, and I could barely speak as I asked him to sign my copy of Fortress of Solitude. The second time was at a bookstore on Prince Street called McNally Jackson. This time he was with a musician named Paul D. Miller, discussing a book called "Sound Unbound: Sampling Digital Music and Culture." The book seemed incredibly interesting, and the audience was very engaged in the discussion of sampling and ownership of music in this digital age. After the presentation, I went up to meet him again, and when I offered my hand for him to shake, he just didn't shake it. Maybe he was sick, but I think probably he is an eccentric person. But I still like him!
So with that, I want to share with you a sentence in "Chronic City" that practically made my eyes pop out of my skull and my heart leap with delight, especially after enduring the short, stiff prose of Twilight:
"To live in Manhattan is to be persistently amazed at the worlds squirreled inside one another, the chaotic intricacy with which realms interleave, like those lines of television cable and fresh water steam heat and outgoing sewage and telephone wire and whatever else which cohabit in the same intestinal holes that pavement-demolishing workmen periodically wrench open to the daylight and to our passing, disturbed glances. We only pretend we live on something as orderly as a grid."
Bonus interesting factoid: Lethem splits his time between New York and Maine now, and I like to think he wrote his twisty descriptions of underground Manhattan from the comfort of a wide living room with windows facing a lake surrounded by dense forests, far from the noise of the city.
"Chronic City" is Lethem's most recent novel, and so far I think it is his best. I read "Fortress of Solitude" and "Motherless Brooklyn" in college, and I loved both of them. Both FOS and MB play with different narrative styles: FOS is in 3 sections: the first from the point of view of a little boy living in Brooklyn, the second an extended fictional liner note written by the same boy, and the third from the point of view of the boy many years later as an adult. "Motherless Brooklyn" is narrated by an autistic man. In "Chronic City," the narrative easily moves between first and third person, but always stays true to itself, and is not as self-conscious as either of his two earlier books. (He has written many other novels and short stories, but I haven't read them all.)
When I was living in New York I actually met Jonathan Lethem twice. The first time was at the Cooper Union (location of the Lincoln-Douglas debates), where he was discussing the work of a science fiction writer whose name escapes me. At that meeting I was overcome with excitement at meeting my then-favorite author, and I could barely speak as I asked him to sign my copy of Fortress of Solitude. The second time was at a bookstore on Prince Street called McNally Jackson. This time he was with a musician named Paul D. Miller, discussing a book called "Sound Unbound: Sampling Digital Music and Culture." The book seemed incredibly interesting, and the audience was very engaged in the discussion of sampling and ownership of music in this digital age. After the presentation, I went up to meet him again, and when I offered my hand for him to shake, he just didn't shake it. Maybe he was sick, but I think probably he is an eccentric person. But I still like him!
So with that, I want to share with you a sentence in "Chronic City" that practically made my eyes pop out of my skull and my heart leap with delight, especially after enduring the short, stiff prose of Twilight:
"To live in Manhattan is to be persistently amazed at the worlds squirreled inside one another, the chaotic intricacy with which realms interleave, like those lines of television cable and fresh water steam heat and outgoing sewage and telephone wire and whatever else which cohabit in the same intestinal holes that pavement-demolishing workmen periodically wrench open to the daylight and to our passing, disturbed glances. We only pretend we live on something as orderly as a grid."
Bonus interesting factoid: Lethem splits his time between New York and Maine now, and I like to think he wrote his twisty descriptions of underground Manhattan from the comfort of a wide living room with windows facing a lake surrounded by dense forests, far from the noise of the city.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
You should know I'm not immune to the vampire craze.
Seeing as the title of my blog comes from a Billy Collins poem, you may guess that I am an appreciator of the written word. Some might call me a bibliophile, and they'd be right. I love reading, and I like to think I have good taste in books. I majored in English, after all. There is just one thing that I can't really explain. I love the Twilight books.
Still reading? Thank you. Now, I say I can't really explain it, but I am going to make an effort. The Twilight series has universal appeal because it is a love story, and I think that most people enjoy love stories - especially those with happy endings. The series has the added interest factor for me of being about different kinds of love: romantic, friendly, familial. So that is the reason I like them. But, there are also reasons why I think they are terrible.
Aside from the basics - namely, the fact that the vampires in these books COMPLETELY depart from historical vampire lore, combined with the old-fashioned-bordering-on-pre-women's-lib values that the characters adhere to - the books are not well written. Stephenie Meyer's prose style is halted, overly descriptive, and lacking in a very robust vocabulary. In the fourth book she misuses the word "ironic" more times than I could count.
What I think has carried these books to the level of international phenomenon is that the characters are strong and memorable. When you read the books you really feel like you are in the narrator (Bella)'s head, feeling everything she feels, and wanting everything she wants. There is a juicy level of temptation and longing in the first two books that keeps the pages turning.
Also, I mentioned the old-fashioned values. Twilight has been criticized for being anti-feminist, but I don't think that's entirely true. The book has a simple hook for young women: girl meets boy, he loves her back, everything works out. She doesn't start a career and have blazing success in the business world, she doesn't go on a quest for self discovery. She falls in love, and that gives her life meaning. Now, of course I know that this is not something that fits into the realm of feminism, but I think that the reason it has such appeal for young girls is precisely BECAUSE it is old-fashioned. I think that feminism has pushed this ideal independence so far that young women are longing to go back to a simpler time. For a better written and more cohesive take on this argument, please read this article: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/08/15/AR2008081503099_pf.html
So there you have my thoughts on Twilight. Even though the terrible writing drives me absolutely insane, there is something about these books that keeps me coming back for more. My advice is: don't start reading them.
Still reading? Thank you. Now, I say I can't really explain it, but I am going to make an effort. The Twilight series has universal appeal because it is a love story, and I think that most people enjoy love stories - especially those with happy endings. The series has the added interest factor for me of being about different kinds of love: romantic, friendly, familial. So that is the reason I like them. But, there are also reasons why I think they are terrible.
Aside from the basics - namely, the fact that the vampires in these books COMPLETELY depart from historical vampire lore, combined with the old-fashioned-bordering-on-pre-women's-lib values that the characters adhere to - the books are not well written. Stephenie Meyer's prose style is halted, overly descriptive, and lacking in a very robust vocabulary. In the fourth book she misuses the word "ironic" more times than I could count.
What I think has carried these books to the level of international phenomenon is that the characters are strong and memorable. When you read the books you really feel like you are in the narrator (Bella)'s head, feeling everything she feels, and wanting everything she wants. There is a juicy level of temptation and longing in the first two books that keeps the pages turning.
Also, I mentioned the old-fashioned values. Twilight has been criticized for being anti-feminist, but I don't think that's entirely true. The book has a simple hook for young women: girl meets boy, he loves her back, everything works out. She doesn't start a career and have blazing success in the business world, she doesn't go on a quest for self discovery. She falls in love, and that gives her life meaning. Now, of course I know that this is not something that fits into the realm of feminism, but I think that the reason it has such appeal for young girls is precisely BECAUSE it is old-fashioned. I think that feminism has pushed this ideal independence so far that young women are longing to go back to a simpler time. For a better written and more cohesive take on this argument, please read this article: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/08/15/AR2008081503099_pf.html
So there you have my thoughts on Twilight. Even though the terrible writing drives me absolutely insane, there is something about these books that keeps me coming back for more. My advice is: don't start reading them.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving!
I am so grateful for health, happiness, and the wonderful people in my life. I wish you, faithful blog readers, a happy Thanksgiving full of love and peace.
Friday, November 13, 2009
happy friday
I can't believe my last post was only on Monday - this week has gone by so slowly, and Monday feels like ages ago. This has been a big week for me with a lot of ups and downs, and I'm glad it's coming to an end. This weekend should be good - yoga tonight followed by dinner and rock band at the neighbors', yoga Saturday, movie with friends, then I'm running a 5k (???) Sunday morning and will hopefully have enough energy for my 4:00 yoga class.
This past Wednesday I played a concert with the Orlando Concert Band at the Winter Park Raquet Club for Veteran's Day. It was a weird concert because I wasn't really prepared at all, and it was our new conductor's first show with us. The audience seemed to love it, so that is what really matters, but I felt kind of ambivalent about it. However last night at rehearsal we got a bunch of new music, and the next concert should be really great. We're playing Candide, an excerpt from Appalachian Spring, "Typewriter" by Leroy Anderson, and "The Cowboys" by John Williams. Should be fun!
This week I also got my first writing assignment from my new freelance employer. This is the first time ever I'll be paid to write something, and I'm so excited and terrified! I'll try to keep the juices flowing on my blog - just look at me already, 2 posts in one week! haha
So this post was all about me, so thank you for reading it. I must now go back to my cup of coffee and my desk job aka "reality" (c:
P.S. Here's a recommendation: Pomplamoose! Check them out on youtube - especially their version of "Single Ladies". Is it weird that I really can't get enough of that song?
oh oh oh
This past Wednesday I played a concert with the Orlando Concert Band at the Winter Park Raquet Club for Veteran's Day. It was a weird concert because I wasn't really prepared at all, and it was our new conductor's first show with us. The audience seemed to love it, so that is what really matters, but I felt kind of ambivalent about it. However last night at rehearsal we got a bunch of new music, and the next concert should be really great. We're playing Candide, an excerpt from Appalachian Spring, "Typewriter" by Leroy Anderson, and "The Cowboys" by John Williams. Should be fun!
This week I also got my first writing assignment from my new freelance employer. This is the first time ever I'll be paid to write something, and I'm so excited and terrified! I'll try to keep the juices flowing on my blog - just look at me already, 2 posts in one week! haha
So this post was all about me, so thank you for reading it. I must now go back to my cup of coffee and my desk job aka "reality" (c:
P.S. Here's a recommendation: Pomplamoose! Check them out on youtube - especially their version of "Single Ladies". Is it weird that I really can't get enough of that song?
oh oh oh
Monday, November 9, 2009
some things i like right now
1. Matt Nathanson. I was mocked for quoting his song "Come on, Get Higher" in my gchat status, but my love is not diminished. The song is sweet, catchy, and just generally nice. I downloaded his album "Some Mad Hope" and have no regrets.
2. Fall in Florida. I've talked about this before, but I just have to say it again. This weekend it was sunny, 78 degrees, and I went to two art festivals outdoors. The sky was blue and expansive, and the clouds were puffy and nice.
3. Empanadas. At the two art festivals, Lindzee and I got empanadas that were amazing and delicious.
4. Carrot chips. They're carrots cut like ruffles, basically, and kind of make me feel like I'm eating waffle-cut cheetos. Mmm.
5. Steve Ross. He's a yoga teacher and author of the book "Happy Yoga." Every time my teacher reads a passage from this book I feel hope and love just flooding into my heart. It's really amazing. One of these days I'll talk more about him, but for today I just wanted to update, since I'm trying to get in the habit of writing in my blog.
peace and love
2. Fall in Florida. I've talked about this before, but I just have to say it again. This weekend it was sunny, 78 degrees, and I went to two art festivals outdoors. The sky was blue and expansive, and the clouds were puffy and nice.
3. Empanadas. At the two art festivals, Lindzee and I got empanadas that were amazing and delicious.
4. Carrot chips. They're carrots cut like ruffles, basically, and kind of make me feel like I'm eating waffle-cut cheetos. Mmm.
5. Steve Ross. He's a yoga teacher and author of the book "Happy Yoga." Every time my teacher reads a passage from this book I feel hope and love just flooding into my heart. It's really amazing. One of these days I'll talk more about him, but for today I just wanted to update, since I'm trying to get in the habit of writing in my blog.
peace and love
Friday, October 30, 2009
darkness and light
I just read these two articles from the New York Times' "Happy Days" blog:
Number 1
Number 2
They both discuss despair as a vital aspect of happiness - the idea that without darkness we cannot experience light. I think this is a very interesting idea, but I believe that it's a philosophy more applicable to literature, art, and/or music than to life itself. It's true that we can appreciate happiness more when we have experienced despair or depression, but I don't believe that we need to cultivate suffering to heighten our experience of joy.
I think that what both these articles get at is this idea that a person has to go inward and discover their truest self, and accept that self, in order to be happy. The first article states that "despair is marked by a desire to get rid of the self, an unwillingness to become who you fundamentally are." In renaissance literature, if a character stated that they were in despair, it always meant that that character was going to commit suicide: the ultimate ridding of the self. What I conclude from the quoted statement above is that to end despair we must know and accept who we are. Only when we have taken this journey inward, really confronting our darkness and understanding it, can we come back into the light and experience compassion, sympathy, and empathy for our fellow humans.
The second author uses Coleridge rather than Kirkegaard to back up his point, which is that despair begets joy, and that experiencing intense longing is to be "suffused with love." I disagree, however. I think that to truly experience love and happiness is to be rid of longing. When we can let go and move through life with open hearts and open minds is when we can truly experience happiness. Although it is romantic to pine and be consumed with desire, it is not really the best way to live day-to-day. How exhausting to be constantly wanting! One of the noble truths of Buddhism is that to eliminate suffering, we have to let go of desires, and then we can experience peace. So, rather than cultivate or wallow in longing and despair, we can acknowledge those feelings, understand that they are transient, and move on. But once again there is this idea that we have to travel inward in order to experience happiness or peace: we're all going to experience despair, but rather than ignoring those feelings or identifying with them, we can accept them, release them, and move forward. It's this constant balance between darkness and light.
While reading and thinking about both of these articles, in the back of my mind is Karen Armstrong, whose work I've been reading and listening to on TED.com. She talks a lot about compassion, and acknowledging that we humans are all connected. Also on my mind has been the writing of Rolf Gates, who says that in order to have compassion for our fellow man (an outward experience), we have to first travel inward. To truly love others, we first have to find love within.
Number 1
Number 2
They both discuss despair as a vital aspect of happiness - the idea that without darkness we cannot experience light. I think this is a very interesting idea, but I believe that it's a philosophy more applicable to literature, art, and/or music than to life itself. It's true that we can appreciate happiness more when we have experienced despair or depression, but I don't believe that we need to cultivate suffering to heighten our experience of joy.
I think that what both these articles get at is this idea that a person has to go inward and discover their truest self, and accept that self, in order to be happy. The first article states that "despair is marked by a desire to get rid of the self, an unwillingness to become who you fundamentally are." In renaissance literature, if a character stated that they were in despair, it always meant that that character was going to commit suicide: the ultimate ridding of the self. What I conclude from the quoted statement above is that to end despair we must know and accept who we are. Only when we have taken this journey inward, really confronting our darkness and understanding it, can we come back into the light and experience compassion, sympathy, and empathy for our fellow humans.
The second author uses Coleridge rather than Kirkegaard to back up his point, which is that despair begets joy, and that experiencing intense longing is to be "suffused with love." I disagree, however. I think that to truly experience love and happiness is to be rid of longing. When we can let go and move through life with open hearts and open minds is when we can truly experience happiness. Although it is romantic to pine and be consumed with desire, it is not really the best way to live day-to-day. How exhausting to be constantly wanting! One of the noble truths of Buddhism is that to eliminate suffering, we have to let go of desires, and then we can experience peace. So, rather than cultivate or wallow in longing and despair, we can acknowledge those feelings, understand that they are transient, and move on. But once again there is this idea that we have to travel inward in order to experience happiness or peace: we're all going to experience despair, but rather than ignoring those feelings or identifying with them, we can accept them, release them, and move forward. It's this constant balance between darkness and light.
While reading and thinking about both of these articles, in the back of my mind is Karen Armstrong, whose work I've been reading and listening to on TED.com. She talks a lot about compassion, and acknowledging that we humans are all connected. Also on my mind has been the writing of Rolf Gates, who says that in order to have compassion for our fellow man (an outward experience), we have to first travel inward. To truly love others, we first have to find love within.
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