nudle

Brain crack, bullying, and my anti-hoarding initiative.

Cited recently by my internet friend Mr Beagley, this short movie about ideas is worth watching if you've ever thought you might make something. Be amused.

I recently heard that some bullying is going on at my daughter's school, and I bravely made an appointment with our assistant head to talk about it. Apparently (and unsurprisingly), according to some British researchers, bullying can turn kids psychotic.

Now I am off to (more bravery! onward!) recycle some piles of paper. (whimper)

Addendum: This one cracked me up too. Now I'm closing all my browser windows. Maybe I'll even turn off my computer.

Addendum II: Little movies probably not suitable for work or children, as they contain swear words.

What's been going on with me lately.

My birthday has come and gone. Forty-two sounds very old. So often I feel like I'm fourteen!

Seven is this weekend's milestone for Iona, who is having her birthday party in a giant bouncy place and is expecting a lot of gifts even though on her party invitation I wrote, "No gifts, please." So I'm on the hook.

Iona has asked me twice, "Mom, is Santa Claus real?" The first time I said, "Well, um, some people think he is. Moms and dads certainly help him out. I mean, it's a lot to get presents for all the kids in the world. Some people think he is a symbol for Christmas, you know, the spirit of giving?" She said, "Okay." The second time she asked, we were backing out of our garage too fast, late to school again, and I said, "Iona, I cannot talk about this right now."

We went to see my sister and my parents in Arizona and had fun, and then we went to Boston to see our good friends and had fun.

I just finished (finished! finished!) my freelance job that began last October. Satisfying, and really satisfying that it's over. Now it's time to get nesty and paint Han The Younger's room orange and red on one wall. Oh, and go buy Iona a lot of gifts, and fix the deck and weed the garden and do some physical fitness activities and maybe write a new short story.

I am ambivalent about the imminent arrival. That is to say, sometimes I want to get on with it already! And other times I feel dread in the pit of my stomach at the realization that my time will not be my own any more. And will I like him? Will he like me? Perhaps this is normal. Will I be depressed when the time finally comes? I'm happy these days, for the most part, and don't tend to be depressed as a general rule. So it should be interesting. Time to get that running stroller in working condition. (Add to list.)

The weather is beautiful and the garden, though it needs work, is beautiful. A big tree is blooming pink and the delicate fragrance of the clematis hiding the chain link fence wafts over when we walk from the garage to the front door. I wish I could stop time. And then I wish I could speed it up. Oh, ambivalence, you are my friend.

In a little while, after I fold some of the mountain of clean rumply clothes, I am going out in the beautiful and will run for a while, and get hot and sweaty and vitamin D. Running slows time, and I guess that's the best I can ask for.

What's been going on with me lately.

It takes such a long time to really know someone, and you don't really know them until you see them in all contexts, so who do we really know? Our sisters and brothers (if we're lucky) and our lovers and partners and children. Like, take my friend. I thought I knew him well, but was surprised by certain characteristics he has in the presence of his wife. Nothing bad, you, because you know who you are. Just interesting and funny.

Iona said yesterday during another fight over practicing violin, "If you keep doing that, I might need to get a new mother!"

Well.

One reason I haven't been posting here or writing anything is that I'm doing freelance work for a friend. I got a 'job.' It is small. Working (like working for a living, or painting, or writing, or any number of things where you make stuff) is hard but it gives me the satisfied feeling of making something, and who knows where it will lead? I have to make something to know where it will go; it's the fun mystery. I mean, I bet Bill Gates used to sit in his basement in front of his homemade computer musing about the fun mystery of writing code. If I don't make it, I will never know. But I can't let work get in the way of writing. Maybe I'll start writing here every day. Something small. Because, make no mistake, this thing that I'm writing now is big.

On the subject of blogging and all things flatscreened, I've been thinking about the importance of controlling my attention via Mr Beagley. All this stuff, information, people from the old neighborhood Facebooking us, email, web surfing, television, video games, direct mail, radio, satellite radio, distraction after distraction and meanwhile, we're trying to make something or be a good parent or a good friend or sister or daughter or wife and it's all happening and we need to exercise! And make balanced meals! And help with homework! And remember to call people back once in a while! And fold the laundry! And volunteer! Sometimes it's easier to turn on HBO.

Adoption is terrifying. I mean, we got through all the race stuff, right? No! Guess what! Our baby, who might be named Miles or Coll (is that mean, to name our kid Coll after another island off the West Coast of Scotland, when teachers and other grownups will consistently call him "Cahl" and he will have to find the moxie to say, "It's [kʰɔlˠ̪ə], actually"?), is coming from a true, active patriarchal society based on Confucian principles! In other words, it's all about the first son, who is king of the world, and women are lowlier than the bellies of bondaegi (sorry to any Korean persons I am offending here; please set me straight). Granted, that whole gender supremacy stuff is one custom we will not be observing with Coll-Miles. We will, however, have Chuseok, which means I'm really going to have to get a handle on our ancestral thing because that's what it's all about. Honoring ancestors with offerings and then eating yourself silly on August 15.

I don't like wind. It has been windy here for a couple hours, and it just now died down. That whistling, blustering! It makes me feel a little like those pioneer people who were driven to do odd things (I already offended Koreans so I don't want to offend the mentally ill by writing 'crazy things') and while on the subject of pioneer people, I just want to state that I am grateful for modern conveniences like furnaces, the dishwasher, the grocery store and Netflix.

I'm so angry with Israel; who the (INSERT BAD WORD IN ALL CAPS HERE) do they think they are? Of course I don't truly understand the whole politics, history and cultures of the region, but to (BAD WORD GERUND) blow up people hiding in a school with hot shrapnel is just (BAD WORD GERUND) (BAD WORD PAST TENSE). Expletive.

I am cowardly when it comes to talking about difficult subject matter like, I know your wife left you yesterday and that must feel bad; or, I'm so sorry you have cancer and I really wish you didn't. So I say nothing and then I feel bad about that. I need to find my own moxie, apparently.

After the exhausting, fun hustle and bustle of the holidays I now wait way too eagerly for the mail.

And damn, there's the wind again.

I read a short story today by a young woman in my writing group who will probably go to Iowa for graduate school. I'm glad for her, and my lazy side says better you than me, but a big part of me is envious. She is really good. Oddly, instead of making me want to hang it up, reading her story makes me want to write again. See "working" paragraph, above.

On Bettie Page and capitalism and the f-word.

Addendum:

And here I thought I was so moderate last night. One beer, club soda, one wine, water, one wine, water. Maybe another half glass of wine. Oh, I guess there was that small glass of wine at 4:00 at the kids' holiday part at the office. Perhaps it had a cumulative effect. Anyway, I have to agree with Ewan that this post is nonsense. I almost took it down, but that didn't seem right. So here it is, a cautionary tale against drinking and thinking and blogging it!

***

Red Hat Chooses Food Bank Over Festivities

By Alan M. Wolf

The News & Observer
12/05/08 4:00 AM PT

Red Hat (NYSE: RHT)  recently scrapped plans for a massive holiday party.
Instead, the Raleigh, N.C., software company will donate the money it would have spent to a food charity chosen by employees.

The move comes as the slumping economy is hurting philanthropic donations and increasing demand among the needy.

What's been going on with me.

I need to get a life (i.e., I really need to work! Though in my case some might write it this way: "work;" because, though I have piles of short stories all over this house, I have yet to be published! In fact, I have yet to submit anything for publication! Also, if I need so desperately to "work," one might question what I'm doing right now! In answer, I would posit defensively, "I'm getting warmed up!")

I am still fretting over (and reading obsessively about) the demise of 'the voice of my generation,' a label he would likely hate
...and, related, the destructive powers of self-consciousness, cynicism, hypocrisy, corruption and, in some cases, decisiveness

I am slogging through the long road of adoption with a good dose of ambivalence and dismay at my own failings, which makes me realize that perhaps I have more faith than I thought because here we are, still filling out paperwork

I am reworking old writing, and realizing again how difficult it is to ever finish anything

Iona has three birthday parties to go to this weekend (I need to go buy gifts which I will probably do by myself because of the sheer exhaustion of repeating over and over, "No, it's not your birthday honey, no, put that back," even though some might say it's healthier to have your child help choose gifts for loved ones, thus learning the 'spirit of giving')

My keyboard is acting funny, frequently refusing to respond cordially when I request 'r' (time to get out the notepad and a pen)

I am trying to avoid talking about, listening to news of and reading and sending emails about a certain Republican Vice Presidential candidate (though I like the idea that came my way yesterday of making donations to Planned Parenthood in her name)

...and the economy is collapsing! I wonder what's happening with my money! If I don't look maybe it will all fix itself!

Fourth.

I had fun this weekend hanging out at a beach house with friends from high school and all of our kids (age 0 to 14), along with my friends' various sets of parents. Thanks to our hosts, food and drink magically appeared just when we wanted it. Dangerous fireworks were lit and admired, and we could see two additional shows from our waterfront seats. After Ewan and the children and the grandparents fell asleep those of us remaining sat in the hot tub until the wee hours hashing over how well we know each other and, of all the crazy things, still love one another. And the raccoons left us alone (Iona and I had a startling midnight visitor when we spent the Fourth in this house three years ago).

On the way home the next day Ewan, Iona and I stopped at 13 Coins for a good-bad-for-us lunch to soak up the beer, and I ran into my friend Rochelle, whom I've known for approximately thirty-one years. I'm happy that she looked happy. It may have something to do with having a nice, handsome partner after being married to a p-r-i-c-k for, really, too long. Or maybe she's happy because she knows she's strong and funny and loves herself for getting through some tough times these past ten years.

The scene at the 24 hour 13 Coins was (as it often is) surreal. The staff wore pained, false cheery expressions and (though the place was half empty) told everyone there was a half hour wait. Our waiter seemed to think that if he looked meaningfully into our eyes and said everything with deadpan irony we would forgive the ridiculous wait for Iona's biskitti and one meatball. And (of course) we did forgive. The chef was barely concealing his desire to commit suicide under a thin facade of hostile jokiness. A well-turned-out ninety-year-old woman in a suit and wheelchair drank an early afternoon cocktail in the Night Owl Room. It was all very Toulouse-Lautrec.

Then we napped for two and a half hours, got up and ate salmon with local strawberries and whipped cream for dessert, and watched Cloverfield. Ridiculous! Scary!

What's been going on with me.

We went to violin camp. I (with my sisters) am throwing an anniversary party for my parents on Saturday. A red marker bled on the light blue sofa. The adoption process marches on, excruciatingly slowly. A birth mother will choose us. I am imitating Chekhov in a piece I am writing about college boyfriends. It is sunny.

What's been going on with me.

I've been writing, just not here. But I missed writing here, so here I am, writing about what I've been writing about.

I wrote a parenting resource plan for adopting an African American infant (Korea is an eighteen month wait, minimum, and now we think that's too long to wait). One big difference between adopting and having a biological child is the paperwork. At least, I thought the parenting resource plan was paperwork, but it's ended up being an expansion for me, a sort of prototyping experience. Writing about how we would bring Korean culture and African American culture into our lives has expanded my views of what identity means. I look at people differently now that I've prototyped walking beside them. In my mind, on paper, through research, I've attended a celebration of Korean American Day, gone to Festival Sundiata and gone to the beauty shop to get tight little braids in my daughter's hair. Probably both daughters' hair. Though we can't choose the child's sex. And an infant! No sleep! Diapers! We are definitely out of our minds, in a good way.

I wrote my final story for the final quarter of my class and handed it in last week. It's about a girl, her mother, her grandmother and the spirit of an African American nanny. My classmates will talk about it tonight. It's a story that I need to continue to write and rewrite. It's a cycle and a prophecy.

I rewrote "Puce Box" and read it out loud at University Bookstore last night. It went pretty well; I had fun. My sister and parents were there.

I wrote an analysis of a classmate's story. It's good, she's a good writer, so that was a pleasure.

I'm tired. Ewan's tired. Iona is tired, too. We're off out of here for a vacation soon.

Gung hay fat choy!

Since it's all about me, here's a description of my Chinese astrological sign, the sheep. But you know it's all about you, so go look at yours here.

Generally speaking, people born in the year of sheep are generous, just and kind, and easily touched by other people's misfortunes. They are meek, and somewhat timid by nature. When everything goes extremely smoothly in their lives, they appear graceful, if they are artists, and are creative, if they are workers. If something goes especially wrong in their careers or other aspects of life, they will become very sentimental and pessimistic, even world weary.

Behaving gracefully and kind-heartedly, they are always respected and admired by others. They are used to guiding their own conduct by liberal rules as well as treating others with leniency. Besides being good housekeepers, they are also fond of children and pets. Though mild in disposition, they never yield under pressure. It is impossible to force them to do something. When coerced, they will behave in an intransigent way; and when challenged in an argument, they will remain silently anger rather than repeat their opinions or show their displeasure.

Pure and kind as they are, they are always ready to help others who are in need of care or money. Throughout their lives they never worry about the three necessities: food, housing and clothes. Wherever they go, they will make friends with other people, and they will treat their colleagues honestly. Those born in the year of sheep are destined to have good marriages. They will be loved not only by their spouses, but also by family relatives.

It is said people born in the winter of the year of sheep will go on rough and rugged paths throughout life, for winter is a season without the green grass that sheep to live on. Actually, whatever adversity they find themselves in, they needn't be too worried, for other people are always willing to help them. Even when they are in abject poverty they can survive on material donations from their parents or relatives, or through social protection and promotion from the rich and powerful. In all, people born in the year of the sheep can easily get out of difficulties and failures with the help of others who love them.
They like to do things that they are interested in, and realize their dreams in a natural way. When there's something they are unwilling to do, they always refuse with the greatest gentleness and patience. No one knows their true feelings on such occasions, unless they are in rage. As a matter of fact, they are good at settling disputes and creating a harmonious atmosphere around themselves.

They seldom speak in a straightforward way, especially the less well-bred ones among them, which often annoys other people. Never count on them to pour out everything on their minds at once. People must get to know them little by little. In order to encourage them to say more, people should nod from time to time to show their agreement, and always leave some leeway out for them.

It's best for people born in the year of sheep to cooperate with someone who has a strong character. Only under strict working rules and the leadership of hard-minded colleagues, can they make full use of their abilities and work efficiently. So it's best to help them get rid of their "dependent mentality."

They like to live within their usual circle. They attach great importance to their families, favorite foods, birthdays and other festivals. They usually celebrate such special occasions in a showy way, and they are extremely serious about their own birthdays. They may feel heart-broken if they get no congratulations from others.

It seems that people born in the year of sheep are melancholy and sentimental by nature. They always look upon the world passively. Besides, they are used to counting on others to cheer them up. it is easy for them to get lost and to be blue when frustrated, and to make improper choices when going shopping.

Young women born in the year of sheep like to appear sharp. They have a special interest in clothes with ruffles and ornaments. Every day they spend much time in making themselves up. They always behave in an elegant and orderly way. Besides, they like to decorate their rooms with fresh flowers, which adds to their beauty and vigor. The middle-aged women born in the year of the sheep pay great attention to personal sanitation. They are always neatly and well dressed.

Young women born in the year of sheep like to express their love for their sweethearts in a front way. They trust the men they love, and they want to stay with them every second. To those pursuers in whom they have no interest, they will pay no attention. When someone happens to hit their fancies, they will shake hands with them without any seductive behavior. When they talk, sometimes they will mean "no" by saying "yes," and "yes" by saying "no."

People born in the year of sheep are good at covering up their own weakness with petty shrewdness, and in obtaining what they want by clever tricks and hints. They are also talented in the skill of pestering. Their sincere and composed manner and their pitiful looks always prove effective in persuading other people to do them favors.

They never hurt the feelings of their friends. Sometimes they even give up taking part in social contacts in order to avoid disputes. They are sensitive, and often indulge themselves in sentimental illusions rather than jolly parties. They also like to attract others' attention and flattery regarding their talent. They would be wise to take up professions that enable them to use their strong points. Often doing some down-to-earth job is the best choice for them.

If they're not born during hours dominated by zodiac animals such as dragon, snake or tiger (every two hours of a day is dominated by a different zodiac animal according to the traditional Chinese timing system), they will not be qualified for jobs requiring a strong sense of responsibility and quick decisions. They may do jobs allowing them to have their own way within the bounds of law.

Source: The Handbook of Chinese Horoscopes by Theodora Lau Published by arrow Books Limited