I spent most of the day searching job postings and sending out resumes. It wasn't exactly exciting, but it had to be done and at least I accomplished something today (though pessimistic Kate is rearing her ugly head and saying that not a single one will call me back). Doesn't help that I accidentally sent the wrong cover letter to two of them... it's not a big discrepancy but it says "committee" instead of "congressman." I wanted to kick myself. Argh.
Choo-choo (Brian's massive cat) just howled at me. I don't know what that means. He's also scuttling around as much as a 25 lbs cat can. He really moves like a fat racoon. Is that mean to say? Maybe. But it's amusingly true.
Tomorrow, I think I'm going to reward myself for a boring day by going to the movies. I want to see Across the Universe, Michael Clayton, Elizabeth the Golden Age, and Jane Austen Book Club (though I don't think that's playing anywhere nearby). I don't know what I'll see.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Well. Maybe next year...
I think I have jinxed my teams. They keep losing, it makes me sad.
Speaking of sports, I thoroughly enjoyed the thrashing the Patriots gave the Cowboys yesterday. I especially loved that final "there's eleven seconds on the clock but we're still going to score another touchdown just because we can because we ROCK" move. Yeah, that's one of the reasons why the Haters hate the Pats, but that's one of the reasons why I love them. No. Fucking. Mercy. Bwaha.
I decided I needed to do something other than watch sports today, so while I did watch the baseball, I also got out of the house for most of the day. Previously, the only time I got out, I've gone to the mall to get things like makeup and other stuff I've forgotten (try on dress/suit shoes though I still haven't found any good ones that fit/look right/aren't old ladyish or pointy toed).
Technically, I suppose I went to a mall today, it was just the large monument filled outdoor kind. Last time I was in Washington, the WWII memorial was still being erected and I really wanted to see it. I spent about two hours there marveling at it and playing the photographer and watching the veterans who were walking around it. You can tell them -- the old men and they all have tears in their eyes, it's really kind of sweet.
Different subjects.
Today is my Dad's birthday. He's 59. Still doesn't look a day over 45: and a young, healthy, Chris Noth in SATC sort of 45. I hope I inherited his aging, but the three grey hairs on my head say no. *sigh*
Also, I really like this Civic Hybrid commercial where the guy builds a tree for that other guy who's a major litter bug. Maybe I'll go for the Civic Hybrid after I get a job and a nice little apartment and some new furniture and pay off one of my student loans...
... of course, by then, the Hybrid will be a thing of the past because there will be no more gasoline. That's how long that will take (at least in happy, green, optimistic Kateland)
Speaking of sports, I thoroughly enjoyed the thrashing the Patriots gave the Cowboys yesterday. I especially loved that final "there's eleven seconds on the clock but we're still going to score another touchdown just because we can because we ROCK" move. Yeah, that's one of the reasons why the Haters hate the Pats, but that's one of the reasons why I love them. No. Fucking. Mercy. Bwaha.
I decided I needed to do something other than watch sports today, so while I did watch the baseball, I also got out of the house for most of the day. Previously, the only time I got out, I've gone to the mall to get things like makeup and other stuff I've forgotten (try on dress/suit shoes though I still haven't found any good ones that fit/look right/aren't old ladyish or pointy toed).
Technically, I suppose I went to a mall today, it was just the large monument filled outdoor kind. Last time I was in Washington, the WWII memorial was still being erected and I really wanted to see it. I spent about two hours there marveling at it and playing the photographer and watching the veterans who were walking around it. You can tell them -- the old men and they all have tears in their eyes, it's really kind of sweet.
Different subjects.
Today is my Dad's birthday. He's 59. Still doesn't look a day over 45: and a young, healthy, Chris Noth in SATC sort of 45. I hope I inherited his aging, but the three grey hairs on my head say no. *sigh*
Also, I really like this Civic Hybrid commercial where the guy builds a tree for that other guy who's a major litter bug. Maybe I'll go for the Civic Hybrid after I get a job and a nice little apartment and some new furniture and pay off one of my student loans...
... of course, by then, the Hybrid will be a thing of the past because there will be no more gasoline. That's how long that will take (at least in happy, green, optimistic Kateland)
Saturday, October 13, 2007
The War
I've spent the day watching Ken Burns' The War documentary. Honestly, I was wondering if I should. My hoity-toity private liberal arts training tells me that it's popcorn history, just the bare bones of a greater story. And the reports on NPR say it's one sided and contoversial and frankly, I just didn't want to get involved in that. But. I started watching anyway and I'm glad I have because it's interesting to realize how little I knew about the war, how simplistic my understanding of things like the timeline have been, how I have this public school conception that D-Day ended the War and a lack of understanding as to how many died over how long. On the surface I know, I know the dates things took place and names of major battles and conception of both theatres. But at the same time, I had no idea. My grandfathers didn't talk about it. The one who might have had died before I was born.
It's fascinating. But it's depressing too, and not just because of what happened then, but because my generation doesn't have that quality. They call the WWII generation the "greatest" and I've always kind of rolled my eyes at that because... well, I'm not quite sure why. Probably because I saw it as it had always been described in the vague and short sentences my grandparents used: we did what we had to do. End of story. And maybe that in and of itself is the reason behind the title.
After September 11, people attempted to create similarities, tried to turn the civilian tragedy into Pearl Harbor, tried to make this a Just War, a necessary war. And perhaps, in some way shape or form, it could have been. The Afghan Front could have been the necessary destruction of a horrific regime that many people in many parts of the world believed should have never been allowed to rise in the first place (but did thanks to our country's mistakes). We could have been liberators, we could have done... something great. Maybe. And done it differently, done it inclusively, done it fairly. But the personal motivations of our leaders got in the way, the greed and hunger and maybe, for some, a misdirected notion of true concern (I'm trying to allow for a glimmer of good faith). And the war... well, we all know how that's been going.
We just don't have the national purpose or the leadership that our grandparents (great-grandparents?) had, though we desire it more than anything else. How could Bush be Roosevelt? Or Truman? Or even LBJ from a different era. Petraeus is nowhere near an Eisenhower or a Patton. We can't trust him and by and large we don't -- though, that doesn't mean we don't want to. Our current conflict, our "war" is now slipping into deep unpopularity, but the protests are primarily confined to electronic signatures and some outraged blogging. We're the ones who are watching and listening as our classmates, relatives, peers go off in the 'sandbox' and die -- or don't and wish they had. But the activity, the visual actions of defiance and protest are being done by our parents, by the children of the Vietnam Era.
Why?
Walt asked me this during one our long morning talks some months ago. Howard was there too. I said it's because we're so connected by electronics, by the Internet and email and text messaging and cell phones and all of that so as we're actually disconnected. Our way of networking is through facebook or myspace; we feel strongly about something so we join a group of people we've never and probably never will, from 'Students Against the War' to 'save Britney's panties.' We'll post once or twice in a discussion board or use our far-spectrum politics to goad someone of the opposing far spectrum into a written war of words that we'll forget about in a couple of days. I shrugged and I told my boss-friend and Howard that there is a movement, it's just electronic instead of visual. I told them that my generation is paying attention, we just don't know how to show that to anyone beyond ourselves.
But I think the reality is that we have a romanticized version of war. I think the reality is that a large part of us want to be at war.
Because what my generation is really looking for is meaning.
And we're not sure where or how to find it.
So we argue for and against the conflict using far right or far left ideologies not necessarily because we believe it (though some of us do) but because there's meaning in extremism. Extreme politics, extreme religion, or extreme lack thereof. We campaign for political candidates with vigor, but we still don't vote. We join online groups to show we're aware without really being connected. We get worked up over Burma and the Sudan, Republicanism and republicanism, right, left, Wallmart. Our teachers tell us that political participation is important, that signing petitions and letting our voice be heard is part of that. But what happens beyond it?
We're an interesting collection. We don't want to be put in boxes but fight to belong. We don't want to be lumped together but we want to be recognized. We don't want to be seen as selfish, but we're isolated and caught in our own heads.
As far as the war is concerned, some of us harbor the 'idealistic we're doing it for our country because it's what's right,' patriotic, hopeful version that sees this action as a crusade against injustice. And it's not something we pulled out of ourselves. Rather, it's an ideology we get from watching Saving Private Ryan and Band of Brothers and The War and similar. Because we're a visual generation, because the movies are where we learn about ourselves. And this despite the attempts of these media to demonstrate the cold realities, the horrors of conflict. Instead, we end up envying the ability these people, these ordinary people, had to go into it all anyway. And we wish for the ability to feel that sort of connection, to feel that sense of purpose and reason, to feel that dedication to something.
And a lot of us wish for the simplicity that comes with that. Because this Greatest Generation had so much ahead of them. There was so much for them to do, so much for them to change, and they were prepared for it, ready to take it on, strong to do so.
But for us, the big stuff has been overcome. The Women's Movement, the Civil Rights Movement... spearheaded by the generations before it has, for all intents and purposes, been done. The small stuff is left. The pockets of injustice, the 80 cents to the dollar. Consequently, in a lot of ways I think we take the small stuff and try to blow it up just enough so we can feel like there's something left.
It's ironic. You watch the documentaries, read the books, and those involved always say they did it for their children. And yet their children sigh and ask, now what?
The American Spirit is built upon overcoming obstacles. It's ground into us, this hardy belief that we need to achieve more, be more, grow more, do more than the generation before us because that's how it's always been. And we crave it, but we're standing around in our electronic world and asking 'what're we going to do?'
My generation has spent its formidable years plodding through political times of mediocre leaders. While we were in High School we watched perhaps the last one be torn to pieces over something ridiculous, and since... there hasn't been much. Even our Great Hopes, the possibilities, get caught up in the political game. They start out as something new and then slowly turn into this indistinguishable cardboard character afraid to offend the delicate sensibilities of America because they fear not being able to reach the End Goal.
It's fascinating. But it's depressing too, and not just because of what happened then, but because my generation doesn't have that quality. They call the WWII generation the "greatest" and I've always kind of rolled my eyes at that because... well, I'm not quite sure why. Probably because I saw it as it had always been described in the vague and short sentences my grandparents used: we did what we had to do. End of story. And maybe that in and of itself is the reason behind the title.
After September 11, people attempted to create similarities, tried to turn the civilian tragedy into Pearl Harbor, tried to make this a Just War, a necessary war. And perhaps, in some way shape or form, it could have been. The Afghan Front could have been the necessary destruction of a horrific regime that many people in many parts of the world believed should have never been allowed to rise in the first place (but did thanks to our country's mistakes). We could have been liberators, we could have done... something great. Maybe. And done it differently, done it inclusively, done it fairly. But the personal motivations of our leaders got in the way, the greed and hunger and maybe, for some, a misdirected notion of true concern (I'm trying to allow for a glimmer of good faith). And the war... well, we all know how that's been going.
We just don't have the national purpose or the leadership that our grandparents (great-grandparents?) had, though we desire it more than anything else. How could Bush be Roosevelt? Or Truman? Or even LBJ from a different era. Petraeus is nowhere near an Eisenhower or a Patton. We can't trust him and by and large we don't -- though, that doesn't mean we don't want to. Our current conflict, our "war" is now slipping into deep unpopularity, but the protests are primarily confined to electronic signatures and some outraged blogging. We're the ones who are watching and listening as our classmates, relatives, peers go off in the 'sandbox' and die -- or don't and wish they had. But the activity, the visual actions of defiance and protest are being done by our parents, by the children of the Vietnam Era.
Why?
Walt asked me this during one our long morning talks some months ago. Howard was there too. I said it's because we're so connected by electronics, by the Internet and email and text messaging and cell phones and all of that so as we're actually disconnected. Our way of networking is through facebook or myspace; we feel strongly about something so we join a group of people we've never and probably never will, from 'Students Against the War' to 'save Britney's panties.' We'll post once or twice in a discussion board or use our far-spectrum politics to goad someone of the opposing far spectrum into a written war of words that we'll forget about in a couple of days. I shrugged and I told my boss-friend and Howard that there is a movement, it's just electronic instead of visual. I told them that my generation is paying attention, we just don't know how to show that to anyone beyond ourselves.
But I think the reality is that we have a romanticized version of war. I think the reality is that a large part of us want to be at war.
Because what my generation is really looking for is meaning.
And we're not sure where or how to find it.
So we argue for and against the conflict using far right or far left ideologies not necessarily because we believe it (though some of us do) but because there's meaning in extremism. Extreme politics, extreme religion, or extreme lack thereof. We campaign for political candidates with vigor, but we still don't vote. We join online groups to show we're aware without really being connected. We get worked up over Burma and the Sudan, Republicanism and republicanism, right, left, Wallmart. Our teachers tell us that political participation is important, that signing petitions and letting our voice be heard is part of that. But what happens beyond it?
We're an interesting collection. We don't want to be put in boxes but fight to belong. We don't want to be lumped together but we want to be recognized. We don't want to be seen as selfish, but we're isolated and caught in our own heads.
As far as the war is concerned, some of us harbor the 'idealistic we're doing it for our country because it's what's right,' patriotic, hopeful version that sees this action as a crusade against injustice. And it's not something we pulled out of ourselves. Rather, it's an ideology we get from watching Saving Private Ryan and Band of Brothers and The War and similar. Because we're a visual generation, because the movies are where we learn about ourselves. And this despite the attempts of these media to demonstrate the cold realities, the horrors of conflict. Instead, we end up envying the ability these people, these ordinary people, had to go into it all anyway. And we wish for the ability to feel that sort of connection, to feel that sense of purpose and reason, to feel that dedication to something.
And a lot of us wish for the simplicity that comes with that. Because this Greatest Generation had so much ahead of them. There was so much for them to do, so much for them to change, and they were prepared for it, ready to take it on, strong to do so.
But for us, the big stuff has been overcome. The Women's Movement, the Civil Rights Movement... spearheaded by the generations before it has, for all intents and purposes, been done. The small stuff is left. The pockets of injustice, the 80 cents to the dollar. Consequently, in a lot of ways I think we take the small stuff and try to blow it up just enough so we can feel like there's something left.
It's ironic. You watch the documentaries, read the books, and those involved always say they did it for their children. And yet their children sigh and ask, now what?
The American Spirit is built upon overcoming obstacles. It's ground into us, this hardy belief that we need to achieve more, be more, grow more, do more than the generation before us because that's how it's always been. And we crave it, but we're standing around in our electronic world and asking 'what're we going to do?'
My generation has spent its formidable years plodding through political times of mediocre leaders. While we were in High School we watched perhaps the last one be torn to pieces over something ridiculous, and since... there hasn't been much. Even our Great Hopes, the possibilities, get caught up in the political game. They start out as something new and then slowly turn into this indistinguishable cardboard character afraid to offend the delicate sensibilities of America because they fear not being able to reach the End Goal.
D'Backs
I understand that the Rockies are this underdog cinderella story, but how about a little less bias? The D'Backs have had an impressive run as well and I'm tired of the announcers on this telecast belittling them, and the umps are just as bad. I'm worried that the Rockies, with whom I've never really had a problem, are going to turn into the Spurs of baseball, sketchy calls and all. Maybe we should have known with that infamous home base "safe" for Holliday in the playoff game against the Phillies.
It's hard being an Arizona sports fan. *sigh* My poor D'Backs.
It's hard being an Arizona sports fan. *sigh* My poor D'Backs.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Baltimore
I arrived in Baltimore on Thursday.
In many ways, I still can't believe that I'm here, that I'm doing this, it seems like something someone else would do. Someone else who I know, would know, would like and in some ways envy, but nonetheless, someone not me. I don't do these things. I always have a plan. I always know, at least vaguely, what comes next.
High school. College. Graduate school. Career.
I just never thought that "career" would turn into "quit job and move across country with no job lined up and hope for the best." You can't gain anything without taking a chance, at least so I've been told by the people who would know better than I do, but that doesn't mean it's not terrifying. This is someone else in my body, someone more daring, someone completely okay with leaving all things familiar for Things Unknown.
We're told this is what we're supposed to do. Movies, television, books, they all say that the twenties are for discovering who you are, what you want, and where you're going. Travel. Live in the city. You have the rest of your life for uneventful suburban living. You can always go back to school. Take the risks now, while you don't have to take care of children, spouses, parents, when no one else is counting on you except for yourself.
Though that self is a pretty big 'one' if you want my opinion.
I'm not sure what I think of Baltimore. The first thing I was shown was the fact that the restaurant menus are huge. When I got in Thursday night, Brian took me to the Broadway Diner on Kane and Eastern. It has a little bit of everything, is open 24 hours, and the air conditioning works in a way that would make Freescale's look like it's running a sauna. The menu is a good ten pages. Maybe even more than that. And it boasts everything from French toast to cob salad, BLT melts, sirloin, pasta alfredo, chicken fajitas, and crab cakes, and according to Brian he hasn't yet had anything bad. I should also note that the diner has pretty good fresh brewed iced tea.
It took me some time to decide but I settled on a shepherd's pie which was pretty decent.
The next day we met a friend of his for lunch somewhere the name of which I can't remember, but it's basically a local version of something like an Applebee's with Ravens decorations everywhere and "purple Fridays" where all the waitresses wear Ravens jerseys. Aside from the large menus, something else I've learned is that Baltimore is crazy about its football. Anyway, this place also had a huge menu, several pages of burgers and sports food.
I'm also trying to figure out if the Ravens and the Patriots have a rivalry, in which case I could be in some trouble as far as the football season is concerned. Of course, it seems that everyone hates the Patriots except for Pats fans these days, which I still think is just silly.
Saturday I drove to New Carrollton to get the metro into DC where I met up with another of Brian's friends and saw David Sedaris. Jen said he wasn't very good in person, but I actually quite enjoyed it. Maybe she saw him on an off night. We were going to have dinner at a sushi/Japanese place afterward, but it was passing 10 and I didn't want to drive back at midnight (it took some time to get back to where I'd parked) on the chance I got lost. Which I did. I was running low on gas and had a full bladder and I got lost. But it all worked out okay. I found my way again and am proud of myself for it. It pays to pay attention and I'm glad Brian drove me around a little bit pointing things out.
It's been warm here, the temperature drifting around 90 with a healthy dose of humidity. I don't mind the humidity really. It's supposed to get down to the low sixties -- as the high-- by the middle of the week. Really. It's supposed to drop about thirty degrees in a day. Weird.
The time change has been hard. I think it's because it's hard to adjust when there's nothing you're doing the next day: nothing to get up for, no reason to go to bed. No time. The only reason time has been existing for me is so I can watch baseball. You know, root for my D'Backs, root for my Bo'Sox.
When it hits the 60s as the high I'll start looking for jobs, sending out resumes, we'll see what happens, fingers crossed.
But that's a way off for now.
In many ways, I still can't believe that I'm here, that I'm doing this, it seems like something someone else would do. Someone else who I know, would know, would like and in some ways envy, but nonetheless, someone not me. I don't do these things. I always have a plan. I always know, at least vaguely, what comes next.
High school. College. Graduate school. Career.
I just never thought that "career" would turn into "quit job and move across country with no job lined up and hope for the best." You can't gain anything without taking a chance, at least so I've been told by the people who would know better than I do, but that doesn't mean it's not terrifying. This is someone else in my body, someone more daring, someone completely okay with leaving all things familiar for Things Unknown.
We're told this is what we're supposed to do. Movies, television, books, they all say that the twenties are for discovering who you are, what you want, and where you're going. Travel. Live in the city. You have the rest of your life for uneventful suburban living. You can always go back to school. Take the risks now, while you don't have to take care of children, spouses, parents, when no one else is counting on you except for yourself.
Though that self is a pretty big 'one' if you want my opinion.
I'm not sure what I think of Baltimore. The first thing I was shown was the fact that the restaurant menus are huge. When I got in Thursday night, Brian took me to the Broadway Diner on Kane and Eastern. It has a little bit of everything, is open 24 hours, and the air conditioning works in a way that would make Freescale's look like it's running a sauna. The menu is a good ten pages. Maybe even more than that. And it boasts everything from French toast to cob salad, BLT melts, sirloin, pasta alfredo, chicken fajitas, and crab cakes, and according to Brian he hasn't yet had anything bad. I should also note that the diner has pretty good fresh brewed iced tea.
It took me some time to decide but I settled on a shepherd's pie which was pretty decent.
The next day we met a friend of his for lunch somewhere the name of which I can't remember, but it's basically a local version of something like an Applebee's with Ravens decorations everywhere and "purple Fridays" where all the waitresses wear Ravens jerseys. Aside from the large menus, something else I've learned is that Baltimore is crazy about its football. Anyway, this place also had a huge menu, several pages of burgers and sports food.
I'm also trying to figure out if the Ravens and the Patriots have a rivalry, in which case I could be in some trouble as far as the football season is concerned. Of course, it seems that everyone hates the Patriots except for Pats fans these days, which I still think is just silly.
Saturday I drove to New Carrollton to get the metro into DC where I met up with another of Brian's friends and saw David Sedaris. Jen said he wasn't very good in person, but I actually quite enjoyed it. Maybe she saw him on an off night. We were going to have dinner at a sushi/Japanese place afterward, but it was passing 10 and I didn't want to drive back at midnight (it took some time to get back to where I'd parked) on the chance I got lost. Which I did. I was running low on gas and had a full bladder and I got lost. But it all worked out okay. I found my way again and am proud of myself for it. It pays to pay attention and I'm glad Brian drove me around a little bit pointing things out.
It's been warm here, the temperature drifting around 90 with a healthy dose of humidity. I don't mind the humidity really. It's supposed to get down to the low sixties -- as the high-- by the middle of the week. Really. It's supposed to drop about thirty degrees in a day. Weird.
The time change has been hard. I think it's because it's hard to adjust when there's nothing you're doing the next day: nothing to get up for, no reason to go to bed. No time. The only reason time has been existing for me is so I can watch baseball. You know, root for my D'Backs, root for my Bo'Sox.
When it hits the 60s as the high I'll start looking for jobs, sending out resumes, we'll see what happens, fingers crossed.
But that's a way off for now.
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