Tuesday, January 15, 2013
the prodigal Shan returns
I have decided to henceforth continue this blog. Nearly halfway through my Fulbright grant to Germany, but whatever. I've been feeling pretty bad about not documenting the riveting (to me, and a perhaps a small niche group of people) thoughts I've had since September. Not necessarily pertaining to Germany, either. Let's be honest, I'm primarily referring to food and TV shows (i.e. the exact concerns I was blogging about in 2011). Nothing changes! Except there's more schnitzel and I have to find sketchy ways to stream all the shows, instead of just using hulu or the DVR.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Times I have felt like Liz Lemon
1. Liz Lemon, staunch new-wave feminist
Me, Jackie, friend of Jackie's, and a friend of Jackie's friend lounge in the living room of the apartment at school, nursing glasses of wines and engaging in girl talk. As opposed to dude talk, of which I am an active participant 95% of the time. In the case of the friend of friend and friend of friend of friend, this is a pre-party visit--the party theme is announced to be "CEOs and corporate hos" and the ladies are dressed accordingly. Flicker of Liz Lemon first appears when my thoughts to plunge in the direction of "Oh, that is so typical, with women relegated to the role of corporate 'ho'... oh what an idea for a party indeed, that is just--". No, Shan, stop being a Douglass woman for two seconds, and lay down four years' worth of gender theory weaponry down. I consider whether I would attend such a party and decide that I wouldn't, on principle. This realization should have been a warning sign.
Jackie's friend: "I just sent a picture of me to [insert boyfriend name] and said, 'if I were your secretary, would you do me?" Everyone is merrily appreciative of this comment, and before I realize what I'm saying I blurt, "or, you know, you could be like 'if I were your boss would you do me? ....AmIright?" They look at me as though they have never encountered someone so socially inept, and they simply have no words to capture their awe, and then I feel myself in the process of filling the silencio by mumblecoughing "..feminism?" I think things could only have been made worse had I tried to high-five myself afterward.
2. Liz Lemon, Inadvertent Racist
On the night before Halloween, for all the reasons you can guess, I was dressed in a banana costume. I will not put on airs and tell you that it was even an adult-sized banana costume, for no, indeed it was intended for both children and Shans alike. I could have done with a larger costume, but the miniature costume was a whole ten dollars cheaper, and what can I say, in this economy we can't all afford to be large fruits. At a bar I pull away from Jackie-as-not-quite-obvious-enough Ke$ha in order to commend these two guys on what were, by far, the most fabulous of costumes. I am talking about Will Smith as the Fresh Prince, and Carlton. Now, I love Will Smith. I can't, however, stand his progeny--Willow and Jaden just irk me. But that's because I hate most children who are pimped out to showbiz, and plus, I just like Will too much to accept little subpar imitations. Anyway, I see them and I beeline to talk to them. It goes like this--
"Oh my goodness I love the fresh prince"
"Mmhm" Will Smith responds. He appears disinterested, and barely capable of acknowledging my gushing.
"Those wayfarers are fantastic," I persist, because I am too big a fan of the Fresh Prince to do otherwise, and then turning to his friend "Will and Carlton, such a great idea..."
"I'm not Carlton."
"Come again?"
Carlton frowns down at me. My mind cannot compute.
"I'm Steve Jobs."
I look at his turtleneck. His glasses. Carlton didn't have glasses, did he? Actually, perhaps this guy does not look like Carlton at all.
Oh, no, no. What defense do I have? "I'm sorry but you were a black nerd standing next to Will Smith, I just didn't immediately think... that you were a recently deceased white man." No, that would not do. So obviously I just laughed and backed away swiftly.
3. Liz Lemon, ranting queen, staunchly pro-sock
I once went on a five minute rant about why anyone would elect to wear ankle socks in the winter, as I had just purchased crew socks and experienced some kind of sock euphoria/revelation. "You don't realize what you've been missing in ankle warmth until you wear this, I'm telling you"--and proceeding to tell you for five minutes more.
4. Liz Lemon, unkempt like harried mother of five, but is not actually mother
After a movie I went to the bathroom to whizz and discovered popcorn kernels had found their way into the leg of my pants. Which is just illogical.
Me, Jackie, friend of Jackie's, and a friend of Jackie's friend lounge in the living room of the apartment at school, nursing glasses of wines and engaging in girl talk. As opposed to dude talk, of which I am an active participant 95% of the time. In the case of the friend of friend and friend of friend of friend, this is a pre-party visit--the party theme is announced to be "CEOs and corporate hos" and the ladies are dressed accordingly. Flicker of Liz Lemon first appears when my thoughts to plunge in the direction of "Oh, that is so typical, with women relegated to the role of corporate 'ho'... oh what an idea for a party indeed, that is just--". No, Shan, stop being a Douglass woman for two seconds, and lay down four years' worth of gender theory weaponry down. I consider whether I would attend such a party and decide that I wouldn't, on principle. This realization should have been a warning sign.
Jackie's friend: "I just sent a picture of me to [insert boyfriend name] and said, 'if I were your secretary, would you do me?" Everyone is merrily appreciative of this comment, and before I realize what I'm saying I blurt, "or, you know, you could be like 'if I were your boss would you do me? ....AmIright?" They look at me as though they have never encountered someone so socially inept, and they simply have no words to capture their awe, and then I feel myself in the process of filling the silencio by mumblecoughing "..feminism?" I think things could only have been made worse had I tried to high-five myself afterward.
2. Liz Lemon, Inadvertent Racist
On the night before Halloween, for all the reasons you can guess, I was dressed in a banana costume. I will not put on airs and tell you that it was even an adult-sized banana costume, for no, indeed it was intended for both children and Shans alike. I could have done with a larger costume, but the miniature costume was a whole ten dollars cheaper, and what can I say, in this economy we can't all afford to be large fruits. At a bar I pull away from Jackie-as-not-quite-obvious-enough Ke$ha in order to commend these two guys on what were, by far, the most fabulous of costumes. I am talking about Will Smith as the Fresh Prince, and Carlton. Now, I love Will Smith. I can't, however, stand his progeny--Willow and Jaden just irk me. But that's because I hate most children who are pimped out to showbiz, and plus, I just like Will too much to accept little subpar imitations. Anyway, I see them and I beeline to talk to them. It goes like this--
"Oh my goodness I love the fresh prince"
"Mmhm" Will Smith responds. He appears disinterested, and barely capable of acknowledging my gushing.
"Those wayfarers are fantastic," I persist, because I am too big a fan of the Fresh Prince to do otherwise, and then turning to his friend "Will and Carlton, such a great idea..."
"I'm not Carlton."
"Come again?"
Carlton frowns down at me. My mind cannot compute.
"I'm Steve Jobs."
I look at his turtleneck. His glasses. Carlton didn't have glasses, did he? Actually, perhaps this guy does not look like Carlton at all.
Oh, no, no. What defense do I have? "I'm sorry but you were a black nerd standing next to Will Smith, I just didn't immediately think... that you were a recently deceased white man." No, that would not do. So obviously I just laughed and backed away swiftly.
3. Liz Lemon, ranting queen, staunchly pro-sock
I once went on a five minute rant about why anyone would elect to wear ankle socks in the winter, as I had just purchased crew socks and experienced some kind of sock euphoria/revelation. "You don't realize what you've been missing in ankle warmth until you wear this, I'm telling you"--and proceeding to tell you for five minutes more.
4. Liz Lemon, unkempt like harried mother of five, but is not actually mother
After a movie I went to the bathroom to whizz and discovered popcorn kernels had found their way into the leg of my pants. Which is just illogical.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
werkin'
At work currently: German department, where I've been employed since last fall. I sit at the desk outside the secretary's office, and do work on a computer that could stand to be upgraded (for some reason firefox does not function so I have to use internet explorer, which brings me back to the 90s in a non-fun way) (I'm fairly certain that all the other dept's computers, including laptops, are macs... just saying). Or there's no work to do and I sit there fiddling around on a computer that could stand to be upgraded, just so that when I'm looking up the Wendy's menu (as was the case five minutes ago. What? I'm quite peckish and I'm planning what food to pick up from the student center on the way home) the screen doesn't freeze because in 1995 flash plugins didn't exist yet.
Generally on days I work here, which is only once a week anyway, for three hours, I make sure to dress relatively nicely--well, not that I dress in any sort of unkempt way normally. In other words, the likelihood of my wearing a button-down jumps from 50% to 85% and if I'm not wearing a button-down I'm wearing a sweater. I do this because it helps me pretend I'm more important than I actually am, and in my mind distinguishes me from the other students who were assigned to work for the department as part of work-study. Whereas I am not only an employee but eine Studentin of the department (which I also like to hope looks really good on my resume).
I am also compelled to dress nicely on Mondays because that's the day I have my graduate-level course and I already look like a small child who stumbled into a room full of German scholars, so I might as well look like the child nerd who wears argyle and purposely strode into "German Romanticism and Gender Studies."
But, in general, I'm no longer comfortable dressing down these days because, I suppose, it serves as a mark of distinction from the hoardes of underclassmen. A totally called-for distinction, obviously, because I'm all about-to-graduate and adult-y and wear button-downs while working in the creaky, drafty Victorian building across from the library.
Generally on days I work here, which is only once a week anyway, for three hours, I make sure to dress relatively nicely--well, not that I dress in any sort of unkempt way normally. In other words, the likelihood of my wearing a button-down jumps from 50% to 85% and if I'm not wearing a button-down I'm wearing a sweater. I do this because it helps me pretend I'm more important than I actually am, and in my mind distinguishes me from the other students who were assigned to work for the department as part of work-study. Whereas I am not only an employee but eine Studentin of the department (which I also like to hope looks really good on my resume).
I am also compelled to dress nicely on Mondays because that's the day I have my graduate-level course and I already look like a small child who stumbled into a room full of German scholars, so I might as well look like the child nerd who wears argyle and purposely strode into "German Romanticism and Gender Studies."
But, in general, I'm no longer comfortable dressing down these days because, I suppose, it serves as a mark of distinction from the hoardes of underclassmen. A totally called-for distinction, obviously, because I'm all about-to-graduate and adult-y and wear button-downs while working in the creaky, drafty Victorian building across from the library.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Yeep, I've forgotten roughly 70% of the Japanese I knew
It's been a full year now since I stopped taking Japanese. But for safekeeping I'm posting the personal statement I wrote for study abroad--feel free to google translate though the half of it will be totally wrong anyway :)
高校の時、日本語を勉強していませんでした。四年生になったが、大学を申し込みながらどの専門を選ぶか分かりませんでした（決めるのは大変ですね）。でも、ある日「いつもアジアの文化にほかの学科より興味がある」と思いました。実にアジアから英語や本に見とれました（勿論、漫画とアニメも）。だからラトガース大学で日本語と日本の文化を勉強することにしました。それいらいそのことを勉強してよかったです。
日本の町ならどこでも行きたいんですが、京都が必ずやいっぱりです。古都だから伝統的な文化と歴史を習ったり、お寺と神社を見たりします。何しろ立命館大学で勉強したら、大切なことを経験できます。日本語が上手になるために日本に行くべきなのではないでしょうか。と言って言語以外にいろいろな学科は面白いですから。美術を始め、経済、文学があります。大学前に漫画や日本のファッションなどはとても大切だったが、今では夏目漱石とよしもとバナナ書かれた本を読みます。喜んで明治維新を勉強します。私は立命館大学で英明な教授といい学生に会って、日本が分かります。
今今私の将来像を知りません。でも、日本語とドイツ語を勉強していますので、国際会社で働くたぶんです。教えるのもよさそうだと思います。ほかの文化に組み入れるなら、幸せになります。其れに留学した後で、四月間外国に住んでいた後で、私は優位者になるといいんですが。知らないものがたくさんだから、成るべくがんばりますよ。
高校の時、日本語を勉強していませんでした。四年生になったが、大学を申し込みながらどの専門を選ぶか分かりませんでした（決めるのは大変ですね）。でも、ある日「いつもアジアの文化にほかの学科より興味がある」と思いました。実にアジアから英語や本に見とれました（勿論、漫画とアニメも）。だからラトガース大学で日本語と日本の文化を勉強することにしました。それいらいそのことを勉強してよかったです。
日本の町ならどこでも行きたいんですが、京都が必ずやいっぱりです。古都だから伝統的な文化と歴史を習ったり、お寺と神社を見たりします。何しろ立命館大学で勉強したら、大切なことを経験できます。日本語が上手になるために日本に行くべきなのではないでしょうか。と言って言語以外にいろいろな学科は面白いですから。美術を始め、経済、文学があります。大学前に漫画や日本のファッションなどはとても大切だったが、今では夏目漱石とよしもとバナナ書かれた本を読みます。喜んで明治維新を勉強します。私は立命館大学で英明な教授といい学生に会って、日本が分かります。
今今私の将来像を知りません。でも、日本語とドイツ語を勉強していますので、国際会社で働くたぶんです。教えるのもよさそうだと思います。ほかの文化に組み入れるなら、幸せになります。其れに留学した後で、四月間外国に住んでいた後で、私は優位者になるといいんですが。知らないものがたくさんだから、成るべくがんばりますよ。
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Imagine owning just 75 things?
Every winter or summer break since beginning college I have set out to clean my room, organize my life, throw out/donate/sell the hell out of everything. This endeavor generally lasts one or two days and afterward I commence watching whole seasons of TV shows in single sittings. It's a trifle upsetting. The last time I made any headway I managed to put my books in boxes.
I just want to really accomplish something this time. Already I am trying to be quite merciless with my wardrobe, but the longer I keep at it the less resolve I can hold onto. Mostly I struggle not from my own sentimentality but of the sentimentality I should probably(?) have. Take for instance the collection of t-shirts accumulated from school events from middle school to the present day. There are too many of them and most are hideous. I haven't the least desire to put on a t-shirt to remind myself of that time I was in the musical production Cinderella in 6th grade, but if I throw the shirt out my mom will certainly yell at me. Of course, I can just throw out all the shirts secretly, can't I? Ah, but then I'll have to feel guilty. And what about the "I <3 Douglass" shirt I was given on move-in day freshman year? etc.
Other items I'm on the fence about: mix tapes from former friends (nothing like finding thoughtful things from people who are no longer in your life to make you feel a little bit awful) and birthday cards (just feels so wrong to throw them out)
It does not help that my family holds onto everything.
My dad's job as a collector/seller of stuff means he's a hoarder by trade.
I have never seen my mother get rid of a single article of clothing or pair of shoes, but she is perpetually coming into new clothes and shoes.
To quote myself from this morning, "JR does not throw anything out whatsoever ... except his report cards. OHH SNAP" (it's true) (like, he refuses to even throw out the damn packaging to anything he buys. What the hell is he doing with the empty boxes and plastic?)
**The only exception to this family of hoarders is my grandmother. When she lived with us about ten years ago the house was all the better for it. That lady threw out everything. This includes my grandfather's dentures, on accident, but such is a small price to pay for an organized and clean home.
I have been working to simplify my life as much as possible for some time now. I like it. It's like a game. Do you know how enthusiastically I lived out of a suitcase for three months this summer? I should clarify--one slim suitcase small enough that it qualifies as a carry-on (sans any expandability), a crossbody purse, and a longchamp tote bag. To carry everything (clothes, shoes, my laptop, my camera...) for three months. I went over there with all of two pairs of shoes--white sandals and a pair of converse. I just crossed my fingers that I could get away with sandals at operas and plays.
When traveling I hate having too much. I would much rather find under prepared than over prepared. Even so I might have taken it too far this summer, but I felt crazy, adventurous and admirable all at once. I was constantly wearing the same outfits and had to find inventive ways to "mix it up" which involved scarves primarily. Scarf around neck! Scarf as headband! Scarf as head wrap (esp. in mosques in Turkey, obvs.)!
(Given the choice of characteristics that somewhat betray my gender I would still choose the two I already possess: I pack really lightly for a girl. And I drink a lot of beer for a girl. If you wish to flatter me, just comment upon either of those things.)
Years and years ago I read the book The Gospel According to Larry, about this quirky, yoga-practicing, Walden-reading wizkid who starts a website to preach little sermons against consumerism. He also keeps all of his possessions numbered and refuses to let the total count exceed 75. How great is that? I wanted to be that kid. I still want to be that kid, in terms of having a startlingly small amount of possessions, but I can't get on board with his stance against brand names. I'm still a sucker for that nonsense. Like Kate Spade bags, I go nuts for 'em. Anyway, just now I did a quick search for that book (so feel like rereading it) but came up empty, so I'll have to look more thoroughly tomorrow. Did find Walden though.
I just want to really accomplish something this time. Already I am trying to be quite merciless with my wardrobe, but the longer I keep at it the less resolve I can hold onto. Mostly I struggle not from my own sentimentality but of the sentimentality I should probably(?) have. Take for instance the collection of t-shirts accumulated from school events from middle school to the present day. There are too many of them and most are hideous. I haven't the least desire to put on a t-shirt to remind myself of that time I was in the musical production Cinderella in 6th grade, but if I throw the shirt out my mom will certainly yell at me. Of course, I can just throw out all the shirts secretly, can't I? Ah, but then I'll have to feel guilty. And what about the "I <3 Douglass" shirt I was given on move-in day freshman year? etc.
Other items I'm on the fence about: mix tapes from former friends (nothing like finding thoughtful things from people who are no longer in your life to make you feel a little bit awful) and birthday cards (just feels so wrong to throw them out)
It does not help that my family holds onto everything.
My dad's job as a collector/seller of stuff means he's a hoarder by trade.
I have never seen my mother get rid of a single article of clothing or pair of shoes, but she is perpetually coming into new clothes and shoes.
To quote myself from this morning, "JR does not throw anything out whatsoever ... except his report cards. OHH SNAP" (it's true) (like, he refuses to even throw out the damn packaging to anything he buys. What the hell is he doing with the empty boxes and plastic?)
**The only exception to this family of hoarders is my grandmother. When she lived with us about ten years ago the house was all the better for it. That lady threw out everything. This includes my grandfather's dentures, on accident, but such is a small price to pay for an organized and clean home.
I have been working to simplify my life as much as possible for some time now. I like it. It's like a game. Do you know how enthusiastically I lived out of a suitcase for three months this summer? I should clarify--one slim suitcase small enough that it qualifies as a carry-on (sans any expandability), a crossbody purse, and a longchamp tote bag. To carry everything (clothes, shoes, my laptop, my camera...) for three months. I went over there with all of two pairs of shoes--white sandals and a pair of converse. I just crossed my fingers that I could get away with sandals at operas and plays.
When traveling I hate having too much. I would much rather find under prepared than over prepared. Even so I might have taken it too far this summer, but I felt crazy, adventurous and admirable all at once. I was constantly wearing the same outfits and had to find inventive ways to "mix it up" which involved scarves primarily. Scarf around neck! Scarf as headband! Scarf as head wrap (esp. in mosques in Turkey, obvs.)!
(Given the choice of characteristics that somewhat betray my gender I would still choose the two I already possess: I pack really lightly for a girl. And I drink a lot of beer for a girl. If you wish to flatter me, just comment upon either of those things.)
Years and years ago I read the book The Gospel According to Larry, about this quirky, yoga-practicing, Walden-reading wizkid who starts a website to preach little sermons against consumerism. He also keeps all of his possessions numbered and refuses to let the total count exceed 75. How great is that? I wanted to be that kid. I still want to be that kid, in terms of having a startlingly small amount of possessions, but I can't get on board with his stance against brand names. I'm still a sucker for that nonsense. Like Kate Spade bags, I go nuts for 'em. Anyway, just now I did a quick search for that book (so feel like rereading it) but came up empty, so I'll have to look more thoroughly tomorrow. Did find Walden though.
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