Summer greenery

I do not have a green thumb, at all! I like looking at pretty flowers--I sound like a little kid, and that's about how I feel when I look at flowers, like they're pretty but let's move on to the next thing--but I can't really take care of them, inside or out. For a brief period after we first moved in here, what with a nice front porch area and a fenced-in back "yard" (too small to really be called a yard without scare quotes), we took a stab at some rudimentary gardening, and when I say "we," I mean that he would initiate the project, but I had to do the watering or pruning. So after a couple of years, we more or less gave up. But near the front porch, Don planted some black-eyed Susans a couple of years ago, and they keep coming back every summer with no help from us--that causes me no end of amazement. Here are pics of them at their peak in August. Now, they're just one more thing to miss about summer.

"Wash" "hands," eh?

There is an amusing blog for the grammatically-minded among us (I'm sure there's something wrong with that clause...) called The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotations. If the appeal of the blog has to be explained to someone, that person is just not part of the blog's audience. The ridiculous, asinine, unneeded use of quotation marks is a personal bugaboo of mine, but finding them on signs has always been a great joy to me as well, even before the blog existed. Here's one I found today in the men's room at a nice faux-Irish restaurant.

1) So I wonder what "wash hands" really means in this joint?

2) ...and which employee has to "do it"?

My photo life

This blog hasn't quite turned out like I thought it would. I guess my thoughts that don't get an outlet on my classic movie or current media blogs aren't as interesting as I hoped. I'm not giving up it or anything, and I'll still keep posting whatever I feel like, but I think I will also use this as an outlet for some of my picture-taking (it's so amateurish and improvised, I can't even call it "photography").

A friend is using her blog to participate in a photo-a-day project on Flickr, which inspired me to use this blog to post photos. I take pictures in fits and spurts, so I could never really take a photo a day, or even post one a day out of my backlog of pictures. But I will start posting one or two as I feel the urge, sometimes arty expression, but more often simply documenting my surroundings. Like with the above picture of my library's newspaper archives (such as they are) up in what we call the "balcony," or the below picture showing an aisle in the balcony . Some of these will undoubtedly duplicate my Flickr photostream and Facebook postings, but if you're upset about that, I'll give you back your admission fee.

Sign of the times

A Flickr contact posted this picture of a sign along the road that says "SIGN." I chuckled at the postmodern meta-ness of it all, but was downright startled when a day or two later, I came in the front door of our library to see this sign up for all the world to see:


Signs of the time, or just signs of signs? This is truly an example of the much-discussed empty signifier, ain't it?

Bad cataloging decision #158

So I'm cataloging a DVD of the movie The Informers; it's based on a Bret Easton Ellis book, so of course it's full of decadent young people doing drugs (and each other, as the jacket copy states) and coming to bad ends. The plot summary in the record, apparently pulled off of IMDb, ends by saying that these kids don't realize that "they are dancing on the edge of a volcano,"a phrase which I understand for what it is, a metaphor for acting recklessly, heedless of the coming consequences. Imagine my surprise when I am editing the subject lines and find "Volcanoes--California--Los Angeles--Drama." I screamed out loud in both mirth and horror. What's even worse is that that subject line wasn't added locally, in our consortium, but came in that way from a national cataloging agency. I spent a while doing some research to make sure that a literal volcano does not play a part in the climax. I'm still a little in shock and a little in awe.

Happiness is...

Generally, I'm a happy guy, certainly on the surface and usually inside as well. I'm not sure I'm an optimist; in a given situation, I usually assume the best thing won't happen and I hope the worst thing won't happen, so I aim for mid-range expectations. I certainly spend a fair amount of time in the doldrums and I can get blackly depressed, but these moods tend to last for hours rather than days or weeks. I've always remembered an incident in high school when I woke up pissed off at the world, and I vowed to let everybody know exactly how I felt, but when I got to school and got around people, my mood evaporated. That morning, a friend, apropos of nothing, said to me, "Ritchie, how can you always be so cheery?" I wanted to yell back, "Goddamn it, I'm not cheery, I'm angry and depressed!!" but I didn't; I just smiled and said, "Dunno."

This comes up in light of an article in the June Atlantic about what makes us happy, based on a series of longitudinal studies (groups of people studied over a wide range of years), in particular one begun in the 30's with a group of Harvard students who are still being followed today. Certainly a group of Ivy Leaguers is not necessarily representative of the general population, but some of the findings about happiness are interesting. First, the happiest people are those who use "mature" defenses when faced with challenges; instead of resorting to paranoia or passive-aggressive behavior or turning inward into fantasy, they use humor, altruism, sublimation, and conscious suppression. I'm not sure about the altruistic response, but I'm a master at other three--though I must admit I have been known to indulge in passive-aggressive behavior and I have a rich fantasy life, though I don't think of it as a response to challenges as much as an outlet for, well, fantasizing.

Successful aging and happiness are also dependent on a handful of other factors: education, stable marriage, not smoking, not abusing alcohol, some exercise, and healthy weight. All of those things pretty much apply to me:

1) I'm overeducated.

2) I've been with Don in a committed relationship for 19 years (because we're both men, I can't use the word "marriage" with any real meaning--do I sound bitter? Maybe I need to use a mature defense).

3) I've never smoked--except for three weeks of clove cigarettes in my 20s when I was trying to be a poseur.

4) My intake of alcohol is small, a couple of beers or glasses of wine a week (I can't remember the last time I was truly drunk, a fact I'm not necessarily proud of, because some of the best stories I tell about myself involve being under the influence of one substance or another)

5) I do get exercise, and "some" is a good word to describe how much.

6) I am technically a smidge overweight for my height, I guess, but overall I'm in better physical shape than I was in my 30's.

The director of the study says, somewhat reductively, that "the only thing that really matters in life are your relationships to other people" and that alcoholism is the biggest obstacle in the path of happiness. Though I have never cultivated lots of friendships, I do have people who make me happy and who I can confide in and who I can act silly around, and of course I have Don. My father was an alcoholic--though since it didn't interfere with his work life, he would never have labeled himself that way--and, since I have an addictive streak anyway, I have more or less consciously avoided that trap.

Though I have my regrets, and I'm not quite where I thought I'd be at this point in my life, I'm still generally happy. Traumatic events have happened to me--the break-up of my first live-in relationship in particular sent me into a brief tailspin--but I guess sublimating and suppressing are healthy responses after all, despite the bad rap they get. Now that the Atlantic Monthly has confirmed that I'm happy, I'm *really* happy!

Portland, Oregon, August 2009: Part 2

Shopping: Well, the big draw for me was Powell's City of Books, the country's largest independent bookstore, which takes up an entire city block. Bookstores were always a big draw for me wherever I visited, but I have lately felt a bit jaded about them; been there, done that, can't find anything, go to Amazon. But Powell's was pretty fabulous. Lots of big color-coded rooms crammed with books (but not claustrophobic feeling) with content clearly labeled (literature in the Blue Room, science fiction in the Gold Room, etc.), huge shelving units, and best of all, used and out-of-print books shelved together. I also particularly liked their section of recent "first novels" in the Green Room. I snatched up some hard-to-find fantasy novels by A. Merritt (and read one, The Moon Pool, while in Portland) among other things, and after two visits, was afraid to ask if they shipped books, because I could have done some serious credit card damage.

I also found ways to occupy myself at Columbia Sportswear and Fossil, which, to my surprise, had t-shirts (our Fossil only has watches and accessories), lovely soft t-shirts which fit me perfectly. I also bought a few things at Under U 4 Men, a men's underwear store, but I'll leave that to your imagination.

Sights: Chinatown was a disappointment (kinda dissipated and smelly--and not good Chinese food smells), but we enjoyed visiting the Classical Chinese Garden; lots of beautifully arranged small gardens, reflecting pools, stone walkways, and rooms and views for contemplation (though it's really too full of tourists for much silent time). Lots of pics in my Portland Flickr set. We also liked Pioneer Courthouse Square (pictured above), a nice place for sitting, sipping coffee, and people watching. On Friday nights in the summer, they show free movies there, and we happened to stroll by just as the first dinosaur scene in Jurassic Park was playing, and that being a favorite movie moment of Don's, we hung around a few minutes. A couple evenings were spent just walking, in perfect summer weather, through parts of town not too far from our hotel (the leafy South Park blocks, pictured below, and the "cultural" district).

I was most excited about seeing the M.C. Escher exhibit, "Virtual Worlds." I loved Escher's paradoxical architecture and flights of fancy when I was in college, and seeing this exhibit has re-awakened my interest--at least to the point where an Escher calendar will be on my Christmas wish list. Most interesting to me were the early woodcuts from the 30's and 40's which I'd never seen before. I was sorry that there was no published catalog I could have bought. The rest of the museum was OK (no photography allowed, sadly) although we noticed an awful lot of dust on many of the permanent collection items.

Finally, there was the quirky little Voodoo Doughnuts. As a donut connoisseur, I couldn't leave town without at least one visit there, up near Old Town. Every time I walked past it, there was a line of at least 15 people snaking out onto the sidewalk (it's in a very small space). Twice I braved the line, a mix of locals and curious tourists, to snag a donut or two. Their specialties are elaborate and occasionally rather kinky confections (a Dirty Snowball, a Maple & Bacon donut, and the rather obvious Cock & Balls), but I stuck with a good old cake donut with vanilla frosting and sprinkles and it was just fine, if not exactly magical (pictured moments before it disappeared down my belly). Overall, a very nice visit to a moderately interesting city. If Don reminds me of any other details I should share, I will. [The picture of the Powell's room is from their web site; the other photos are mine]