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We are sitting in the living room last night, watching the newest episode of Gilmore Girls, when it happened.
“I don’t like the whole Christopher-Lorali story line,” I said, “but I don’t know how they are going to get Lorali to divorce him and get back together with Luke without it being stupid.”
“I know,” says Leslie. “but they have to do something, because she has to end up with Luke.”
Silent contemplation while we watch more of the episode.
“I guess they could always just pull the technicality. ‘oops, you got married in France, but for some reason its not valid.’” I said, with a shrug. “Nah, that would be lame.”
More silent watching.
“You know,” Leslie says, “they have never had a major character die on this show.”
“That’s true.”
“So, they could kill Christopher off, then Lorali would be free to be with Luke.” On the television, Christopher gets into his car and Leslie says, “See, he’s going to get in the car and DIE!”
Suddenly, we watching the episode with increased interest, waiting for any possible excuse for Christopher to be killed off. He hangs the flat screen TV, could it possibly fall and crush him? The dog looks at him funny, maybe Paul Anka has rabies, bites him and he DIES. He starts to walk up the stairs, maybe he will fall and die. I am sitting on the couch, watching, but Leslie is chanting and urging the plot on.
“Come on, die Christopher, die. DIE, DIE, DIE.”
Alas, Christopher did not meet his end during the episode, only stormed off after reading the letter that Lorali wrote as a testament to Luke’s good character for his custody case. Christopher has escaped . . . for now.
But then, for the final scene of the episode, we see a boring, basic scene of Richard “Grandpa” Gilmore teaching a class at Harvard, with Rory in the seats, watching with granddaughterly love. Suddenly, Grandpa begins to breathe heavily, grasps his arm, then collapses, while shouts of “call an ambulance” play over the black screen of credits. The previews for next week talks about a “family tragedy brings Luke and Lorali back together,” and it certainly sounds like Grandpa might bite the dust.
My reaction?
“You killed Grandpa! You pointed your psychic death mind ray at the TV and missed! You hit Richard instead of Christopher.”
She will try to deny it now, but I swear, there was a glint of satisfaction in her eye as she came to realize the power that she holds in her brain. She need only to think it and your beloved television character will die a most horrible death.
(I apologize to those non-Gilmore Girls watchers for the detailed yet melodramatic sounding synopsis)
Just in case anyone needs a good laugh at my expense, funny thing happened last week in school.
So I’m teaching the types of reactions in chemistry, and describing what happens in a double replacement reaction. I have a demo for the students, and am pumping them up, getting them excited to see something cool (teaching is all in the setup and presentation)…so they’re ready to go, students are drumming on the desks, eagerly awaiting the demo.
I added a solution of potassium chloride to a solution of lead nitrate, which mix to form lead chloride and potassium nitrate…lead chloride is insoluble while the other three chemicals are water soluble…so you get the effect of pouring two clear liquids together and suddenly a cloudy white solid appears. Quite dramatic.
Except when I did it, NOTHING HAPPENED. Ohhhhhh shit (fortunately I didn’t say that out loud)…but I certainly heard it from the students. Booooooooooooooo. Why do we have to learn this if it’s not true?
Turns out my solutions were too dilute…I tried it again in the stockroom after school with more concentrated solutions and it worked fine…damn it all.
Well, there you go. Lesson learned.
Ok, this is kind of a silly rant, but I’m ridiculously frustrated with Northeasterners inability to recognize that there are places where one might choose to live and exist other than Boston, New York, and California.
When I say I want to move to Denver/Boulder after graduation, I get looks either of disgust or disdain or just an instinctive, complete with that stare only a rich, easy-paved life in the Northeast can pull off, “Why?” I’m declared either a “outdoorsy hippie,” a “republican” (because clearly no liberal in her right mind would choose to live in a “red state”), or merely “insane.” I could make upwards of 30k more a year in NYC or Boston, why on earth would I choose to live in a cultural backwater like Denver where you can’t hobnob with Mischa Barton on a regular basis?
Why? Because believe it or not, some of us prefer the beauty of the mountains to skyscrapers, would rather spend evenings at home cooking dinner than grabbing 24-hour gourmet food leaving at midnight, would prefer ski boots over Prada boots, would rather spend our weekends hiking and skiing than at the hippest club, would rather work 50 hour weeks and and get vacation time and even be able to take 6-month maternity leave and still make partner (gasp!). Sigh. To them, this is “inconceivable.”
However, I currently have one ace up my sleeve. I just remind them of the most recent proof that God loves the midwest: Chicago and Indianapolis are in the superbowl, bitches.
Hoo-ray for new brunch places! One of my favorite weekend activities is good food, good friends and good conversation and thankfully, Atlanta is chock-a-bok full of great bunch places. Having exhausted the traditional (Flying Biscuit) and our usuals, (Crescent Moon and Pastries A Go Go), Nicole, SciTeacher and I went looking for something new.
Rea’s Bluebird was recommended to us with the phrase, “pancakes that will change your life.” Life changing pancakes were at least worth a drive to find out what is what, so we piled in the Fit and headed over towards Memorial Drive. True, it is further away then Pastries or Crescent Moon, both within walking distance of me, but on a rainy, grey, cold mid-morning, who is up for a leisurely stroll anyway?
We arrived, were promptly seated in a comfy booth and handed menus. I had coffee, Nicole and Sci both had tea- they got their own little tea pot with loose tea leaves and a strainer over their cups. Grunts of approval from Sci. I got my usual coffee and man was it good- strong, but not bitter, nice dark brown color. The waitress was nice, even if she did have trouble hearing us. The funky background music at a decently loud level could have been to blame, but in the end, she got all of our orders right.
The food was fantastic. None of us decided to indulge on the life changing pancakes, though I think all three agreed we would be back to give them a try. I had the special, an omelet with pesto and cream cheese filling, a sweet potato cake, bacon and a biscuit. The omelet was perfectly cooked- a nice solid texture, not runny but not rubbery, with a delightful fluff to it. The filling was quite rich, but luckily, there was enough to put in my mouth in between bites that I never felt overwhelmed. The sweet potato cake alone would be enough to keep me coming back. It was sweet and savory, with a depth of flavors envied by other spuds. It was soft on the inside but slightly crispy on the outside; Sci suggested it looked like a brule torch had been applied to the top layer, but my guess was a broiler. The biscuit was great- firm but fluffy and had a great flavor and the bacon was crisp and not too salty.
Sci and Nicole both had the breakfast burrito with salsa verde on top. At some point during breakfast and about half way though her burrito, Nicole pushed her plate away and said, “oh, too much protein, I am so full.” As we sat, however, she continued to work her way through the remaining portion until there was nothing left. She also said the grits were delightful.
The basic verdict seemed to be that Ria has no qualms about seasoning her food; the grits had a little black pepper kick, the sweet potatoes clearly had nutmeg, cinnamon, and something else that I couldn’t quite identify. My omelet had seasoning in it before the filling was added. I think the only thing not pre-seasoned was Sci’s fresh fruit and it made the salt and pepper shakers on the table obsolete.
The experience was great. The atmosphere is cozy, lot of couples with kids, big windows, colorful retro advertisements and mosaics on the wall. The food was fantastic and there was lots of other stuff on the menu that I would love to try. The only downside is, after about 2 hours, we had outstayed our welcome and were politely asked to vacate the only handicapped accessible table for an incoming customer who had been waiting. If only we had known, we would have left sooner!
I give it a 9 out of 10 and I will be back. Hoo-ray for new brunch places!
At Beks’ behest (an enormously fun phrase to say, by the way) I read a blogger’s post dealing largely with the concept of egalitarianism (a word which, I note with some ironic humor, is decidedly un-egalitarian). Here, in a state influenced somewhat by a marvelous process known as fermentation, I offer my own profound take on the subject.
America is a nation founded largely on the concept of equality. The trouble is that very few people understand exactly what KIND of equality the founders were advocating. A student of history could easily discover that, quite contrary to popular belief, many of the founders did NOT believe that all men were equal. For that matter, I daresay few of the colonists would have disagreed. There are few who could display the courage and restraint of Washington. Fewer still could match the unrivaled genius of Jefferson. And how many human beings could possibly possess the undeniable moral credentials of Lincoln? History and science both offer us proof positive that people are most distinctly UNequal. Moreover, the very traits that distinguish us from one another are, in fact, hereditary! Children of major athletes have a general tendency to grow up and become… major athletes. Witness the Manning family. Children of brilliant scholars have a tendency to grow up and become… brilliant scholars! Actors breed other actors, doctors breed other doctors, and… I note with some dismay… politicians breed other politicians.
This is, of course, a topic that is anathema to American culture. We are raised to believe, for example, that any person can grow up to become president of the United States. It is part of our idealistic devotion to the spirit of Horatio Alger. Common sense, however, dictates the opposite. Could someone with a mental retardation be placed in charge of negotiating with important allies as well as enemies? Could someone with a history of spousal abuse be trusted with the power of our armed forces?
We are NOT equal. Some are superb athletes; some are superb artists. In certain rare cases, individuals exhibit a wide range of extraordinary talent. When it comes down to it, however, it is evident that we are all blessed and cursed with different facilities and deficiencies, though we refuse to admit it. H.L. Mencken (my pseudo-namesake, as some of you hopefully noticed) was not afraid to admit to this. So why are we, as a culture, reluctantly to recgonize this fact?
Possibly it has a great deal to do with a sense of our inferiority. It is painful to realize that we are lesser than others; every spelling-bee runner up and every quarterback who lost the Superbowl feel the sharp pangs of being “less than the best.” However, I think our problem comes from a mere misunderstanding of the nature of inequality.
The founders, though they believed men to be inequal, recognized that all men were fashioned in the image and likeness of god, and as such, equally entitled to the dignity and freedom of free citizens. This is the ideal of equality upon which America was founded: that, though some men may be morally, athletically, intellectually, or otherwise superior to others, we are all equal before our Creator and His divine law.
We have long since lost our understanding of this basic concept. Indeed, we have lost even a basic understanding of who is “better” than whom: many mistaken believe that mere wealth or prestige conveys superiority, hence the continued success of Donald Trump and Paris Hilton. This is not a new flaw, actually: in the past, the Europeans confused superiority with heritage. A descendant of a great man was naturally assumed to be a great man as well, despite all evidence to the contrary.
The unfortunate result of our confusion is that we both bow to the unworthy and exalt the unable. This can be seen in our higher education: we have begun to believe, quite foolishly, that the ideal goal for all children is college. In point of fact, college is not the proper place for all people. This is not a slur against the less intellectually able or less motivated: lack of talent or ambition is no reason to feel shame. As Kumar once put it: “Just because I’m hung like a horse doesn’t mean I have to be a porn star.”
What this does mean is that we must begin to examine our leaders and question their qualities. We must throw out the unworthy candidates and demand the worth ones: even if they do not want to serve. A notable trait shared by many of the founders was that they would have greatly preferred to stay at home and enjoy their own lives rather than dedicate them to the service of their country. It is an understandable impulse: all people desire a life of peace with their families. It has been shown, however, that truly great men will rise to the needs of their country if their neighbors but demand it; witness Cincinnatus, Washington, Jefferson, and Adams.
The leaders America needs are those stubborn few who can serve, but wish not to. Shakespeare made a keen observation in Julius Caesar: “Yon Cassius has the lean and hungry look- such men are dangerous.” We should be wary of those politicians who seek office; instead, we should demand the reclusive neighbor of unimpeachable character to serve us. We need never fear the ambitions of those who never sought office; instead, we should cast a suspicious eye at those who seek power.
Forgive the disorganized and incoherent nature of my ramblings- I started without a clear thesis in mind, and the justifier of God’s ways to man clouded my mind as I wrote this.
I’ve been working diligently over the past 2-3 months on how I’m going to get back to Atlanta next year. My first goal was just to get out of OK, but as I really thought about it, and particularly at Christmas, I realized I have to go back. I’m not done with it yet. So why the spinning? And interpretting? Because it’s all just so crazy-chaotic.
Maybe I’ll get into Emory or Agnes Scott – Emory’s not looking too hopeful though. Perhaps I could find a job teaching at another private school, but I might go insane if it’s another “Classical Christian School.” I’m not marketable at any public or well established private school because it took me so long to realize what I wanted to do – and therefore my undergrad work doesn’t really support it. My newest problem is that I had a roommate all lined up – and that’s now fallen through. I exist paycheck to paycheck right now, which was going to make doing all of this hard enough anyway, and I’m currently pushing solutions around in my mind. The schools that offer the programs I want are all in cities similar to or even more expensive than Atlanta. Staying here one more year would not help solve my problems (I get paid so little, other teachers think I’m poor).
This is one of those rants I hate writing – I look back at it and it sound rather self-pitying and despairing. Nevertheless, I’m hoping that writing it out will help me see some new solution – or sign (one thing teaching at this place has done, it’s made me try harder to see what God’s attempting to tell me – a rather ironic development, considering the instability of my religious beliefs).
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