Monday, January 19, 2009
I'm not a succinct writer.
Nope, that's it. Just wanted you to know that I realize that I am a rambler. I used to hate stream of consciousness writing (think: Mrs. Dalloway and The Hours), but I totally write that way. But this is an online JOURNAL, so cut me some slack. At least I edit this thing. You should see my real journal. Though this has kind of taken it's place...hmm...
Anderson Cooper, you're my hero
Ok, so that's a play on Ferris Beuller, but whatev. Keep reading - these are quotes from AC's book:
“…I sometimes believe it’s the motion that keeps me alive as well. I hit the ground running: truck gassed up, camera rolling…All you want to do is get it, feel it, be in it…The more I saw, however, the more I needed to see. I tried to settle down back home in Los Angeles, but I missed feeling that rush. I went to see a doctor about it. He told me I should slow down for a while, take a break. I just nodded and left, booked a flight out that day. It didn’t seem possible to stop…I wasn’t one of those adrenaline junkies I’d run into in some Third World cul-de-sac. I wasn’t looking to get shot at, wasn’t looking to take chances. I just didn’t let the risks get in the way. There was no place I wouldn’t go. Coming home meant coming down. It was easier to stay up. I’d return home to piles of bills and an empty refrigerator. Buying groceries, I’d get lost – too many aisles, too many choices…I wanted emotion, but couldn’t find it here, so I settled for motion…The more I was away, the worse it got. I’d come back and couldn’t speak the language. Out there the pain was palpable; you breathed it in the air. Back here, no one talked about life an death. No one seemed to understand.” (6-8)
“There was a time many years ago, when I first became a reporter, when I thought I could fake it. go through the motions, not give away pieces of myself in return. I focused on the mechanics: story-telling and structure. I had conversations, conducted interviews, and I wasn’t even there. I’d nod, look in other’s eyes, but my vision lost focus, my mind turned to details. People became characters, plot lines in a story I was constructing in my head…when I had what I needed, I’d pull out. I thought I could get away unscathed, unchanged. The truth was I hadn’t gotten out at all. It’s impossible to block out what you see, what your hear. Even if you stop listening, the pain gets inside, seeps through the cracks you can’t close up. You can’t fake your way through it. I know that now. You have to absorb it all. You owe them that. You owe it to yourself as well. ‘Sometimes you have to look very narrowly down the path,’ an aid worker in Somalia once said to me. ‘ You can’t look at what’s lying on either side of the road.’ I didn’t understand what he meant, but I certainly get it now. crystal clear. If you are going to escape, then there’s only so much you can stand. It’s best not to stop in one place too long. A week or two, maximum.” (32-33)
“Many times that year, I wished I had a mark, a scar, a missing limb…at least they would have seen, would have known. I wouldn’t have been expected to smile and mingle, meet and greet. Everyone could have seen that, like a broken locket, I had only half a heart.” (45-46)
Maradi, Niger – Dr. Tectonidis about babies dying from malnutrition and his advice to his nurses when they die: “I tell the nurses, ‘If you get attached and you want to cry, fine – but go somewhere else. Go hide.’ If you cry in front of the mothers, what good is that? It’s not a sign of sympathy. It makes other mothers worried. They start wondering, ‘what’s going to happen to my kid?’ You can’t do that; it’s not fair. They look up to you like you’re a God. You’re the one chance they have. Only fifty people died here last month. We saved about fifteen hundred. They don’t expect sympathy, they expect you to try your best. They don’t expect you to cry for them. That’s not your job.” (105)
“I don’t know,” I say, teasing, “They have a sign and everything – it says FORT APACHE – hanging right over the entrance to the precinct down there.” “We’ll see about that,” one of the police officers says, and a couple of guys get up and leave.”… “About an hour later, as I’m getting ready to leave, a squad car pulls into the parking lot. Two young officers get out, one clutching the hand-drawn Fort Apache sign that up until a few minutes ago had hung over the entrance to the First District’s headquarters. “How’d you get that,” I ask, laughing. “We snuck right in there, crawled under the Duty Officer’s desk, and cut it free,” one of the guys says, laughing, “Who’s the real Fort Apache now, motherf***er?” (174)
“…I sometimes believe it’s the motion that keeps me alive as well. I hit the ground running: truck gassed up, camera rolling…All you want to do is get it, feel it, be in it…The more I saw, however, the more I needed to see. I tried to settle down back home in Los Angeles, but I missed feeling that rush. I went to see a doctor about it. He told me I should slow down for a while, take a break. I just nodded and left, booked a flight out that day. It didn’t seem possible to stop…I wasn’t one of those adrenaline junkies I’d run into in some Third World cul-de-sac. I wasn’t looking to get shot at, wasn’t looking to take chances. I just didn’t let the risks get in the way. There was no place I wouldn’t go. Coming home meant coming down. It was easier to stay up. I’d return home to piles of bills and an empty refrigerator. Buying groceries, I’d get lost – too many aisles, too many choices…I wanted emotion, but couldn’t find it here, so I settled for motion…The more I was away, the worse it got. I’d come back and couldn’t speak the language. Out there the pain was palpable; you breathed it in the air. Back here, no one talked about life an death. No one seemed to understand.” (6-8)
“There was a time many years ago, when I first became a reporter, when I thought I could fake it. go through the motions, not give away pieces of myself in return. I focused on the mechanics: story-telling and structure. I had conversations, conducted interviews, and I wasn’t even there. I’d nod, look in other’s eyes, but my vision lost focus, my mind turned to details. People became characters, plot lines in a story I was constructing in my head…when I had what I needed, I’d pull out. I thought I could get away unscathed, unchanged. The truth was I hadn’t gotten out at all. It’s impossible to block out what you see, what your hear. Even if you stop listening, the pain gets inside, seeps through the cracks you can’t close up. You can’t fake your way through it. I know that now. You have to absorb it all. You owe them that. You owe it to yourself as well. ‘Sometimes you have to look very narrowly down the path,’ an aid worker in Somalia once said to me. ‘ You can’t look at what’s lying on either side of the road.’ I didn’t understand what he meant, but I certainly get it now. crystal clear. If you are going to escape, then there’s only so much you can stand. It’s best not to stop in one place too long. A week or two, maximum.” (32-33)
“Many times that year, I wished I had a mark, a scar, a missing limb…at least they would have seen, would have known. I wouldn’t have been expected to smile and mingle, meet and greet. Everyone could have seen that, like a broken locket, I had only half a heart.” (45-46)
Maradi, Niger – Dr. Tectonidis about babies dying from malnutrition and his advice to his nurses when they die: “I tell the nurses, ‘If you get attached and you want to cry, fine – but go somewhere else. Go hide.’ If you cry in front of the mothers, what good is that? It’s not a sign of sympathy. It makes other mothers worried. They start wondering, ‘what’s going to happen to my kid?’ You can’t do that; it’s not fair. They look up to you like you’re a God. You’re the one chance they have. Only fifty people died here last month. We saved about fifteen hundred. They don’t expect sympathy, they expect you to try your best. They don’t expect you to cry for them. That’s not your job.” (105)
“I don’t know,” I say, teasing, “They have a sign and everything – it says FORT APACHE – hanging right over the entrance to the precinct down there.” “We’ll see about that,” one of the police officers says, and a couple of guys get up and leave.”… “About an hour later, as I’m getting ready to leave, a squad car pulls into the parking lot. Two young officers get out, one clutching the hand-drawn Fort Apache sign that up until a few minutes ago had hung over the entrance to the First District’s headquarters. “How’d you get that,” I ask, laughing. “We snuck right in there, crawled under the Duty Officer’s desk, and cut it free,” one of the guys says, laughing, “Who’s the real Fort Apache now, motherf***er?” (174)
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Hockey stick, rattlesnake, monkey monkey underpants
I'm sitting here, watching the final episodes of Gilmore Girls from the final season, and here are my final thoughts:
Barack Obama (does Barack have a "c?" or is it Barak? I think it's Barak. but it could be Barack)...Rory is on his campaign trail as a reporter for an online magazine. She decided not to marry Logan. She needs transition time! (I just googled it and it's Barack).
What happens when Gilmore Girls doesn't make me happy at the end? I'm kind of sad. Rory's graduated and is going on the campaign trail for who knows how long, leaving Lorelai, setting out on her own...I'm nervous for Rory and for Lorelai. Sad for them, wistful, nostalgic, happy, excited. I feel like I just graduated - I cried the whole night and the whole trip home.
You can tell Sookie's really pregnant because of her nose. Strange, I know, but you can.
I want their clothes from the last few seasons. I also want to be able to eat all the crap food that they eat and still look like they do. What if the world was backwards for a little while and all the bad food was good for you and we all lost weight and got in excellent shape by eating poptarts and Chinese takeout? I want my hair to do what theirs does. I should get a grown-up pair of jeans.
"I feel like I need more time." I hate that feeling. That slightly panicky, overwhelming feeling of needing more time. And I hate good-byes. I hate saying them, I hate doing them, but I need them. I need closure. I need the hugs and the tears. And I need to do it quick (it's always been my band-aid policy). But deep inside, I could stay hugging onto those I love forever and not leave. I love hugs. Good, two-armed, bear hugs. Knock your teeth out hugs.
Barack Obama (does Barack have a "c?" or is it Barak? I think it's Barak. but it could be Barack)...Rory is on his campaign trail as a reporter for an online magazine. She decided not to marry Logan. She needs transition time! (I just googled it and it's Barack).
What happens when Gilmore Girls doesn't make me happy at the end? I'm kind of sad. Rory's graduated and is going on the campaign trail for who knows how long, leaving Lorelai, setting out on her own...I'm nervous for Rory and for Lorelai. Sad for them, wistful, nostalgic, happy, excited. I feel like I just graduated - I cried the whole night and the whole trip home.
You can tell Sookie's really pregnant because of her nose. Strange, I know, but you can.
I want their clothes from the last few seasons. I also want to be able to eat all the crap food that they eat and still look like they do. What if the world was backwards for a little while and all the bad food was good for you and we all lost weight and got in excellent shape by eating poptarts and Chinese takeout? I want my hair to do what theirs does. I should get a grown-up pair of jeans.
"I feel like I need more time." I hate that feeling. That slightly panicky, overwhelming feeling of needing more time. And I hate good-byes. I hate saying them, I hate doing them, but I need them. I need closure. I need the hugs and the tears. And I need to do it quick (it's always been my band-aid policy). But deep inside, I could stay hugging onto those I love forever and not leave. I love hugs. Good, two-armed, bear hugs. Knock your teeth out hugs.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Slater-isms from my one day of J-term
"an arrogant son of an ill-tempered woman"
"whenever everyone has the same wrong personal preference, we think it's the truth"
"assume it was snowing in west hell"
"let that grow in your front yard and back yard a bit..."
"the first commandmant is not the worst commandment, okeedokee?" (about "be fruitful and multiply")
"difference is just a difference, not an inferiority"
"that's pretty good...that's almost right"
"i'm not touching oprah - she's an icon...there's only so many people you can attack in three weeks"
"whenever everyone has the same wrong personal preference, we think it's the truth"
"assume it was snowing in west hell"
"let that grow in your front yard and back yard a bit..."
"the first commandmant is not the worst commandment, okeedokee?" (about "be fruitful and multiply")
"difference is just a difference, not an inferiority"
"that's pretty good...that's almost right"
"i'm not touching oprah - she's an icon...there's only so many people you can attack in three weeks"
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