Praise to the Lord, who doth prosper thy work and defend thee;
Surely His goodness and mercy here daily attend thee.
Ponder anew what the Almighty can do,
If with His love He befriend thee.
(lyrics by Joachim Neander, 1680)
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Book 'em, Danno
Here's what I've been reading since trading in my textbooks:
The Thirteenth Tale (Diane Setterfield): The writing isn't terrific, but after a couple chapters the plot sucks you in and keeps you hooked until the end. At which point you say, "Wait....what?" Yes, the final plot twist is a bit deus ex machina, but nevertheless this gothic tale is an entertaining read.
My Sister's Keeper (Jodi Picoult): This is the first Picoult novel I've read, and my initial impression is that the woman is capable of churning out what amounts to literary crack-cocaine. Not that I've ever tried crack. And you shouldn't either. I'm just saying that this book is highly addictive, so beware! After reading it, I loaned my copy to my roommate on a Friday. Sunday morning she emerged from her room in tears and flung the book back at me, upset by the emotional roller-coaster she had just ridden, upset by the medical ethics quandry that is at the center of this family drama and for which there is no clear 'right' or 'wrong,' upset over what happens at the end to these characters whose voices are so real, and upset that the book had to end at all. Unable to cope with the withdrawal symptoms, she's moved on to one or two other Picoult novels since.
People of the Book (Geraldine Brooks): A fictionalized account of the creation and preservation of the Sarajevo Haggadah. Brooks traverses modern-day Bosnia and Boston, Victorian-era Vienna, Spain & Italy during the threat of the Inquisition, the Australian outback and North Africa as she paints highly detailed pictures of the lives of those who may have encountered the Haggadah throughout its history. The author did impressive amounts of research (as evidenced by the lengthy Acknowledgement section at the end) to provide her readers with believable historical settings and insight into the various scientific disciplines that provide clues to the Haggadah's past. Plus she throws in a little romance, espionage, and a mother-daughter conflict, so really this is a book that has it all. Except aliens. And zombies. But pretty much everything else.
Miss Lonelyhearts & The Day of the Locust (Nathanael West): These two short novels were the June selection for a monthly neighborhood book club I had intended to attend. However, I didn't get around to finishing them in time and ended up skipping the meeting. I deeply regret this, as I really would have liked for someone to explain to me why this book is still in print. While it was somewhat interesting to visit the worlds of 1930's New York (Lonelyhearts) and Hollywood (Locust), overall I just didn't "get" West's point in telling these stories.
Next on deck: Jhumpa Lahiri, Michael Chabon, Alice Thomas Ellis, and a Julia Cameron book on writing (for a writing class...taught by Ms. Cameron herself!)
Here's what I've been reading since trading in my textbooks:
The Thirteenth Tale (Diane Setterfield): The writing isn't terrific, but after a couple chapters the plot sucks you in and keeps you hooked until the end. At which point you say, "Wait....what?" Yes, the final plot twist is a bit deus ex machina, but nevertheless this gothic tale is an entertaining read.
My Sister's Keeper (Jodi Picoult): This is the first Picoult novel I've read, and my initial impression is that the woman is capable of churning out what amounts to literary crack-cocaine. Not that I've ever tried crack. And you shouldn't either. I'm just saying that this book is highly addictive, so beware! After reading it, I loaned my copy to my roommate on a Friday. Sunday morning she emerged from her room in tears and flung the book back at me, upset by the emotional roller-coaster she had just ridden, upset by the medical ethics quandry that is at the center of this family drama and for which there is no clear 'right' or 'wrong,' upset over what happens at the end to these characters whose voices are so real, and upset that the book had to end at all. Unable to cope with the withdrawal symptoms, she's moved on to one or two other Picoult novels since.
People of the Book (Geraldine Brooks): A fictionalized account of the creation and preservation of the Sarajevo Haggadah. Brooks traverses modern-day Bosnia and Boston, Victorian-era Vienna, Spain & Italy during the threat of the Inquisition, the Australian outback and North Africa as she paints highly detailed pictures of the lives of those who may have encountered the Haggadah throughout its history. The author did impressive amounts of research (as evidenced by the lengthy Acknowledgement section at the end) to provide her readers with believable historical settings and insight into the various scientific disciplines that provide clues to the Haggadah's past. Plus she throws in a little romance, espionage, and a mother-daughter conflict, so really this is a book that has it all. Except aliens. And zombies. But pretty much everything else.
Miss Lonelyhearts & The Day of the Locust (Nathanael West): These two short novels were the June selection for a monthly neighborhood book club I had intended to attend. However, I didn't get around to finishing them in time and ended up skipping the meeting. I deeply regret this, as I really would have liked for someone to explain to me why this book is still in print. While it was somewhat interesting to visit the worlds of 1930's New York (Lonelyhearts) and Hollywood (Locust), overall I just didn't "get" West's point in telling these stories.
Next on deck: Jhumpa Lahiri, Michael Chabon, Alice Thomas Ellis, and a Julia Cameron book on writing (for a writing class...taught by Ms. Cameron herself!)
Filed under:
Reading
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
The Power of Positive Thinking
Still working on my workaday attitude over here.
Today I'm keeping in mind that I can either spend my cubicle-dwelling hours grumbling and whining about this job, or...I could dare to dream about better environs.
According to CheapTickets.com, round-trip airfare to Guatemala in September is only $355. I'm just saying...
Still working on my workaday attitude over here.
Today I'm keeping in mind that I can either spend my cubicle-dwelling hours grumbling and whining about this job, or...I could dare to dream about better environs.
According to CheapTickets.com, round-trip airfare to Guatemala in September is only $355. I'm just saying...
Filed under:
travel,
working girl
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
The One with the Fake Wall
Well, my attitude towards my job has been less than stellar this week. I'm afraid the novelty of Pimp Dog might be wearing off a little, so I tried to cheer myself up by reading through quotes from Blades of Glory. That helped some. As did this video made by a bunch of pranksters:
www.cheeksdown.com/index.html?wallprank
That office may just be my ideal place to work. They pull pranks, everyone says "WTF" (my favorite workplace slang), the CEO walks around in gym clothes - sign me up! A seemingly vast improvement over my current environment, where I've never experienced any pranks and can't recall anyone saying "WTF" even once, even in jest.
Also gym clothes are contraband here, according to the latest "Business Casual" dress policy that was circulated this week. I am convinced the policy was written by a middle-aged woman in Tulsa. (No offense to you middle-aged Tulsonians, but c'mon - you know how you can be!) Here at The Firm, the policy dictates, culottes are acceptable but capri pants are not. Also, socks or stockings must be worn at all times. Even in the summer?! Yes, even in the summer, Mrs. Tulsa decrees, because she clearly does not understand the smothering heat factor of a summer commute on the NYC transit system. Culottes paired with pantyhose may serve her well as she drives to work in her air-conditioned Dodge Caravan, but they would be the death of me during my morning commute. (Cause of death: ridicule & heat stroke.)
It crossed my mind that it might be hilarious to show up to work one day wearing culottes and knee-high argyle socks. With "dress sandals" - another policy stipulation. Kind of a "Look at what your rules have reduced me to!" statement. But then I realized that my fashion-conscious performance manager would be deeply offended by my outfit, and the policy expressly states that we should avoid making others feel uncomfortable by our clothing choices. Thus another attempt at hilarity bites the dust.
Gotta go - someone has just requested that I come help them organize and sort all the emails in their Outlook inbox. Do I sense a prankster in our midst!? Sadly, unfortunately, I think she is being all too serious.
Until the next time...
Filed under:
working girl
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Remembering Helen
She had four older siblings (one of which was my grandmother) and four younger siblings – the very middle of a set of nine. They grew up during the Depression – nine mouths to feed when food was scarce – raised alone by their mother, after their father ran off to do whatever it was men ran off to do at that time.
Her oldest brother left, too, years later, when my mom was a baby; he went west after the war and never returned east. She lost her sisters: some too young and some in later years, late in life. Then her younger brothers passed, and Helen – the middler – remained, alone of the nine.
She had red hair – whether by genetics or by choice, I’m not sure, but as far back as I can remember it was red, and she kept it red until recently, though pushing ninety years old.
The closest I’ve come to seeing a ghost was when I saw Helen at a family wedding. It was a year or two after my grandmother passed away, and suddenly there she was - my grandmother - standing in front of me. After a moment of shock, I registered the red hair and realized that no, this was Helen – she shared my Mimi’s face, but the signature hair color was all her own.
My mom would call her “a special lady” with fondness and a smile; my uncle would describe her as “a tough old bird” and he meant it with respect. He got a kick out of her. When he visited her in the hospital last year, following serious surgery, he asked if he could get her anything and she replied, “Yeah, get me a beer.”
Come to think of it, the last time I saw Helen she was sitting across from me at the kitchen table that had once belonged to my grandmother, drinking a beer.
Are these, then, my only salient memories of this woman, my great-aunt? It unnerves me a little, to think that I am carrying forward not 88 years worth of remembered struggles and successes, not knowledge of her character or disposition, not stories of what she did during the war or what she thought of Elvis & Kennedy, but rather only…the image of a beer-drinking red-head.
I was about to get all dramatic, bemoaning memories lost to time and the fleeting, transient nature of our personal experiences in the annals of human history and all that jazz. Those lamentations probably stem as much from fear that memories of my own life will one day be lost, as from my uneasiness over missing memories of Helen. But while it’s true that our lives on earth are fleeting, our memories & the minutiae of our lives are not really ever lost, are they?
I may have only been given the beer-drinking red-head image of my aunt to carry forward, but another niece may know a story of Helen’s first job and first car, and her son knows what kind of mother she was, and someone else somewhere else remembers her sense of humor. Certain pieces of our lives – some big, some small – are deposited in the minds of those around us to carry forward. Perhaps a bigger comfort, though, comes in knowing that not one detail of our life is ever lost, but is instead collected, in a treasured sum total, in the loving mind of God.
She had four older siblings (one of which was my grandmother) and four younger siblings – the very middle of a set of nine. They grew up during the Depression – nine mouths to feed when food was scarce – raised alone by their mother, after their father ran off to do whatever it was men ran off to do at that time.
Her oldest brother left, too, years later, when my mom was a baby; he went west after the war and never returned east. She lost her sisters: some too young and some in later years, late in life. Then her younger brothers passed, and Helen – the middler – remained, alone of the nine.
She had red hair – whether by genetics or by choice, I’m not sure, but as far back as I can remember it was red, and she kept it red until recently, though pushing ninety years old.
The closest I’ve come to seeing a ghost was when I saw Helen at a family wedding. It was a year or two after my grandmother passed away, and suddenly there she was - my grandmother - standing in front of me. After a moment of shock, I registered the red hair and realized that no, this was Helen – she shared my Mimi’s face, but the signature hair color was all her own.
My mom would call her “a special lady” with fondness and a smile; my uncle would describe her as “a tough old bird” and he meant it with respect. He got a kick out of her. When he visited her in the hospital last year, following serious surgery, he asked if he could get her anything and she replied, “Yeah, get me a beer.”
Come to think of it, the last time I saw Helen she was sitting across from me at the kitchen table that had once belonged to my grandmother, drinking a beer.
Are these, then, my only salient memories of this woman, my great-aunt? It unnerves me a little, to think that I am carrying forward not 88 years worth of remembered struggles and successes, not knowledge of her character or disposition, not stories of what she did during the war or what she thought of Elvis & Kennedy, but rather only…the image of a beer-drinking red-head.
I was about to get all dramatic, bemoaning memories lost to time and the fleeting, transient nature of our personal experiences in the annals of human history and all that jazz. Those lamentations probably stem as much from fear that memories of my own life will one day be lost, as from my uneasiness over missing memories of Helen. But while it’s true that our lives on earth are fleeting, our memories & the minutiae of our lives are not really ever lost, are they?
I may have only been given the beer-drinking red-head image of my aunt to carry forward, but another niece may know a story of Helen’s first job and first car, and her son knows what kind of mother she was, and someone else somewhere else remembers her sense of humor. Certain pieces of our lives – some big, some small – are deposited in the minds of those around us to carry forward. Perhaps a bigger comfort, though, comes in knowing that not one detail of our life is ever lost, but is instead collected, in a treasured sum total, in the loving mind of God.
Friday, June 06, 2008
Sinatra: 10 Years Gone
I let the month of May slip by without stopping to commemorate the 10-year anniversary of Frank's death. Luckily the USPS and TurnerClassicMovies commemorated plenty.
I let the month of May slip by without stopping to commemorate the 10-year anniversary of Frank's death. Luckily the USPS and TurnerClassicMovies commemorated plenty.
I wandered by this building a few weeks ago in the Village. Don't you think I should live there!? Of course, now that 'Sinatra: The Man and His Movies' month has come and gone, Frank's face has probably been paved over with a new underwear ad or something. Ah, the times, they are a'changing...
Filed under:
frank
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Salty Tears of White-Collar Rage
I haven't been enjoying my job too much lately. By "lately" I mean the past 6 or 7 months. Or perhaps more truthfully, off-and-on since 2002. This week has been especially bad, though. Or perhaps more truthfully, my attitude has been especially bad. I gotta work on that. The circumstances of my current career may be beyond my control, but my attitude and outlook while at this job - well, these are my responsibility.
So I'm trying to replace my internal running dialogue of discontent with a little levity, focus more on the good around me and not just the bad & annoying, and keep trusting that God wants to lift my spirit higher than these beige cubicle walls. Here are some steps I took today:
A) Listened Up: I traded in a soundtrack of my own whining for some tunes on Pandora Radio. Do you know this site? It's a free internet radio station that customizes play lists based on your musical preferences. I've got a sweet mix of The Weepies/Frank Sinatra playing now, with a little Keb' Mo' and The Frames thrown in for good measure.
B) Listed Up: Instead of laboring over mental lists of grievances, I'm going to be on the lookout for the humorous. Like today: called a midtown kosher restaurant to make a lunch reservation for one of my bosses. The recorded message that played in lieu of hold-muzak featured a woman with an Australian-ish accent describing the restaurant's offerings. She said their food was Mediterannean, with a "eunich Asian twist." I'm guessing the word she actually said was "unique," but I made sure to jot down "eunich." Because that was a whole lot funnier. Though not at all kosher.
C) Word Up: I'm beginning to resent the amount of head space that my work-related accounting terms and acronyms are occupying. So I decided to counter-act their clutter by adding a new Hebrew word to my vocabulary each day, via Akhlah's daily email. Today's word was "cat." Which brings me to #D...
D) Up Dog: I changed my computer's boring, standard desktop image to a tiled background of this Pimp Dog:
When I start to worry that an Excel spreadsheet is about to make my eyes bleed, I take a little gander at this grinning velvet-clad canine and kinda can't help but grin back. I think I'm going to make frequent changes to my desktop going forward, so feel free to send me your best (and by "best," I mean "worst" and "most innapropriate") images and I'll get them in the rotation.
I haven't been enjoying my job too much lately. By "lately" I mean the past 6 or 7 months. Or perhaps more truthfully, off-and-on since 2002. This week has been especially bad, though. Or perhaps more truthfully, my attitude has been especially bad. I gotta work on that. The circumstances of my current career may be beyond my control, but my attitude and outlook while at this job - well, these are my responsibility.
So I'm trying to replace my internal running dialogue of discontent with a little levity, focus more on the good around me and not just the bad & annoying, and keep trusting that God wants to lift my spirit higher than these beige cubicle walls. Here are some steps I took today:
A) Listened Up: I traded in a soundtrack of my own whining for some tunes on Pandora Radio. Do you know this site? It's a free internet radio station that customizes play lists based on your musical preferences. I've got a sweet mix of The Weepies/Frank Sinatra playing now, with a little Keb' Mo' and The Frames thrown in for good measure.
B) Listed Up: Instead of laboring over mental lists of grievances, I'm going to be on the lookout for the humorous. Like today: called a midtown kosher restaurant to make a lunch reservation for one of my bosses. The recorded message that played in lieu of hold-muzak featured a woman with an Australian-ish accent describing the restaurant's offerings. She said their food was Mediterannean, with a "eunich Asian twist." I'm guessing the word she actually said was "unique," but I made sure to jot down "eunich." Because that was a whole lot funnier. Though not at all kosher.
C) Word Up: I'm beginning to resent the amount of head space that my work-related accounting terms and acronyms are occupying. So I decided to counter-act their clutter by adding a new Hebrew word to my vocabulary each day, via Akhlah's daily email. Today's word was "cat." Which brings me to #D...
D) Up Dog: I changed my computer's boring, standard desktop image to a tiled background of this Pimp Dog:
When I start to worry that an Excel spreadsheet is about to make my eyes bleed, I take a little gander at this grinning velvet-clad canine and kinda can't help but grin back. I think I'm going to make frequent changes to my desktop going forward, so feel free to send me your best (and by "best," I mean "worst" and "most innapropriate") images and I'll get them in the rotation.
Filed under:
working girl
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