emlocke

Category: Real World

  • “We stop existing and start living.”

    So, Michael Jackson died.

    Say what?

    I know, right?

    That was my reaction, too, when I got home from work last night and flipped on NY1 to see crowds of people gathering not in Azadi Square in Tehran, but outside Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. I descended on to the futon and sat there staring at the TV and wearing my doubleyoo-tee-eff face—the one I use to bait instant assistance in hardware stores and auto service stations.  One eyebrow up, one eyebrow down, nose wrinkled a little bit, mouth quirked up on one side and mouth dropped open (the degree of openness depends on the extent of my confusion).

    Like Michael himself, my grieving process was unconventional.  In lieu of anger, bargaining, and depression, my emotions hopped from yeah right to uhhh, for serious? to this is super freaking weird and then I had to call my dad and ask him why so many bad things are happening in the world.

    My Cool Aunt gave me Dangerous on cassette tape for Christmas when I was eight years old and I lllllloved it. I just listened to iTunes’ 30 second preview of each song and I recognize only five: Heal The World, Black or White, Who Is It, Give In To Me (sort of?), and Will You Be There. Those are tracks 7-11, and from that I deduce that Black or White and Will You Be There were my favorite songs, and I learned to like the ones in between them (and the one right before Black or White because I had to hear some of it every time I rewound my tape to play through again—and again and again, for weeks straight).

    It was the first mainstream album that ever captured me (previous fixations included the soundtrack to The Little Mermaid and the greatest hits of Sharon, Lois, and Bram). It’s hard to understand retrospectively exactly what it was, but there was something about the music—and to a lesser extent, the lyrics—that I really felt. It sounded beautiful and interesting and emphatic in a way that I hadn’t yet realized music could sound. (more…)

  • 2008 Faves: People

    Mariska Hargitay

    Barack and Michelle Obama

    Tina Fey as herself

    And, Alrick Nelson

  • 2008 Faves: News and views

    Ten (or about that many) articles from 2008 worth reading and remembering.  They’re not necessarily my favorites, they don’t necessarily reflect my opinion, they’re not necessarily groundbreaking works of flawless journalism, but they are the pieces that come to mind at year’s end.

    The Unstudied Art of Interrogation by Scott Shane.  The New York Times, March 8, 2008.

    Mr. Kleinman said he envisioned a new intelligence agency or subagency devoted solely to interrogation — sponsoring research, conducting training and building a team of sophisticated interrogators with linguistic and psychological skills. He speaks of creating a high-level interrogation center in the United States where settings could be customized for a particular suspect, Hollywood-style, “whether it’s a Bedouin tent or a suite at the Waldorf.”

    Who Says Women Aren’t Funny? by Alessandra Stanley.  Vanity Fair, April 2008.

    Comedy has changed on sitcoms, in clubs, and on Saturday Night Live. The repertoire of women isn’t limited to self-loathing or man-hating anymore; the humor is more eclectic, serene, and organic. ‘The consciousness changed’ is how Lorne Michaels explains the difference.

    Prison Puppies by Joseph Berger.  The New York Times, June 1, 2008.

    The tender mercy here is that a dog does not know the difference between a prisoner and a model citizen. It responds to kindness, firmness, patience and consistency.

    A Diverse Brooklyn, With Meatballs by Mike Albo.  The New York Times, July 3, 2008.

    Ikea has become a lodestone for heated discussion about the future of this village, and Brooklyn in general. Google “Ikea Brooklyn,” and you find a flurry of blogs, Web sites and organizations contending that the Ikea project forced unfair changes in the zoning rules, broke environmental laws during construction and, in a cultural sense, bleeds Brooklyn of its character and charm . . . But walking through the maze of home furnishings, I saw what I love about Brooklyn: everyone.

    Can green be groovy? Economist.com, July 21, 2008.

    There are several drawbacks to the flaky, faddish school of greenery. The first is that trends come and go, yet the planet will still need saving if Dr. Earth and his ilk decide they are more interested in macramé or tae kwon do.

    Black and Blacker: The Racial Politics of The Obama Marriage by Vanessa Grigoriadis.  New York magazine, August 10, 2008.

    At the [Sidley Austin law] firm, Michelle was assigned to be Barack’s mentor, but she began with suspicions. “Everyone was raving about this smart, attractive, young first-year associate they had recruited from Harvard,” she’s said. “Everyone was like, ‘Oh, he’s brilliant.’ I said, ‘Okay, this is probably just a brother who can talk straight.’ ”

    Stop, Thief! by John Colapinto.  The New Yorker, September 1, 2008.

    [Brad] Brekke had the revolutionary idea of creating a crime lab inside [Target’s] office headquarters.

    The Falling Man by Tom Junod.  Esquire Magazine, September 11, 2008.

    Some people who look at the picture see stoicism, willpower, a portrait of resignation; others see something else — something discordant and therefore terrible: freedom . . . He is, fifteen seconds past 9:41 a.m. EST, the moment the picture is taken, in the clutches of pure physics . . . In the picture, he is frozen; in his life outside the frame, he drops and keeps dropping until he disappears.

    Thumbspeak by Louis Menand.  The New Yorker, October 20, 2008.

    [David] Crystal’s answer is that texting is, partly, a game. It’s like writing a sonnet (well, sort of): the requirement is to adapt the message to immutable formal constraints. A sonnet can’t have more than fourteen lines, and a mobile-phone message can’t have more than a hundred and forty bytes, which is usually enough for a hundred and sixty characters. This is a challenge to ingenuity, not an invitation to anarchy.

    Never Let Them See You Sweat by Kate Zernike.  The New York Times, November 29, 2008

    People tend to think that the confrontation produces the reaction; if you’re faced with an irrational rant, who can blame you for falling apart? But researchers in emotional regulation tease out a factor in between: how we think. Between the “a” of the antecedent and the “c” of the consequence, they argue, is the crucial “b,” for belief, which in the case of the person melting down might sound something like: my boss hates me, everyone hates me, I’m a total failure.

    That is the opportunity for emotional regulation.

    Bargain Hunting for Books, And Feeling Sheepish About It by David Streitfield.  The New York Times, December 27, 2008.

    ‘With the Internet, nothing is ever lost,’ Ms. Lesser said. ‘That’s the good news, and that’s the bad news.’

  • This is what yesterday (and today) felt like to me


    Flutter of butterflies via ffffound.

    This week I have been listening to:
    Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1
    Let Me Touch You For Awhile     by Allison Krauss
    Good Mother by Jann Arden
    United by Bon Jovi
    Running by Evermore

  • Do you know what pride looks like?

    Today, I took responsibility.  Today, I stood up for myself.

    Today, I was inspired by a candidate and by my country.

    Tonight, hope has new meaning.  Tonight, tomorrow holds new promise.

  • Word to your mother (and father) (and Gail Collins)

    There are only three things that could get my parents to leave the house on a weeknight after the hour of 8PM:

    A family emergency
    A Doobie Brothers concert
    A TimesTalks event

    The New York Times Presents:

    TimesTalks Presents Election Night Live at TheTimesCenter

    Tuesday, Nov 04, 2008 6:00 PM EST
    at TimesCenter Stage

    Spend Election Night LIVE at The New York Times.

    Get insight and perspective on the battle for the White House from key New York Times political reporters and editors, including executive editor Bill Keller, managing editor Jill Abramson, assistant managing editor Richard L. Berke, editorial page editor Andrew M. Rosenthal, Op-Ed columnists Gail Collins and Frank Rich, national political correspondent Adam Nagourney and others.

    Discussion moderated by Times Magazine contributing writer Matt Bai, author of “The Argument: Inside the Battle to Remake Democratic Politics,” with Sam Roberts, Times reporter and host of NY-1’s “New York Close-Up.”

    Discussion: 6 – 8 PM
    All-American Food & Drink plus Televised Returns: 8 – 10 PM

    And so I will be spending Election Night with my mom and dad, Gail Collins, Bill Keller, Jill Abramson, and other members of the Times Editorial and Opinion teams.  I wonder how they’re planning to get us to leave at 10PM?  You know the results won’t be final by then.

    My first question: Do I get to dress up?  I have a navy blue, semi-formal dress that would look just splendid in the red and blue light cast by the U.S. Electoral map!

  • This is the last you’ll hear about it from me

    I wrote an e-mail today “to the many members of my urban tribe.”  I’ll write the same message here to visitors, feed readers, friends, foes, and to tribe members not in my Gmail address book:

    This is merely a reminder, a gentle prod to your ribs, and not a politically partisan overture.

    I get a paycheck and health benefits, recycle, pay taxes, and have been called for jury duty in New York State. I’m still registered to vote in Connecticut. For the rest of you who have relocated to a new state since you first registered to vote or since the election in 2004—it is not too late to register to vote in your new state or to request an absentee ballot from your home state for the Presidential General Election on November 4.

    I requested an absentee ballot from my home town clerk by mail last week. This website walked me through it: Long Distance Voter. It was easy. Seriously. If you’re looking for a challenge, get your voting rights squared away and then come by and help me try to fit all my clothes into my closet.

    I would consider either one a personal favor.

    To expand:

    In a way, Republican candidate Senator John McCain inspired this general petition to exercise your voting rights. Today, he opted to participate in the debate with his opponent, acceding in his actions if not with his words that, as Barack Obama said, “it’s more important than ever that we present ourselves to the American people and try to describe where we want to take the country.”

    But in fact, John McCain first inspired this message when I met him four years ago, less than one month before the 2004 Presidential election.  By chance, we were seated at the same table at a bicentennial celebration at the Naval Academy Prep School in Newport, Rhode Island.

    He introduced himself and then asked my two friends and me, all three of us Mount Holyoke students, if we knew who we’d vote for.  One declared herself undecided; the other said, “pass;” I said that I would vote for his party’s opponent, John Kerry, because I preferred his positions on education and the environment.

    McCain told us that it’s important for young adults to know which issues matter to them and to vote accordingly; that it’s important for us, as young women, to cast our votes.

    I did vote, Senator, and I am voting again.

  • The illumination of a city

    From my rooftop, 9PM September 11, 2008

  • Imaginando la ciudad fantasma

    The Chaitén volcano in Chile erupted—continues to erupt—this week.

    And once, I was there.

    It’s hard to admit now that, before I fell asleep that night, I rolled over in my sleeping bag and pressed my hands into the soft black sand and thought it was special, a beautiful thing, to walk on a volcanic beach. I wanted that to be my last thought before I slept. I wanted to end the day on that feeling, to epitomize the day with that special thing I got to do, the special place I got to be.

    It’s hard to think about people evacuating their homes in Chaitén and wonder where everyone was on the night I was there. I saw people at the restaurant and a few at the market, but—thousands of evacuees? It’s as though the eruption roused them just to chase them out of the woodwork.

    It’s hard to read about the irreversible devastation, the abrupt loss of flora and fauna, the halt to the agricultural industry, when the volcano seemed to me the gentle face of Mother Earth on that one night. Now I remember, the sand was so brutally black.

    Nothing can stop a natural disaster like a volcanic eruption. No one can anticipate it, though now it seems like it will be impossible not to just wait for the next one, even if it takes another nine thousand years.

    Here is a collection of photos of the violent eruption as the volcano’s contents sparked into a “dirty thunderstorm” taken by United Press International photographer Carlos Gutierrez: Tormenta eléctrica en erupción del volcán Chaitén. The caption translates to, “The startling (moving) beauty of two natural phenomena. An electrical storm (thunderstorm) above the gigantic column of ash that rises from the Chaitén volcano, reaching an altitude of 14 kilometers.”

  • Why couldn’t he have worn the sweater that I picked out for him?

    Can you find the future world leader in this photo from this past Tuesday’s New York Times?

    obama_au.jpg
    Photo by Damon Winter, The New York Times

    Here he is:

    obama_au_circle.jpg

    That’s my little brother Will at Barack Obama’s rally at American University on Tuesday. My dad spotted him in this photo in the first section of the Times. It’s also on the NYT Caucus blog: Obama, Kennedys Resonate with Youth.

    And now I’m the only member of my family who hasn’t made a nearly negligible appearance in the Gray Lady.

    P.S. Will brought his own camera to the big event on his campus (he sort of looks like he’s scoping an angle in the Times photo).  His best shots are of AU a capella group On a Sensual Note, but this is my favorite photo of actual political personalities.

    kennedy-obama.jpg
    Photo by Will White, My Brother