Election Fashion. What Obamamaniac wouldn’t be happy ringing doorbells in a swing state wearing a Narciso Rodriguez number featuring cutouts and bondage straps?" -Vogue Magazine, November 2008
10.31.2008
Forever Flirtationship: FASHION
Election Fashion. What Obamamaniac wouldn’t be happy ringing doorbells in a swing state wearing a Narciso Rodriguez number featuring cutouts and bondage straps?" -Vogue Magazine, November 2008
10.29.2008
Inexperience as an Asset
"On September 11, 2001, I was a first-time candidate running for mayor of New York. After the attacks on the World Trade Center, one of my advisors said to me: 'You sure you want this job?' Without blinking, I replied: 'More than ever.' At the time, I had no experience in politics, so I hadn't learned what I couldn't do. Looking back now, I realize that was my greatest asset." -Michael R. Bloomberg
10.28.2008
Wishful Thinking
I read an article by David Brooks today where he describes the four steps involved in making a decision. Seeing as I’ve found myself the crossroads of some pretty major decisions lately, and given my unhealthy appetite for analysis, I was eager to hear the breakdown. Maybe somewhere in the four simple steps of decision-making, I could understand where I’ve gone wrong in the past, and how to prevent poor judgment in the future.
According to Books, first you perceive a situation. Next, you think of possible courses of action. Then, you calculate which course of action is in your best interest. And, finally, you take action. Simple enough. The article describes how “economic models and entire social science disciplines are premised on the assumption that people are mostly engaged in rationally calculating and maximizing their self-interest.” No surprise there. Though I’m not enthusiastic to admit it, I think I can pretty clearly identify self-centered decisions that I’ve made. Inconsideration is something I can work on.
The troubling part of the process, as Brooks points out, is the first step. Perception may seem simple, he says, you just look and see what’s around. Unlike calculating your own self-interest, perception is much more delicate to deconstruct. The most likely reason for the difficulty is that most perception takes place beneath any level of awareness. Cognitive biases, such as selective perception or optimism “wishful thinking” bias, have the power to distort our understanding of a situation and every calculation up to the point of making a decision.
As Brooks put it, “Looking at and perceiving the world is an active process of meaning-making that shapes and biases the rest of the decision-making chain.”
Another name for this decision-making process is the Analytic Hierarchy Process (AHP). Developed by Thomas L. Saaty in the 1970’s, the AHP is based on mathematics and psychology. It is used extensively today to help people deal with complex decisions politics, business, education and more.
When I sit back to think of my own perception, I can identify at least two biases that have plagued my decision-making over the years. The most discernable is my optimism bias or "wishful thinking". Ninety percent of the time, this bias helps me to inflate any good feelings about a person, and ignore the bad. When I’m being influenced by my wishful thinking, I imagine someone in terms of what I believe is his or her potential.
Do you want to know where this thinking will get you? Constantly making excuses for someone and explaining the potential you envision to others. If I could give anyone advice, I’d say to revisit the jerk in ten years then decide to give it a chance if he lived up to what you imagined.
It's not surprising that the study of biases are front and center right now considering the current presidential race (elderly bias, female bias, racial bias). The chances are that one of these biases will affect every voter's decision on November 4 --not to mention this will be a popular topic to study for years to come.
As Nicholas Kristof said, "This 2008 election is a milestone and may put a black man in the White House. That creates an opportunity for an adult conversation about the murky complexities of race, in part because there’s evidence that when people become aware of their unconscious biases, they can overcome them."
"You cannot solve a problem in the same state of consciousness –or with the same type of thinking –which created the problem." -Albert Einstein
According to Books, first you perceive a situation. Next, you think of possible courses of action. Then, you calculate which course of action is in your best interest. And, finally, you take action. Simple enough. The article describes how “economic models and entire social science disciplines are premised on the assumption that people are mostly engaged in rationally calculating and maximizing their self-interest.” No surprise there. Though I’m not enthusiastic to admit it, I think I can pretty clearly identify self-centered decisions that I’ve made. Inconsideration is something I can work on.
The troubling part of the process, as Brooks points out, is the first step. Perception may seem simple, he says, you just look and see what’s around. Unlike calculating your own self-interest, perception is much more delicate to deconstruct. The most likely reason for the difficulty is that most perception takes place beneath any level of awareness. Cognitive biases, such as selective perception or optimism “wishful thinking” bias, have the power to distort our understanding of a situation and every calculation up to the point of making a decision.
As Brooks put it, “Looking at and perceiving the world is an active process of meaning-making that shapes and biases the rest of the decision-making chain.”
Another name for this decision-making process is the Analytic Hierarchy Process (AHP). Developed by Thomas L. Saaty in the 1970’s, the AHP is based on mathematics and psychology. It is used extensively today to help people deal with complex decisions politics, business, education and more.
When I sit back to think of my own perception, I can identify at least two biases that have plagued my decision-making over the years. The most discernable is my optimism bias or "wishful thinking". Ninety percent of the time, this bias helps me to inflate any good feelings about a person, and ignore the bad. When I’m being influenced by my wishful thinking, I imagine someone in terms of what I believe is his or her potential.
Do you want to know where this thinking will get you? Constantly making excuses for someone and explaining the potential you envision to others. If I could give anyone advice, I’d say to revisit the jerk in ten years then decide to give it a chance if he lived up to what you imagined.
It's not surprising that the study of biases are front and center right now considering the current presidential race (elderly bias, female bias, racial bias). The chances are that one of these biases will affect every voter's decision on November 4 --not to mention this will be a popular topic to study for years to come.
As Nicholas Kristof said, "This 2008 election is a milestone and may put a black man in the White House. That creates an opportunity for an adult conversation about the murky complexities of race, in part because there’s evidence that when people become aware of their unconscious biases, they can overcome them."
10.25.2008
Laundry Mat Soliloquy
The only unpleasant thing about laundry mats are the clothes that people wear to them. I love the soapy scents, the low hum of the spin cycles, the gentle vibrations, and, most of all, the warm clothes and towels that make you want to crawl right inside that triple-load commercial dryer and take a nap. I've been officially intoxicated.
The fact that I rarely go to the laundry mat makes it easy to forget what incredibly relaxing, quiet places they are --not to mention an ideal hiding spot if you don't want to be found. Although I have a standing invitation to use the washer and dryer in the house upstairs, there's nothing quite like the guilt of paying late rent and mixing a Saturday morning hangover with two screaming children to get me packing up my dirty laundry.
My affinity for laundry mats began about five years ago when I was living in the 9th and Marine neighborhood with my best friend, Jess. Jess and I used to go to the cosy little laundry mat at Arapahoe and 4th street that is, sadly, no longer there. The laundry mat was in a tiny building in the middle of a neighborhood, and sandwiched between overgrown pine trees. A true diamond in the rough, as far as laundry mats go.
It was the perfect place to finish homework, to read, and to gossip until one night something happened that made us afraid to show our faces there ever again. One night, Jess and I left all of our clothes to dry and headed back to our apartment to study for final exams. Several hours later, just before nine o'clock, Jess jumped up from the table. "Oh no, we completely forgot about our clothes in the dryer!" she said.
So Jess raced out the door with three minutes to go, but by the time she got to the laundry mat, it was well after nine. She tried the door anyway, and to her surprise, it was open. Laundry bags in hand, she opened the dryers and began to gather our clothes, when suddenly, the overhead lights shut off, a bright spotlight came on, and the security alarm started ringing at full blast. Expecting the police to show up, Jess shoved the clothes into the bag at a criminal pace --like money from a bank robbery. Unseen, she sped back to the apartment as fast as she could. When she finally told me what happened, we agreed just to sacrifice our forgotten load of towels, and leave them behind for good. Sadly, that was the last we ever saw of the 4th street laundry mat.
Since that fateful day, I sometimes come to Doozy Duds across from campus on the hill. The thing about Doozy Duds is that it's right next to Dot's (dirty-ass) Diner. Nothing says "we're going out again tonight" like a Dot's hangover-curing breakfast, so I dropped a few quarters in the washers and ran over for some scrambled egg whites, the pepper-iest hash browns you can imagine, and a couple of greasy sausage links to settle my shakes. After six beverages (well...water, juice, root beer, and iced coffee) my headache didn't stand a chance.
The thing about Doozy Duds that really sets it apart from the 4th street mat are the college boys. One of my favorite things to do there is hop up on the counter near the dryers and watch last-clean-tee-shirt-wearing college boys pack four loads of laundry into one dryer and wait three hours for it to dry. I mean, there's just something adorable about learning.
Speaking of the opposite sex, let me tell you the truth about something here: You will never meet someone you want to date at the laundry mat. Think of all the movie scenes and commercials where a cute girl is folding her lace panties across the table from a hot man? That never happens. First of all, guys at laundry mats have waited until the absolute last possible day to do laundry, so they show up in ratty tee-shirts and sweatpants without boxers because none of them are clean. The scene plays out a little more like this: nine times out of ten you catch some perv-y creep anxiously watching you unload your clothes from the dryer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the g-string of his dreams. It's not nearly as romantic.
And last, but not least, before you set off on a laundry mat quest of your own, I have one fair warning: These timeless establishments will never go out of business, and that's because God made laundry mat floors dirtier than any other floors in the world. It would be cleaner to drop your white shirt on the dirt floor of a hut, than on the floor at Doozy Duds. You are so incredibly fucked when this happens because now all the dirty hair and crumbs and diseases of the world are caked on your clean white shirt. And, trust me, that is exactly what it looks like. In fact, I've only seen a floor mopped once at a laundry mat, and the next week it was out of business. Consider yourself warned.
The fact that I rarely go to the laundry mat makes it easy to forget what incredibly relaxing, quiet places they are --not to mention an ideal hiding spot if you don't want to be found. Although I have a standing invitation to use the washer and dryer in the house upstairs, there's nothing quite like the guilt of paying late rent and mixing a Saturday morning hangover with two screaming children to get me packing up my dirty laundry.
My affinity for laundry mats began about five years ago when I was living in the 9th and Marine neighborhood with my best friend, Jess. Jess and I used to go to the cosy little laundry mat at Arapahoe and 4th street that is, sadly, no longer there. The laundry mat was in a tiny building in the middle of a neighborhood, and sandwiched between overgrown pine trees. A true diamond in the rough, as far as laundry mats go.
It was the perfect place to finish homework, to read, and to gossip until one night something happened that made us afraid to show our faces there ever again. One night, Jess and I left all of our clothes to dry and headed back to our apartment to study for final exams. Several hours later, just before nine o'clock, Jess jumped up from the table. "Oh no, we completely forgot about our clothes in the dryer!" she said.
So Jess raced out the door with three minutes to go, but by the time she got to the laundry mat, it was well after nine. She tried the door anyway, and to her surprise, it was open. Laundry bags in hand, she opened the dryers and began to gather our clothes, when suddenly, the overhead lights shut off, a bright spotlight came on, and the security alarm started ringing at full blast. Expecting the police to show up, Jess shoved the clothes into the bag at a criminal pace --like money from a bank robbery. Unseen, she sped back to the apartment as fast as she could. When she finally told me what happened, we agreed just to sacrifice our forgotten load of towels, and leave them behind for good. Sadly, that was the last we ever saw of the 4th street laundry mat.
Since that fateful day, I sometimes come to Doozy Duds across from campus on the hill. The thing about Doozy Duds is that it's right next to Dot's (dirty-ass) Diner. Nothing says "we're going out again tonight" like a Dot's hangover-curing breakfast, so I dropped a few quarters in the washers and ran over for some scrambled egg whites, the pepper-iest hash browns you can imagine, and a couple of greasy sausage links to settle my shakes. After six beverages (well...water, juice, root beer, and iced coffee) my headache didn't stand a chance.
The thing about Doozy Duds that really sets it apart from the 4th street mat are the college boys. One of my favorite things to do there is hop up on the counter near the dryers and watch last-clean-tee-shirt-wearing college boys pack four loads of laundry into one dryer and wait three hours for it to dry. I mean, there's just something adorable about learning.
Speaking of the opposite sex, let me tell you the truth about something here: You will never meet someone you want to date at the laundry mat. Think of all the movie scenes and commercials where a cute girl is folding her lace panties across the table from a hot man? That never happens. First of all, guys at laundry mats have waited until the absolute last possible day to do laundry, so they show up in ratty tee-shirts and sweatpants without boxers because none of them are clean. The scene plays out a little more like this: nine times out of ten you catch some perv-y creep anxiously watching you unload your clothes from the dryer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the g-string of his dreams. It's not nearly as romantic.
And last, but not least, before you set off on a laundry mat quest of your own, I have one fair warning: These timeless establishments will never go out of business, and that's because God made laundry mat floors dirtier than any other floors in the world. It would be cleaner to drop your white shirt on the dirt floor of a hut, than on the floor at Doozy Duds. You are so incredibly fucked when this happens because now all the dirty hair and crumbs and diseases of the world are caked on your clean white shirt. And, trust me, that is exactly what it looks like. In fact, I've only seen a floor mopped once at a laundry mat, and the next week it was out of business. Consider yourself warned.
10.21.2008
Circumstances make it difficult to avoid everyone today
Just when I thought I got away with a pleasant Monday start to my week, Tuesday hits like a derailed Amtrack.
If only I had seen the signs... I would've known that Tuesday meant trouble. My younger sister was in court due to a recently confiscated fake i.d., and the reason that this has anything to do with me can be best described as a tangled web of bank accounts, living in the same city, and out-of-state tuition. After a pleasantly-excruciating yoga class (take my advice, don't quit for six months and expect it to be fun again when you start back up), I spent the rest of Monday night transferring funds for her and running to the ATM in my pajamas.
The next thing I know, my four (no joke) morning alarms are going off to the tune of various ringtones, and voila! it's Tuesday. When I hop out of the shower it's barely 7:30 a.m. and I notice a missed call on my cell, which is vibrating itself off the table. In my mind, I assume my mother is calling to remind me to take it easy on my sister this morning. So without listening to the message, I decide to humor her fictitious request.
As I run out the door, my sister calls and asks me to grab a pair of black slacks she has stuffed in my closet. Good girl, I think. Maybe she has a shot at getting out of this mess after all. Sadly, all is lost when I pick her up on campus. She takes one look in the back seat, and yells, "Black flats, Lindsey! I said, bring me a pair of black shoes." Seizing the opportunity to verbally slap her ungrateful behind, I tell her to change anyway, the black pants would look much better.
On the way to work, I have a chance to listen to my voicemail, and the tone is surprisingly unpleasant. In fact, news of my supposed "difficult" behavior from the night before (going to yoga instead of directly to the bank) has already traveled 1,132 miles and back again before my coffe-craving brain has time to process what's happening. What's happening (8:10 a.m.) is that I'm being "not yelled at" for not being helpful enough to my sister in her time of stress and need. If you ask me, stress and need sounds a little bit more like tough-shit and caught-red-handed.
I arrive at the office feeling frazzled, and before I can sit down I get a phone call to tell me that I have ten minutes to ensure a missing $40,000 finds its way into our client's checking account. Unable to close on a new house without the check, my coworker and I have zero time to solve the problem and a mess of red tape to navigate. The rest of the morning and early afternoon is lost in what can best be described as a flurry of phone calls, faxes, frustration, and eventual blackout. When I come to my senses, it's late afternoon.
Gripping a Starbucks iced double-shot, I sit down at 3 p.m. to check my gmail. By the time I read my daily horoscope, I can already tell you what it says. "You may not want to come out of your shell today, but circumstances make it difficult to stay quiet..." More like, circumstances make it difficult to avoid everyone by calling in sick, turning off my phone, and staying in bed all day.
By the time I'm off work, I'm feeling so desperate for two hours of alone time at the gym that I end up falling asleep in the sauna after a long run. Relaxed and well-deserving of a bottle of my favorite wine, I am seconds from home-free when I notice a text from a friend who wants grab dinner. Could I possibly make it? I ask myself. No way, no how tonight. Half passed-out, I text an apology.
Two hours ago, I walked through the door of my apartment, poured myself a fat glass of wine, and collapsed on the couch. Netflicks delivered Platoon last week and I've been avoiding it on my coffee table. What's better than a classic war movie to put a bad day in perspective?
During the first scene, I got another text from my friend saying that "we need to talk soon ...and address the ambiguities in our relationship." I smile to myself, and think, what a perfect ending to a day where everyone needs some sort of answer from me.
If only I had seen the signs... I would've known that Tuesday meant trouble. My younger sister was in court due to a recently confiscated fake i.d., and the reason that this has anything to do with me can be best described as a tangled web of bank accounts, living in the same city, and out-of-state tuition. After a pleasantly-excruciating yoga class (take my advice, don't quit for six months and expect it to be fun again when you start back up), I spent the rest of Monday night transferring funds for her and running to the ATM in my pajamas.
The next thing I know, my four (no joke) morning alarms are going off to the tune of various ringtones, and voila! it's Tuesday. When I hop out of the shower it's barely 7:30 a.m. and I notice a missed call on my cell, which is vibrating itself off the table. In my mind, I assume my mother is calling to remind me to take it easy on my sister this morning. So without listening to the message, I decide to humor her fictitious request.
As I run out the door, my sister calls and asks me to grab a pair of black slacks she has stuffed in my closet. Good girl, I think. Maybe she has a shot at getting out of this mess after all. Sadly, all is lost when I pick her up on campus. She takes one look in the back seat, and yells, "Black flats, Lindsey! I said, bring me a pair of black shoes." Seizing the opportunity to verbally slap her ungrateful behind, I tell her to change anyway, the black pants would look much better.
On the way to work, I have a chance to listen to my voicemail, and the tone is surprisingly unpleasant. In fact, news of my supposed "difficult" behavior from the night before (going to yoga instead of directly to the bank) has already traveled 1,132 miles and back again before my coffe-craving brain has time to process what's happening. What's happening (8:10 a.m.) is that I'm being "not yelled at" for not being helpful enough to my sister in her time of stress and need. If you ask me, stress and need sounds a little bit more like tough-shit and caught-red-handed.
I arrive at the office feeling frazzled, and before I can sit down I get a phone call to tell me that I have ten minutes to ensure a missing $40,000 finds its way into our client's checking account. Unable to close on a new house without the check, my coworker and I have zero time to solve the problem and a mess of red tape to navigate. The rest of the morning and early afternoon is lost in what can best be described as a flurry of phone calls, faxes, frustration, and eventual blackout. When I come to my senses, it's late afternoon.
Gripping a Starbucks iced double-shot, I sit down at 3 p.m. to check my gmail. By the time I read my daily horoscope, I can already tell you what it says. "You may not want to come out of your shell today, but circumstances make it difficult to stay quiet..." More like, circumstances make it difficult to avoid everyone by calling in sick, turning off my phone, and staying in bed all day.
By the time I'm off work, I'm feeling so desperate for two hours of alone time at the gym that I end up falling asleep in the sauna after a long run. Relaxed and well-deserving of a bottle of my favorite wine, I am seconds from home-free when I notice a text from a friend who wants grab dinner. Could I possibly make it? I ask myself. No way, no how tonight. Half passed-out, I text an apology.
Two hours ago, I walked through the door of my apartment, poured myself a fat glass of wine, and collapsed on the couch. Netflicks delivered Platoon last week and I've been avoiding it on my coffee table. What's better than a classic war movie to put a bad day in perspective?
During the first scene, I got another text from my friend saying that "we need to talk soon ...and address the ambiguities in our relationship." I smile to myself, and think, what a perfect ending to a day where everyone needs some sort of answer from me.
10.17.2008
"I've got a friend in Aromatherapy. She tells her problems to a scented candle."
I went to a hillarious, pink-themed charity event last night called “Girls Night Out” to benefit Girls Incorporated of Metro Denver. The event began with a cocktail hour that I would know nothing about due to the traffic jam I was stuck in for an hour trying to get downtown. Luckily, there's no two-drink minimum to appreciate comedian Rita Rudner.
Voted the “Best Comedian in Las Vegas” by the Las Vegas Review-Journal for the last five years, and has had several comedy specials on HBO, including “Rita Rudner’s One Night Stand.” She came out dressed in a floor-length blue gown, diamond bracelets, and glossy red lipstick, but was quick to admit that she's really just a flat-chested, gray-haired, 5'1" Asian man beneath the makeup. She greeted the room of a thousand plus women with a smirk and a curtsy, then introduced herself to one of the only men in the room at the front table.
From cosmetic surgery to shoes, Rita gave poor Matt a front-row spanking by explaining why women wear 5" heels, and how until the day a woman dies, she'll never give up trying to create an optical illusion of how she looks. “You see, Matt,” she said, “even a 700-lbs. woman would look slender in 64" heels.” With wine-stained lips, the women in the crowd roared with laughter.
Later that evening, front-row Matt learned to appreciate shopping as a form of indoor hunting for woman, and Rita made a vow in honor of the struggling economy. With military pride, she proclaimed, "I am no longer just shopping for myself. I am shopping for my country."
Since nothing gets high society woman writing checks quite like wine and botox jokes, I can imagine the event was a great success. But really... For more than 25 years, Girls Inc. has inspired girls in and around the west Colfax neighborhood to be Strong, Smart and Bold. Five years ago, Girls, Inc. built a new gymnasium, dance studio, and classroom-style facility to provide the neighborhood girls with a place to meet every day after school. The purpose of Girls, Inc. programming is to enable underprivileged elementary through high school students to achieve their full potential by conquering social, legal and cultural barriers.
Though I was a little disappointed my $20 raffle ticket didn’t pay off in the form of the $6,000 Tiffany’s bracelet prize, Rita’s dry, classy humor, and the opportunity to support this incredible organization made the traffic jam worthwhile.
Voted the “Best Comedian in Las Vegas” by the Las Vegas Review-Journal for the last five years, and has had several comedy specials on HBO, including “Rita Rudner’s One Night Stand.” She came out dressed in a floor-length blue gown, diamond bracelets, and glossy red lipstick, but was quick to admit that she's really just a flat-chested, gray-haired, 5'1" Asian man beneath the makeup. She greeted the room of a thousand plus women with a smirk and a curtsy, then introduced herself to one of the only men in the room at the front table.
From cosmetic surgery to shoes, Rita gave poor Matt a front-row spanking by explaining why women wear 5" heels, and how until the day a woman dies, she'll never give up trying to create an optical illusion of how she looks. “You see, Matt,” she said, “even a 700-lbs. woman would look slender in 64" heels.” With wine-stained lips, the women in the crowd roared with laughter.
Later that evening, front-row Matt learned to appreciate shopping as a form of indoor hunting for woman, and Rita made a vow in honor of the struggling economy. With military pride, she proclaimed, "I am no longer just shopping for myself. I am shopping for my country."
Since nothing gets high society woman writing checks quite like wine and botox jokes, I can imagine the event was a great success. But really... For more than 25 years, Girls Inc. has inspired girls in and around the west Colfax neighborhood to be Strong, Smart and Bold. Five years ago, Girls, Inc. built a new gymnasium, dance studio, and classroom-style facility to provide the neighborhood girls with a place to meet every day after school. The purpose of Girls, Inc. programming is to enable underprivileged elementary through high school students to achieve their full potential by conquering social, legal and cultural barriers.
Though I was a little disappointed my $20 raffle ticket didn’t pay off in the form of the $6,000 Tiffany’s bracelet prize, Rita’s dry, classy humor, and the opportunity to support this incredible organization made the traffic jam worthwhile.
10.16.2008
McCain's going to need a lot more than yoga
I’m going to have to hand it to Gail Collins for hitting the nail on the head –or should I say “nailing the Jell-O to the wall,” this morning in her New York Times column. She says that with twenty days to go in the race for the presidency “the candidates are gearing their remarks to people who have managed to completely ignore nearly two years of news about the 2008 elections.”
Which means anyone who is already informed will just have to suffer?
The only reason most of these people are undecided is because the only time they pay attention to the nominees is during the debates. If this is where you’re getting all of your information, you might as well take a quarter with you into the voting booth and call it heads or tails.
The undecided voters interviewed on NBC last night want someone to spoon-feed them information. Their questions sounded like whining, “But he didn’t mention this,” and “They didn’t explain that,” “There weren’t enough details about whatever,” and on and on. I mean, educate yourself, people. Go to the candidates’ websites. I doubt you have. Sift through Obama’s rhetoric (http://www.barackobama.com/issues/), make sense of McCain’s proposals (http://www.johnmccain.com/Informing/Issues/), and if all of that is too partisan for you, check the facts (http://www.factcheck.org/). Cut your losses, and make a decision.
If it wasn’t evident last night, these two candidates disagree on virtually every issue, which gives voters the advantage. If you’re undecided, in my opinion, it’s because you’re not informed –and watching three debates does not make you informed.
Twice now, in my yoga class, the instructor has paused and asked the students, “Where are your thoughts right now?” She says that everyone has a tendency to think about events in the past, or their plans for the future. The first time she asked, I came to class feeling agitated, tired, and annoyed. My thoughts were hung up on a tangle of frustrating events. Yesterday when she asked, I came to class feeling lighter, optimistic, and prepared. When she asked, I my thoughts were in the future, and my excitement prevailed.
It’s not hard to determine that McCain’s actions in the past two weeks are motivated by the fact that he has fallen behind in the polls. Is it possible that he feels annoyed? Agitated? Even tired of this long campaign to the White House? It’s no wonder that he is focusing on the past by attacking Obama’s former relationship with Professor Bill Ayers. It’s nearly impossible for him to focus on the issues when he can’t think clearly into the future. In the end, McCain is going to need a lot more than yoga to get out of this negative rut. His criticisms were clear last night, but were lost in his delivery.
Obama was riding high on a wave of optimism and recent success, so it came as no surprise that he was able to calmly articulate his plans for the future. The only time that he referred to something in the past was to response to his frustrated running mate. So, if you’re still undecided, here’s about as basic as it gets: would you rather have a president who’s hung up on the past, or one who is thinking about your future?
Which means anyone who is already informed will just have to suffer?
The only reason most of these people are undecided is because the only time they pay attention to the nominees is during the debates. If this is where you’re getting all of your information, you might as well take a quarter with you into the voting booth and call it heads or tails.
The undecided voters interviewed on NBC last night want someone to spoon-feed them information. Their questions sounded like whining, “But he didn’t mention this,” and “They didn’t explain that,” “There weren’t enough details about whatever,” and on and on. I mean, educate yourself, people. Go to the candidates’ websites. I doubt you have. Sift through Obama’s rhetoric (http://www.barackobama.com/issues/), make sense of McCain’s proposals (http://www.johnmccain.com/Informing/Issues/), and if all of that is too partisan for you, check the facts (http://www.factcheck.org/). Cut your losses, and make a decision.
If it wasn’t evident last night, these two candidates disagree on virtually every issue, which gives voters the advantage. If you’re undecided, in my opinion, it’s because you’re not informed –and watching three debates does not make you informed.
Twice now, in my yoga class, the instructor has paused and asked the students, “Where are your thoughts right now?” She says that everyone has a tendency to think about events in the past, or their plans for the future. The first time she asked, I came to class feeling agitated, tired, and annoyed. My thoughts were hung up on a tangle of frustrating events. Yesterday when she asked, I came to class feeling lighter, optimistic, and prepared. When she asked, I my thoughts were in the future, and my excitement prevailed.
It’s not hard to determine that McCain’s actions in the past two weeks are motivated by the fact that he has fallen behind in the polls. Is it possible that he feels annoyed? Agitated? Even tired of this long campaign to the White House? It’s no wonder that he is focusing on the past by attacking Obama’s former relationship with Professor Bill Ayers. It’s nearly impossible for him to focus on the issues when he can’t think clearly into the future. In the end, McCain is going to need a lot more than yoga to get out of this negative rut. His criticisms were clear last night, but were lost in his delivery.
Obama was riding high on a wave of optimism and recent success, so it came as no surprise that he was able to calmly articulate his plans for the future. The only time that he referred to something in the past was to response to his frustrated running mate. So, if you’re still undecided, here’s about as basic as it gets: would you rather have a president who’s hung up on the past, or one who is thinking about your future?
10.15.2008
Every great relationship starts with a flirtationship
For as long as I can remember, I've been involved in one flirtationship or another. In truth, the concept is well-suited for what is often my impatient, 90-mile an hour, coquettish personality. As with many relationships (in the Webster's sense), my flirtationships have lasted for various lengths of time, they have come in many shapes, tested my commitment levels, and have sometimes involved an intensity that later makes me blush. I have tried them on; no doubt, turned them on at times, worn them out, and once or twice, become completely infatuated.
Flirtationships happen not only with the object of your affection. I've had flirtationships with ideas that fascinate me. My career flirtationships involve being a writer, a penniless nonprofit professional, an amateur painter, a financial planning assistant, a political bullshitter, a magazine editor and more. I've had serious flirtationships with friends who later became lovers, and my flirtationship with sushi was so serious I could hardly eat it for an entire year when it ended. I've been in a serious flirtationship with Marc Jacobs for almost two years now, though I'm sure he has no idea who I am. As most twenty-five year olds can attest, your interests may change in the blink of an eye, and mine often lead in unexpected directions.
Flirtationships involve something or someone who captures your attention at any given moment --after all, every great relationship starts with a flirtationship.
Flirtationships happen not only with the object of your affection. I've had flirtationships with ideas that fascinate me. My career flirtationships involve being a writer, a penniless nonprofit professional, an amateur painter, a financial planning assistant, a political bullshitter, a magazine editor and more. I've had serious flirtationships with friends who later became lovers, and my flirtationship with sushi was so serious I could hardly eat it for an entire year when it ended. I've been in a serious flirtationship with Marc Jacobs for almost two years now, though I'm sure he has no idea who I am. As most twenty-five year olds can attest, your interests may change in the blink of an eye, and mine often lead in unexpected directions.
Flirtationships involve something or someone who captures your attention at any given moment --after all, every great relationship starts with a flirtationship.
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