Flashback Friday: Yearbook Staff
I know, this one’s a little weird and probably not for most people, but I loved being a part of the yearbook staff at school. Yes, our yearbooks were just a fraction of the size as those offered to our public school peers, but it was still a blast. It was my first experience at page layout, at getting a chance to come up with my own designs and logos (and then dealing with those designs being changes, switched, altered, edited, scrapped, and all-around bamboozled), at writing copy, and at just playing a part in creating a publication that would be printed and disseminated to an entire organization. At the time, I just looked at all these things as fun ways to spend a few hours after school. Who knew that one day I’d be doing all these things professionally?
I was a member of yearbook staff for three of my four years of senior high school. Two of those years I was assistant editor. I’m still not really sure what that title translated to, but it looked great on my college applications. I also got to play photographer every now and then, which was awesome: playtime with an SLR camera, which was so much cooler than my little point-and-clicker, plus the freedom of getting out of class to attend sporting events that needed photo documenting. Who was always the big winner there? Me!
See that photo at the top of this entry? That’s my old yearbook staff folder. Again, hi, I’m a hoarder. Pleased to meet you. I found this while I was sorting through stuff at my parents’ house a few months ago (see, I told you I took photos that would one day be used for Flashback Friday entries!). I also suspect that this is a photo of artifacts that some readers have probably never seen, like that pica ruler. Really? And hand-drawn page layouts and paste-ups on graph paper? Adobe InDesign sure rang the death knell quite loudly for this entire folder. Even though it wasn’t that long ago since the last time I used these tools (15 years isn’t that long, right?), looking at them now makes me laugh and think, “Did I really use all this stuff? Really? And why the hell do I still have these things? Wasn’t I supposed to return them at the end of the year?”
Tsk, tsk. So if my yearbook teacher ever reads this post, just drop me a line and let me know where you’d like me to return these things. I’ll be sure to mail them off as soon as I can… 😉
If You Look Hard Enough…
You know the old adage, “anyone can be offended if they’re looking hard enough”? So there’s this poster floating around out in Los Angeles of Barack Obama as The Joker. In case you’ve missed it, here you go:
Not a bad piece of PhotoShop work, no? Seems, though, that there are those out there who want to turn this into something racist. The Washington Post even dedicated an entire article to an attempt to make this into a valid argument.
Really? Way to help hammer in those final nails into journalism’s coffin, guys.
We get it. President Obama is half-Black. Why does this have to mean that every comment or criticism directed toward his presidency must stem from racism? Is this how we’re going to spend the next 4-8 years? Having to listen to droning, dimwitted pundits and witless op-ed dolts who want to ignore the chance at greater political commentary because obviously every criticism has to really be because he’s half-Black?
You know, back in my Angry BloggerTM days, I turned Bush into the Joker, too. Don’t believe me? Check it out:
I also turned Condoleeza Rice into Catwoman. Wait a minute! Obviously, this is a racist comment about her being Black…you know, because black cats are unlucky, so obviously I was implying that she’s unlucky because she’s Black. Gott in Himmel! My eyes are opened and I see that I, too, am a blatant racist! Where must I go to confess my sins?
Yeah.
50BC09: Book Number 25
I’ve yet to see the movie version of Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader. I usually prefer the books to the movies based on them anyway, so I don’t feel short-changed at all.
I’m not really sure what I can say about this book, though, as saying too much will ruin the story, but saying too little will do it undeserved injustice. The prose is simple and straightforward, which I have often found to be the case with books that have been translated from another language into English. Is this a reflection on the translator? Or are writers from other countries just more direct in their language?
Whatever the case, I love the clean feel of the prose. As much of a word nerd as I am, I appreciate how a sparse take on language allows the reader to focus more on the story being told rather than on how it is being told. There are few linguistic dalliances in this story, but that in no way stops Schlink from plumbing some very complex depths. I also find information on World War II as told from a German perspective to be highly intriguing. Anyone who has seen Der Untergang knows already what I mean.
Of course, this gives away the fact that this story deals head-on with actions committed during WWII as well as their long-term consequences. However, the primary story can also be seen as an allegory for a Post-WWII Germany and how its youth must deal with its older and oftentimes guilty predecessors. The relationship shared by Hanna and Michael, the two protagonists, is beautiful, frightening, and complicated in its own right, but when superimposed over the mental and emotional landscape of this post-war country, it takes on multifarious meanings, least of which are compulsory questions about loving someone/something guilty of horrific crimes. The only “flaw” that comes to mind at the moment is that the reason behind the title was almost a bit anti-climactic for me. It just didn’t resonate as loudly with me as I believe Schlink was hoping it would with his readers. Perhaps I should give it some time to sink in.
Final score: 4.5/5. This book is good enough that I forgive it for being an Oprah Book Club selection. I also think I might check out some of Schlink’s other works.
And now, because I promised, here’s a round-up of the first 25 books that I have read so far:
- 10 Most Beautiful Experiments, by George Johnson (3.5/5)
- The Dumbest Generation, by Mark Bauerlein (3/5)
- The Memory of Running, by Ron McLarty (4.5/5)
- Gene Roddenberry: The Last Conversation, by Yvonne Fern (4.5/5)
- Stardust, by Neil Gaiman (4.5/5)
- The Eyes of the Beholders, by A.C. Crispin (3.5/5)
- Watchmen, by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons (2.5/5)
- Nightmare at 20,000 Feet: Horror Stories by Richard Matheson (4.5/5)
- Comic Wars, by Dan Raviv (3/5)
- It Ain’t All About the Cookin’, by Paula Deen (3/5)
- Calculating God, by Robert J. Sawyer (4.5/5)
- Walking in Circles Before Lying Down, by Merrill Markoe (3.5/5)
- The Anglo Files: A Field Guide to the British, by Sarah Lyall (4/5)
- The Almost Moon, by Alice Sebold (4/5 for prose; 3/5 for story)
- Captivity, by Debbie Lee Wesselmann (2.5/5)
- Resistance, by J.M. Dillard (1.5/5)
- The Island of Dr. Moreau, by H.G. Wells (4/5)
- The Last Lecture, by Dr. Randy Pausch (5/5)
- One on One, by Tabitha King (2/5)
- Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (4.5/5)
- Golf Monster, by Alice Cooper (4.5/5)
- The Stars Like Dust, by Isaac Asimov (2.5/5)
- Rapture for the Geeks: When AI Outsmarts IQ, by Richard Dooling (2.5/5)
- The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exup
Brain Dump
That heading sounds disgusting, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, that’s what I’m about to drop on you now. I promise it won’t be too messy though. I’m just in a bit of a work maelstrom right now and am finding it difficult to surface for long periods of time. For those familiar with my mirror universe existence, this time of year is always one of the busiest work-wise. It’s one of two major drawbacks to a job that I’m still mostly loving (those of you who know the mirror universe me also already know what the other major drawback is, but that’s not for public airing ;-)).
So what’s been going on since we last chatted? Well, first off I spent a wonderful weekend in the company of a great friend who flew in to spend a few days in Lobalandia. She moved to the cold nether regions of the American heartland a bit more than a year ago, which I have to say stinks for us here. However, this weekend was solid evidence that great friendships are like your favorite University of Maryland hoodie: Even though you don’t get to wear it as often as you’d like, when you do slip back into it, it’s just as warm and comfortable as you always remembered it being (and it smells Downy fresh, too!).
The highlight of the weekend (and the reason for my friend’s return) was the Tori Amos concert on Saturday evening. In case you’ve missed this, I love Tori. This was concert number 9, I believe, and it was wonderful. Truth be told, the last few times I’ve seen her haven’t been stellar because of poor sound quality at the last one and poor sound and fan quality at the one before that. But this concert was market-worthy, it sounded so pristine. Plus, it’s an extra special treat to see her when she comes to D.C., because that means she’s come home (face it, Tori…it doesn’t matter how far away you move, your heart belongs to the Dirty City). The set list for the evening was as follows:
- Give (Abnormally Attracted to Sin)
- Body and Soul (American Doll Posse)
- Cornflake Girl (Under the Pink)
- Flavor (Abnormally Attracted to Sin)
- Space Dog (Under the Pink)
- Hotel (From The Choirgirl Hotel)
- Jamaica Inn (The Beekeeper)
- Icicle (Under the Pink)
- Carbon (Scarlet’s Walk)
- Mary Jane (Abnormally Attracted to Sin)
- Gold Dust (Scarlet’s Walk)
- Pretty Good Year (Under the Pink)
- a sorta fairytale (Scarlet’s Walk)
- Fast Horse (Abnormally Attracted to Sin)
- Precious Things (Little Earthquakes)
- Strong Black Vine (Abnormally Attracted to Sin)
- Bouncing off Clouds (American Doll Posse)
- Raspberry Swirl (From The Choirgirl Hotel)
- Big Wheel (American Doll Posse)
As you can tell, it was a pretty solid set with lots of perennial favorites mixed with some of the stronger offerings from her latest CD. I wish she had done more than just “Precious Things” from her first CD, but I was happy to hear so much from Under the Pink. Noticeably missing were any songs from Boys for Pele and Strange Little Girls, two CDs that I consider to be weaker links in the Tori musical chain.
I think the only major criticism I have of this concert is fan-related: I hate when people stand/sway/dance. I get that some people simply cannot resist the pull of the rhythm. But, dammit, I paid for a seat. Seats are for sitting so that I can comfortably listen to the music. Seats are not for getting an eye-level view of the woman in front of me pulling her underwear out of her bum crack as she stands dancing to practically every song (yes, I am talking about you with the navy blue pleated skirt and matching button-down vest; perhaps if you fed your ass before a concert, it wouldn’t get so hungry and try to devour your underwear every time you got up).
Small complaint, I suppose, for what was otherwise an excellent concert. If you’d like to see what I saw and hear what I heard, head on over to Undented.com’s review of the show. This is where I got the set list for that night; I personally don’t see how Twittering, texting, snapping photos, and recording video makes for an enjoyable concert experience, but obviously there are lots of people out there who don’t feel the same.
Okay, I need to split now. Hopefully, I’ll be back later this afternoon to make my latest 50BC09 entry. Finally, halfway there!!
Flashback Friday: Summer Vacation
Yeah, not only is this a late entry, but it’s also going to be a lame entry. Today, however, was all about a little dose of summer vacation. Remember how wonderful the last day of school was? Remember how awesome you felt on the bus ride home, knowing that the next three months were going to be unencumbered bliss? Remember how boredom settled in after about two weeks?
Boredom? What the hell was that about? I can actually remember uttering the phrase “I’m bored” to my father as he walked past me from another day of work. He would laugh at me and I always found that so irritating. Now I completely get it. I wish I had three months of utter nothingness stretching out before me. Now, in order to take just one day off, I have to do double the work to clear my schedule. Yeah, being an adult is kind of poopy sometimes.
Of course, right after I finish writing this, I’m going to go get frozen yogurt for dinner, so adulthood does have its perks 😉
So, anyway, I hope you all get a chance to totally enjoy this weekend, just like we should have been enjoying our long summer vacations when we were kids. Go run through a sprinkler. Chase after the ice cream truck with a hot handful of quarters. Have a barbecue, fall asleep in a hammock, and end the evening catching fireflies. Or just sit on your butt all weekend, watching television (which, let’s face it, that’s how some of us spent big chunks of our vacations back then anyway). Whatever you do, just have fun. Turn off your CrackBerry. Don’t check your workmail. Leave the cell phone at home. Life is way too short to be a Borg drone. Whatever you end up doing though, I hope the sun is shining brightly wherever you are and that you have a splendiferous weekend!
50BC09: Book Number 24
Hmm, I just realized that I forgot to post one of my latest reads, Antoine de Saint-Exup
Standard Operating Procedure*
When my parents moved to the Tarheel State a few years ago, they ended up with a house with a security system. My dad decided to keep the system activated. Part of the system included a little key fob, kind of like the alarm remote that comes with most cars.
One evening while my parents were sitting in their living room, watching television, there was a rather authoritative knock at their front door. My dad opened the door to a local sheriff’s deputy, who proceeded to ask my dad for photo identification indicating that he was the property’s resident and to inform my dad that he needed to check the premises.
See, it seems that while my dad was sitting in his recliner, he shifted his weight onto the alarm fob in his pocket and accidentally activated the silent alarm. Even when something like that is an accident, police are required to confirm that the people on the property when they arrive are who they say they are and that they actually belong on the property (how effective would cops be, after all, if they’d interrupted a robbery in progress but just left because the robber told them that he lived there?). It’s also SOP for the police to then confirm that the residents of the property are not being held by an actual robber and being forced to send the police away. Again, something else that makes sense.
* Not subject to change based on race, regardless of popular (or presidential) opinion.
My dad is White. I’m still positive enough to place good money on the fact that had my dad’s response been to become indignant and start talking smack about the deputy’s mother, he would have ended up cuffed and in the back of the deputy’s cruiser, not necessarily for being a rude SOB, but for preventing the deputy from doing what he was supposed to do.
And, yes, I understand the racial divide in this country. I’m actually even aware of it from the opposite side of the argument, as I grew up a minority in a predominantly Black city in a predominantly Black county. Racism just as easily flows from Black to White as it does from White to Black. I can also inform you that, yes, the word “honkey” is used outside of movies, and it is a suitable insult, both alone and when combined with other derogatory names aimed at one’s gender. So, do my experiences grant me permission to make assumptions about all Black people based on unfortunate run-ins I had while growing up? Wouldn’t that be “acting stupidly”?
I’d be interested in President Obama’s take on this question, since he deems it appropriate to provide his feedback on these matters. For the record, Mr. President, when you send my invitation to the White House, I prefer Guinness. I can even teach you how to pour a proper Black and Tan if you’d like me to. Just don’t call me honkey. I really don’t like it. Cracker, however, is acceptable, but only after the first beer.
50BC09: Book Number 23
I feel as though I may have been Jedi-mind-tricked by Richard Dooling. Mr. Dooling is the author of my latest read, Rapture for the Geeks: When AI Outsmarts IQ. For the life of me, though, I can’t come up with much to say about this book. It’s like my mind has already been wiped: “These are not the droids you’re looking for…and this is not the book you just read.”
The book started out with a wonderful bang: It was funny, engaging, captivating. Then it started to stray from the path of interesting and entertaining
Dirty, Dirty Girl
How sad is it that I’ve been sat here for about 10 minutes, giggling over this:
In case you don’t have the same horribly dirty mind that your humble hostess has, it’s the trackback link that’s left me laughing: “YOU ARE IN: Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton.”
See, now I’m laughing while typing this. As much as I love Hillary, I don’t want to be quite that close. Besides, shouldn’t I at least buy her dinner first?
Dirty minds aside, if you all missed Secretary Clinton’s appearance this past Sunday on Meet the Press, then here is the transcript from her appearance. Thank you to A2, both for supplying the link and the laugh.
