Brain on vacation!

Some days, you just don't want to be a grownup anymore. Today we had the largest bank failure ever, and we're approaching a global financial panic. (Or at least the media keeps alleging, to keep us watching.) I could be all Chicken Little, watch endless coverage on CNN or CNBC or BBC or some other unholy acronym, but my brain says, no, let's go on vacation! If Congress can't be grown-up, I don't have to be, either! So here are some of my favorite ways to send my brain on vacation. And yes, I know there are lots of cats involved.

1. I Can Has Cheezburger: A website filled with funny pictures of cats, accompanied by silly captions. You can browse their hundreds of pics, caption someone else's pic, or upload your own. Here is one I contributed:



2. Cats Who Look Like Hitler: Yes, there is an entire website devoted to cats who have funny mustache markings. Again, it's mainly user-generated, with photos uploaded by cat lovers whose felines look like one of world's most famous and reviled ailurophobes. (Ailurophobe=cat-hater. The irony is delicious.) What always amuses me is how many of these owners name their cat "Adolf" or even "Hitler." I suppose it's a big "up yours" to turn the world's most notorious dictator into a fuzzy pet:


3. Then there's Stupid Videos, which is as advertised: full of dumb stuff. I like to browse the animals section, and see the stupid stuff people do with/to animals, or that animals do to them. (I love the "Adopt-a-Pet" TV segment in which a cat almost castrates the control officer, or the Sleepy Kitten, or the TV ad with a cat on a ceiling fan.) My favorite, though, is a silly, stupid song someone submitted:



I apologize if this silly song is now stuck in your head like it is in mine (and the 6+ million people who have also viewed this video), but sometimes your brain just needs to take a break!

I'm Diane, and I disapproved this message

There are only 39 days left until the presidential election, which means only about 39,000 more political ads I have to sit through. Okay, maybe I exaggerate a little, but living in a projected swing state means it feels like I'm sitting (or fast-forwarding, thank God for TIVO) through a zillion ads every day. I read somewhere that Detroit is the #2 market nationwide for all campaign ads, and #1 for Obama ad buys. (He likes us, he really likes us!) Some of the Obama ads actually treat us like grownups, speaking plainly about what he wants to do and asking us to read his whole plan on his website. But then there are the ones that just scream: Michigan lost JOBS overSEAS and it's MCCAIN'S FAULT! (But wait, other ads say Michigan lost JOBS overSEAS and it's the FAULT of OBAMA and those LIBERALS in CONGRESS! I'm so confused!) I thought maybe I'd get a break today because McCain said he was halting his campaign during the financial crisis, including not airing ads, but no, they were still interrupting my breakfast, as were the annoying anti-stem-cell-proposal ads (they're GOING to SPEND your MONEY!).

So during this bombardment I can't help but look back wistfully on my time in London. We spent the entire 2000 campaign overseas, as well as most of the aftermath, which probably helped my sanity. Then we saw the British system at work the following year, as I summed up on my website:

First of all, a five-week election season! The government calls for an election, and it happens in about a month. So no constant political nattering about something that won't take place for eighteen months. Second, hardly any political ads!! They get equal TV time for party broadcasts, but these are scheduled so you can avoid them if you want. No watching TV and having it interrupted by nasty, slanted, mean-spirited political ads. There was plenty of coverage in the news media, oftentimes with a particular slant, but for the most part it was informative. Third, there is a viable national third party, the Liberal Democrats, as well as viable local parties (Green, Scottish & Welsh national parties, even one who ran—and won—on a "Save Kidderminster Hospital" platform) so you really had a decent choice.

The most notable difference, however, is that in Britain you don't vote directly for prime minister, you vote for your member of parliament (MP), and then the leader of the party (or coalition of parties) with the most MPs becomes prime minister. So you can't "split" your vote like you do in the States, by voting for a senator of one party and a president of another. This led to an interesting phenomenon, fueled by the internet: "vote trading." Suppose you were a Liberal Democrat (left) who lived in an area where the Lib Dems ran a distant third to Labour (central left) and the Tories (right). If you couldn't have your candidate, you'd still rather have a Labour MP than a Conservative one, right? So, via the internet, you could find a Labour supporter who was in a similar situation: Labour running third to the Lib Dems and Tories. The two of you agree to "swap" your votes, and hopefully the Tories lose in both areas.

Sounds much more sensible, doesn't it? I can't say as I think that their parliamentary system is better than our federal one when it comes to governing, but it's hard to argue that a five-week campaign system wouldn't be a big improvement on our increasingly lengthy (and increasingly meaningless) sound-bite, horserace-over-issues campaign. Oh, well. Only 39 more days, right? Wake me up when it's over (and pray it's over on November 5th).

Fall is here!

Yesterday was the first day of fall, my favorite season. Some people love summer for the heat and lazy days; others prefer spring, with its fresh breezes and new flowers. There are even some crazy people who prefer winter and love being in the snow. (I will admit that I missed snow just a little bit while I was living in London.) But for me, fall is the season that tops them all.

First of all, there's the weather. The days are temperate, even warm, but not very humid, so I can enjoy the outdoors without wheezing like a broken vacuum cleaner. As a bonus, the nights are nice and cool, so I can sleep easily. (I think I've mentioned I like my sleep.) I received the first notice of fall last week when I woke up in the middle of the night and realized I couldn't move my legs because the cat was sleeping on them. She never does that when it's warm.

Another thing I like about the fall is the sense of possibilities. Sure, spring is the time of rebirth. (If you remember how messy birth can be, maybe that's not such a great analogy.) For me, though, fall holds more potential. When I was a student, fall meant the beginning of a new year—new classes, new friends, new things to learn. (I was a nerd, so I liked school.) I'm not a student any more, but I still get that feeling: there's new music to learn at band practice and new students to teach at the TKD studio. Fall is also the beginning of football season, when all my teams have the potential of being champions. (Okay, maybe not so much for the Lions, but a girl can dream, can't she?)

Then there's the bonus: my birthday is in the fall. Okay, maybe not technically, since it's two days before the equinox, but anything after Labor Day is "fall" for my purposes. I like my birthday. I get presents. People say nice things to me, like "You don't look 43!" I get cake.* So hurray for fall! Let the days get a little shorter and the leaves turn crimson. I'll just sit back and enjoy it.

*Well, not this year, but I made a tray of Rice Krispie treats instead. It's a good substitute, especially since Boy and TSU have left it mostly to me. Or did I beat them away with a stick? In any case, I do believe I ate the whoooole thing. Because breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?

Photo of the Week--9/15/08

It was kind of intoxicating, living in London, because a free weekend meant we could go anywhere in Europe within about three hours. We had a long weekend in January 2000, so we decided to go to Prague. For people who born in the 60s, growing up with the Iron Curtain, traveling to a former Soviet client and seeing the transformation democracy had brought in just a decade was fascinating. Prague is a lovely city, and now it's a major tourist destination, especially in the summer. Since we visited in the very low season, it felt like we had most of the city to ourselves. (We even took a walking tour, similar to the famous London Walks, in which we were the only clients, so we could ask the guide all the questions we wanted.) This photo is of the Church of Our Lady before Tyn, seen from atop the Old Town Hall in the city's main square. We had beautiful weather, and I love the way the angular towers reach into the blue sky and skewer the clouds.

Deadlines make my brain hurt

Or maybe it's the ungodly hours I'm keeping. Saying "I'm not a morning person" doesn't begin to describe things. It's true, I'm not a morning person at all. Get me up before 7 am, and I'm likely to grunt and squint for a good hour before I can produce intelligible human speech. But I'm also one of those people who needs sleep. A lot of sleep. Eight hours is livable, nine is preferable, ten is optimum. With the start of the school year, I'm lucky if I get seven. Since Boy is now in high school, we have to get up at 6 am because the bus comes at 6:30. (Thank goodness he's not a high-maintenance girl requiring an hour of prep time.) With September comes band practice every Thursday, and I don't get home until after 9:30. On Tuesdays I have flute choir, and I don't get home until after 10. Every other Wednesday I have critique group, and I can be out until 10. So by the time I get home, put my stuff away, deal with any mail or school handouts, have something to drink, check the weather, feed the cats, and scoop the catbox, it's close to 11. The math just isn't working for me.

Okay, sometimes I cheat and go back to bed after seeing Boy off to school. This will get rid of any headaches I wake up with (and morning headaches happen more often when I get less sleep), but try not to do it more than once a week because it eats up my days. I don't work at the computer all day every day. Monday and Wednesday mornings I have TKD class. Thursdays or Fridays I volunteer at the animal shelter. At least once a week I spend the half the morning doing grocery shopping and other errands. My goodness, no wonder I feel like I don't get any work done!

So while I'm adjusting to the fall schedule, I'm feeling a little squeezed by deadlines. My mom entered us in a quilt show, so I was working to complete a quilt by this weekend. (And today I finished the last step, the binding, hooray!) I've got an assignment due at the end of next week; it's under control, but I don't have any wiggle room. If I don't finish early, I'll be under the gun to get something ready for my critique group to read next month. Then there's another assignment coming in, more chapters to write, concerts to practice for, seminars to attend .... erk. I guess I'll just keep on with my usual life management style: "selective procrastination." Earliest deadlines first, then I'll worry about the rest.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a nap.

I can't deny it, I'm a nerd....

Finally, the film experience I know you've all been waiting for! Last spring, as many of you may know, Boy and I were working towards earning our 2nd degree black belts in taekwondo. Part of our requirements was to choreograph and stage a skit to demonstrate some of our skills. (And actually, some of you may remember seeing Boy and I working on possible choreography as far back as August 2007.) Having really enjoyed learning escrima sticks from Master Ron, one of our instructors, we decided to put them in our skit. From there, it took only a little imagination and a bit of fabric to come up with the following, our "Star Wars" themed black belt skit. Enjoy!

La Règle du jeu: The Official Haiku Review

This fall, I'm working my way down the Sight and Sound critics' poll of the top 10 films of all time. Earlier this month, I saw Battleship Potemkin, the silent classic that comes in at #7. I've already seen the films voted #1 and #2, Citizen Kane and Vertigo. So I proceeded to film #3, the 1939 French film La Règle du jeu (The Rules of the Game), directed by Jean Renoir. (Yes, he was related to the Impressionist painter Renoir—his second son.) And here is my Official Haiku Review:

Lie and cheat? Fine, but
You can't hide in the background.
Tragic truths will out.

At first the film seems to be a comedy of manners, as a hunting party in the country reveals changing relationships between husbands, wives, and lovers. Yet the party ends in a tragedy, one that seems inevitable given the degree of cheating and lying taking place, both among the bourgeoisie and their servants. It seems to take a very French attitude towards infidelity—it's accepted, as long as you follow society's rules and do it with delicacy and "class." At first, the characters' contravention of the rules brings about farce, but then it ends in murder. When you contrast the long hunting scene (which is definitely not Humane Society approved) with the murder at the end, it seems clear that Renoir (who also wrote the script) is indicting a society that permits dishonesty as long as it wears a pretty face.

Renoir's use of long shots, allowing the viewer a glimpse of events in the background, reinforces his themes. Often while a character is speaking, behind him we see others contradict his words with their behavior. It was a novel technique for the time, and one reason the film is considered a classic. (Sight and Sound's directors' poll also includes it in their top 10.) But the film was a flop when it premiered in 1939. Renoir filmed The Rules of the Game as Europe was spiralling into war, so perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised that French audiences didn't want to see a satire of their values. They booed and threw things at the screen, and Renoir ended up cutting many scenes in an attempt to salvage the work. It didn't work, and he ended up fleeing the Nazi occupation a year later. It was only in 1959, while Renoir was living in Hollywood, that the film was restored to something close to his original intent.

I think this is one of those films that requires a second viewing to catch some of the technical tricks Renoir employed. I did find the ending tragic, a somewhat jarring contrast to the lighter tone of the beginning. It's an interesting film, enjoyable enough for a black-and-white work with subtitles. If you wanted to watch something very similar but much more accessible, I would recommend Robert Altman's very excellent 2001 film, Gosford Park.