Dignity

I am slightly disaster-prone. I don't think that admitting it counts as putting negative energy out and attracting negative events in return; it's more a rational assessment of my life history that can be of use for planning the future. Contingency plans are a specialty of mine. I'm so used to random bits of ill luck that I'd almost miss them.

What really bothers me about my misfortunes are the complete lack of dignity associated with them. I'm always falling on my face in public, getting sick on the bus or in my sister's car on the way to the ER, or walking into walls. I never get to put on the beatific face of one who suffers silently in patience and grace, because I'm too busy being the dumbass at whom people point and laugh (even though most are too polite to do so to my face). If ill fate must dog my every turn, I would at least like it to lend me some gravitas.

Today's disaster: I fell down a flight of stairs. My first words to the collection of concerned onlookers attracted by the many thumps as I hit each of the treads along with my protracted wail was, "Don't worry, I didn't have a heart attack." That's just . . . lame. I should have at least gotten a concussion out of it, rather than just a rapidly growing bruise on my thigh that is currently about the size of my head.

This is far from my first fall down a flight of stairs. At least this time I went feet first: the last big tumble I took was head first backwards down an outside flight of stairs. I was wearing a short skirt at the time, and my thought as I fell was "Great. When they find my body I'm totally going to be flashing my underwear." Like I said, no dignity.

The day did get better though: I went to Target and saw Mamma Mia. Target and ABBA are two of my favorite things, so no day that includes both of them (along with lots of family, including two nephews and the promise of even more children tomorrow, and my parents' meatloaf which is a bizarre concoction and the only meatloaf I have ever liked) can really be a bad thing.

Another Characteristically Brilliant Moment

I . . . slept through my test this morning. Yep, that's right, I woke up with that awful "Oh, my, I'm supposed to be at that health center in 5 minutes" lurch in my stomach. I called and they told me to try to make it in, but if I was over 20 minutes late, I would have to reschedule. Due to everything going wrong with buses, etc., as well as the fact that I AM AN IDIOT, I rushed in approximately 27 minutes late. The receptionist was very nice, but as it was still prior to 8 am and the place was PACKED, let me know that she could do nothing for me. The next open spot is September 9.

Which, oddly enough, made me feel better. This is clearly not a crisis situation. Also, I managed move very, very quickly for a while there and nothing bad happened, which was bizarrely reassuring. I even pushed good taste so far as to reassure a sister that I will not scar her children by collapsing suddenly while running around with them next week. The test I was worried about last night was negative, and that was the big area of concern.

So now I can go back to worrying about important things, like the letter of complaint I need to write to NBC about their coverage of the gymnastics--those commentators make me so angry I could spit! Possibly even in their direction, though I don't think there is any provocation that could actually make me spit on a person. I'm keeping that in reserve. I know for the state of my mental health and saliva, I shouldn't watch tonight, but let's face it, I'm going to.

Trip Delay

Now that I know my baby sister will be at the 2/3 sibling reunion going down this Sunday in VA, I just had to rearrange my schedule to optimize my time with her. Time sure to be spent with me telling her to get a job and kicking her in the head if she tries to take my bed. We're a loving family, really.

Well, spending more time with her might not have been the only reason I changed my ticket, but it is one of the up sides. I had another one of my disturbing doctor's visits today, and there was question at one point that I might need to be admitted to the ER tonight (I don't, it's fine, the whole thing is probably not a big deal, just a little worrisome). I have another test at a cardiology facility early tomorrow AM, and the thought of trying to get everything tied up from that in time to get to the airport was stressing me out and making me unhappy. I'll probably be done and home by 9AM, but if I still had the ticket I'm sure they'd keep me there for hours for some reason.

So I spent a lot of money that I don't have and messed up a bunch of people's schedules (including my own), but also managed to make myself far more calm and happy than I was around 2 this afternoon. I'm bummed not to get to see Measure for Measure, but this way Daddy totally gets out of it even while he gets brownie points for being willing to go.

I'll see most of you soon!

Moving on to Hating to Love the Olympics

This is part of the expected life cycle of my relationship with the Olympic games, although I think it came earlier this year than usual. The two biggest things I'm disgusted with: the media coverage of Michael Phelps, an incredible athlete with amazing accomplishments to his name, has ensured that if he gets a silver or a bronze in any event, he has failed. The thought of an Olympic silver medal as failure is really gross to me, but I can already hear the commentators talking about his dashed hopes and failed dreams of glory.

I say this in part because of a non-swimming commentator. A gymnastics commentator last night harshly criticized a Japanese athlete because after he made a mistake on his vault, he was able to laugh and move beyond it and focus on what came next rather than immediately beating himself up for taking a step on his landing. No admission that maybe it's inspiring that a young man competitive and gifted enough to represent his country at the Olympics, a country that as MH reminded me has a particularly strong tradition of ritual suicide in the face of any perceived dishonor to oneself or one's family, is also mentally healthy and strong enough to accept that he is human, that he can make mistakes, and a mistake doesn't have to result in immediate self-directed anger and shame.

She's not an Olympian, but I'm proud of her anyway: I spend a good bit of time mocking my little sister or offering advice she doesn't want to hear. She deserves every bit of the mocking and I'm certainly not going to stop, but I think (I hope) she knows how tremendously proud I am of her. She leaps into adventures that I'd be too much of a coward to try, and she is constantly pushing herself and growing as a person. But I'm particularly proud of her today, because today she made one of the hardest choices of all--the choice to recognize how to keep oneself healthy mentally, physically, and emotionally, and to realize that sometimes not pushing is harder to do than hanging on in a miserable situation in order to meet some internal standard that no one else expects of you. I know how hard learning one's limits can be, and it's something that I struggle with on a constant basis. So as proud as I am of her for all the wonderful things she has done and will continue to do, I'm even more impressed by the wisdom and maturity she showed me today.
Plus, now I get to see her before I leave the country, so everything works out for me. Which is, after all, the important thing.

Why Do I So Love the Olympics?

Here's the thing. The Olympics are boring. They go on forever. There are like 3 exciting moments for ever 6 hours. Yet I love watching them. They do not inspire me to be active in any way, nor do they encourage me to develop some athleticism of my own. They inspire me to park my butt on my couch every night to watch the many, many events with their silly, silly commentary.

Right now I'm watching them and actually finding things that were irritating me earlier rather soothing. Are Russia and Georgia at war? Enh, we've got beach volleyball to watch! John Edwards? Who? What sport? Both Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes died this weekend? Well, everyone can agree that that's sad.

I have some seriously ambivalent feelings about beach volleyball, since that's what I'm watching right now. There's no way to deny that the women playing are phenomenal athletes by any measure. But I find the need to schedule the women's beach volleyball during primetime repeatedly, given that they are phenomenal athletes who also happen to be really gorgeous women in bikinis rolling around in a sand pit, a little ooky. And of course women's gymnastics is horrifying and compelling in equal measures.

I did love finding out about the 33 year old gymnast competing for Germany, and doing a damn fine job of it in the prelims, at least on the vault. She got a gold for the Unified team (FSU) in 1992, before most of her competitors were born. Of course, the story is even better given that she ended up in Germany because she couldn't get treatment for her son's leukemia in Uzbekistan or Russia.

MH and I have hatched an elaborate plot to make a movie: an Olympic themed montage with me as a dedicated Olympic hopeful in something (air rifle? other suggestions?) and her as my driven, harsh, maybe alcoholic but ultimately loving coach driving me on to the glory that she always longed for but never achieved for herself. We're thinking "Not Enough Time" by INXS for the backing track.

A project more likely to come to fruition is our travelogue of the Great China Adventure Tour of '09 (which may be substituted with another Great Adventure Tour of our choosing due to price considerations--the Black Sea area was up for discussion, but maybe not so much, what with the shooting and the bombing and the killing and the maiming and whatnot currently going on in the area). I think the two of us being giggling idiots all across the country will be must-see viewing for . . . well, the two of us. Watch this space next spring for some truly magic video footage.

And yes, I did spend the day making up imaginary movies instead of working on my proposal. I figure all this avoidance has to result in a burst of activity . . .sometime. Maybe. Since I travel for a week starting Thursday, and after that have a maximum of 6 weeks at home before I leave for Kyrgyzstan, that burst of activity could come any time now without upsetting me.

Mixed Emotions

Thanks for the book recs. Now if you'd like to have them gift wrapped and sent to my house, that would be helpful. I'm home sick (I finally figured out that I'm sick after spending a week or so moping around and not getting dressed when my ear started hurting again yesterday--I'm off to the doctor tomorrow, but learned via phone this morning that I probably never got over the last thing. I'm tenacious like that) and could use the entertainment. I read A Clockwork Orange at about the same time I learned my very first Russian, and was totally excited about understanding the droog and moloko stuff, until I realized it's really not very hard to figure out from things like, you know, context. And anyone who thinks The Handmaid's Tale is dull needs to go reread it now, and think about it every time you use a debit card. That's how the revolution is going to get us! Through our bank accounts and our wombs*! Actually, I need to reread it, and my copy has gone missing through the years. So you can send me that one, too.

Right now, though, I'm satisfied with watching the last performance show of So You Think You Can Dance, just prior to turning on tonight's finale. I don't think I've fully expressed here how much I love, love, love this show: I love this show, and not even ironically. It's a perfect combination of people working really hard at something they are great at and love, people getting better at that thing, my constant awe at anything other people can do that is physical, the excitement of all the people involved in the show, the great people they get to work on the show, and enough annoying reality TV ticks to make me sure there is room for improvement.

I'm actually really sad that the Olympics mean that the show is finishing early this year, or something. I guess there haven't actually been fewer episodes (I started watching halfway through last season, and then caught a marathon and was HOOKED), but being away for the first half of the show made me miss most of them. So I'm excited for the Olympics, but bummed for the end of this show. But excited for the finale. Not that I actually voted. Which is weird, because voting is one of my favorite things to do and pretty much the only group activity I fully support my own participation in (I guess the doing it by myself in a booth thing makes it acceptable) but only for political things. Like president, and stuff.

Which means I need to add figuring out how to vote from KG to my to do list, which grows everyday I stay in bed instead of figuring out stuff like moving across the globe and my dissertation. The contemplation of which is almost enough to send me back to bed, if I did not have all this SYTYCD excitement to deal with.

ETA: Also, what is up with Bret Favre? The Jets? Seriously? This whole "just kidding about retirement" thing? Seriously? I've been trying to ignore it and hope it would all go away and I could just remember how unexpectedly hot he looked last year (not a fan of Bret: The Early Years, way too All-American Golden Boy for me, but aging looks good on him). Now I'm afraid he's going to go and ruin it all by going and having a crappy-ass season that will turn out to be his real last season and it's all anyone will ever remember about him. Though he's still hot.

*Footnote I should be too embarrassed to add: I once wrote a paper for my Women and Religion seminar (freshman year) about ways in which The Handmaid's Tale could totally come true. This and other sad but true facts about my life are a large part of my evidence for my thesis that anyone under the age of 22 is an idiot (funny how the number was lower when I was younger), although my little sister's newfound veganism constitutes additional supporting material (Hi, there, dirty hippie!).

Nothing to Read

I had a major trauma last night. It kept me up for hours, wandering from room to room.

I could not find anything to read. This should be impossible, as my house is teeming with books, at least relative to its size. I own too many clothes, too many shoes, and too many books. I should never be without something to wear or something to read.

Yet nothing seemed right last night. I was in the middle of both Angels & Insects by A.S. Byatt and Volume 1 of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Both seemed a bit flat. Absorbing in some moods, but not last night's. So I considered some of the books I have ready and waiting for me to get around to them. I still haven't read Suite Francaise, Sacred Hunger, or The Golden Notebook. I have The Robber Bride waiting for me, but despite having recent loved Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin I'm put off by a vague memory have having read The Robber Bride when it was first published (in the mid-90s or so) and not really liking it. I assume I'll have a different perspective on it now, but it didn't seem worthwhile to risk it right before bed.

I actually did pick up We and start reading it for the first time since 2000 (and I know this, because there is a tag on the back letting me know I bought it from the Pitt book store in 2000). I've never met a dystopian novel I didn't like, and We is my favorite. Well, maybe The Handmaid's Tale is, but We definitely comes before 1984 and Brave New World, though I like them both a great deal. That actually about sums up my knowledge of dystopian novels--what am I missing? Animal Farm? What are the others?

Anyway, much as I enjoy the novel, it wasn't right. I ended up with Rebecca's Tale, one of those different perspective on a famous novel novels, and it's actually pretty good thus far. I've always resented the drippy nonentity voice of Rebecca, who is worthy of her husband's love because she is too young, naive, formless, and unquestioning to ever impinge on his already ordered life, while the glamorous, confident, magnetic Rebecca is of course a raving bitch who got what was coming to her, so it's nice to get a different perspective on the character.

Anyway, and book recommendations?