Make It So

For anyone who didn't grow up watching Star Trek, I pity the fact that the words in this title don't evoke for you an image of Patrick Stewart in red spandex lowering his gaze and pointing determinedly at you. It's magical.

Nicole recently told me about a study (vagueness alert: this ain't no damn science blog!) in which brain scientists or some such group of people found that a particular part of a person's brain is active when they complete some task. Let's call it the "self satisfaction center."

Apparently this same bit of grey matter lights up when a person merely tells someone about what they are currently working on, regardless if they have finished it already or not. So, if you got full just by telling someone about this amazing dinner you were going to have, why bother eating at all?

Turns out the greatest disincentive to actually finishing your projects is excitedly gabbing about them to all your friends. This resonates with me powerfully. I think I've seen it in me for a long while, and this was simply the validation I needed to put those theories into practice.

Ergo, from now on, if you ask me what I'm working on at the moment, it will likely be a short conversation. Either that, or I really am just becoming as inept and boring as I fear. Toss up, really.

Good-Bye Wi-Fi

We no longer have internet at the house because our wi-fi-sharing neighbors moved out recently to live in Chile. I begged and begged (in my mind) for Zach to simply leave me his scooter in the interim, since he couldn't take it on the plane with him, but nothing came of it. The same can be said of most things that remain only in the mind.

Our new, cleaner, airways have left a void in our days though. Not just the lack of Facebook as a time-waster, or G-chat as a half-distracted way to keep in touch with friends. The unexpected casualty has been television. We have no cable hook-up, and no digital receiver on our ancient Craigslist-begotten set, so our entire video media life has pretty much consisted of either streaming or downloading shows and movies. All of that's gone now.

Not to make this sound like a eulogy. It's really fine that we have more time to indulge in our active hobbies, or to work toward our future goals, rather than just sitting around opportunistically plucking off 60's comedies that have been added to Netflix's Watch Instantly orchard over the previous week. I'm writing more, for instance, as evidenced by this entry's very existence.

Like anything else, television is worth more if you have to work for it. Downloading shows and getting them from Netflix is no longer so convenient it can eat up entire weekends. Regulating this vice is similar to one of the big reasons why I prefer my moca pot for coffee brewing, or rolling my own cigarettes. I indulge less, and enjoy those indulgences more.

It makes me wonder what else I could limit so as to restrict as well as heighten. No longer owning a car is one option, though not in this town, with its population density similar to that of candy bars drifting through outer space. Maybe a couch that folds up automatically when I get up, but not so in the other direction forcing me to work a little before lounging.

Suddenly I feel like the dad in Calvin and Hobbes. "It builds character!"

More realistically, this should apply to food. I could simply stop buying all this "bad for you" deliciousness, and limit myself only to enjoying such things when I make them myself. Not exactly the most strenuous of exercise, but I'm sure running around the kitchen and stirring something constantly burns a few calories. It would at least limit my candy and pizza intake due to time restrictions.

But then, for that to be an issue, I would have to believe that candy and pizza are actually bad for me. Television, smoking, excessive caffeine are all probably negatives for my fragile bod and brain, but candy and pizza are precisely what a growing boy needs.

MFA: Master's of Fiiiiine Arts

It occurred to me as I was writing a friend about my recent decision to pursue an MFA in Creative Writing (that's right, folks!), that I haven't announced it here, on this reader-less forum! Well, there it is, actually - I just did.

The facts are simple.

1. I've been writing fiction for as long as I can remember. Ten-year-old me's sequel to Jurassic Park (written before that hack Michael Crichton wrote his version) received stellar reviews from Mrs. Douglas. And she hated the author, so you know it meant something.
2. Still, to this date, despite my magazine internship, my forays into internet citizen journalism and blogging, and my two month gin-soaked retreat to San Luis Obispo, I feel I have not given the pursuit of my art an honest attempt. Two to four years of free tuition and just barely enough money to live on while focusing almost exclusively on my writing (and not being able to afford gin) would change that. If, after that, I fail, then I can say I tried.
3. Maybe I suck at the whole white-collar office gig. Maybe I'm okay with that. Lord knows I don't enjoy it, so why should I pursue it? Just because that's what my middle-class upbringing had in mind for me? Yes, it sounds a little bit like middle-school-punk-rock me is returning to the surface, but maybe that's a good thing. I got lost in this whole 'grown-up' scene for a while. The difference is that now my parents can be counted amongst the good guys.
4. What better time than now? No kids, no car I couldn't part with for food money, and no limitations on where I could live to fulfill this dream. Except Arizona. And Nevada. I'm so done with these desert environs. Give me rain, lord, give me rain!

So that's that. There are tons of details, sure, but that's the gist. For the really curious, the list of programs to which I'll likely apply currently includes (in no particular order):

• University of Iowa in Iowa City
• University of Michigan, Ann Arbor
• University of Virginia, Charlottesville
• University of Texas, Austin
• Brown University in Providence
• New York University in New York City
• Cornell University in Ithaca, New York
• Syracuse University
• University of Minnesota, Minneapolis
• University of Houston in Texas
• University of Alabama, Tuscaloosa
• Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge
• Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond
• American University, DC
• Washington University, St. Louis

Sing Song Silence, Tell Tale Tapping

There are times when I need to sing. Like thirst, I can postpone its sating for a time, but not forever. Often this is because I am sitting at my desk in my cemetery-silent office.

So, instead of singing, I do everything I can but sing. I motion the words or the rhythm with my lips and tongue. I type the words at the same pace at which I'd be giving them voice. I bob my head, rock my body and, if I'm careful not to shake the plywood floor or the plastic cubicle walls, I even settle into a salacious tapping of my heel.

To actually break out into song would be to stab at the heart of this unsuspecting, sleepy beast of an environment. So I tip-toe around it, slaking my thirst but leaving the beast on its throne.

Until the revolution comes!

"There will come a time when everybody who is lonely will be free to sing and dance and love...There will come a time when you can even take your clothes off when you dance."
- Frank "who cares if it's satire" Zappa

Weather Update: Still Weird (Addendum)

May 2nd, ice falls from the sky.

It's new to me too.