fortitude_north

More Letters

2012-02-23T16:15:00.000-06:00

dear jonathan toews,

it's pretty important that you come back and play as soon as possible, so it was a little frightening to hear that you had run your car into an L pole this morning. smooth move, ferguson. as someone referred to as "beloved" by nearly-always-snarky hockey bloggers, it is hard to underestimate how important you are to this team. please get better soon, and also maybe think about having someone drive you to practice when you are (allegedly) concussed.

love, laura

ps nice mercedes.

pic via Red Light District

Letters To Corey

2012-02-20T15:34:00.002-06:00

Today

dear corey crawford,
thank you for staying in your fucking crease. .955 sv% in the last few games feels good, doesn't it? keep it up.
love, laura

feb 16

dear corey crawford,
please stay in your fucking crease. thanks.
love, laura

feb 15

dear corey crawford,
i think you should spend some time trying to locate your talent. retracing your steps can help. maybe you left it under a locker room bench? or try the pockets of the pants you were wearing in november. don't bother asking ray emery. he doesn't have it. if you can't find it, it's a long shot, but when you are in new york on thursday, you could try asking henrik lundquist to borrow some.
love, laura

Delightful Quotes From A Delightful Book

2012-02-06T19:07:00.000-06:00

The Sweetheart Season by Karen Joy Fowler. It's about a girl's baseball team in a small town in immediately-post-war Midwest America. But these quotes aren't about the plot, I just thought they were charming.

"'No good ever came to me from arm wrestling men,' my mother always told me, and these are the words I've tried to live by."

"Women used to say, I can weave better than Minerva, or Minerva's hair is not so beautiful as mine, or my fourteen children are better than Latona's two. Not, I need to lose ten pounds before I buy a bathing suit, or I hate my thighs. Those ancient women had some self-esteem."

"Some place where women wore their hair in a curtain over one eye and left the dark red imprint of their lips on their cigarettes. Some place where the women all had pasts and the men loved them helplessly in spite of it. The real Paris."

"She was an avid reader, which is almost the same thing as having friends."

Nearly Six Years Out

2012-02-04T04:38:00.000-06:00

There are songs that still remind me so strongly of narrow medieval streets paved in uneven cobbles slippery under my shoes coming home late and drunk after closing time. Nothing so sweet as that, and the sliding into worn pink-flowered sheets and resting my head against the cool concrete wall. Maybe I've never felt as safe as I did in viale Milton 41, with the mopeds droning by outside the French windows. I miss you.

Winter, Or, Falling In Love With Strangers On The Bus

2012-01-24T15:44:00.000-06:00

So it's well and truly winter now, and that means taking the bus to school more often. And that means that I fall in love pretty frequently. This is something that happens to me on the way to school, never on the way home. It only lasts for the duration of the bus ride. Once I get off, the feeling fades quickly, and is nearly always gone by the time I reach my office. I do not remember my past bus loves. I couldn't describe a single person that I have fallen in love with on the bus (except for the one who looked kind of like Niklas Hjalmarsson, but I don't actually remember his face, just that he looked like a Blackhawks defenseman). I never fall in love with the same person (I don't think - like I said, I don't remember them), and I never speak, flirt, or even make eye contact with them. This is a totally one sided affair. But lest you think that what I am describing is merely lust, or an appreciation for a handsome face, let me assure you you are wrong. This is true love. For the entire ten minute bus ride, I remain convinced that this is the person with whom I am fated to spend the rest of my life. We will get married and have children and sit in rocking chairs on the porch when we are old. Why does this happen? Does winter arouse some deep seated nesting instinctin me? Am I secretly terribly lonely? Is one of these boys my actual true love? Why does it only happen in the morning? In the morning I am generally less sociable, less interested in people, less open to interpersonal connections. But I never fall in love on the way home.

I have the answers to none of these questions, but this whole description reminds me of this, which is the same but opposite:

I love this watercolor by Carmel Seymour. It is called "I sometimes think strangers are in love with me". Isn't it beautiful? In looking for a pic of this to post I found Carmel Seymour's blog and looked at a bunch of her other work. Guys, it is truly delightful! Here, this one is called "Science documentaries taught me how to love". I want to be friends with this lady. You can check out her blog too, right here.

Blackhawks Game!!!

2012-01-16T19:32:00.000-06:00

Definitely spent more on beer than I did on the game ticket. Blackhawks won 4-3 after a great game involving a good fight, a contested goal, lots of scoring...totally awesome.

As Promised: Gosford Park, Reasons To Watch

2012-01-11T00:41:00.001-06:00

Reasons You Should Watch Gosford Park

1. Clever Agatha Christie style English Country House Murder except that the servants get equal play. In Dame Agatha's books the servants are all usually eliminated from suspicion immediately as they were all together in the servant's hall or something; then they can be ignored. Once in a while the butler turns out to be someone's long lost secret twin brother just pretending to be a butler or something or a chambermaid unknowingly holds an important piece of evidence, but the murderer is always a toff. In Gosford Park, the servants are half the story, and not a separate half either. It's an incredibly interesting and revealing portrait of how intertwined these two seemingly separate social classes of people could be: how much power the upper classes held over their servants, and how that could be abused terribly, to be sure, but also some of the more complex facets of that relationship - power and loyalty and intrigue and sex and gossip and even affection.
2. Clive Owen = yummy. Well I did say.
3. Maggie Smith is just so deliciously bitchy I cannot stand it.
4. Kirsten Scott Thomas has the most incredible poise. Maybe she is an ice queen, but I find that I am all admiration.
5. Everyone smokes all the time and it is so glamorous, all languid and haughty and elegant with the lipstick and the nails and the smoke curling up so artistically. I wish so much that I smoked and that it looked like that. And I guess that it didn't give you cancer.
5. Omg did I say, English country house in 1932. With the gardens and the shooting and the dogs and the horses and the drawing rooms and the dressing for dinner.
6. 1932 fashion.
7. I feel like I have to be clear: Clive Owen: dark, brooding, mysterious.
8. Stephen Fry smokes a pipe and bumbles.
9. Jeremy Northam sings and plays the piano.
10. In an English country house in 1932 while wearing a dinner jacket.
11. Ok, so it's JUST POSSIBLE that no one else is quite as obessessed with this time period as I am. And maybe it's a little disturbing that I am so fascinated by a way of life that was, let's face it, characterized by a very particular brand of patronizing, passive aggressive, narrow minded, cruel, class obsessed, xenophobic snobbery. But, damn, they carried it off with such STYLE.

There you go. And look, only TWO points were Clive Owen related.

This morning I found a cockroach in my pants and that is all I have to say about that. This weekend: more brunch!

Happy New Year!

2012-01-02T11:25:00.000-06:00

Back to Chicago! Christmas with the fam in Charleston was lovely, as was vacation in Atlanta, but the more time I spend in Chicago the more it feels weird to be in places without winter. It was nice to come back to the cold and the snow and my cab driver who had this (among many, many other things) to say:
"Mayor Daly, I love that guy! He's a crook, but I still love him." Oh yes it is good to be back in Chicago.

What were the highlights of 2011? I'm not sure. Throwing a super awesome fancy cocktail party? Finally getting an iphone? Becoming an official PhD candidate? Those were all pretty exciting. The time we accidentally attended a gang wake was also pretty memorable.

Do you make New Year's resolutions? I don't usually, but this year I did and it is the following: more brunch! There has not been enough brunch in my life, and I am determined to have more. Brunch at fancy brunch restaurants, brunch with bottomless mimosas, brunch parties at my house. And lots of bloody marys. Yummm.

Now that the madness of proposing, post-proposal lethargy, and holiday party round are all over, I also plan to post more on this blog. That's not an official resolution, because that type of resolution only sets you up for failure. But to give myself a little accountability, I'm going to promise you right now that the next post is going to be a list of reasons why you must, must, must watch Gosford Park. (Spoiler: the hotness of Clive Owen is only a few of the reasons. Three, at most.)

Foosball: Sport of Kings

2011-12-11T16:10:00.000-06:00

A typical night at the Cove:

8:45 We arrive and are not carded because the barman recognizes us.
8:46 We order a pitcher of Green Line.
8:47 Competitive banana-grams.
9:30 Foosball. Discussion re: foosball as sport of kings. Attempt to determine factors correlated with foosball success by playing every permutation of team/side of table/postition. Conclusion: Colin helps you win, however, increasing drunkenness of participants through time is a variable we have not corrected for.
10:00 Darts. Sucking in proportion to the number of years that we have spent throwing darts in the Cove, ie, third years suck the least.

Tim: "Oh, I just figured out how to throw these." (throws two bullseyes)
Everyone else: "Great, another game it's not fun to play with Tim."

11:00 More foosball, distracted by frat boys singing along in unison to the jukebox.
11:30 Jon offers various people five dollars to tackle the creepy animatronic Santa because "I don't want to touch it."
12:00 We order pizza to be delivered to the bar.
12:30 Jon orders a pitcher of Miller and tastes it.

Jon: "This is terrible."
Everyone else: "Yep."
Jon: "I didn't think it would be this terrible."
Everyone else: "Yep."
Jon: "Tim, drink this."

12:40 Discussion of Cove as appropriate location for a date.
12:45 More foosball until we run out of quarters.
1:15 Walk one block home.

December

2011-12-07T16:22:00.001-06:00

Ugh, can't believe how long it's been. Being a person is a full time job, even before you factor in an actual job. My house is dirty, I haven't finished writing my Christmas cards, I haven't updated my blog...what have I even been doing with myself??? Actually, I know the answer: stalking the flies that have invaded my apartment. It's practically Biblical in there. Very gross. Oh, and I did do all my Christmas shopping...so that's something.

In the spirit of the season, here is a picture of my mantlepiece decorated for Christmas:

And here is a picture of the festive lions outside the Art Institute. Chicago does a great job of decorating its public spaces for Christmas, I wish I had more pictures of the trees on Michigan and State, etc.

Happy Birthday!

2011-11-14T16:16:00.000-06:00

Happy 25th to Andrea, old friend and faithful reader! I freaked out about turning 25 too, but after a little bit of that I decided to age gracefully, as I know you will. Also, unrelated to your birthday, but still important, someday, we're going to co-host a very classy party. I've been thinking about Masquarade themes, but we shall require a ballroom...

xoxoxo

Fall Cocktail Party

2011-11-13T18:17:00.002-06:00

the food:

pear compote with toasted baguette and cheese (aged pecorino, gouda, extra sharp chedder).

lamb meatballs with cilantro raita.

coffee walnut creams and almond crescents.

roasted spiced pecans. this picture also shows the decorations. the small bowl is filled with fall leaves that kept blowing in the window as i was getting things ready.

the drinks:

ginger beer, rum, and lime juice punch, served in sugared glasses.

the blackhawk: vodka, creme de mure, and lime juice, shaken over ice.

and served in sugared glasses.

the dress:

some guests:

aaron.

ben.

talia and madlen.

justin.

the carnage:

success!

Feats of Engineering

2011-11-09T21:19:00.000-06:00

This morning I went downtown to go to the Apple store to get an iphone (!), but when I got to the Michigan Avenue bridge it was closed so a boat could go through. I have never seen them lift it before (although I saw it partially lifted for Transformers) so I stuck around to watch and it was totally cool! They lift it to a very steep angle, and it's very fast and very quiet because it's so perfectly balanced.

My Favorite Hockey Comic

2011-11-03T16:45:00.003-05:00

Instead of organizing my office I'm going to share this with you: my favorite comic about hockey. I mean, the whole comic isn't about hockey. Just this particular strip. Although come to think of it I can't believe Kate Beaton has never done a hockey comic. Anyway, from pictures for sad children:

If you click on it it will become big so you can read it.

It's November so you know what that means in the NHL: really terrible mustaches. Or really great mustaches, I guess, depending on your opinions about mustaches. Here is a poll featuring the "greatest active mustaches in the NHL" including the coach of the Chicago Blackhawks (active in the sense of belonging to a player or coach currently in the NHL because, among other reasons, "The research required to analyze the staggering amount of ‘staches from the ’80s would have dragged this thing beyond November."). And here is an article about the mustache rivalry in the Hawks' locker room.

Also, there's this: a new McSweeney's column that might be my favorite irresponsible use of statistics ever. However I described it, I would not do it justice, so just read it.

After the First Christmas Shopping Recon Trip

2011-11-02T22:14:00.000-05:00

My family is so impossibly impossible to shop for. Seriously, guys!

Halloween Party Pictures

2011-10-30T23:22:00.000-05:00

This morning I downloaded the photos from my camera (which was out of my possession for a considerable time last evening). They included the following:

many pictures of Colin looking extremely excited about wearing rabbit ears

pictures accidentally taken without the flash that are completely dark

pictures where the person taking it held the camera wrong so half of a person's face is cut off

pictures with a giant cephalopod tentacle in the middle of the frame, covering up the intended subjects

pictures of Jesus with an AK-47

an inexplicible sequence involving baby dolls?

several pictures of a Darth Vader figurine

pictures of the March Hare kissing the Tooth Fairy, and vice versa (both portrayed by straight men)

an extensive series taken of the decorations at 2 am, because apparently the photographer felt they should be immortalized?

Here is the best full length picture of the mermaid costume:

This is not a great pic, but you can see my gills:

Here is a great pic of four Darwinians and one Darwinian Auxilary:

New Post!

2011-10-27T15:05:00.001-05:00

So it's been well over a month and I intended to write an extensive post of my doings over that time. I was going to tell you about my proposal, and the associated stress (I lost ten pounds and felt like my throat was going to close up and strangle me), I was going to tell you about the beginning of the hockey season (only one regulation loss so far (!), Kane's Savardian spin-o-rama, hissy fits in Vancouver), our trip to the opera, Indian summer in Chicago, and the impending Winter of Doom. But I am tired, so instead, I'm going to share with you a story that I find hysterical. I don't know if you will - maybe I find it so funny because I know my family and can picture this perfectly. This story involves the first time my mother met my dad's family, and my aunt Nancy tells it something like this:

"It was one of the first times your dad took your mom out, but he forgot his wallet at home, so after he picked her up they had to come back and get it. It was a nice day out, and we were all outside. Jeff [her boyfriend, now husband] and I had been babyistting that day, and we had been given ten dollars, so we went to the store and bought a kiddie pool and filled it up and were sitting in it in the backyard. Your grandma was sunbathing on the deck. We wanted to bring the cat outside, because it was so nice, but we didn't want him to run away, so we had tied him to the deck. So there we all were when your dad brought your mom to the house: two grown adults in a kiddie pool, an old lady in a tube top, and a cat on a string. It's astonishing that she still married him."

Soon...

2011-10-19T19:36:00.002-05:00

Someday I'll update again, I promise. When my proposal is over and I have my life back.

One Of Those Days I'm Glad Just To Be A Regular Person

2011-09-11T10:41:00.000-05:00

So as all sentient beings on the planet are doubtless aware, today is the 10th anniversary of the September 11 attacks. I will not be doing anything in particular to commemorate them. In fact I am deliberately staying away from the thousand and one specials and movies and whatever because I still find those images disturbing and I don't feel a need to relive that day. It is just too sad and too scary. Since I am a regular person, I have a perfect right to do this and I likely won't bother anyone. However, if I were the president (or a governer, or a mayor, or a senator, or anyone in public life really) and a reporter asked me "Sir, what are you planning for the September 11th anniversary" and I said "Well, I was thinking about watching the NCIS marathon and maybe having a sandwich", this would be considered highly disrespectful. If I then elaborated "You see, it's early episodes when Kate was still on the show and also I was going to make some fresh bread and use some of this delicious horseradish sauce I found in my refrigerator" I imagine the response would be to stare at me in stunned disbelief. Moral of the story: being president is a thankless job, and I'm really glad someone else has to do it. Now, I am off to buy some roast beef to put my horseradish sauce on.

Buckingham Fountain

2011-08-30T11:18:00.000-05:00

This is Buckingham Fountain:

It is located in Grant Park, just south of downtown and a block from the lake:

It shoots up a big jet of water like that every so often. This is what it looks like at night:

It is among my fondest wishes to go swimming in this fountain, despite all the bird poop. However, I only want this to occur under very specific conditions. They are as follows:

1. There must be at least four people, but there could be six or eight. There must be a roughly equivalent number of men and women. The majority of them must also swim in the fountain. Being the only one while everyone else stands at the edge and watches you is not satisfying.

2. We have to be dressed up. Like super dressed up, tuxes for the guys and long evening dresses for the women. These clothes should be the real deal: expensive, and probably ruined by splashing around in duck poop. We can't be dressed up to go swimming in the fountain, we have to have come from some fancy formal event, preferably in a limo, with a driver that will lean stoically against the car while we are in the fountain.

3. We have to be slightly intoxicated, but only slightly, in the giggly-swimming-in-a-fountain-full-of-duck-poop-seems-like-a-good-idea stage, not in the falling-down-drunk stage, because it would not be fun if someone drowned in the fountain, and vomiting is never glamorous. Also, we want to remember it later. It would be ideal if we were drunk on champagne, and had brought bottles with us to the fountain, but only if it's reasonably expensive champagne. It's lame if it's Korbel.

4. It has to be warm out, obviously. In any case the fountain is dry in winter.

5. This is the most important condition: we can't be arrested. It's ok if the cops show up. It is definitely ok to be escorted, in your dripping wet evening wear, from the fountain by two (preferably handsome) policemen. It is not, however, glamorous to then wind up dripping on the police station floor in said ruined evening wear. It's only fun if you get to flirt with the cops, then drive away in your limo. This being Chicago, this can't be an impossible thing to arrange, but on the other hand, the fountain swimming has to be spontaneous (obviously, not undreamt of, but not planned before the intoxicated formal event in question). Clearly, the best solution would be to be the daughter of the mayor in the 1930s or something. Granted, this is the best solution for most of my problems.

From McSweeney's Open Letters To People Or Entitites Who Are UnLikely To Respond:

2011-08-22T22:18:00.000-05:00

An Open Letter To TV Snobs

Best Thing From The Internet This Week

2011-08-19T12:31:00.000-05:00

As brought to my attention by Mandy: My Drunk Kitchen

There are a bunch of episodes of this delightful mini-show. I am a big fan of cooking while drinking, although I usually am more ambitious with the cooking and thus try to get through it before reaching this level of drunkenness. That's not to say I never overshoot.

From Facebook, A Conversation About Heart Palpitations

2011-08-17T13:52:00.000-05:00

Heart Palpitations, Apparently Still A Thing In The Twenty-First Century

2011-08-15T17:52:00.002-05:00

I've been having heart palpitations and it makes me feel ridiculous. Like i am suddenly a crazy victorian woman: fetch me my smelling salts, colleen, whilst i faint on this overstuffed divan!

p.s. the grocery store is still out of vanilla.

Back From Vacation, A Series of Random And Largely Disconnected Thoughts

2011-08-05T14:05:00.001-05:00

There is going to be a movie based (?) on the classic game "Battleship." Yes. That is correct. The trailer is visible here and confirms the judgement that everyone in their right mind made upon reading that first sentence (or whichever sentence that first brought this information to your attention): this is possibly the most retarded movie ever made. EVER.

On Wednesday we went to the jazz night at the aquarium and to see the jellies. They were amazing:

But it was really crowded, so we bought some wine at the bar, put it in our bag, and went out on the grass to watch the fireworks from Navy Pier. To be honest, I'm not sure we even needed to stoop to subterfuge. To be sure, drinking in the park is probably technically illegal, but this is Chicago, so I don't think anyone minds very much. The city looked like this (I only had my phone, so the firework pictures didn't come out well at all. Someday I will bring my real camera and try again):

I am in the process of switching over to gmail because Mediacom is stupid (there is a more detailed reason, but it is not interesting). Anyway, the mediacom address will still work, but I'm going to try and move most of the traffic to gmail. Here's the thing about Google: they are actually helpful. For example, just now, I was having trouble setting up POP. When I went to the help pages about it, not only did I find a useful answer, I found it right away, and worded exactly like I needed it to be worded - "if you want to check mail on multiple devices, IMAP is a better choice." Yes. I guess what I am saying is that Google might take over the world but I am pretty ok with that.

This week I have been struggling to overcome the feeling that I am still on vacation. August is just like that. If only we were the French and just took the whole month off, I think that would be sensible. Since I returned to work on Tuesday, I have accomplished some important things (final resubmission of my paper, data entry of all summer data, decisions regarding Sweden trip), however, if you actually add it up, it amounts to maybe a full day's work - spread out over four days. The elementary school child in me is, I think, secretly disbelieving of this whole "work through the summer" thing. Well, anyway, next week it would become me to buckle down and churn out a new draft of my proposal.

As I mentioned above, sometime in the next two or three months I will be going to Sweden to stand on some beaches and squint at some plants. I am strangely reluctant about this, I think because it is (a) a trip for work, not a trip for fun (b) I will go alone and meet people I have never met before (our Swedish collaborators) thus (c) I will be a bit stressed and also have to be on my best behavior. This is, of course, the polar opposite of the last time I travelled in Europe when (a) we led a charmed life in which the concept of "work" in any form had no place (b) I travelled with a variety of intimate companions in booze-soaked harmony thus (c) I could remain happily co-dependent and could operate under the eccentric and idiosyncratic behavioral code particular to the Florence house. *Sigh* The tragedy of being a responsible 25-year-old on a career path rather than a carefree 19-year-old with a credit card and very little homework. Also, it's possible that the trip will cause me to miss the beginning of the NHL season, which bothers me more than I am prepared to admit, or would have believed a year ago.

To close: another picture of the Chicago skyline at sunset:

The Combination Of PMS And Extreme Heat Makes Me A Terrible Person

2011-07-18T19:09:00.000-05:00

Things That Have Caused Me To Fly Into Near-Homicidal Rage Today

The truck driver idling outside my house this morning for at least ten minutes ("Really??? On a day like today, what you think we need is MORE air pollution???")

The ham and Swiss sandwich I bought for lunch mysteriously had no Swiss on it. Also, it appeared to have been made by a person who was either unfamiliar with the concept of the sandwich, or actually functionally retarded, as it was cut into sections and placed in a narrow plastic case, with layers that went bread-ham-bread-ham-bread-ham-bread, so there was no way to pick up the sections without leaving at least one open-ham-faced.

Any number of things to do with Powerpoint (there aren't enough expletives in the WORLD for how I feel about Powerpoint)

The grocery store is STILL (after like three weeks) out of vanilla extract ("It's like shopping in the fucking Soviet Union")

Other Lives, Other Summers

2011-07-17T23:51:00.000-05:00

Summer In Ridgecrest

These are the summers of your childhood. Popsicles and kiddie pools (the hard plastic kind that you had to chase down the street if it was windy and you didn’t get it filled up fast enough, and the soft sided kind that sat on a square of astroturf in the backyard) and earthquakes. You would go to the base pool for hours and hours. During adult swim Mom would give you money for fudgesicles from the snack stand, or she would bring summer fruit in tupperware and boxes of triscuits. You weren’t allowed to run, but the deck was blisteringly hot, so acrobatics were a necessity. You could look behind you and see your wet footprints evaporate, as if you were a ghost.

Later, when parental supervision was no longer required, you’d go up to Emily’s for pool afternoons. The dogs would be briefly annoyed that they couldn’t join, but they would calm down and you would lie, baking, on towels spread on the concrete in the 115 degree heat until you couldn’t stand it any longer, then jump into the pool where you once found a scorpion during a birthday party. Then lay out again until your bathing suits are bone dry, then into the cool house for Alias episodes on DVD until Betty gets home and you make margaritas before going home for dinner with the family.

Summer In Calabasas

You spend the days in the grubby worn classrooms and labs of CSU Northridge, but when you get home you collect your swim things and drive the short way to the big fancy house behind the fountain and the gate. You swim in the pool with the tile edges and the lovely foliage border while Brandon reads the paper under the broad porch. Then you eat what’s in the fridge or order takeout and walk the dogs. Back at home, you pretend to work on your organic chemistry homework, but it doesn’t take long before you abandon it to rented movies with chardonnay and popcorn served hot with lots of black pepper.

Summer In Malibu

It’s one of those cool, foggy summers, with June gloom well into July and lasting sometimes all day. You drive to campus and park on the curving street with, on one side, smooth grass all the way down to the road and the bluffs and the massive expanse of the Pacific, and on the other, climbing the rugged hills, the cream stucco and red tiled buildings of the university. You climb the stairs in front of the chapel and put your lunch in the staff room fridge, and go to the lab. You don’t mind the lab work but you don’t like the people from the tour groups peering in the narrow windows in the door. You feel like you are a zoo exhibit and you contemplate taping up the doors but never do it. In the late afternoon you go sedately back down the stairs and drive home and change into swim things and lie by the pool for an hour, reading Harry Potter and listening to little kids play with their moms. Then you make a little dinner – something light, maybe a veggie burger on arugula with sweet grape tomatos and cheese, or half a ready made Indian meal with some naan. Always, of course, with very cold white wine.

Summer In Australia

You take two cold showers a day and spend a lot of time lying on the marble floor, which is always cool, the kind of cold that soaks up into you the longer you lie there until you aren’t hot anymore (of course, in the winter, this same floor will necessitate the wearing of Ugg boots all the time, even when going to the bathroom in the middle of the night). On the weekends you take the train a few stops to Cottosloe Beach and walk from the station down, under the sighing pines and past the golf course, to the big iconic building on the beach with the echoing sandy changing rooms. You lie on the grass and watch thousands of people; you lie in the warm Indian Ocean water and let it rock you, womb-like.

Summer In Chicago

You get to the lake about five, when the light is already slanting. You climb down the rusted pipe ladder at the tip of the point and into the sloshing cool lake water, standing on the huge broken chunks of old breaks that litter the bottom (preferably the ones not slimy with algae). Some people swim out to the buoys, or across the curve to the 57th St beach, but you stay near the ladders. It’s enough to be out of the heat. After a while it gets to be almost cold, so you get out into the warm evening air, lie flat on the rocks and watch the ants crawl around and plan dinner. Which is mojitos with fresh mint and lime (add more sugar than you think), and bratwurst with mustard and chopped grilled onions, and grilled bok choy, and salad with dried cherries and walnuts and feta, and Leinie’s summer shandy. And the fireflies come out in the dim garden and you eat until you are super full and then go upstairs to watch Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog for the 4,532th time.

Chicago In Summer Part II

2011-07-11T22:38:00.000-05:00

fresh berries
breezes off the lake (technically present in winter, but much less pleasant)
the way the trees meet over the top of the street
the smell of sunscreen wafting from passing pedestrians
flowers in gardens, flowers along the railroad tracks, flowers in planters on Michigan Avenue, flowers on the corner by the grocery store
sunbathing on the breaks by the lake
sleeping with the windows open
sunshine
not having to layer
walking through people's sprinklers on the way home from work
lemonade that tastes like it did when you were little
long slow dusks

Chicago In Summer

2011-07-10T22:54:00.000-05:00

Chicago in summer is lush and beautiful and humid and full of tourists. I went downtown today, and it was exhausting. The Mag Mile is full of Europeans and Okies and cops. (I don't remember there being that many cops last year. I'm as cynical about cops as the next person, but for the record, these cops seem to actually want to help people. They are remarkably good natured for people who are walking around in black Kevlar in 90+ degree heat, and appear to spend most of their time giving directions to tourists, ignoring jaywalkers, and looking relaxed and nonthreatening.) Everyone smells pleasantly of sunscreen and half seem to be on their way to or from the lake. It's a whole different city than winter Chicago, and it reminds you why people live here, delivers a healthy dose of amnesia, makes you forget that other city, the one with the cold wind and dirty snow and bare trees for months and months and months on end. It is a relief and a blessing, a reminder that summer means more when you have to pay for it.

Today I Am Badass

2011-07-06T17:57:00.002-05:00

As a grad student, there are very few days I feel like a badass, but today is one of them. Pending final corrections, our paper has been accepted for publication by Journal of Biogeography. Yay!

Archetypal Weather

2011-07-05T15:49:00.000-05:00

Certain holidays call for certain kinds of weather, otherwise they don't really count. In our heads, the holidays of our childhood were always exactly like this (even though they couldn't possibly have been, and what we hold in our heads is some complex blend of memory and fiction and cultural genetics).

Halloween should be cold, but not so cold that you have to wear a coat over your costume, because that's lame. There should be, if at all possible, a full moon, and clouds scudding occasionally across it in the chilly fall breeze.

Thanksgiving should be cold too, brisk, even. It can be brightly sunny or overcast, but the crispy leaves should be blowing in the gutter, and when you go out at nighttime, full of turkey, it's always nice if it smells like snow.

Christmas should be snowy (sorry, Australia). New snow, so that it isn't dirty, preferably falling on Christmas Eve night, but gently, not a blizzard. More snow should hold off so that after presents and lunch, you can take a walk, but its ok if it starts again in the evening, as you curl up in front of the fire to admire your loot.

Easter should be the most perfect spring day imaginable, so that when you step out of church and are confronted with the impossible sweetness of the blue sky under a wash of sunshine, you truly do feel reborn.

4th of July should be hot. It should be so hot you feel like vomiting most of the time. The air should smell like sunscreen and barbeque smoke, your legs should stick to the vinyl of your lawn chair, and, by the time it gets dark, the heat should have addled your brain so much that lighting off cheap fireworks seems like a good idea.

Illness

2011-06-29T13:29:00.002-05:00

Sometimes when I feel sick and I don't know why, I worry that I am Patient Zero for some new and horrible disease.

Courtesy of Jack

2011-06-28T09:14:00.001-05:00

Troy Brouwer Is Now A Washington Capital, Or, Why I Hate Summer

2011-06-25T02:18:00.001-05:00

Hockey trades are made in the off season. They're made during the regular season too, but the off season is the time for reenvisioning a franchise, recalculating who you can afford under the salary cap, signing players to long contracts and locking down pending free agents. And inevitably teams change, sometimes dramatically, sometimes subtly. Sometimes to the delight of fans and sometimes to our chagrin.

And I hate it.

Seriously, it's like when they change facebook, or, when I was a kid, when my dance teacher used to rechoreograph our recital pieces. Even though I know from experience that I will accept and even like the changes within weeks, days, or sometimes hours, I still can't shake the feeling of betrayal. Even though I know I'll look back on the old version with nothing more than faint regret (if that), I still feel if something has been irrevocably lost. I guess I just don't deal well with change.

Reliving College

2011-06-25T01:40:00.002-05:00

In counterpoint to the classy party of Tuesday night, we spent Friday in an apartment empty but for a single sphere chair, a flat screen tv, and the internet (lacking only a bong and a guitar to truly be a College Apartment) drinking rum and cokes out of Solo cups. Then we ate mac and cheese while sitting on the kitchen floor at one am. It was refreshing.

A Midsummer's Night Cocktail Party

2011-06-22T19:15:00.003-05:00

Obviously, the most important part.

Lots of pretty glasses, and shaker all ready to go. (It's really hard to take a picture in my sun porch without either the ugly a/c unit or the ugly radiator in it.)

Fresh squeezed lemon, lime, and grapefruit juice.

Lime and berry garnishes for drinks.

The living room.

The living room from a different angle.

Candles in the fireplace and fresh flowers.

The food table!

The menu: humus (Mandy's unconventional recipe with lots of rosemary and oregano) and baked pita wedges with olive oil, salt, and oregano.

Strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries with whipped cream (with a touch of vanilla and sugar).

Trader Joe's multigrain crackers with cheddar cheese and grape tomatos or Usinger's garlic summer sausage with dijon mustard.

Vanilla sour cream cupcakes with buttercream frosting and gold dust and silver ball decorations (illegal in California).

Fancy cupcake picture.

The orchid that lives in my shower decorated the bathroom for the night.

What time is it? Cocktail time!

Sadly though, I have very few pictures of the party itself. I think someone else took some, and if I get ahold of them, I will post them. Although it was hot (appropriately for Midsummer), we had a lovely time. Everyone dressed very well. We drank lots of cocktails (champagne with berry garnishes, White Ladies (gin, Contreau, and lemon or lime juice with a lime garnish) and Manhattans (whiskey, sweet red and dry white vermouth, with a dash of bitters and a cherry)), ate food, and had sparkling conversation. All in all, a success!

News and Notes

2011-06-21T15:42:00.001-05:00

1. In an unprecedented fit of spontaneity (note: this is a really hard word to spell) the Merwins have booked a five day visit to Chicago in late July. Highlights from the family Skype conference preceding the booking included an argument about the noise level of mouse clicks as heard over skype, a discussion of country music lyrics, and the following conversation:

Larry: There are going to be some rules when we all meet up.
Jack: Like what? We're only allowed to talk about hockey 50% of the time?
Larry: Yes, but reduce that by an order of magnitude.
Laura: 5%? That's not very much! What are the other rules?
Larry: That's it. That's the only one.
Laura: So when you said 'there are some rules' you meant 'there is one rule'?
Larry: Yes.

2. Do you always wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always wait for the longest day of the year and then miss it. But not this year! This year I am having a super fancy Midsummer's Night Cocktail Party, and if I remember to take pictures, I will post them.

3. Only 104 days until the beginning of the new NHL season! And even fewer until the first preseason game, which, for the Blackhawks, will be against the Edmonton Oilers in Saskatoon. Why is it in Saskatoon, you ask? I really cannot say. Perhaps it is because 'Saskatoon' is such a funny name that they just could not resist.

4. I really only have three news and notes things, so here are some adorable pictures of a Winnie-the-Pooh/Star Wars mashup that my brother found at http://www.jameshance.com/.

A Sample Of Texts With My Brother During Game Six Of The Stanley Cup Final

2011-06-14T09:07:00.000-05:00

Jack 7:08 You watching?
Me: 7:12 It hasn't even started yet.

Me 7:18 Why do the canadians have so much better of an anthem than we do?
Jack 7:19 [something derogetory about the canadian national anthem]

Jack 7:36 This is intense.

[Boston scores twice]

Me 7:38 Bodes ill for van that they are already showing rxn shots of cory schneider [Vancouver's backup goalie] on the bench
Jack 7:39 Bodes ill for van that they are down two at Boston

[Boston scores twice more bringing their total to four unanswered goals in four minutes in the first half of the first period, and breaking some playoff records]

Jack 7:46 Are they allowed to surrender do you think?

[The game proceeds. Van can't claw their way back. There is a lot of shoving. Our comments on the game are not very funny.]

Jack 10:04 Suggestion for new US anthem: Don't Stop Believing
Me 10:05 Whose attention do I call to that do you think? Do I write my congressman?
Jack 10:06 Well you live in Chicago. I think you just pay him
Me 10:07 Who do I make the check out to? Never mind, I'm just going to stick some cash in an envelope

[The game ends 5-2 to absolutely no one's surprise. The announcers have been talking almost exclusively about game seven since the second period.]

Jack 10:08 Holy shit Chara [Boston captain with 106 mph slap shot] is big. He hugged Tim Thomas [Boston goalie, rocks a lucky porn star stache] and he's like a head over him.
Me 10:09 He's huge. And when he doesn't have a beard he looks a little like voldemort. [This is objectively true. Google image search him if you don't believe me]

Heat Wave

2011-06-08T13:36:00.000-05:00

I totally understand why crime waves go with heat waves. I am not the most patient person in the world, and when it's hot, the marginal amount of patience I am capable of shrinks to nearly nothing. When it's 95 degrees with 80% humidity, I can see being in a position where a violent crime spree just seems like the logical thing to do.

In case it's not clear, it's really fucking hot here. It upsets my stomach and I can't sleep properly. Chicago, at least this year, seems not to be capable of moderate weather. It's either freezing or boiling. Seriously, who thought it would be a good idea to build a city on a marsh where the weather always sucks?

This weekend, family fun:

It's never too early to acquire that taste.

Weekend To Don't List For Visit To Extended Family

2011-06-01T16:57:00.000-05:00

1. Don't swear.
2. Don't talk about evolution.
3. Don't wear shorts to church.
4. Don't talk about politics.
5. Don't mention church-going habits (or lack thereof, or the fact that when I do go it's with the *gasp* Catholics).
6. Don't mention anything that has ever been followed by the comment "DTG." (Yes, we have an aconym for "Don't Tell Grandma," draw your own conclusions.) (Shit, it's a long list of anythings.)
7. Really, seriously, don't swear.

Ladies and Gentlemen, My Family

2011-05-26T13:29:00.001-05:00

Scenario: I am sitting in the conference room (where I can spread out), eating wilting arugula (a disappointing lunch), picking ants out of my hair (the conference room is infested with ants), listening to the wind (it's 48 degrees under a solidly overcast sky, here in May in Chicago) and staring at the fragments of a PhD proposal on my laptop screen.

I get this text message from my mother: "Question: do you have a problem with your mother drinking at 10:30 in the morning?"

(Answer: "Aren't you about to get on a plane/sort of on vacation? In either or both of those scenarios, it is permissible to begin drinking as early in the day as you like, or indeed, as early as possible.")

Meanwhile, my brother is taking credit for the arrest of Ratko Mladic:

On May 26, 2011, at 10:31 AM, Laura Merwin wrote:

http://www.npr.org/2011/05/26/136672883/man-believed-to-be-war-crimes-fugitive-arrested

i assume this is a result of your penetrating questions to state department officials the other day

On May 26, 2011, at 1:00 PM, Jack Merwin wrote:

i attribute 100% of this to my visit to the Ministry of Defense yesterday.

My dad is drinking diet coke and has not yet today claimed responsibility for any world events.

End of the Season

2011-05-26T10:02:00.000-05:00

Two nights ago San Jose went down to Vancouver in double overtime, sending Vancouver to the Stanley Cup Final for the first time since 1994. Last night Tampa Bay managed to take the B's, sending the series to Game 7 tomorrow night. The winner will head to Vancouver, and then there will be only the final series before the real end of the NHL season, and no more happening in the hockey world until October, except for the retirements, awards, off-season trades, entry draft, free agent negociations, minor league championships, parades, and things with the Cup. Come to think of it, by the time all that's over, it will more or less be time for training camp and European pre-season exhibition games.

Mamma Mia Confessions

2011-05-21T13:23:00.000-05:00

Confession 1: I kind of love Mamma Mia.
Confession 2: I want to be friends with Meryl Streep.
Confession 3: I think the decision to let all the men do their own singing, even though they aren't, you know, good, was kind of brilliant.

I was watching the Dancing Queen scene, where all the women go dancing down the hill and onto the dock and then jump into the water, and I was noticing that apart from Meryl and her friends, they obviously used locals as extras, and none of them look Hollywood at all. There are lots of old and wrinkled and chubby Greek women, and they all look real, and they all want to be the dancing queen, and I kind of love that. (Interestingly, the bachelorette party scene is the total opposite. Those girls are all thin and perfect and airbrushed.)

Even More Hockey News

2011-05-20T23:59:00.000-05:00

We got Crow for 3 years and 8 million dollars.

Winnipeg gets the Atlanta Thrashers; Blueland gets a conundrum.

Marleau gets two goals for the Sharks first win against Vancouver.

Game 2, VAN vs SJS, Highlights

2011-05-18T23:04:00.000-05:00

Vancouver wins 7-3, in a game that became a blowout in the third period. Also a game:

in which there is a lot of punching

in which the Sedin twins continue to locate their missing mojo

in which Ben Eager demonstrates why no one really wants him on their team anymore by acting like a total fucking idiot

in which Patrick Marleau attempts to silence critics by dropping the gloves vs Kevin Bieksa, a man generally acknowleged by other large strong men to be terrifying, and getting a Gordie Howe hat trick

in which everyone continues to critique every. single. thing. roberto luongo does (I'm actually starting to feel a little sorry for the guy. not much. but a little)

Season Finales

2011-05-17T21:06:00.000-05:00

Castle: In which everyone in the cast gets to make at least one overly dramatic speech, and/or punch each other, and in which the network manufactures a shameless cliffhanger even though we already know the character in question will survive, since the show has been renewed and she has not left it.

NCIS: In which nearly everyone is placed in mortal danger and I really could not summon up the energy to care. Seriously, where has the mojo of this show gone? Perhaps over to:

NCIS: Los Angeles: In which they go to Prague and Romania, which are apparently sepia in tone, and in which we get some more dramatic hints about G. Callen's past, a mystery which after two seasons still intrigues me, and in which Ted's mom from How I Met Your Mother plays a Romanian crime family boss, which is awesome.

Hockey Updates For Jack, As You're In Some Balkan Wasteland

2011-05-17T11:27:00.000-05:00

So Glendale is keeping the Coyotes for another year at least (they don't want to take the loss on the stadium) and the Thrash are back in talks with Winnipeg, for a potential move as early as next year:

http://www.thedenverchannel.com/sports/27922642/detail.html

Sorry dude. Guess you'll have to think about becoming a Canes fan. Or TB, who btw crushed Boston in Game 1.

No news on the Boogaard death, waiting for toxicology. But he was in the NHL rehab program, so...

I think you should come to Chicago in October and we'll go to opening day at the UC, if we can get tickets.

Rural America, Modern Music, and Methods of Navigating

2011-05-14T15:24:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I drove down to Purdue, which is in West Lafayette, which is deep in rural - RURAL - Indiana. On the way, I was listening to some local radio station and dear god their news broadcast featured, as its top story, corn (apparently this year the planting is very late, but not quite as late as in the Late Planting of 1961, which I could tell from the way the announcer said it was supposed to be capitalized). I was deep into the story before I realized it was actually the news and stopped waiting for a punch line. I had to change the channel when he moved into the high school baseball report. You can imagine my relief at returning to the metropolis.

I also listened to quite a bit of today's hit music, much of it highly unpleasant, and I just want to take this opportunity to mention how disturbing I find Katy and Kanye's song "ET". Leaving aside the fact that Katy seems to think that "supernatural" and "extraterrestrial" are more or less synonymous, the message of this song mystifies me. What is sexy about the classic version alien abduction alluded to here? When I think of alien probes, I think about brightly lit rooms, cold instruments, fear, and violation. Katy is apparently turned on by this, she wants to be a "victim" and pleads for "abduction"; I fail to see anything desirable about this scenario. (If you think about it as a metaphor, it becomes even more disturbing, but perhaps luckily, based on this and the rest of her canon, I'm not sure if Katy is aware that words can have a non-literal meaning.) Anyway, I ended up listening to light rock, because even though I don't really like Phil Collins either, he apparently feels complete in my eyes, which is a sentiment I can get behind, unlike "Imma disrobe you, then imma probe you." Ew, Kanye. Just - ew.

My mother navigates in California by always knowing where the ocean is (even when inland - don't ask me). I have found that when driving I can navigate in and around Chicago by a similar method using the Sears Tower. Generally I know whether I want to be going toward the tower or away from it, and since the streets are gridded, my strategy is just to go in the vague direction that I want until I arrive either at my destination or a place I recognize. This has worked out pretty well for me so far, and in the event that I take a slightly circuitous route to where I want to go, I have seen some interesting (and occasionally terrifying) parts of the city to which I would not otherwise venture.

Live-Blogging Wanted (Read From Bottom Up)

2011-05-11T22:52:00.000-05:00

Aaand a final plea for us to all feel bad about our own lives, because we haven't killed a supervillain with custom bullets from a parking garage today. What a quality film.

What happened to Morgan Freeman??? SHAMELESS SET UP FOR A SEQUEL. Oh wait, here he is.

Commercial break: Pirates of the Caribbean 4. Beating a dead horse? Discuss.

Oh dear, something has happened to the Loom of Fate.

Oh, including herself?

Angelina kills like nine people with one bullet. Honestly, if anyone could do that, it would be her.

I'm going to be honest, when Morgan Freeman tells me what the Truth is, I'm inclined to believe him.

Blah blah blah fate blah blah accusations blah blah my father

Angelina Jolie is having DOUBTS. Partially based on the evidence presented by James MacAvoy of the corruption of Sloane, and partly, I wager, on the way James MacAvoy's sweaty hair curls on his forehead.

Shouting the name of your opponent a la Achilles outside of Troy, very classy.

Apparently you can become the best assassin in the world in a matter of weeks. Good to know, in case I'm ever contemplating a career change.

Slo-mo catching guns in mid-air and shooting some more.

Slo-mo shooting.

Slo-mo screaming.

Oh, lots of slo-mo running.

PETA must have had a fucking heart attack while watching this movie.

It's like they didn't know how to end the movie, and gave the script to a bunch of reasonably imaginative eighth-graders.

Note to writers: lazy narration is just...lazy.

Oh god. The secret weapon is peanut butter.

Commercial break: Why does Elijah Wood appear to be wearing eyeliner in the promos for Wilfred?

Angelina has a thing for James MacAvoy. She's going to turn against Morgan Freeman. I can feel it.

Aw man, a shirt.

The Loom of Fate has decreed...something. I don't know. James MacAvoy figured it out with a Sharpie. Apparently he is going to remain shirtless for a while. I'm okay with that.

His dad had an apartment across the alley and spied on him? That's...that's a little creepy.

Are these sudden purple flashes part of the cineamatography, or is my tv freaking out?

Ok, so James MacAvoy is RIPPED in this movie.

"Luke, I am your father."

GASP. Everything they told him was a lie? Say it ain't so.

I think they just killed an entire trainload of innocent people. Don't worry, I'm sure they all had boring, meaningless jobs like postmen and middle managers in marketing firms. Death was most likely a relief.

Aaaand, there we go, Angelina has jumped onto the train, only she's done it by taking the entire car with her.

This is the SECOND time - nope, there we go, THIRD time we have bullets meeting in midair. Even the Matrix didn't pull that shit.

Angelina is definitely going to jump from this car onto a train.

I'm strangely ok with the rampant usage of slo-mo in this movie.

I can't think of Marc Warren as anyone but Danny Blue from Hustle. I keep expecting him to smirk and then con someone out of several thousand pounds.

Ok, so the makers of this movie are FASCINATED by the L. It's in like every other shot.

It kind of seems like his girlfriend's tirade is justified? I mean, he did just kind of leave without telling her, right?

According to this movie, ALL streets in Chicago run under the L.

Commercial break: What the hell is Priest about? Why is Paul Bettany vaguely hot even when shaven, tattooed, and ordained?

The Loom of Fate? Really?

Ah, I see, James MacAvoy has never been able to care about anything, because his life was so bland and meaningless, seeing as he was only an accountant. It's only after he found out that he was fated to be a superpowered assassin that he finds meaning in life. Right, I mean, who would find value in being something boring like an accountant? Clearly your life is only worth living if you have some incredibly sexy and illegal profession. And get to hang out with Angelina Jolie.

Curving bullets just seems like a particularly retarded rip off of the Matrix. Also, this whole thing with super talents is like a slap in the face to Navy Seals and Army snipers and all the people who come by their skills with nothing more than some natural talent heightened by about a zillion hours of dedicated practice.

Oh hey, this is Chicago!

I can never decide whether James MacAvoy is hot or not. He has monster teeth. There are gaps between them, like a little kid drawing teeth on a picture of a monster. And yet, kind of hot (not the teeth, just in general). I think I speak for many women (and some men) when I say that I never had a thing for fauns before he played Mr. Tumnus.

Coming in about 15 min late. (By this, I mean, it was on FX and I wasn't ready to go to bed.)

Found Poetry

2011-05-10T17:10:00.000-05:00

For whatever reason, after about ten rounds of replies, the oldest part of an extended email chain in my uchicago email starts to look like this. This is a very mundane email about a meeting, but when you space the lines weirdly, it starts to look like free verse, and I find myself wanting to interpret it: "By offsetting the word 'bring', the author is emphasizing the meeting as a place where the cohort will share the objects they have created (that is, their proposals), even evoking their fledgling dissertations as a kind of sacrifice, brought to this communal table and examined ritualistically."

Friday Nights

2011-05-07T11:36:00.002-05:00

It turns out that if you really, really, don't want to pay for a cab, you CAN fit seven people into a Honda Civic, but it is recommended by absolutely no one.

Bad Signs

2011-05-05T23:47:00.000-05:00

Tonight I had the totally earnest, non-sarcastic thought "I wonder what happened on the second half of the latest season of Jersey Shore."

I should...I should probably seek help about this, right?

Pictures of Chicago On A Grey Day

2011-05-05T21:41:00.000-05:00

Stanley Cup Playoffs

2011-05-04T15:40:00.000-05:00

Playoff Teams I Would Be OK With Winning The Stanley Cup, I Guess:

Nashville

I really have nothing against Nashville, except for the fact that Shea Weber's playoff beard looks like an independent organism has taken up residence on his face. Also, they have never won before, so that would be kind of nice for them, I guess. I am currently supporting them strongly because I have everything against Vancouver, their second round opponents. The Chicago-Vancouver rivalry is relatively recent but promises to only increase with time, especially after the last playoff series.

Tampa Bay

Tampa Bay's Martin St. Louis holds my personal award for Most Badass Hockey Moment this year when after taking a stick to the face early in Series 1 of the playoffs, he had an emergency double root canal after the game and played again 48 hours later.

Boston

Boston is kind of nasty, exactly as you would expect a Boston sports team to be, and they have an awesome goalie who sports an awesome porn star stache.

Teams I Would Not Be Ok With Winning The Stanley Cup:

Everyone else still in the playoffs

Vancouver and Detroit are Chicago rivals and must be hated on principle. To a lesser extent, so is San Jose, who is currently playing in front of our Stanley Cup winning goalie from last year. I would be ok with Antti Niemi winning the cup again, just not the rest of the people on his team. The Caps are enormous douchebags. The Flyers are last year's Stanley Cup enemy and feature Chris Pronger, a really enormous douchebag.

All of this has very little to do with who will actually probably win...

Semi-Mediocre TV Procedural Update

2011-05-03T22:20:00.000-05:00

Last night on Castle: Beckett and Castle go to LA, solve crimes, and stare into each other's eyes for a really, really long time.

Tonight on NCIS: This show has become so poorly written that I couldn't tell if the lack of follow-through on some heavy-handed hinting (if you watch, the lay-it-on-with-a-trowel suggestion that DiNozzo's old partner was sleeping with DiNozzo's ex-fiance) meant that said hints were (a) a red herring (b) accidental or (c) foreshadowing for future episodes. And not couldn't tell like "ooh, so enigmatic", couldn't tell like "not sure if the writers have ever heard of the concept of foreshadowing."

Tonight on NCIS: Los Angeles: Deeks gives everyone smouldering looks and they get in about six gun battles with assault weapons. That's what LA is like, right?

All this begs the question: how long can you drag out the sexual tension between two characters before it jumps the shark? Having two characters who are clearly going to end up together and yet DON'T, for seasons and seasons sometimes, is totally a gimmick, and it's a gimmick because it works. (At least, it works on me.) But at some point (and I'm not naming any shows here but BONES), it just becomes SO utterly ridiculous. You can only gaze longingly into each others' eyes for so long before the audience stops thinking it's exciting and dramatic and starts shouting at the television "JUST GET IT ON ALREADY."*

*Peter Jackson has tested the limits of this theory.

Welcome

2011-05-02T22:05:00.001-05:00

Welcome to my fourth blog (consecutive, not cumulative). I'd like to take this moment to greet each of you individually, since I know very well who my audience is: Hi Mom! Angie, as always, this is an extended letter to you. Jack, the hockey bits are mostly for you. Heather, you crazy bitch.

As you can see above, this is a blog about Chicago, hockey, pop culture, and the art of being a grad student. I thought to start out, I would offer some of my current thoughts on each of those things.

Chicago:

Chicago slogans currently being considered:

Chicago: Really, the winter’s not THAT bad until the sixth month.

Chicago: Some of our sports teams don’t suck!

Chicago: With 99% less animal slaughter!

Hockey:

After coming back from a 3-0 deficit, the Chicago Blackhawks' heartbreaking overtime loss to Vancouver in Game 7 of the Western Conference quarterfinals - you know what, fuck it, I'm still too depressed about this to talk about it.

Pop Culture:

Two recommendations that only sort of count as pop culture, since they both have been around for at least sixty years. (1) T.H. White: The Once and Future King. At once an homage to and a parody of Malory and the Arthur legends in general, White's version of the epic is charming, funny, farcical, anachronistic, whimsical, touching, and heartbreaking. It's not without problems: there's too many Oedipal complexes for my taste, and the wide variation in tone is a weakness as well as a strength. But overall, ambitious, engaging, delightful. (2) Laura (1944). Lots of trench coats, rain, dames, hard-bitten detectives, and biting retorts. Great mystery, great atmosphere, great characters. Classic for a reason.

Also, currently watching Castle, where Beckett and Castle are in LA.

Ryan to Beckett: "How's the weather in your world?"

Beckett: "Sunny, chance of ass-kicking."

The Art of Being a Grad Student:

The coffee shop really shouldn't sell such large cookies. They are delicious, and before you realize it, you've eaten 500 calories of giant cookie and feel terrible. Although I'm obviously just as much to blame, I'm almost 25, you'd think I would have learned how to eat by now without making myself nauseous.