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Almost as Good as TV

I wanted a TV show, but a blog is almost as good. Here's stuff I think is awesome. And, also stuff I think.

People here (as in California) are always telling me I’m angry or commenting on how angry I am. Which is weird to me, because I don’t feel angry. I didn’t know I was angry.

Besides the fundamental often-overlooked cultural differences in our backgrounds, I think this really comes down to two misunderstandings:

1. Just because I think you’re stupid, doesn’t mean I’m angry about it. I’m not the stupid one, so why would I be upset?

2. The things about which I am morally outraged — the manufacturing of a wedding industry that manipulates women and distorts relationships, over-criminalization of minor offenses, lush lawns while people in rural California are without running water, this — are worth being morally outraged about. So maybe the problem isn’t that I’m mad. Maybe the problem is that you’re not.

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Me: Did you just try to explain liquidity to me? Do you even know who I spend all day talking to?
Steve: No, not really.

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The Women’s World Cup is THE World Cup

A week or two ago when everyone was talking about the World Cup starting soon, I was really confused. ‘No,’ I kept saying, ‘I’m sure it’s next year.’

Apparently, I was wrong. I let it go. But, it was yesterday, during the Japan game, while I was arguing that Japan is good — they did after all win the last tournament, that I realized: for me, THE World Cup is the Women’s World Cup.

The World Cup isn’t next year. The Women’s World Cup is. Japan didn’t win the last World Cup. They did win the last Women’s World Cup.

Apparently, when I think of soccer, I think of women’s soccer. I just don’t care that much about the men. Sure, it’s fun, but the real games are the women’s games. I think for a lot of Americans my age and younger, that’s probably true when it comes to soccer, though clearly it’s not true for lots of other countries. I’m not sure what other sports that’s true for, either — that the women’s version is THE version we think of, we care about. Gymnastics. Ice skating. Volleyball. Soccer.

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From xkcd. When people say journalism is dead, how wrong they are.

From xkcd. When people say journalism is dead, how wrong they are.

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Another Shooting

Once in high school I remember reading something from an Israeli writer who talked about how shootings and bombings and death were so commonplace in the area (at that time — shit was going down) that the people had become accustomed to them, that they could become immune to the idea that they might get shot today. 

I remember this only because I thought it was so crazy. How could the possibility of being killed ever become mundane? What kind of place must you live in that repeated, mass killings would be normal?

It doesn’t seem so crazy anymore.

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A Career?

Me: (after explaining I want to submit a finished short story, but trying to decide where -- and Steve staring at me like he's never heard of this before) It is something people do, you know, like make money writing stories. It is a career.
Steve: Oh, sure, like Irish dancing.

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Me: I really didn't do much work today. I mean I did stuff, but not work.
Steve: What'd you do?
Me: Maintained my brand.

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Having it all

I worked the late-ish shift at KQED this afternoon, which meant on a Friday evening it was just me and a handful of anchors, editors, pledge drive volunteers and people preparing for the weekly TV show. With the pledge drive on, there was more food than mouths. That meant while I finished a few projects, I did my part to eat a high-end grilled cheese. Then I walked to the bus to head to a friend’s, stopping at Sports Basement on the way. It was a nice day, early evening and still warm, but the breeze was blowing and the lines outside bars were starting to form. I walked down the street in my best impression of cute work clothes and the parties seemed to very nearly include me. A girl asked if I had a lighter and I didn’t even mind that she wanted to kill herself by cigarette because it was all part of the city and the parking lot filled with food trucks and the sense that you had done something and now you were going somewhere. I stopped to get a cinnamon-sugar crepe on the street and as I ate the warm buttered sweet, sugar sticking to my fingers, I thought: when people move to the city, any city, hoping to make it, this is really all they hope for. This is it.

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ageless-aislynn:

Boop to turn off kitten.

ageless-aislynn:

Boop to turn off kitten.

(via pleatedjeans)

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Nº. 1 of  23