Sunday, November 26, 2006
Musings
*See below for explanation of image.
Ugh. I'm getting sick. The throat, sore. The bod, chilled. The energy, low. Ick. Yet it'll get worse. Right now it's actually not so bad--I have that weird, just-prior-to sensation that feels not unlike a runner's high, kinda light and floaty. (And this, w/o any Tylenol Severe Cold on board.) We'll see what tomorrow a.m. brings. My hopes aren't high.
Anyway, maybe the pending cold partially explains my recent lack of enthusiasm for blogging. It's like, I have so much I want to document (last w/e's run across the GW, for one), yet actually doing it doesn't hold much more appeal than does, I don't know, doing the laundry that so desperately needs to get done. Laundry, ick.
It's not just the writing. My lethargy seems to extend to my life in general--again, a fairly recent development. This could have something to do w/ my training, as I've observed a newfound tenacity that, more than anything, is fear-based. I realize just how badly I want to qualify for Boston, how badly I want to redeem my deplorable 2003 experience there. If I don't make it in this time around, I'll be honest--I'll be devastated. I also realize how much I stand to lose, setting the stakes as high as I am, but frankly, there's not a whole lot I can do about it. The thing's already been set in motion, and short of cutting short the challenge due to, say, serious injury (thank god the knees/hip are holding up), I can't see curbing the momentum. But the apathy--it may be that overextending myself in my training, mentally and physically, is resulting in a sort of displacement of energy. The equation still has to balance, and there's only so much gusto to go around. At least I was able to catch up--way up--on sleep this past w/e.
And the w/e was a nice one. Thanksgiving was perfect--well, as good as I could've imagined, being thousands of miles from home and all. We joined some friends at this super-swank Upper East Side apartment on West End Avenue and across the street from the sweetest little park. The owners: the family that friend Ashley nannies for. They were heading out of town for the w/e, thus suggested that A use the space for dinner (kitchen larger than our apartment), inviting whomever she desired. We gladly accepted, adding to the mix a semi-successful green bean casserole (Thanksgiving's not Thanksgiving w/o it!) and a batch of sinus-clearing glogg. It was the first time I'd tried my hand at the latter, and I must say results were more than fair. Thankfully we left half of it at home, gooseflesh-inducingly strong as it is.
Anyway, I took some pictures of the place--all class and antiques--a few of which I'll post tomorrow. The dinner itself was superb, highlighted by a well-balanced quiche, exquisitely roasted root vegetables (parsnips--yum!), and man oh man, the best Hello Dollies ever to emerge from a 350-degree oven. Then there were the mashed potatoes, the vegetarian stuffing (entire meal was veg, in fact, and to zero detriment), the cranberry sauce, the watercress salad, the punkin pie... all of which held their own.
There came a time, before the Sixteen Candles viewing; before the impromptu soccer game (please, someone buy us a plush soccer ball for Christmas!); before the loopy, food coma-compromised conversation, when I looked around me at the assortment of friends, of friends of friends, gathered around an antique mahogany table worth more than my pancreas (er, wait, actually not my most marketable body part), and thought a simple yet powerful thought: I'm really lucky to be sharing a bountiful, thoughtfully prepared, collectively contributed-to Thanksgiving feast w/ such dear, kind-hearted people. I don't care if it sounds cheesy--it's exactly how I thought it.
Other recent pursuits: Saw this movie the other night, and 100 percent recommend you go see it. Kate Winslet is fantastic, as is Jennifer Connelly. Plus, it's way better than the book, which as you know is a rarity. I found Perrotta's characters to be over-the-top w/o quite reaching the height of parody, although I thought the story would've been stronger if they had. The dialogue was forced and fakey, and Sarah's personality was the least buyable of all. In the movie, on the other hand, Todd Field seems conscious of the stereotypes he's portraying, w/ the (at times) tongue-in-cheek dialogue to match.
Also semi-recently: A trip to the Brooklyn Museum w/ my mom and Peter to check out the current Annie Liebowitz exhibit. While AL alone was certainly worth the trip, we were all blown away by the work of this guy, whose renderings of the human form--some on a miniature scale, others gigantic--are as unsettling as they are breathtaking. His accuracy (leg hair and facial folds are indistinguishable from the real thing) is beyond improbable, and, as I've heard many remark, you really do get the sense that he's "playing god" (or some force larger than himself). After exiting this exhibit, I had to be reminded to breathe.
Finally, I leave you w/ this--a finding courtesy of, once again, the lovely LM. (She has a blog, which I would link to, but it seems the link is perpetually broken, or something.) Take particular note of the spirited comments left by Spaghetti Monster skeptics. For instance:
i’m sure i won’t get a response to this for a while, seeing as you are quite a busy man. but honestly, where are your facts and such. i thought that this was certainly a mind game. i mean, wouldn’t you just be a hypocrite if it weren’t? i’m not criticizing you, i’d just honestly like to know. if the fsm is really an idea just to show people how absolutely outlandish and insane they are, then i admire your work. but if you truly believe a spaghetti monster is your god above all things, then i’m afraid i’d find you to be just as crazy as all the other people in this world living their life according to rules and standards that they have no real grasp of. you’re either brilliant, or maybe just a complete ass. again, i’m not criticizing you, i’m just very very intrigued by this whole thing. thanks, and have a phenomenal day.
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