project 2011.

Prepare for an exercise in self-absorption. Feel free not to read; I ain't mad at ya.

I just watched an episode of The Office about New Years' resolutions, and it reminded me that I haven't been doing too well with mine. I began 2011 as I'm sure most people did - slightly hungover yet optimistic - but can feel myself slumping. I think I need to put my goals out in the universe for everyone to see so that I feel accountable in some way. So here they are.

• Learn to cook for one. (And yes, I realize that this was also Andy Bernard's resolution. This is a very scary coincidence.) Cooking for one is actually not nearly as simple as it would seem. Adjusting measurements, buying the minimal amount of groceries, storing leftovers, making maximum use of produce, all without spending a disproportionate amount of money and throwing a ton of food away, is actually pretty complicated. And I have no interest in living with anyone other than Sammy (a dog) and Frank (a fish) any time in the foreseeable future, so it's a skill I must master. I ordered several cookbooks to this effect, but the farthest I ever got was sitting down with a glass of wine to pick out a recipe for that evening, then opting for another glass of wine and some Thai leftovers instead. So, no, things aren't going well on that front. Needs improvement. 
• Exercise. (Just a little.) I happen to be very lucky in that fact that I live a basically sedentary lifestyle and still manage to look all right in a swimsuit. I eat an ungodly amount of fast food and drink about a gallon of soda a day, I haven't voluntarily gone jogging in months now, and there's a weight machine in the spare room that has become the official drying rack for my delicate laundry. I'm not proud of myself; I see this as a huge problem. My current metabolic luck will eventually run out (I can't stay twenty-three forever, alas), and I won't have a single shred of self-control or self-discipline to my name. So I need to get in the habit of exercising! Fortunately,  I do love being outdoors and spend quite a bit of time there - I just happen to be usually sitting or walking leisurely. Maybe I can channel this into some dorky, healthy hobby. Like Frisbee golf. Needs improvement.
• Read 80-100 of the London Times' Top 100 Books of the Decade. Number 100 is The Position by Meg Wolitzer, which I haven't started yet. On the bright side, I've already read Twilight (no. 90), Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (no. 17), Reading Lolita in Tehran (no. 14), and Atonement (no. 9). Then again, those are only four books of a hundred, and only one of them is among the twenty I've resolved to get through this year. Eh. Satisfactory.
• Cut back on the soda. As a mentioned before, I am a fiend for soda. Pepsi, Coca Cola, Dr. Pepper, and, yes, even Fanta, Sunkist, Big Red. And the only diet soda I can really stomach is Diet Root Beer, so I am getting disgusting amounts of sugar every day (which may or may not be worse than creepy artificial sweetener, but who knows). I have a serious problem. So I decided to cut it back to ONE a day, which isn't difficult for most people but is pretty hard for me. So far, I've managed to cut back to two most days and drink Perrier with lemon the rest of the time. Satisfactory.
• Curse less. Yes, I curse like a sailor. Like a drunk sailor. There's actually something perversely graceful about it. I don't just curse; I weave a "tapestry of obscenity," as Ralphie would say. Strangely enough, this is not a marketable skill. Fortunately, I've spent a lot of time around family over the past few weeks and have had to majorly hold myself back. I've slipped a few times (which my mother just loved, let me tell you), but I'm getting it under control. Of course, the true test will come when I inevitably walk into an inanimate object (as I have a tendency to do) and break my little toe or something. My inner she-pirate might just rear her ugly head. Until then, I will report on myself as: Excellent.

I have some bad habits that I have no interest in breaking because I enjoy them too much, and everyone needs a vice or two. But, by God, by the end of this year, I will be able to report "Excellent" on all of these things! Or there's always 2012. Just kidding. Maybe.

(one more unofficial resolution: don't turn into amy winehouse)

theology lite

I haven't readily associated myself with any religion for years now. I've never felt entirely comfortable with the concept of Heaven and Hell, to be honest. It always broke my heart a little bit. After spending much of my young adult life in an existential panic, I've arrived at a conclusion or two. I don't think I can fully grasp these conclusions myself until I articulate them to someone else, so bear with me here.

I might as well cut to the chase: I think everyone is right about everything. Cop out? Nah. I just don't buy into the whole "You're wrong, I'm right" attitude that pervades many religious communities, notably those of the Abrahamic tradition (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam). I'm inclined to say that just because someone doesn't agree with your spiritual convictions doesn't mean they're blind to the truth. It means they're seeing something different, and they really do see it. Who are you to contradict them? Let me elaborate.

Common sense will tell you that people don't gamble their souls lightly; their religious beliefs are based on what is true to them. They're willing to stake their eternal fates on those beliefs. That is precisely why we've always been so willing to kill each other over this stuff; no one can bear to consider the possibility that they might be wrong. And why should they? They have as good a reason for their convictions as you do. We've all read holy books, each which purports to be the inspired word of our respective higher powers; many of us feel a communion or personal relationship with whatever divinity we've chosen to worship; most of us have grown up in communities with like-minded people who validate and encourage our religious beliefs. So what qualifies one religion as truer than another? Faith. The blind hope and deep-seated conviction that your path is the only one. Here's the rub: Everyone's got it.

I'm going to pick on the Christian and Islamic traditions, since they seem to be the most culturally relevant today. Both are equally convinced that they are correct, both sides can provide "evidence" for their convictions, and both sides have proven in the past that they willing are to stake their very souls on the chance that they're right. You can't argue with that type of reasoning. When anyone tries, they end up running in circles and providing different variations of the same evidence: holy texts, miracles, personal revelation, etc., tailored to fit both viewpoints. Obviously no one would choose to worship Allah or pray to Jesus Christ unless they were convinced that it was the right thing to do. And of course they are equally unreceptive to conversion. If you're a devout Christian, for instance, imagine how you would respond if a Muslim missionary approached you in a shopping mall. Why would you expect a devout Muslim to react any differently?

So how can anyone possibly hope to win the spiritual conflict? Simply put, you can't. You just have to wait until you die to find out you were wrong, and by then it's too late.

Let's say you're on your deathbed, and you're at peace. You have lived your life in the way that all religious traditions essentially demand: You were good to your fellow man, you were generous with your time and money, you expressed gratitude for your blessings, you were honest and kind, you prayed/meditated/worshiped faithfully. Surely a peaceful afterlife awaits you. But then you make your way to the pearly gates, and you realize you've made a horrible mistake: They (whoever they may be) really were right, and you really were wrong. But surely there's some leeway! After all, you'd done your best, and there was no indication at any point in your earthly life that you might have placed your bet on the wrong team. Ironically enough, you had always been told that eternal damnation awaited you if you didn't disregard opposing viewpoints. So how were you to know? And yet this divine figure, who is supposed to be the supreme embodiment of love, hope, and grace, can muster no forgiveness. Off you go to Hell. The joke's on you. 

Anyone else find this scenario, which is tacitly accepted by adherents to Abrahamic religions, intensely disturbing? Your doubts have earned you, too, an eternity in a fiery pit. But why not assume that everyone is right? Why not let your spiritual truth be that all roads lead to the same destination? The divine power I believe in is one that tells us to be kind to one another and find wisdom where we can.

I understand that my extremely liberal view of spirituality may be enough to condemn me according to some belief systems, and I accept it. I find no comfort in the prospect of Heaven if it means that millions of otherwise good people must burn for all eternity because they happened to choose wrong and I happened to choose correctly in the great game of religion. All I can do is learn as much as I can about everyone and everything, and look at life (and the afterlife) as the strange and wonderful mystery that it is. There are some religious traditions that also follow this train of thought, and those are the ones with which I may eventually reconcile. At the end of the road, perhaps I can achieve some sort of truce with the universe.

Whatever your opinion on the things I've said, I have one response to you: You're right.

I'm sure that these musings will engender a variety of personal responses and opinions, but I know that most people can't leave comments here. So call or privately message me if you want to pat me on the back or tell me off. I'm cool with either one.

love her: joan root

I'm in non-lesbian love with Joan Root. I adore her and the things she did with her life, and I don't really understand why more people don't know about her. I only learned of her when I was browsing a table in Border's and was drawn to the cover of Wildflower: An Extraordinary Life and Untimely Death in Africa by Mark Seal, which is a book about her life. Apparently he'd first written a successful piece for Vanity Fair, which then led to an expanded book deal and a possible movie biopic starring Julia Roberts. The book is fabulous, and I highly recommend it to everyone! But please indulge me by letting me paraphrase why Joan Root is so amazing.

Joan Root was a Kenyan-born conservationist and Oscar-nominated filmmaker. She and her husband, Alan Root, helped pioneer the wildlife documentary genre. Their escapades involved plane rides, dangerous camping trips, and rides in hot air balloons. She was kind, quiet, and gracious. She loved animals and the African landscape; she cared for literally every creature that crossed her path. She had been a devoted and happily married woman for many years when she was blindsided by the sudden appearance of her husband's mistress. Joan, of course, was devastated. Yet she reacted with great grace and restraint: She walked away and started over.

After the disintegration of her marriage, she was no longer involved in the filming and production of wildlife films. She led a quiet and lonely existence on the banks of Lake Naivasha, a beautiful and ecologically diverse lake in Kenya. Then things began to change: She watched as sprawling flower farms sprung up around the lake, inevitably followed by slums to house the workers. Pollution, crime, poverty, wildlife poaching, and disruption of the lake ecosystem followed. So Joan Root dedicated her life to making it right. Not only did she try to combat the ecological damage, she also did her best to help the Kenyans who were living and working around the lake. She spent an ungodly amount of time and money trying to save the flora, fauna, and people of Lake Naivasha. Meanwhile, a crime wave was sweeping across the region in which white Kenyans were systematically targeted, robbed, and killed. Everyone who knew Joan attested that she was incredibly courageous and determined despite the violence that surrounded her.

She took not only the corporate flower farm machine head-on, but also local poachers. As a result she drew a lot of negative attention to herself. This spotlight, combined with the everyday violence that had become commonplace in the Lake Naivasha area, made for some very frightening years in Joan's life. She was repeatedly threatened, robbed, and assaulted. Yet she refused to leave her home or give up the fight over the lake. In 2006, less than a week before her 70th birthday, four men with AK47's murdered Joan Root in her home. The authorities determined that she was the victim of a violent robbery. If you're wondering why it would take four men with automatic weapons to rob an elderly woman, you're not alone. The whole thing stinks of a contract killing, and the Kenyan authorities haven't shown the smallest initiative in finding who's behind it. It makes my stomach churn.

I think that she is one of the most brave and inspiring women of the past century.

If you're curious about Joan Root but not up to tackling a book on the subject, I highly recommend you check out Mark Seal's article, "A Flowering Evil."

keep your golden globes in your dress

I'm coming late to the party, but I just have to throw in my two cents on the Golden Globes. It's an open secret that the Hollywood Foreign Press Association is the Tammany Hall of the showbiz world. But it's no skin off my nose that the whole thing is rigged and corrupt, and I adore Ricky Gervais, so I watched it like everyone else.

First, red carpet fashion. I fully understand the irony of this situation, especially considering that I pretty much live in Uggs and would happily shop on overstock.com for the rest of my life. However, I do happen to have some strong opinions about a few fashion-related things. I'm also pretty confident that if I had the time and inclination to fret over what I wore, employed a personal stylist, and had designers throwing gowns at me, I'd be able to put together a decent look for the Golden Globes. So you'd think these people would be able to manage.

But my tastes, apparently, don't match up well with the general consensus. My favorite dresses of the night, worn by Anne Hathaway and Leighton Meester, were ones that most people didn't seem to like that much. They have one thing in common: Sleeves. I think that sleeved dresses can be incredibly elegant. To me it boils down to a matter of balance. Back, boobs, arms, legs. Pick one or two and show them off. Don't go for three or four at once. (Are you listening, January Jones?) Anne Hathaway's gown was backless and Leighton Meester's gown showed a lot of leg. They've got it right, in my opinion. It's an aesthetic that I keep in mind on those occasions when I actually do put forth a little effort.

Leighton Meester

January Jones

Also, despite the huge amount of flack he's gotten for it, I LOVED Ricky Gervais as host. So he didn't coddle the celebrities. He made some mean but on-the-mark jokes. He's a comedian - It's what he does. And he was funny. These people take themselves far too seriously if they can't understand that, because they have chosen to live their lives in the public eye, they are going to be subject to public embarrassment from time to time. They can go home to their mansions, and I can laugh at them with Ricky Gervais. Boo friggin hoo. Here's a video of his controversial opening monologue:



 The Social Network and Glee won a bunch of stuff. Cool. I love Glee and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I loved that the acceptance speech included a shout-out to hardworking public school teachers, which was extremely refreshing after Mr. De Niro's antics, ahem. I've never seen The Social Network and have no interest whatsoever in it, so moot point.

Finally, I love Robert Downey, Jr. and Johnny Depp very very much, but they're both starting to resemble bag ladies. In contrast, I really like this kinda Leonardo DiCaprio hair thing that guys are doing. It's very classy. Case in point: Chris Hemsworth (sigh) and some other guy with great hair.

Thanks for hanging in there with me. My brain is all floppy after the holidays. (My last three blog posts have related to alcohol and famous people.) That being said, I'm excited for the Oscars! Another excellent chance to observe the bizarre behavior of celebrities in their natural habitat.

where the gin is cold but the piano's hot

It's the holiday season, and I want to share something marvelous with you: the gift of gin. What do you think of when someone mentions gin? I automatically start humming "All That Jazz." (No? Nobody?) Whatever it is you think of, it probably has something to do with old people. You are missing out, my friends. Here is a quick beginner's guide to gin-drinking.

Gin is not a very restrictively defined liquor. The number one requirement: It must be predominantly flavored with juniper berries and taste of juniper, although distillers often throw in anise, caraway, coriander, and other botanicals to achieve unique flavors. The vast majority of widely-available gins are made in the London dry style.

"Gin Lane": an 18th-cent. William Hogarth print

A Dutch doctor is credited with inventing the spirit as we know it. Its initial purpose was medicinal: The botanicals in the liquor were thought to treat a variety of illnesses. (Juniper-flavored liquor itself was used centuries earlier as a remedy for the bubonic plague, although we all know how well that one turned out.) Gin is cheaply and easily made, and became especially popular in England among the poor and degenerate during the 18th century. Concerned citizens were convinced that gin would destroy British society. Although it has declined in popularity, the word's negative connotations are still around, especially in the U.K. (Hang out with a poncy Brit  long enough and you're bound to hear him call someone a "gin-soaked trollop" eventually.) The ease of production also made gin a highly popular speakeasy drink in the U.S. during prohibition. So when you drink gin, you're actually participating in a long and illustrious tradition of debauchery.

Disclaimer: Gin IS one of those drinks that you'd better buy top-shelf or not bother drinking at all. When it's bad, it's really bad. Also, if you're a party girl that drinks just to get wasted, stick to the cherry vodka sours and shame on you. But if you like to have one or two good cocktails every now and again, I'd highly recommend you try one of the following:

Bombay Sapphire martini. Most people prefer their martinis with vodka, but I think that gin martinis are about a million times better. I've discovered I like mine extra dry with no olives, but to each his own.

Citadelle on the rocks. This French product is one of the best moderately-priced sipping gins out there. It includes 19 botanicals from all over the world (cardamom from India, lemon peel from Spain, grains of paradise from West Africa...you get the idea). Pour it over ice and enjoy.

Gimlet. This tasty little cocktail (basically liquor and lime juice) is good with any top-shelf London dry gin, or Plymouth gin if it's available. This one is good if you're feeling kinda noir; it was Raymond Chandler's drink of choice. Gimlets can also be made with vodka - Don't do it!

Tanqueray and tonic. This is the most classic gin cocktail and probably the biggest crowd-pleaser. Tanqueray is the best with tonic in my opinion. (Tanqueray Rangpur, which has a much limier flavor, is really great too, but most places around here don't carry it, alas.)

Fun fact: The gin and tonic has its roots in colonial India, where the British would mix quinine with carbonated water and gin to help protect themselves against malaria.

save the planet. drink scotch.

Interesting news from one of my very favorite places in the whole world: Drinking Scotch can help the environment. Yes, yes, yes - This is what I'm talking about.

Well, maybe not exactly. Turns out that two byproducts of the distilling process (pot ale and draff) can be used to produce a biofuel. And that biofuel can be used to power cars without even adapting the engines. Here's the description from the UK Guardian article, "Scottish scientists develop whisky biofuel":

The new method developed by the team produces butanol, which gives 30% more power output than the traditional biofuel ethanol. It is based on a 100-year-old process that was originally developed to produce butanol and acetone by fermenting sugar. The team has adapted this to use whiskey by-products as a starting point and has filed for a patent to cover the new method. It plans to create a spin-out company to commercialise the invention.

Don't get it? Me either. But who cares. This is sheer brilliance. And a great reminder of why I love the Scots so very much: Eventually they will find a way to incorporate whisky into every single aspect of daily life. Including driving to work in the morning. So, people, do  your part: Buy plenty of imported Scotch whisky to ensure these brilliant scientists have all the pot ale and draff they could possibly need in order to complete this important research.

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On a side note: I have long been confused about the correct spelling of "whiskey." I've always spelled it with an 'e', but I've seen it both ways. I finally decided to look it up, because it is very important to know these things. Here's the difference according to whiskydistilled.com:

You see, whisky (plural whiskies) shows that the product was made in either Scotland, Wales, Canada or Japan, whereas whiskey (plural whiskeys) shows that it was made in either Ireland or America.

So there you go. And feel free to speculate about why the spelling of this word is something that I've spent a lot of time thinking about. 

daisy buchanan, the waif

In baz tackles gatsby, I discussed some speculation surrounding the casting of Daisy Buchanan in Baz Luhrman's film adaptation of The Great Gatsby. The verdict is in: Carey Mulligan will be playing Daisy. (This announcement is actually a couple of weeks old, but I've been away from blogging for a couple of weeks due to an end-of-semester homework deluge. I'm baaaack!)

I haven't seen Mulligan in anything other than a BBC production of Charles Dickens' Bleak House, in which she was stunningly unremarkable and pretty. Daisy is a very bubbly, dark, charming, ironic, complex character - I would've thought that an older, more experienced actress (like Natalie Portman or Rachel McAdams, grrrr) would be better. Or at least someone who doesn't so strongly resemble an adorable orphan wearing costume jewelery.

Oh, well. I hope it's good. Although I want to go on the record as being highly disapproving of this whole Carey Mulligan business.