who v. how many?

Dear sister,

(This post will be interspersed with outtakes from SuperTiger brother’s senior photo shoot this past weekend, even though you’ve probably seen them all on facebook. Oh, and they have nothing to do with the content of this post. Not saying anything, just sayin’ …)

Election confession: I didn’t vote. I know, I know. When I turned 18, SuperTiger Brother wrote me a birthday card that just said, “Happy Birthday – don’t forget to register to vote!” And I did, that year. And then I’ve voted shamefully few times since then … it bothers me every time. But when you move every 9 months or so, as I seem to do these days, it’s hard to remember to change your voter registration each time … along with your license, vehicle registration, insurance garaging, cell phone, bank, and credit card addresses, and on on, and so on …

I think our country’s leaders, the ones who want us to vote, are making the same mistake I often make in teaching. They’re asking “who” instead of “how many.” Try it some time with a group of teens: ask them “who has the answer to #4?” and you’ll get the few, the proud, the courageous raising their hands. The others, the ones who know but don’t care, can’t be bothered.

For some reason, asking “how many have the answer?” generates a much larger response. Maybe because it somehow makes you feel that the response is obligatory, instead of optional, since the question is looking for a head count and not a volunteer. Or maybe because they’re not used to hearing that question and it wakes them up. Who knows. Either way, sometimes I think our voting system might want to try asking "how many" sometime, instead of the usual "who?"

Anyway. I was thinking about this, and I was watching the “Rally to Restore Sanity” (since working 7 days a week makes it hard to travel anywhere these days …). I’ve been to two different marches in Washington D.C., both to protest the war, and both times I was struck by the same impression that the point of the rally was not actually to make a statement, or send a message, or even to change anyone’s mind. The point of the march was simply to march – and the point of the rally, to rally. In other words, what was great about the experience was the feeling of community, of being surrounded by like-minded strangers coming together from across the country, of solidarity and unity and vocal, visual similar points of view. A call to answer the question "how many" instead of merely "who."

Thinking of rallys, and of solidarity, and of the fact that I owed you a post, I was watching the rally with a notepad at my side, jotting down my thoughts on a minute-by minute-basis so I could share them with you later. It started out like this:
11:55 – how do I get the TV to turn on?
11:56 -- (ring, ring) why doesn’t SuperTiger brother ever answer his phone?
12:02 – oh, there we go.
12:03 – are they having mic problems? why is every one running around behind the drum set?
12:14 – Did John Legend just take his cell phone out of his pocket as he sat down to sing?
12:16 – (ring, ring) Hi SuperTiger brother. No, I just wanted to know how to turn the television on. No, I got it. No … well, yes, I am related to StrongDad.
12:17 – is my cell phone ringing again?
12:18 – oh, no, that’s part of the song. that’s … weird.
12:44 – Hi, Bode. Oh – ok, okay, okay .. Ok, good dog. Lie down. No – no, lie down. Good boy..
12:58 – They’ve managed to make our national anthem sound amazingly like a contemporary Christmas carol.
1:05 – Huh, I really wish I could talk to Ella right now. I mean … oh, wait.
1:07 – (ring ring) Hi Ella!
And yes, that was the point at which I realized I could just call and talk to you. Which means this is the end of the blog post, because you know what happened from there.
Love,
your sister

My State of Mind, FWIW

Dear list-making-sister,

I sadly do not have anything nearly as exciting as your recent picture essay to share, but as I *just* got an air conditioner installed (HOORAY!) and can now type without dripping sweat all over my computer, I thought I'd write to you. And, since you like making lists and so do I, here is a glimpse into my brain these days, in list form (which is how it would look if you could see into my brain. Well, into my mind. My brain would just be all mushy and bloody and such. Want to see a brain? I've got some at work. Rat brains, fyi, are really tiny compared to their bodies, but supposedly they're really smart. But I digress...):

To do before/during/immediately after moving:

• find an apartment
• pay off my car
• cry about my bank account after paying off my car
• register my car/get a parking permit
• figure out what state I am currently a resident of, and then promptly get MA residency
• find some health insurance
• pack
• find a job in Cambridge/Somerville so I don’t get evicted (assuming I find an apartment)

To do at work:

• look busy
• enjoy the AC
• vending machine runs for candy
• replicate some DNA PCR style (see, I do real work too...)

“Need” but shouldn’t buy (interestingly, also usually a list of things I’ve recently broken):

• a new ipod
• AC in my car
• a phone
• a hair appointment (no, I didn’t break my hair)

Suggestions for not melting in the heat wave:

• Freeze a bunch of icey pops, put them in a garbage bag, and sleep on it. (The garbage bag, I’ve been informed, is necessary because one time a purple one popped and purple stuff got all over a certain someone’s bed.)
• Stick an ice cube on my head and let it melt
• Naked parties

(Editors note: only one of those was PecanMama.)

Acronyms TSNBU (because I couldn’t immediately guess them):

• FWIW
• FUBAR
• OTPHJ (don’t look this one up)

Acronyms TSBU (because I like them):

• IDGARA
• HRWATPTRTCITG
• BYOC (couch...for housewarming parties that get thrown a little too early)
• TOTNN (duh)

Misc.

• Why am I not immune to measles?
• Did StrongDad “misplace” my spare keys?
• Why do constipated fish float?
• Why did Lindsay Lohan write "F*ck you" on her middle finger nail before her court date and then claim she "respects" the court?
• Why does Lindsay Lohan look like a 60 year old already?

And there you have it, Sister, a (probably frightening) snap shot of my mind at the moment. Notice, if you will, the ratio of crossed off to not crossed off on the “To Do” lists. It’s a ratio that is inversely proportional to my stressed out level. There is, of course, also a running tally that should generally resemble my bank account going in my mind at all times, but its in so much flux that I can’t even express it in any tangible way. Oh, wait, yes I can: ^$%^#$&*%^@. Yup, that about sums it up.

love,

your possibly-gone-off-the-deep-end sister

Hellloo Summer in NYC

Dear Morning Sister,

There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. When you text me at 7am on weekends I AM NOT AWAKE. And if I am awake, it’s because my phone vibrated, woke me up, and I’m silently wishing death upon you. (Temporarily…I’ll stop once I go back to sleep until 11am).

In other important morning related news: the coffee stand man is back. I repeat, the coffee stand man IS BACK. This is, quite possibly, the best news I have received all summer, which has most definitely started in NYC and which is most definitely as miserable as I remember it being. But, he was there yesterday, and today, so I'm pretty sure it's not a fluke. I don't know why he left, and I don't care, so long as he is back. There is something about having my coffee perfectly prepared (medium, milk, no sugar) without me having to ask AND being called beautiful that really just starts the morning off right. I'm telling you, if I woke up that way every morning, I'm pretty sure I'd be- well, not a morning person, but not so anti-mornings either. We should invent an alarm clock that wakes you up by saying "Good morning beautiful" and bringing you your coff-- oh, wait. I think that's called a boyfriend. Hhmm. (Note to self: look into getting one of those.)

The return of the coffee man is definitely a point for summer in NYC, and it got me thinking about other things to make the summer bearable. For instance, running. As I discovered on Monday, running at 4pm in the summer is, well, totally insane. It's crossing an insane line I'm not willing to cross yet. Also, it's crossing a dehydration line that is dangerously close to the passing out line, which I'd like to avoid. SO, despite the fact that waking up at 7am makes me want to catapult myself out a window, I set the alarm for 6am this morning. Turns out, 6am, 7am they're all awful. Not a big difference. Also, it turns out if I get up at 6am I can leave by 6:30am, whereas when I get up at 7am I can't seem to leave until 8am. Okay, fine, that maaay be related to my refusal to actually get out of bed until 7:15 or 7:20. (Second note to self: fix snooze so that it goes off every 10 minutes instead of every 5. Hitting the snooze 4 times is a pain in the butt. Or, again, get a boyfriend. One that wakes up early.) Back to the point: I got up at 6am, got up to campus by 7:40 and WENT RUNNING. At 7:50!

Things I learned:

· There are way less baby strollers and small children in Riverside Park at 8am compared to 5pm.

· That’s because they are on their way to school. Which is on 95^th street. Right before the GIANT hill, and when they all wait outside the school building there, it’s a little hard to navigate the sidewalk.

· It is not as hot or humid at 8am, but it is still hot. So drinking water first was a good idea.

· BEFORE running 5 miles an hour from your apartment right before work, you should really double check and make sure the locker room/showers on campus are open.

· Having friends that live right near work is very handy when you realize the showers are in fact NOT open and you are soaked in sweat ten minutes before work starts.

So, let’s recap.

Return of the coffee stand man: +1 summer in NYC

Not being able to run after work: -1 summer in NYC

6am wake up not being worse than 7am: +1 summer in NYC

Having to wake up at 6 OR 7am: -1 summer in NYC/real life in general

No AC in a 4^th floor apartment: -1 summer in NYC

Steady paycheck: +1 summer in NYC

So far it’s breaking even. But stay tuned, this is far from over. Although, if the coffee stand man continues to call me beautiful every morning, I may just never leave NYC. (Finding a boyfriend is a lot of work, what do you want from me?!).

Love,

Your naturally night owl sister

an appropriate use of technology

Hi smart sister,

I consider the following to be inappropriate uses of the technology of communication:

• texting someone while standing at their door
• chain letters
• pig-latin
• cell phone conversations while on a train or bus
• GPS, when used to get from home to work and back again
• automated telemarketing
• having your homework faxed to you in 3rd grade because you forgot it at the other parent's house
• emails with only one sentence

That last one brings me to my real point in this post: I think your idea for a blog is a good one. Many, many times during the day I think of things I want to tell you. Writing you a letter would be a good idea, but I rarely make myself sit down and do it. Instead, I end up checking my email, remember that one funny thing I overheard or beautiful thing I saw or bizarro thought I had, realizing you are the only person who could adequately appreciate how funny/beautiful/bizarro it truly was, and then emailing it to you as though it were a note I was passing you in seventh grade. (We were never in seventh grade together, obviously, but you get the idea.)

Writing a blog post reminds me a lot of writing a note. It must concisely fit on one page but has room enough for a whole story. It can be wordy, or contain doodles, or enclose pictures or other ephemeralia of life. It can be about anything, or nothing. And since it can be intercepted by anyone, it must (as with all good notes) use code, pseudonym, and other forms of abbreviated insider knowledge. In short, I think blogs are the new hand-crafted, passed-under-the-desk, written-in-purple-ink-and-folded-into-intricate-origami-contraptions, notes.

Since we stopped living together when I was twelve and you were eight I have always wanted to share the world with you again. I've squeezed bits and pieces into emails and envelopes, bombarded you with blurry cell phone photos, collected bits of magazines and made you collages, crafted intricate stick figure cartoons at which you could roll your eyes. Every day I come up with something new you should know about. (Yesterday it was men wearing leggings as pants - more on that later.)

Today I would like to tell you this: I think this blog is a good idea, and an appropriate use of technology.

Love,
your luddite sister