I Miss Seinfeld

I have been watching the last episodes of Conan, and I was excited to see Jerry Seinfeld again. I think that I have seen every episode of Seinfeld at least 5 times. I watched it every day during college, but I don’t really tune in to the reruns anymore.

Seeing his stand up on Conan reminded me of the series and made me want to watch it all over again.

My favorite:

“You have an ass. What do you think that is? It is a seat cushion growing out of your body. The ass is the first indication that we are slowly evolving into chairs.”

The Kindness of Strangers

Have you ever had a day when it just seemed like everyone was being nice to you?

Like, abnormally nice.

Just people, strangers going out of their way to be friendly and polite.

Well, this happened to me this week. On Tuesday, I had an awful day due to teaching related stress. I think I get overly invested in my class, but that is a post for some other time. Anyway, it was one of those days that ended with me climbing into my car at 5:30pm and just putting my head on my steering wheel and letting out a big “Uggggggggghhhhhhhhh.” I went home and curled up with the TV and was just pissed off at the world and my life.

Then, the very next day, I wake up and it’s the exact opposite. Life is grand. People are being nice. Abnormally nice. Everyone wants to talk to me, strangers want to get to know me, it’s like I am an irresistible beam of light and everyone wants to bask in the awesomeness that is me.

For example, I went to Subway to grab a sandwich. Normally, Subway workers barely look at me, just ask the basics, and tell me to move along. But on this particular day, I met the friendliest Subway workers ever (well, since I worked there in high school, of course). They were totally chatting me up, asking me 20 questions, giving me the best tomatoes and extra pickles. It’s so strange to get good customer service, let alone having your sandwich artist take an extreme personal interest in you.

At the end of the conversation, I was struck by two things:

1.  When he asked if I was a student, I said yes. When he asked if I was a sophomore or junior, I said, “No, I’m a grad student.” And then for some reason, I felt compelled to say, “Yeah, I’m pretty old.”

What?

Since when do I think of myself as old? And if I really do, why would I say it out loud? I’m becoming one of those socially awkward people who jumps right in with self put-downs that may or may not be true.

2.  As I walked out of the restaurant, I was still smiling at what a nice conversation it was. And I thought, “That was so weird! Why were they so nice to me?”

And you know what automatically popped into my head?

My hair.

That’s right, my hair. I had pulled my hair back that day when normally, I wear it down. So, of course, I’m attributing people being nice to me to my hair. Isn’t it strange what dumb explanations we make after interactions go differently than usual – good or bad. Looking back on it, I’m sure that my hair had absolutely nothing to do with it, but that is what I came up with at the time.

Now, after having plenty of time to become rational, I believe that it had something to do with the cycle of the moon.

Accents

One of the things that I would love to do before I die  is  take classes with a voice coach so that I can  learn how to do all types of fake accents. I’m not sure if the ability to do accents will improve my life in any tangible way, but it would certainly amuse me to no end.

I often talk to my cat as I’m feeding her and I have decided to use that as a not- so -self-conscious space for me to try out new accents. She doesn’t seem to notice the difference, and I like saying seeing how many different ways I can say “tuna.”

The Refresh Game

The best thing about blogging is having a record of statements that can come back and bite you.

In the last post, I said that I was not blogging because I am no longer filled with angst. Well, it did not even take a week for me to get hit with a 24 hour angst bug.

Here’s the thing:  Sometimes, very randomly, I can get obsessed with checking my email in an angst ridden way. In this particular instance, I sent out a flurry of emails and then, for no apparent or sane reason, became madly interested in seeing if and when people would respond to me and what they would have to say.

Email can lead to a dangerous and depressing inner world because it is so instantaneous and you know that everyone else checks their email constantly. So, the person had to have received it, so why are they ignoring it? Why does it take certain people an hour to respond and others days? Why don’t people just answer their email as soon as they get it? How hard is it to write a stupid little email?

If people would just be a little more email conscientious,  we (I) wouldn’t have to play these flipping mind games!

And if you are really hell bent on tormenting yourself, which apparently I am, you can play the fun and twisted game of Refresh. I have two variations. Version One is when I keep my inbox open and hit the Refresh button on a minute to minute basis to see if I get a magic parenthetical number proclaiming that I have received mail accompanied by a sweet, vibrant, bold new inbox line. Version Two is when I want to pretend that I am not playing Refresh and instead I click onto another webpage and spend 30 seconds checking headlines before signing back into my maibox to see if I have any new mail. I call it Refresh for Advanced Players.

And the worst thing about stupid Refresh is that if you keep playing it long enough and have sent out enough email to various people, you will eventually get a hit.  There will be a new piece of email!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But just like when you keep pulling the lever at slots, most of the time it is a stupid outcome. A piece of spam. Some listserv crap. Somebody asking you to do something you don’t want to do.

So you keep playing, disappointing round after disappointing round, spiraling deeper into a depressive state of email dependence, waiting for the next thrill, the newest high, the JACKPOT!

And then yes, yes, yes, finally, you get the email that you have been absolutely, beside yourself dying, hoping beyond hope to receive….and it says:   ……………………………………..

Well, it doesn’t matter what it says because it can never live up to the past 4, 7, 22, 48  hours that I have spent refreshing my inbox to get the goddamn message.

I rush through reading the email, let out a sigh, slump down in disappointment and then start thinking about when the appropriate time to reply to such a half-assed, bullshit email would be. Obviously, I can’t reply 3 minutes after I received it. Maybe I should wait 3 hours. A day. As long as it took this person to respond to mine. Longer. Never. Ahhh, I love the control. I want to hold onto this. I don’t want to be waiting for the response ever again. They will have to wait….haha, bitches….on MY timetable. Cue maniacal laughing.

It’s a sick cycle. I should not be allowed on the internet.

Why so dull?

I’m not sure why I can’t really get back into blogging. I thought that I wanted to, but I really can’t come up with anything to blog about.

Why?

1.  I am busy.

2. I am no longer angsty.

3. I don’t ride the bus to campus anymore. I did most of my thinking/analyzing on the bus rides because it provided the space to just be “in my head.”

I don’t know if it is a good thing or a bad thing that I am not as reflective anymore. It is a luxury to have time to ruminate on what it all means, but in some ways, it is a relief to have my mind filled with other things. Keeps me out of trouble, too.

When One Isn’t Enough

Even though I barely have anything to write about on this blog, I have decided to start up a new blog.

Here’s the basic concept:

I like  movies just as much as the next person, but I have never been a movie buff.  On average, I will go to the movie theater 3-5 times/year. I never rent movies because I am too lazy to return them on time, and I have no desire to subscribe to Netflix because I am too lazy to mail things.

For years, I have shocked and amazed people by telling them that I have never seen such classics as Top Gun, Pretty in Pink, The Godfather, or Dumb and Dumber (to name a few). These are some of the reactions I have gotten:

“How could you possibly have not seen Movie X? Everyone has seen it!”

“I cannot be friends with/date you until you see and love Movie X.”

“You are a freak.”

My own motivation to “catch up” on my movie viewing is that I love pop culture and I feel that I am left out of making some pop culture references due to my lack of movie buffness.

Luckily, a change in circumstances (i.e. having access to DVR and a decent amount of movie channels) has given me the opportunity to remedy my situation.

This blog will record my progress from movie leper to cinematic savant as I view and review old movies.

Here are the guidelines:

(1) The movie has been out of the theater long enough for a TV channel to get the rights.

(2) I have never seen the movie.

(3) I have heard of the movie (unless it is a really old movie and I like the description)

Check it out if you want:  http://moviebuffbiscotti.wordpress.com/

The “So What?” Question.

As graduate students we are told that in order to test whether our sociological research question is worthwhile, we should think about the potential findings and ask ourselves, “So what?”  Basically, does this matter? Does this contribute anything? Does knowing this change the game or progress the discipline? If the answer is no, it is probably too esoteric or a vanity project or, my personal favorite, “not sociology.”

I’ve been thinking about what my dissertation should be on. Nobody likes my ideas. Too risky or too weird or not central to the discipline. It’s frustrating.

The bottom line for me is that I want to do things that are interesting. Topics that are appealing. Stuff that people would talk about even if they weren’t sociologists. Personally, I think that if we are studying the social world as we say we are, we should be studying things that people DO talk and think about on an everyday basis. But a lot of those very same topics are deemed frivolous by sociologists.

Anyway, the whole point of this is not to complain about where I fit in with the discipline, but just to express a generalized sense of fear that maybe what I care about and what I do and hell, my whole life is a “So What?” question that has no justifiable answer at this point.

Blah. I hate this. It’s terrible to feel inadequate and not able to measure up when it comes to having a life purpose and meaningful life work.

Is “that’s interesting” enough to justify a “so what?”

Hard to Live With

I will probably get married someday, but I have no desire to actually live with my husband.

Knowing myself as well as I do, I would have to  advocate separate quarters and a maid service as being crucial to a happy marriage with me.

There are so many annoying things that I do. I am particularly annoying when it comes to little household issues.

For example:

1.  I leave lights on when I leave the room. Only when I notice that every single light in the apartment is on do I go around and shut them off.

2. I leave cabinet doors open in the kitchen after I get a cup or plate.

3.  I leave clothes and towels on the floor.

4.  I only do laundry once a month, so when those clothes and towels do eventually make it to a basket, there are huge piles.

5. I buy toiletries in bulk. I currently have 4 bottles of shampoo, 7 bottles of conditioner (I always use more conditioner than shampoo), 15 boxes of soap, 5 deodorants, and 20 razor replacements.

6. I constantly spill and drop things…and tend to pick them up only half the time.

All of these things would and do drive me crazy when other people do them. I hate that I do them. I love cleanliness and organization, but I don’t tend to notice my own messes. I think that people are neat and clean in their own particular ways. For example, I hate dirty bathrooms and kitchens so I am always wiping down the counters. I don’t mind clutter and piles, but I hate germs and stains. I’m also good about doing dishes, taking out the trash, and vacuuming (when I can get the piles off the floor, that is). I hate mopping, though. It never seems to work for me! The floor looks just as dirty after I mop as before…

I suppose I need to marry someone who is messy in all of the ways that I am clean and clean in all of the ways that I’m messy…and someone who does not get mad at me for my domestic flaws. Otherwise, we will be headed to Divorce Court over spilled milk and piles of laundry.