I'm a freelance writer by day and a dancer/DJ by night. Soon I'll be a New Yorker, but I'm a Chicagoan at heart. This is my personal blog.
Posted 5 months ago
via austinkleon
862 Notes
The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise.
Posted 5 months ago
via uchicagoadmissions
10878 Notes
Indiana Jones Mystery Package
We don’t really even know how to start this post. Yesterday we received a package addressed to “Henry Walton Jones, Jr.”. We sort-of shrugged it off and put it in our bin of mail for student workers to sort and deliver to the right faculty member— we get the wrong mail a lot.
Little did we know what we were looking at. When our student mail worker snapped out of his finals-tired haze and realized who Dr. Jones was, we were sort of in luck: this package wasn’t meant for a random professor in the Stat department. It is addressed to “Indiana” Jones.
What we know: The package contained an incredibly detailed replica of “University of Chicago Professor” Abner Ravenwood’s journal from Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. It looks only sort of like this one, but almost exactly like this one, so much so that we thought it might have been the one that was for sale on Ebay had we not seen some telling inconsistencies in cover color and “Ex Libris” page (and distinct lack of sword). The book itself is a bit dusty, and the cover is teal fabric with a red velvet spine, with weathered inserts and many postcards/pictures of Marion Ravenwood (and some cool old replica money) included. It’s clear that it is mostly, but not completely handmade, as although the included paper is weathered all of the “handwriting” and calligraphy lacks the telltale pressure marks of actual handwriting.
What we don’t know: Why this came to us. The package does not actually have real stamps on it— the outside of the package was crinkly and dirty as if it came through the mail, but the stamps themselves are pasted on and look like they have been photocopied. There is no US postage on the package, but we did receive it in a bin of mail, and it is addressed to the physical address of our building, Rosenwald Hall, which has a distinctly different address from any other buildings where it might be appropriate to send it (Haskell Hall or the Oriental Institute Museum). However, although now home to the Econ department and College Admissions, Rosenwald Hall used to be the home to our departments of geology and geography.
If you’re an applicant and sent this to us: Why? How? Did you make it? Why so awesome? If you’re a member of the University community and this belongs to you or you’ve gotten one like it before, PLEASE tell us how you acquired it, and whether or not yours came with a description— or if we’re making a big deal out of the fact that you accidentally slipped a gift for a friend in to the inter-university mail system. If you are an Indiana Jones enthusiast and have any idea who may have sent this to us or who made it, let us know that, too.
We know this sounds like a joke/hoax… it’s not (at least, from our end). Any hints, ideas, thoughts, or explanations are appreciated. We’ve been completely baffled as to why this was sent to us, in mostly a good way, but it’s clear this is a neat thing that either belongs somewhere else— or belongs in the halls of UChicago admissions history.
Internet: help us out. If you’re on Reddit (we’re not) or any other nerdly social media sites where we might get information about this, feel free to post far and wide and e-mail any answers, clues, ideas, thoughts, or musings to indianajonesjournal@uchicago.edu (yes, we did set up an email account just to deal with this thing).
Posted 5 months ago
Dave Brubeck was one of my favorite musicians.
There are two particularly strong reasons for this. The first is that I remember dancing around my parents’ house as a kid, maybe 7 or 8 years old at the youngest, to the entirety of “Jazz at Oberlin.” Much as I love “Time Out,” both as music in its own right and as a wild experiment, “Jazz at Oberlin” is the one that to my ears really captures the best of Mr. Brubeck. Twenty years later, I know the album inside and out and never tire of it.
The other really strong memory is when my family watched Ken Burns’ “Jazz” documentary. There were a handful of interview clips with Mr. Brubeck, and the one that still gives me chills doesn’t have anything to do with music. It was about racism. He talked about having seen a black man who’d been whipped, his back crossed with lacerations, and how he knew in his gut that what he saw was wrong. Nobody could watch him speak about that experience and doubt for a second that this was a really good, sincere man.
When my dad made me a compilation of the best 500 songs of jazz, he included three tunes by the Dave Brubeck Quartet. One of them is probably my favorite take of one of my favorite jazz standards. It’s the final track on “Jazz at Oberlin” and it’s glorious. I could try to articulate why I particularly love Mr. Brubeck’s playing, but I’m just going to listen to this song a few times through the day.
Posted 5 months ago
1 Notes
I rewatched “Singing in the Rain” over the holiday weekend and it remains one of my all time favorite movies. This may be my favorite dance number ever put to film. There are other big contenders, of course, but somehow this goofy little piece does something magical for me that few others do.
Posted 6 months ago
This morning during breakfast, I learned that a young woman in the dance scene was killed in a drunk driving accident. I had never met her, didn’t even recognize her name, but as I saw the scattered “rest in peace” posts across social networks, I started crying into my oatmeal.
It doesn’t take any great stretch of empathy to imagine your closest loved ones being the names memorialized in shock and sadness. This young woman was that friend, that sibling, that daughter, that niece to a whole big web of people. So while those poor people are forced to adjust to a huge loss in their worlds, I am going to be angry on their behalf.
Never, ever, drink and drive. There is no excuse for that lack of personal responsibility. All it takes is a split-second to become a tragedy that you cannot undo but will wish with all your heart that you could.
A friend who knew the young woman was angry: “I hope this decision haunts you for the rest of your life.” Those exact words came out of my mouth just a week ago, when I saw an intoxicated young man grab onto the license plate of a car that had been honking at some pedestrians, then watched in horror as the car accelerated right over and through him and sped off. My boyfriend and I waited for the ambulance, then walked home clutching each other, unsure whether the young man would survive.
“That could be a human life on that driver’s conscience. And they just didn’t stop. How could you not stop? I hope that haunts them for the rest of their life.”
Without telling each other, both my boyfriend and I scanned the police blotter headlines for the next few days. There was no mention of the hit and run. I hope that means he lived.
Even if you haven’t had a drop to drink, your car isn’t just a prized possession or a mode of transport. It’s a weapon. It may sound paranoid, but I try to remind myself of that every time I buckle into the driver’s seat. And when you are with car owners who have been drinking, be the one who does the right thing, even if they aren’t. Then be sure to tell them in the morning, when they’re good and lucid, just how foolish and dangerous they nearly were.
Take your friend’s keys. They’ll fight you on it, they’ll tell you that it’s okay (trust me, I’ve done this before). When you know you’ll be drinking, arrange for a sober friend to take the wheel on the way home (I’ve done this before too). Take the bus or shell out for a cab. Sleep over on a friend’s couch. You have so many choices, and if you can’t make a safe one yourself, get somebody to do it for you.
Just don’t drink and drive. Human life is worth more than that.
Posted 6 months ago
1 Notes
I’ve decided that this will be the year I return to my fiction roots. That means NaNoWriMo.
Even though I love the idea of NaNo, I’ve only participated once before. In 2007, I churned out a horrifically bad historical romance. It was incredibly fun. But I haven’t spent much, if any, time since then working on fiction because by November of the next year I was writing as a full-time job.
I’m not the first person to observe that writing is exhausting business. For three years, I spent the wee early hours writing health care news. It wasn’t the sort of work that left me desperate to get back on the computer and typing. I was more desperate for naps and coffee.
But the longer I’ve gone without the time to devote to telling stories, or even to reading them, the more I’ve missed doing so. Many artistic people chafe against deadlines, but I’ve often found that they push creativity in new directions, stretching and building ideas like muscles. I have definitely let some of my creative powers atrophy in the past years, or simply channeled what I had into dancing. NaNo will be the best kind of exercise.
Posted 7 months ago
1 Notes
The strangest thing about freelancing so far is how meaningless time is. Not in an existential, empty way, though. It’s just so much more fluid than when I worked a standard job. I’ve let myself drift in and out of very peculiar patterns: turning in at 4 AM and sleeping til noon; working after midnight; spending time reading, cooking, or dancing whenever the spirit moves me. It doesn’t matter if it’s a “normal” time to do any of those activities. I don’t have to think about “normal.”
It’s disconcerting, and it has taken me some time to come to terms with the level of randomness and spontaneity in my days. Deep down, I’m a creature of habit. But as I’ve gotten used to the new lifestyle, I’ve found I have time for my hobbies again. I’ve found time to play the flute after years of ignoring it. I’ve started gaming in earnest. I’m reading more than ever. And I still spend a good amount of time working and pitching stories. I think this is a sign of job satisfaction.
Posted 7 months ago
Who knew some people were so perceptive about mental health back in the day! I’m a firm believer in #9 and try to take #17 to heart more often.
Posted 7 months ago
1 Notes
Last Wednesday afternoon, I learned that Tecca.com was shutting down. I wrote for them for only five months, my second gig after going freelance. The sudden closure of the site meant that a great resource and about half my regular income was disappearing. It was an unwelcome shock.
What a funny coincidence then that earlier that day, I’d been browsing the archives of zenhabits.com and came across this recent post: http://zenhabits.net/uncertainty/
When something new happens, when you don’t know — we often see this as bad. But can we re-frame it so that it’s something joyful? Not knowing means we are free — the possibilities are limitless.
I certainly can’t put a positive spin on the dissolution of the Tecca team. Seeing so many great and talented folks, many with families, suddenly without jobs is no joke. But I can see the excitement of what it means for me. I decided to take the freelance path because I wanted those limitless possibilities. I craved a chance to prove myself, my words, and my ideas. As someone drawn to but fearful of routine, this was a reminder of the need to keep pushing. To keep working and to keep writing.
