Lately I have been trying to overcome tendencies to be antisocial. I don't know why it is that I am feeling antisocial - it might be a response to the overly and only social break over the holidays, or a response to creeping ever closer to 30, or a response to not being the happiest I've ever been.
Regardless...
I decided to go out last night when invited. I had pre-existing plans to dine with E and discuss his opus. Dinner with a friend is not something I consider "social." When I say antisocial, I mean "not wanting to hang out with large-ish groups of people, especially when I do not know or do not like various members of the group." I guess I have less and less tolerance for smalltalk as I get older. I have little desire to engage in being social for the sake of being social. I want quality, not quantity.
It is bizarre that I've been acting antisocial given that I've been feeling a bit on the lonely side as of late. Not desperate lonely, or wishing there were people around. More like wishing that there existed the option of people being around.
After hanging up the phone with M last Saturday night, post-girlish discussion of "the future," I was sad, because I wished that the conversation could have been shared in person over mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Indian food with E was lovely, complete with the requisite wishing I had a different job entirely, this particular wish involving a life in which I would read screenplays all day and find inconsistencies and lovely quirks and realness therein. I then headed over to D's to meet up with him and his friend and his friend's friend to go to a comedy show that started at 11.
We hung out at his place for a bit - they all drank lots while I abstained because of the two drink minimum at the club. I think part of my antisocial tendencies stem from my consistently being the only sober person in groups. Always people drinking and drinking and drinking. I don't have that luxury because my window between buzzed and drunk is one sip. I'm always cautious. I therefore always feel like an outsider. "Have another one!" people always say. They don't understand that "one" more for me will cause a mess. Regardless, I had fun last night. It was fun and funny. And I drank far too much, because I haven't had too much to drink in far too long.
Nights like that make me wonder why I don't do these things more often.
The only problem with this is that it has interfered with my attempt at not being antisocial tonight. The plan for tonight was to go to this bar that has ping pong and scrabble and jazz after work. Do I want drinks? No. Do I want to hang out with these people? Also no. Do I feel like I should be doing something other than reading or watching a movie? Yes. Do I want to play ping pong and/or scrabble while still feeling dehydrated and gross from last night? No.
Is this that big of an issue? No. I am going to go and have a drink and I will feel miraculously fine. The rest of the weekend is going to be anti-social as well - I am going to the ballet tomorrow night with D and may or may not hang out with Former-Favorite-Ex-Boyfriend tomorrow. It will depend on how lonely I feel tomorrow morning when I wake up.
Again, do I want to? Absolutely not. Do I want just to have something to do and to see a familiar face? Yes.
Ah, New York, you have changed me so much. No drama, just filler.
OK. I should finish working and have some sort of snack to prepare for drinks and Scrabble. Wooo! Have nice weekends, kids!
Friday, January 20, 2006
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
The Bodies – An Editorial by Leah Lar
D and I went to see The Bodies this weekend in South Street Seaport. We’d been experiencing conflict over whether or not to see it. We are scientists, so of course we see the merit in this sort of exhibit, especially in something this unique. We are also, however, moral beings, and the exhibit has been fraught with controversy regarding the origin of its bodies. Rumor has it that the bodies belonged to prisoners or homeless people in China, and that they were scooped off the streets, obviously without consent.
Sketchy.
I suppose donating bodies with no known identity to science is a noble thing to do. This being said, are these bodies being donated “to science” or “for profit?”
Science is knowledge. Seeing things like this is good. It’s informative. It excites children about science! (I really wish it wouldn’t, though. I wanted to scream “This is not interesting! Do not make a career of this unless you plan on getting an MD!”) It helps us understand our own bodies. It’s valuable.
If it was free, then I’d be fine with it.
What I am not fine with is charging $25 per person to see the bodies and organs of people who didn’t necessarily want their bodies to be on display. I don’t think people should profit from this. Unless, of course, the proceeds go to homeless shelters or research funds or something. Maybe this is the case.
When we entered the building, I was suddenly overcome with trepidation and didn’t want to go in. “I don’t know if I want to see this,” I said. I am currently reading a book called Stiff which, while being amazing and an addictive and informative read, has me constantly contemplating mortality and what happens to bodies when they cease living. The book is about what happens to bodies when they die, and, more overwhelmingly, what happens to cadavers that are donated to or stolen for science. It’s interesting and I love it, but I can’t shake the occasional and morbid unwelcome image of a loved one’s body being used as a crash test dummy.
We paid the steep admission price and entered the exhibit.
My initial reaction: awesome! It really was awesome. The whole bodies were unsettling. It didn’t seem real. I had a better understanding of anatomy after seeing the exhibit. It was organized based on organ system, and therefore went from the psychologically and emotionally easiest to most difficult to handle. It started with the skeletal system – we’ve all seen this before. They had entire bodies displayed out in the open along with components displayed in cases. It then went to muscle and then to the nervous system. The muscles were weird – so meat-like. The nervous system, obviously, was my favorite. They had the whole nervous system in a case – still connected – the brain, spinal cord, and nerves sent from the spinal cord. Awesome!
It was then the circulatory system. The room was dark, and they’d used a dye to stain arteries red and veins blue, and then somehow removed the organs they supplied. Super cool. Then respiratory, digestive, excretory, reproductive, development, and a room at the end bringing everything together.
I didn’t really have a problem with things because I think it is human nature to distance yourself from death. I didn’t allow myself to consciously think “This is an actual person who lived and breathed and had a family.” Every so often I’d remember, and I would freak out and want to run away. Sometimes I’d be like “This is actually a real arm, not a model. Huh.”
The organs weren’t as disturbing – they obviously weren’t as personal. But the limbs… and the brains… and the whole bodies…
A few observations:
1. As stated above, muscles look like meat. I don’t imagine anyone ate meat after going to that exhibit.
2. The bladder – SMALL. So very tiny. Smaller than a rubber balloon deflated.
3. The uterus – WICKED SMALL. I had no idea. And the ovaries were so little!
4. Testicles – also wicked small.
5. Second grossest thing I have ever seen in my life = penile cancer.
6. GROSSEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE = teratoma of ovarian tissue (I think –I can’t even remember what it was supposed to be, I just know it was in the reproduction room) that had freaking HAIR AND TEETH GROWING IN IT. I thought I was going to vomit. If I am ever diagnosed with a teratoma I think that I will instantly go mad and have to be committed. I can’t bear the thought of teeth growing in my uterus. Oh my god. The horror, the horror. I imagine, though, that doctors don’t tell people this because I bet anyone would be taken completely insane by such knowledge.
By the time I was through the reproductive room, I had mixed feelings. I was trying my hardest not to obsess about the realness of the bodies. “Stop thinking about them as people… stop thinking about them as people…” I thought it was scientifically cool, but mostly unnecessary. There was no reason these bodies couldn’t be models. Why not dissect a human and then make a cast? People wouldn’t pay $25 to see casts of dead people. The realness (and shock) is what draws them in.
I was also having minor agita in the reproductive room because my biological clock was ticking loudly. There were these phrases on the walls throughout the exhibit, and in the reproductive room there was a statistic written about how a male’s fertility starts going down after age 35. Tick, tick, tick… D said “Did you read that thing about a male’s fertility?” I said nothing. “Good thing I’m not 35!” “You know, a woman’s fertility goes down too, even more than a man’s… it’s good to have your first by 35, because if you don’t, it gets harder and harder to conceive.” He laughed.
“IT’S NOT FUNNY!!”
The whole exhibit made me very serious.
The development room was after the reproductive room, and there was sign that said something to the effect of “You may not want to go into this room” for various reasons.
“Whatever,” I thought. “I’ve made it this far, I’ll go in there. How bad could it be?”
It was awful. Real, dead babies. Preserved. Not just embryos, which is sad enough. But near-term babies, preserved in the skin. They didn’t really look like real babies. I’d probably have fainted if they had. (There was, however, one cool portion where they’d stained developing fetuses with some dye that binds to calcium to demonstrate bone growth throughout development.)
So this? Not necessary. It didn’t have to be real babies. Nobody would know! Maybe they weren’t real babies. They didn’t look like real babies, but they claimed that everything in the exhibit was real.
I experienced major agita. Near tears, I blazed through the final room, uninterested and experiencing great animosity for the exhibit. I lingered a bit at the information desk where a woman, at whom I cast many a mean glance, answered questions and told exhibit-goers about the fixation process.
Someone asked where the bodies came from. She answered that they were all from China and that most of them were bodies donated to science or bodies with no known next of kin. Someone inquired as to the Chinese prisoner origin of the bodies. She danced around the issue and explained why that wouldn’t be likely without actually saying that it was not the case. When asked about the fetuses, she explained that they were either miscarried and donated by mothers or that they were found in dead bodies.
Dear god.
There is no way a mother would knowingly consent to having her child’s dead body on display in a $25 exhibit. No freaking way.
I can’t help but wonder if these mothers donated their babies to science, hoping to help someone else down the line through research.
Yes, you can argue that having these babies on display does help someone down the line. Knowledge! Prevention! Etc.!
But it’s still greatly disturbing, and I don’t imagine a doctor said “Can we please have your baby so that we can fix it and display it in a case for people around the world to see?”
I wish I hadn’t gone. My stomach was upset for the rest of the day, and every time I see and ad for the exhibit I feel ill. I think it just went a little too far, otherwise it would have been cool. I understand the need to be comprehensive, and its just an issue with which I have personal problems. If you get the opportunity to see it, you should go. Most people love it. D loved it, and the people in the exhibit (and others I know who have seen it) were enthralled.
The end.
Sketchy.
I suppose donating bodies with no known identity to science is a noble thing to do. This being said, are these bodies being donated “to science” or “for profit?”
Science is knowledge. Seeing things like this is good. It’s informative. It excites children about science! (I really wish it wouldn’t, though. I wanted to scream “This is not interesting! Do not make a career of this unless you plan on getting an MD!”) It helps us understand our own bodies. It’s valuable.
If it was free, then I’d be fine with it.
What I am not fine with is charging $25 per person to see the bodies and organs of people who didn’t necessarily want their bodies to be on display. I don’t think people should profit from this. Unless, of course, the proceeds go to homeless shelters or research funds or something. Maybe this is the case.
When we entered the building, I was suddenly overcome with trepidation and didn’t want to go in. “I don’t know if I want to see this,” I said. I am currently reading a book called Stiff which, while being amazing and an addictive and informative read, has me constantly contemplating mortality and what happens to bodies when they cease living. The book is about what happens to bodies when they die, and, more overwhelmingly, what happens to cadavers that are donated to or stolen for science. It’s interesting and I love it, but I can’t shake the occasional and morbid unwelcome image of a loved one’s body being used as a crash test dummy.
We paid the steep admission price and entered the exhibit.
My initial reaction: awesome! It really was awesome. The whole bodies were unsettling. It didn’t seem real. I had a better understanding of anatomy after seeing the exhibit. It was organized based on organ system, and therefore went from the psychologically and emotionally easiest to most difficult to handle. It started with the skeletal system – we’ve all seen this before. They had entire bodies displayed out in the open along with components displayed in cases. It then went to muscle and then to the nervous system. The muscles were weird – so meat-like. The nervous system, obviously, was my favorite. They had the whole nervous system in a case – still connected – the brain, spinal cord, and nerves sent from the spinal cord. Awesome!
It was then the circulatory system. The room was dark, and they’d used a dye to stain arteries red and veins blue, and then somehow removed the organs they supplied. Super cool. Then respiratory, digestive, excretory, reproductive, development, and a room at the end bringing everything together.
I didn’t really have a problem with things because I think it is human nature to distance yourself from death. I didn’t allow myself to consciously think “This is an actual person who lived and breathed and had a family.” Every so often I’d remember, and I would freak out and want to run away. Sometimes I’d be like “This is actually a real arm, not a model. Huh.”
The organs weren’t as disturbing – they obviously weren’t as personal. But the limbs… and the brains… and the whole bodies…
A few observations:
1. As stated above, muscles look like meat. I don’t imagine anyone ate meat after going to that exhibit.
2. The bladder – SMALL. So very tiny. Smaller than a rubber balloon deflated.
3. The uterus – WICKED SMALL. I had no idea. And the ovaries were so little!
4. Testicles – also wicked small.
5. Second grossest thing I have ever seen in my life = penile cancer.
6. GROSSEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE = teratoma of ovarian tissue (I think –I can’t even remember what it was supposed to be, I just know it was in the reproduction room) that had freaking HAIR AND TEETH GROWING IN IT. I thought I was going to vomit. If I am ever diagnosed with a teratoma I think that I will instantly go mad and have to be committed. I can’t bear the thought of teeth growing in my uterus. Oh my god. The horror, the horror. I imagine, though, that doctors don’t tell people this because I bet anyone would be taken completely insane by such knowledge.
By the time I was through the reproductive room, I had mixed feelings. I was trying my hardest not to obsess about the realness of the bodies. “Stop thinking about them as people… stop thinking about them as people…” I thought it was scientifically cool, but mostly unnecessary. There was no reason these bodies couldn’t be models. Why not dissect a human and then make a cast? People wouldn’t pay $25 to see casts of dead people. The realness (and shock) is what draws them in.
I was also having minor agita in the reproductive room because my biological clock was ticking loudly. There were these phrases on the walls throughout the exhibit, and in the reproductive room there was a statistic written about how a male’s fertility starts going down after age 35. Tick, tick, tick… D said “Did you read that thing about a male’s fertility?” I said nothing. “Good thing I’m not 35!” “You know, a woman’s fertility goes down too, even more than a man’s… it’s good to have your first by 35, because if you don’t, it gets harder and harder to conceive.” He laughed.
“IT’S NOT FUNNY!!”
The whole exhibit made me very serious.
The development room was after the reproductive room, and there was sign that said something to the effect of “You may not want to go into this room” for various reasons.
“Whatever,” I thought. “I’ve made it this far, I’ll go in there. How bad could it be?”
It was awful. Real, dead babies. Preserved. Not just embryos, which is sad enough. But near-term babies, preserved in the skin. They didn’t really look like real babies. I’d probably have fainted if they had. (There was, however, one cool portion where they’d stained developing fetuses with some dye that binds to calcium to demonstrate bone growth throughout development.)
So this? Not necessary. It didn’t have to be real babies. Nobody would know! Maybe they weren’t real babies. They didn’t look like real babies, but they claimed that everything in the exhibit was real.
I experienced major agita. Near tears, I blazed through the final room, uninterested and experiencing great animosity for the exhibit. I lingered a bit at the information desk where a woman, at whom I cast many a mean glance, answered questions and told exhibit-goers about the fixation process.
Someone asked where the bodies came from. She answered that they were all from China and that most of them were bodies donated to science or bodies with no known next of kin. Someone inquired as to the Chinese prisoner origin of the bodies. She danced around the issue and explained why that wouldn’t be likely without actually saying that it was not the case. When asked about the fetuses, she explained that they were either miscarried and donated by mothers or that they were found in dead bodies.
Dear god.
There is no way a mother would knowingly consent to having her child’s dead body on display in a $25 exhibit. No freaking way.
I can’t help but wonder if these mothers donated their babies to science, hoping to help someone else down the line through research.
Yes, you can argue that having these babies on display does help someone down the line. Knowledge! Prevention! Etc.!
But it’s still greatly disturbing, and I don’t imagine a doctor said “Can we please have your baby so that we can fix it and display it in a case for people around the world to see?”
I wish I hadn’t gone. My stomach was upset for the rest of the day, and every time I see and ad for the exhibit I feel ill. I think it just went a little too far, otherwise it would have been cool. I understand the need to be comprehensive, and its just an issue with which I have personal problems. If you get the opportunity to see it, you should go. Most people love it. D loved it, and the people in the exhibit (and others I know who have seen it) were enthralled.
The end.
The Weather
I don't really like to blog about the weather, or really talk about it, for that matter. I am, however, obsessed with the weather. The Apple doesn't fall far from The Tree, as they say.
So, here it is:
Mid-50's in mid-January... wtf?
So, here it is:
Mid-50's in mid-January... wtf?
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Love to Love the Long Weekend
My long weekend was spent being antisocial and catching up on self-involved things like reading and, gasp, making large-scale purchases that seem not to work. I'm getting ahead of myself...
On Friday night I met up with 2/3 of my photography class friends (plus D) to check out the new shows that are up at the International Center for Photography. I love ICP. They offer classes and I want to take every single one, but they are, alas, expensive. We enjoyed one of the shows immensely - it was a group exhibit on the body at risk, and had photo essays on things such as domestic abuse, midwives, HIV, emergency rooms, and aging. We were impressed by the timing of the photographs as well as their extremely visceral natures.
Post-ICP, D and I went on a date, or, more like a mission - EAT. I didn't have time for lunch on Friday, and given that I didn't have breakfast on Friday nor had I had dinner the night before, I was a mess. Because ICP is near Times Square, we opted for the "Cheesiest Dinner Experience Possible" mission but ended up settling for the "Eat Soon" mission. (Although, I should say, there were no people in Times Square - eerie! It was actually the quietest I'd heard the city in quite some time). We ended up at a somewhat lame Mexican place just outside Times Square. We sat down and as we inhaled chips, I realized that, of course, every vegetarian option on the menu involved mushrooms. Of course. I asked the waiter if I could not have mushrooms in something, and he was, of course, convinced that the mushrooms could not be taken out. "We will leave," D said to me as the waiter walked away "to ask." But, joy!, the mushrooms could be removed and much bliss was experienced.
Back at my apartment, we assembled our final Star Wars lego set and got way too much sleep.
It rained on Saturday so, after finishing The New Yorker and my brother's book for the second time, I went to the MOMA to check out the Photography 2005 exhibit which ended yesterday. There was also a Pixar exhibit that was decent, except for the Toy Story Zoetrope which was RIDICULOUS. I think it was there to basically hypnotize any kids that might be in the museum for the Pixar show. It was awesome. There were also some really cool charcoal drawings from Finding Nemo.
Afterwards I did not pick up my laundry (due to the rain) and fell asleep with my head in my book, but only after I finished reading The Village Voice.
Instead of going to Brooklyn to hear D's friend's band, I stayed in an watched Birth, this crazy movie with Nicole Kidman. I figured movie-watching was a better use of a rainy night. I don't know about this movie. I really liked it, but I'm not sure why. Most likely because I identified with Nicole Kidman's insane protagonist, or because Nicole Kidman had short hair which made her even cuter than normal. The kid in it was so unsettling. The whole movie was unsettling. It had a cool score and was a good New York movie.
Afterwards I read some more of my book and then read my friend E's script, which was awesome.
D was slated to come over post-show, but didn't. I was confused, so at 2:00 I called him to tell him not to come (I assumed that he would just be out super late) but was surprised when he answered the phone. He was home! Wtf!? I thought. He was all "Oh, I was just about to text you and tell you that I am not coming." Ergh. I was mad, girlfriend-style psychotic. I was all "I imagine you knew you weren't coming, though, when you left Brooklyn an hour ago. You could have called me then so I could have gone to sleep." Silence. "I'm mad," I said. Fight ensued, because how dare I be annoyed that I wasn't told? etc. And plus, how was he to know that I'd be waiting?
I called him back and told him I really wanted him to come over, and he did, because he's wonderful when he's not being an oblivious boy.
On Sunday morning I cooked us breakfast and D cleaned up and forced me out the door so I wouldn't procrastinate the big purchase. When I got to B & H, I realized that you can't just buy your camera. You have to be helped. You can't just look at the lenses. You have to know what you want. All this, while a huge line of camera-hungry patrons throws fits behind you.
When I got up to the guy, I said "I want a Canon EOS 20D." "OK." "And a lens." "OK - which?" "Well, in your opinion, should I get a fast Sigma or a slow Canon?"
He didn't say anything, but I could tell he thought I should get a slow Canon. I said "OK, well, I want something like a 28-105, f3.5. And later I'll want a 20, but not now."
Holy complicated sale, Batman. Canon was running this double rebate thing where if you buy one thing, you get a single rebate. If you buy two things, you get double rebates on both of them, and if you buy three things, triple rebates on all of them! He convinced me to buy a 70 - 300 that was $150 because it was basically free because of the double rebate with the body. But then I had to decide on what other lens I wanted, if I wanted the one with the kit, AHHHHH!!!!
I finally caved in and just got the lens with the kit - a 17 - 85, f 3.5. But its really more like an f 4.0. DRAT.
I went home, giddy, and tried out the camera. I charged the batteries, looked through the lenses, ooh-ed over the cute little carrying case that came with the memory card, and began to take photos.
I did this for hours.
In the low-light conditions of my apartment that don't allow for good photographs.
I then watched Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, which I liked much better than the book and which had very cute boys.
I re-read E's script and then slept.
For like 11 hours.
Sweet!
On Monday I freaked out because most of the photos I took on Sunday were out of focus. Well, muddy. And the colors weren't very vibrant. I figured this could be remedied by changing the white balance, but was worried about the out-of-focus issue. I blamed the low light, so took the camera for a spin out in the real world of sunlit early-afternoon.
Some of the photos were still blurry.
CRAP.
I went inside and set up a tripod. It didn't look like the blurriness was from camera shake. I wondered if maybe my depth of field was just off because I was using such a wide aperture. Nope.
Autofocus issues? Most likely. Need to play around some more. Luckily I didn't demolish the packaging so my big purchase can be returned if necessary. I just have to figure out if its me or the camera. I'm not used to using an SLR, and maybe I am just so blind that I can't tell what's in and out of focus and perhaps I just have to use autofocus. I don't want to, but maybe I just have to.
Anyway...
Met up with D to see The Bodies exhibit at South Street Seaport.
More on that later.
After The Bodies, we went back to his apartment. D made crepes while I watched the pre-show. We drank a bit and endured the entirety of The Golden Globes, and then both felt like ass and had difficulty sleeping. D thinks our headaches were due to "coming down with something," but I blame the snowy TV or the Smirnoff grape cooler things we drank.
That's all for now!
On Friday night I met up with 2/3 of my photography class friends (plus D) to check out the new shows that are up at the International Center for Photography. I love ICP. They offer classes and I want to take every single one, but they are, alas, expensive. We enjoyed one of the shows immensely - it was a group exhibit on the body at risk, and had photo essays on things such as domestic abuse, midwives, HIV, emergency rooms, and aging. We were impressed by the timing of the photographs as well as their extremely visceral natures.
Post-ICP, D and I went on a date, or, more like a mission - EAT. I didn't have time for lunch on Friday, and given that I didn't have breakfast on Friday nor had I had dinner the night before, I was a mess. Because ICP is near Times Square, we opted for the "Cheesiest Dinner Experience Possible" mission but ended up settling for the "Eat Soon" mission. (Although, I should say, there were no people in Times Square - eerie! It was actually the quietest I'd heard the city in quite some time). We ended up at a somewhat lame Mexican place just outside Times Square. We sat down and as we inhaled chips, I realized that, of course, every vegetarian option on the menu involved mushrooms. Of course. I asked the waiter if I could not have mushrooms in something, and he was, of course, convinced that the mushrooms could not be taken out. "We will leave," D said to me as the waiter walked away "to ask." But, joy!, the mushrooms could be removed and much bliss was experienced.
Back at my apartment, we assembled our final Star Wars lego set and got way too much sleep.
It rained on Saturday so, after finishing The New Yorker and my brother's book for the second time, I went to the MOMA to check out the Photography 2005 exhibit which ended yesterday. There was also a Pixar exhibit that was decent, except for the Toy Story Zoetrope which was RIDICULOUS. I think it was there to basically hypnotize any kids that might be in the museum for the Pixar show. It was awesome. There were also some really cool charcoal drawings from Finding Nemo.
Afterwards I did not pick up my laundry (due to the rain) and fell asleep with my head in my book, but only after I finished reading The Village Voice.
Instead of going to Brooklyn to hear D's friend's band, I stayed in an watched Birth, this crazy movie with Nicole Kidman. I figured movie-watching was a better use of a rainy night. I don't know about this movie. I really liked it, but I'm not sure why. Most likely because I identified with Nicole Kidman's insane protagonist, or because Nicole Kidman had short hair which made her even cuter than normal. The kid in it was so unsettling. The whole movie was unsettling. It had a cool score and was a good New York movie.
Afterwards I read some more of my book and then read my friend E's script, which was awesome.
D was slated to come over post-show, but didn't. I was confused, so at 2:00 I called him to tell him not to come (I assumed that he would just be out super late) but was surprised when he answered the phone. He was home! Wtf!? I thought. He was all "Oh, I was just about to text you and tell you that I am not coming." Ergh. I was mad, girlfriend-style psychotic. I was all "I imagine you knew you weren't coming, though, when you left Brooklyn an hour ago. You could have called me then so I could have gone to sleep." Silence. "I'm mad," I said. Fight ensued, because how dare I be annoyed that I wasn't told? etc. And plus, how was he to know that I'd be waiting?
I called him back and told him I really wanted him to come over, and he did, because he's wonderful when he's not being an oblivious boy.
On Sunday morning I cooked us breakfast and D cleaned up and forced me out the door so I wouldn't procrastinate the big purchase. When I got to B & H, I realized that you can't just buy your camera. You have to be helped. You can't just look at the lenses. You have to know what you want. All this, while a huge line of camera-hungry patrons throws fits behind you.
When I got up to the guy, I said "I want a Canon EOS 20D." "OK." "And a lens." "OK - which?" "Well, in your opinion, should I get a fast Sigma or a slow Canon?"
He didn't say anything, but I could tell he thought I should get a slow Canon. I said "OK, well, I want something like a 28-105, f3.5. And later I'll want a 20, but not now."
Holy complicated sale, Batman. Canon was running this double rebate thing where if you buy one thing, you get a single rebate. If you buy two things, you get double rebates on both of them, and if you buy three things, triple rebates on all of them! He convinced me to buy a 70 - 300 that was $150 because it was basically free because of the double rebate with the body. But then I had to decide on what other lens I wanted, if I wanted the one with the kit, AHHHHH!!!!
I finally caved in and just got the lens with the kit - a 17 - 85, f 3.5. But its really more like an f 4.0. DRAT.
I went home, giddy, and tried out the camera. I charged the batteries, looked through the lenses, ooh-ed over the cute little carrying case that came with the memory card, and began to take photos.
I did this for hours.
In the low-light conditions of my apartment that don't allow for good photographs.
I then watched Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, which I liked much better than the book and which had very cute boys.
I re-read E's script and then slept.
For like 11 hours.
Sweet!
On Monday I freaked out because most of the photos I took on Sunday were out of focus. Well, muddy. And the colors weren't very vibrant. I figured this could be remedied by changing the white balance, but was worried about the out-of-focus issue. I blamed the low light, so took the camera for a spin out in the real world of sunlit early-afternoon.
Some of the photos were still blurry.
CRAP.
I went inside and set up a tripod. It didn't look like the blurriness was from camera shake. I wondered if maybe my depth of field was just off because I was using such a wide aperture. Nope.
Autofocus issues? Most likely. Need to play around some more. Luckily I didn't demolish the packaging so my big purchase can be returned if necessary. I just have to figure out if its me or the camera. I'm not used to using an SLR, and maybe I am just so blind that I can't tell what's in and out of focus and perhaps I just have to use autofocus. I don't want to, but maybe I just have to.
Anyway...
Met up with D to see The Bodies exhibit at South Street Seaport.
More on that later.
After The Bodies, we went back to his apartment. D made crepes while I watched the pre-show. We drank a bit and endured the entirety of The Golden Globes, and then both felt like ass and had difficulty sleeping. D thinks our headaches were due to "coming down with something," but I blame the snowy TV or the Smirnoff grape cooler things we drank.
That's all for now!
Some Thoughts on the Golden Globes
D and I watched The Golden Globes, zombie-style, last night. Well, I watched The Golden Globes while D did other things and occasionally sat down to participate. He doesn't really get NBC at his house, so we stared mezmerized at the pointalism version of the awards show that resulted in severe headaches for the both of us. I didn't have particular interest in watching The Globes, but its been ages since I've seen an awards show and it was a good year for movies, so why not?
Some things from The Golden Globes (other than the overwhelming feeling that it was extremely boring):
1. Gwyneth - adorable and pregnant - calling Anthony Hopkins "Antony." Who knew?
2. Celebrity couples I didn't know about - Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy? The producer of Walk the Line is married to Jane Seymor? Rachel Weisz and Darren Aronofsky? What?
3. George Clooney remains delicious. How does he do it? We freaked out when he won.
4. Every time I heard the theme music from Brokeback Mountain I got goosebumps. I apparently liked this movie even more than I thought I did.
5. Larry David! At The Golden Globes! What? How dare they nominate Curb Your Enthusiasm and then not vote for it? His speech would have been awesome!!!
6. It has just occurred to me that Steve Carrell reminds me of someone I worked with at Job # 1 (with LBF!) and now things will never be the same. His speech was hilarious, though.
7. OK. As much as I loathe despise can't stand Natalie Portman, she looked very cute and pixie-like with her short hair.
8. I can't believe that drip from Bend it Like Bekham won a Golden Globe for something Elvis-related. (Sidenote: it was sad not to have anything to root for TV-wise.)
9. Philip Seymour-Hoffman for Capote! Yeah! Of course I was rooting for Heath Ledger (why wasn't Jake there?!), but Capote was darn good. His speech was good, and led to my having Philip Seymour-Hoffman dreams. Not those sorts of dreams. Like a dream in which he was washing dishes.
10. I am thrilled that Walk the Line cleaned up. Reese Witherspoon is too cute, and even cuter with Ryan Phillippe, if that's possible. Cutest couple ever. And Joaquin Phoenix is hot. He's come a long way since SpaceCamp.
11. The dude who is going to play the new Superman is perfect. Every now and then I forget how much I loved Lois and Clark. Ah, Teri, I'm so glad the rest of the world now knows how wonderful you are! I have such a girl crush on Teri Hatcher.
12. I feel like Eric Bana is my best friend after seeing Munich.
13. Brokeback Mountain won the big ones, and for that I am glad.
14. Felicity Huffman was not looking like a man.
15. I am sad that The Squid and the Whale didn't win anything, but apparently its won other things so its not completely tragic.
16. Mariah Carey is gross.
17. What was Fergie doing there? Also gross.
18. Oh my god I heart Emma Thompson.
19. And I just loathe that guy from Bend it Like Bekham, but I think I already mentioned that. His speech was so. boring. I still want to see Matchpoint, though, because of Scarlet, who looked very, ahem, buxom last night.
20. The co-writer of the Brokeback Mountain screenplay was adorable when thanking his typewriter.
Did anyone else watch it?
Some things from The Golden Globes (other than the overwhelming feeling that it was extremely boring):
1. Gwyneth - adorable and pregnant - calling Anthony Hopkins "Antony." Who knew?
2. Celebrity couples I didn't know about - Felicity Huffman and William H. Macy? The producer of Walk the Line is married to Jane Seymor? Rachel Weisz and Darren Aronofsky? What?
3. George Clooney remains delicious. How does he do it? We freaked out when he won.
4. Every time I heard the theme music from Brokeback Mountain I got goosebumps. I apparently liked this movie even more than I thought I did.
5. Larry David! At The Golden Globes! What? How dare they nominate Curb Your Enthusiasm and then not vote for it? His speech would have been awesome!!!
6. It has just occurred to me that Steve Carrell reminds me of someone I worked with at Job # 1 (with LBF!) and now things will never be the same. His speech was hilarious, though.
7. OK. As much as I loathe despise can't stand Natalie Portman, she looked very cute and pixie-like with her short hair.
8. I can't believe that drip from Bend it Like Bekham won a Golden Globe for something Elvis-related. (Sidenote: it was sad not to have anything to root for TV-wise.)
9. Philip Seymour-Hoffman for Capote! Yeah! Of course I was rooting for Heath Ledger (why wasn't Jake there?!), but Capote was darn good. His speech was good, and led to my having Philip Seymour-Hoffman dreams. Not those sorts of dreams. Like a dream in which he was washing dishes.
10. I am thrilled that Walk the Line cleaned up. Reese Witherspoon is too cute, and even cuter with Ryan Phillippe, if that's possible. Cutest couple ever. And Joaquin Phoenix is hot. He's come a long way since SpaceCamp.
11. The dude who is going to play the new Superman is perfect. Every now and then I forget how much I loved Lois and Clark. Ah, Teri, I'm so glad the rest of the world now knows how wonderful you are! I have such a girl crush on Teri Hatcher.
12. I feel like Eric Bana is my best friend after seeing Munich.
13. Brokeback Mountain won the big ones, and for that I am glad.
14. Felicity Huffman was not looking like a man.
15. I am sad that The Squid and the Whale didn't win anything, but apparently its won other things so its not completely tragic.
16. Mariah Carey is gross.
17. What was Fergie doing there? Also gross.
18. Oh my god I heart Emma Thompson.
19. And I just loathe that guy from Bend it Like Bekham, but I think I already mentioned that. His speech was so. boring. I still want to see Matchpoint, though, because of Scarlet, who looked very, ahem, buxom last night.
20. The co-writer of the Brokeback Mountain screenplay was adorable when thanking his typewriter.
Did anyone else watch it?
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