bluealvarez

I laughed a hollow, mirthful laugh of evil satisfaction today when I read this.

Injecting a botulism-causing agent into your face is a bad idea after all? You don't say!

My favorite quote from the article:

That stands in contrast to the findings of earlier studies, which suggested that the neurotoxin is completely broken down at the injection site into innocuous compounds and does not migrate beyond it—or if it does, only into the bloodstream or lymph system.

Ladies, here's a tip. The fucking thing has a nerve disease named after it. In the animal kingdom, this frog would be bright red AND blue, with a naturally occurring spot pattern that reads "do not touch" in seven languages.

I've been trying not to argue with or even think badly of other people this week, but I say feel free to LOL your head off at your fellow man on this one.

I put this all in capitals because I made a decision today. I am selling my car.

No I am not buying a new one.

Let me do the math for you, cuz I's is good at teh maths:

When I move on Friday, this is what it will look like:

$261.20/mo for the loan (until August of 2011)

$225/mo insurance

$200/mo gas (give or take $40-$60)

Total = $686.20/mo or $22.87/day

If I sell my car and take the orange line to the commuter rail, to Canton (yes, this actually works, I checked the schedules) it will cost:

$151/mo for an unlimited Zone 2 pass or $5.03/day.

The time it takes me to bike or walk 2.75 mi to the office door from the train (in inclement weather), approx. 10 min bike and 30-45 min walking.

This means a difference of $535.20/mo in my pocket.

I currently owe just over $9,500.00 on my car. The Kelly Blue Book value for a 2007 2D Toyota Yaris hatchback in mint condition with 55,000 miles is $9,605.00 private sale. If I can even get anywhere near this, I can make up the difference and get the title cleared from Chase.

Then I am free.

Why do it? You saw the numbers. I have 12 points on my license. My commute might take longer, and occasionally be very cold and wet, but I will get more knitting done and save a load of cash. And not hit anybody on my way to work either.

I also remembered that when I was in college, I spent 5 years commuting to school via bus, bike, and feet through Montreal winters. The last year of this I spent commuting from futher away from campus than I will be going now, and my walk from the last bus stop to campus was also further than my current 2.75 miles. That I have a T stop so close to my work is almost kismet. Or just really good urban planning.

PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU NEED A NEW CAR. If you are a friend of mine and want to work out a deal or something, please let me know. I cannot stress enough that the ONLY reason I am getting rid of this car is because I have such a horrible driving record and am in a position to finally sell it without severely impacting my quality of life. In fact, I'd argue that will improve.

This car gets 35 MPG city, 39 highway. It is the cheapest car to own on the market, and requires almost no maintenance. It is 5k away from 60 K maintenance, and you may want to replace the rear tires before winter. It is due for an oil change and new air filter. Breaks are still in fabulous shape. Majority of the 55K is highway driving.

*deep sigh* Help a sister out if you can. Thanks.

Most of you will be familiar with this list. I scanned through it and at the very bottom, saw the following:

And of course we must add...Alcoholics Anonymous: Shit happens-one day at a time!

And I had to laugh despite myself.

Now that that's out of the way I can also mention that I am teaching a two part skirt workshop, starting tonight, at The Stitch House. Probably should have mentioned that a few weeks ago, eh? Oh wait, I think this time I might have done! Woot! I sux at teh marketingz.

It's only $30 for the two weeks together, plus BYO fabric, so if you are interested, feel free to let me know and sign up at the last minute!

And last but not least, I simply must share this with you:



You can see more feminist lolcats at Team Rainbow.

Don't think it's come to that just yet? Read this.

Welcome to Gattaca, population YOU.

Update: I wrote to my friend Emily, who's in epidemiology, about this whole thing. Here is her analysis (with my smart ass comments added in blue).

Me:

Emily,

I'm curious what you think of this:

http://junkfoodscience.blogspot.com/2008/05/have-you-heard-new-on-federal-genetic.html

If I'm reading this correctly, the wild conclusion my brain jumped to is that there will be a whole generation of kids that could eventually be turned away from jobs, schools, etc. because "It says here you have the alcoholic gene", etc. Gattica, much?

But you are a Scientist (capital S), so I thought you might be less reactionary than I.

Jen

Emily:

hmmm.... the first bill looks to me like a standard funding bill for reasearch on genetic disorders. As far as I can tell it mandated that HHS collects and distributes information about newborn screening not the results of the screening tests.

While people do not always follow the guidelines and not all medical groups/insurance companies are above board, reasonable groups only recommend screening when 1. the disease is treatable (this is waived for a few diseases like Huntington's and very early onset Alzhemier's because of family planning issues) 2. the test works well (not too many false positives or false negatives) and 3. the disease is common enough (however you define that) that it makes sense monetarily. Sadly, we can't spend billions screening every kid to save one.

For some reason the amount considered reasonable when averaged per year saved is $50,000, though for small children it would probably be more. (Aren't you impressed that I remember what I learning in screening class) With the exception of a few highly contagious diseases, almost no screening is actually mandatory.

Right now the tests that are available are not great. Except for a few single gene diseases (cystic fibrosis, muscular dystrophy, phenelketonuria) most of the genetic information we have is more of the nature "the overall risk of alcholism in the general population is 1 in 8. Having gene X increases the risk by about 20%, so with this additional information the risk is 1 in 7." (I made those numbers up, but that's the correct order of magnitude for most commonish diseases like heart disease, colon cancer, alcoholism, depression, diabetes, etc.) So it is unlikely that there will be massive mandatory screening programs any time soon. It would be a massive waste of money.

What people opt to get screened for is a totally different issue, and there are commerical tests out there already which honestly tell a person very very little about disease risk. They don't go in the medical record (see points below), but you have very little recourse if the company decides to sell your medical information.

The second bill makes sense in the framework of the way other medical information is handled. This is outlined in a bill called HIPAA. Anything in your medical chart with the exception of notes from mental health visits can be shared with insurance companies, other doctors/hospitals, and government agencies without your permission.

Whether this is reasonable is something of a different story but was instituted for pragmatic reasons (so the hospital can bill the insurance company without asking your permission for each bill and so if you are in the hospital they can get your records from your doctors). There are limits to how other information can be shared (I can't call your doctor and ask for information about you). If I want to do research using the information collected by my hospital, I have to go before a board, explain what I want to do, why I can't get the information another way, why I can't ask permission from each person, and how I'm going to protect that information. In addition, every researcher who does that sort of research takes a yearly class on the right way to handle the data. This is taken very seriously and people do get fired and arrested for looking at other people's information.

The genetic stuff is actually now more protected than other health information because an insurance company can legally discriminate against people based on every other aspect of medical history* (chronic disease, smoking, etc). Employers and schools are not currently allowed to discriminate based on illness, so I can't imagine that they would be allowed to discriminate on a propensity for illness.*

This strikes me as a short walk from point A to point B (which happens to be at the bottom of a gorge). Employers already discriminate based on credit history - they can't search it without your signature, but good luck getting a second interview, never mind the job, without allowing them to run your reports.

So this is way more than you were probably expecting, but there you have it. What really scares me is the law enforcement genetic databases, but I don't actually know anything about those.* :)

Thank you for the smiley face, that makes me feel much better.

Seriously, thanks Emily for pitching in your $0.02 on the subject, it is much appreciated.

*Emphasis mine.

I hate this phrase. HATE IT. I don't hear it very much any more, but I heard it yesterday on my way home, on the radio. Lord love the Stereotypical Dudely Afternoon Radio DJ, shit like this is guaranteed to pop out of his mouth at any given time.

I hate this phrase because it implies a couple of things:

1. That someone heavier than The New American Standard is necessarily unattractive, so we need a special phrase to qualify that said attractive person is also (!) larger than expected.

2. That it's only okay to be heavy if you are also doing everything in your power to conform to the heteronormative, lipstick-drenched, feminine ideal. And even then it's really not okay.

From whence did I get started on this path of fury? It's more than just pent up frustration from days gone by of listening to Howard Stern with my exes, pretending not to be offended by it. No, it came from a realization about my own behavior that shocked me.

I haven't exercised in over two months.

Anyone who knows me gets what this means. I lived for the gym. I always had some advice to spew about health, activity, and dress size, whether you wanted to hear it or not. I scheduled my workouts in a daily planner, and lawd help you if you crossed my path on a day when I missed one. No way you'd get out of that conversation without me mentioning at least once how guilty I felt.

I thought at first that I was just transitioning - new house, lots of classes, no time, no money, etc. But none of that ever stopped me before. I'd be doing sit-ups in my apartment and jogging in the morning, or something that didn't require a membership to anything if it was really what I wanted to be doing. Clearly, it wasn't.

So this week I've been reading a lot of Fat Acceptance blogs, of which Shapely Prose and The F Word are my so-far-favorites. This follows a lot of reading of my favorite feminist blogs, so in case you haven't heard this ubiquitous phrase yet, yes, fat is a feminist issue.

I feel a little stupid about this because, most of the people I have ever known are (or were until recently) heavier than me. But as you may have guessed, that's not the point. The point is that even at my size (34"-29"-39"), I feel fat. This should hopefully drive home the insanity.

All of us, regardless of our size, are entitled to feel good about ourselves. To that end it behooves us to treat ourselves and each other with respect. This means not judging any of our other possible characteristics based on our size. THIS is what I am aiming for.

But back to the not exercising thing. It's not that I am secretly against exercise. What I've discovered, yet again, is that I truly enjoy moving around. More accurately, I really hate sitting still. But all my moving around was segregated in these hypervigilant Calorie Burning Sessions, and had nothing to do with joy or, well, motion.

The thought of just picking up again where I'd left off, without stopping to analyze my motives, was soul-crushing. I knew I'd be right back where I started - on a pseudo-diet and exercising out of guilt. So I stopped dead in my tracks and haven't moved forward since.

Well, I guess you could call this a move forward. I am definitely going to join up with Aikido again after the move is complete. That's a process that really isn't at all competitive or about weight. And it gets me out interacting with people, who on the whole were really lovely and healthy! So there's something to be said for that.

Beyond that I'm reading now about intuitive eating. They should just call it "Eating for Dummies". Seriously, it's a ludicrously simple concept, but since I'm taking my last few steps out of the Eating Disorder and Body Image Abyss, there's nothing intuitive about it.

I have reservations that this whole "self-acceptance" thing will not be easy. That said, I'm up nearly a pant size, and I have never been happier.

Dear Java,

It pains me to say this after all we've been through, but I think we both knew it was coming. Our relationship cannot go on as it's been the last few months. We both know you're bad for me, but I love you so much the idea of giving up on us completely seemed inconceivable. But after what you've put me through the last few weeks, I can't take it anymore.

When we met, we were exactly what each other needed. You picked me up and lifted my spirits with such consistency, making it possible for me to be productive and inspired as I'd never been before. And in return I was loyal and devoted, turning to you even when something else might have served me better, even when you didn't mix with anything else on my plate, I did not desert you.

But now you blow so hot and cold! A little touchy-feely in the morning gets me turned on, but as soon as I want more you turn sour. My insides ache and the thrill is gone. Sure you taste the same, but the pain you're causing me inside is something I didn't think you were capable of.

Maybe we've just changed. I mean, you already know I've been cheating on you with Matcha (okay, and Roobois, and Herbal, I was desperate!), but somehow I thought this last go-round would work. I tried to pledge my unwaivering love for you, even stopped trying to milk you or use sweet talk, but all I got was sleepless nights and nausea. I tried talking to your brother, De, about it, but he said the best he could do was offer intermittent support. He refuses to stand in for you, and can't really give me what I need anyway.

So after nearly a decade of laughs, tears, pancakes and hangovers, I have to bid you farewell. It's for the best, really. I need an older man who can calm my nerves, and you can finally go after that college student you've been eyeing.

Thanks for the bittersweet memories,

Jen

I feel like it's been about a week since I last posted, so it's probably been a little longer. Suffice to say I have a quick list of updates before I hopefully post a new photo-rich installment later this week:

1. Happy upcoming birthday to Ms. Judy, on Wednesday. Ideally my "photo rich installment" will show images of her finished birthday present.

2. I think I finally found my moving announcements.

3. I am also finishing some very cute skirts that I'll take pics of, to be dropped off at TL6 The Gallery in New Bedford.

One of them is a shorter version of the skirt I'll be teaching at The Stitch House on May 13th and 20th, in a two-part workshop. So if you need a bright, summery skirt for the season, and you enjoy sewing, come on down to The Stitch House for the class! Sewing experience helpful, but you need not be advanced. And you'll get to keep the pattern too!



4. I really am making those t-shirts. (See bottom of the post.) They really will be about $5.00 each. If I get Greenward or OAK to carry them, you might have to pay more since they have to mark up to cover rent. But the gist is that I would only keep $1.00 of the money I net from the sale of each shirt; the remainder would be donated to charity.

I am debating which charity. So far I am a big fan of both Doctors Without Borders and The Carter Center. Please let me know if you have other suggestions, ESPECIALLY for Boston area charities. Seriously.

Hopefully this will generate some much needed monetary support in addition to some great dialogue (via the wearing of the shirts). I just ordered some great stamps on Etsy for painting on the messages, so I'll have photos of the shirts and links to where they're being sold (including my Etsy shop) this weekend or early next week after I finish the first few.

More suggestions for slogans are also welcome! What do you want people to "Ask me about"?

When I was a sophomore in high school (which, keep in mind was 12 years ago), I read an article about thermal depolymerization. It blew my mind so completely, that I thought for sure by the time I was out of college, this would be solution to our waste problems.

Well, I have been out of college for 5 years now, and I can sum up what has happened for you in one sentence: Capitalism strikes again.

Here is a brief timeline of events:

1980's: Guy damn near perfects the steam version of TDP (shorthand for Thermal Depolymerization)

1990's: Guy creates company and gets loads of publicity for his work. EPA forks over some funding.

Early 2000's:

- More publicity from several sources gets turn of century off to promising start for TDP.

- Guy has very narrow minded vision and sees technology as way to make money off of local waste producing companies. Barely breaking even due to fact that his plan calculated companies would pay him to take their waste; turns out to be other way around.

- Global warming activists write off this technology because it turns things made out of petroleum back into petroleum, so they say this doesn't help us create heaters and cars, etc., that run on alternative, non-emitting fuels.

- Other guy meanwhile develops a way to do TDP with microwaves instead of steam (!).

- Government appears to discontinue funding TDP research, probably seeing them as fringe technologies, a threat to the waste management industry, or both. (Oy, commenters, please post a link to the contrary if you can find one - thanks!)

The good news? More people in the media's eye are starting to pay attention to TDP, and they are just as mind-blown by it as I am. And there are still articles being written about it, keeping it in the public's consciousness.

The bad news? Few people seem to see this for what it could be: a highly convenient, efficient means of plastics disposal. We could easily use TDP to convert the majority of modern trash into raw materials for reproducing modern goods. It would simultaneously replace plastic recycling and significantly reduce the waste going into landfills. It's practically an all-out alternative to landfills.

Between TDP, composting, and metals and paper product recycling, we've just accounted for the vast majority of all waste in the United States. Hazardous materials (some of which are broken down by TDP, depending on their origin) are really all that's left.

Can someone tell me why my cousin, for example, who's starting a degree in environmental science next year, isn't getting exposed to this in high school? She was telling me about her current environmental studies class (which, granted, she's lucky enough to even have at school), and the closest they came to discussing waste alternatives was classic recycling and how to build a better landfill. I mentioned TDP to her and she had never heard of it. I'm all for building a base in the classics, but isn't there something wrong with this picture?

I'm going to start a line of home-printed t-shirts made from recycled fabric. "Ask me about thermal depolymerization." "Ask me about The Beauty Myth." "Ask me about veganism." Etc. $5 each. Get the word out.

I finally got some quality time in with the ribber on Monday. For those of you who haven't heard me opine on the merits of my knitting machine, please do not misconstrue that sentence. The ribber is the part of my machine that makes it knit like a real person. Or a highly sophisticated android.

Above, not part of Monday's swatches, but a combo I'm fond of nonetheless. The red is a rhubarb rayon Emily gifted me not long ago, and I balled it up with this impossibly beautiful (and nearly as fine) blue and beige tencel that Judy gave me over the winter. Pretty, no? It's a bit see-through even still, but I think a light shrug or a shawl or something ought to do the trick.

But Monday I was on a quest to find a pattern for Alice's b-day gift. I started with a basic sampler in black, which ended in a moment of high excitement. See if you can guess why from this picture:



Yes, it looks like a knit squid, which is exciting enough to be sure. But if you think the top of that thing looks like the opening of a tube, that's because it is. I can knit seamless tubes on the machine. And therefore it stands to reason that I can knit sweaters more-or-less in the round. This is extremely exciting! Knitting in the round, sans fingertips! I am 100% geeked out.

Not nearly as gratifying, but probably prettier, swatch madness follows.

This was called an "English Rib" in the book:



I was looking at this going "Okay, a funky, bagged-out rib. What of it?" And then I flipped it over:



TA-DA! It's brioche stitch! Warm and chunky pullovers, here I come.

This one kind of looks like a horseshoe pattern in person, a variation on tucked stitches:



Which led me to my final destination:



When I saw this, I felt confident that it was time to bust out the good stuff:



I bought 4 balls of this (approx 600 yds.) at Circles a few months ago, with Alice in mind. The combination of a non-scratchy (vegan!) fiber and the stone blue gray just screamed Ms. Stern. I just didn't know at the time that her birthday would sneak up on me so quickly. Birthdays, they're a crafty lot.

I set out to make a scarf for her, the kind I see her usually knitting for other people, thinking it would use up most of this yarn. This deduction was based on the fact that my Craftland scarves absolutely inhaled yarn, hundreds of feet at a time. Well, lace, I am told, uses slightly less. To wit:



This took about 1 and a quarter balls. Upon completion I smacked my forehead and realized with that 600 yards I could probably have made the Incredible Shrinking Alice a tank top. But alas, it is too late for that.

So here's a brain teaser to help you kill some time at work - what to do with the other ~400 yards?

Last night I had several experiences with intimacy. That's a word I don't utter very often, because I'm not very good at it. Vulnerability, not my thing. But as I get older I've learned to embrace the concept, pieces at a time. It's that, or die alone, so I figure it's worth a shot.

Emily, Double Helix, and I went to see Dark Matter at the Kendall. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie for several reasons, not the least of which was the visage of the main actor, Liu Ye. Zhen ke'ai.



The theme in the movie that struck me most deeply was that of connection. At first his acts of violence seem senseless, completely psychotic. But then it dawned on me that each person who seemed to reach out to him only did so superficially, and to calm their own nerves. No one truly prepared him for what he would face, and after his downfall, it was evident that he had never really been seen as a person. With no support structure, no perspective, and, in his own mind, no way out, he had nothing left to lose.

It doesn't excuse his final choice. Maybe another person would not have chosen oblivion. But if you go see this movie, are deeply agitated, and then 24 hours later find you have 20/20 hindsight about the matter, don't say I didn't warn you.

After the movie I attempted to reconnect with part of my own support structure, namely Emily and Double Helix. Both have Ph.D.s (which is relevant in the context of the movie), and are incredibly thoughtful people, so the after-cinema Chinese appetizers were distinctly edifying. It made me realize how blessed I am to be friends with such amazing women (while simultaneously making me feel like a bit of an underachiever, but that's my own shit). And also that I need to listen more and talk less.

Yet my next-day thought was the same thought I always have after seeing girlfriends - I feel as though there is a wall, not a great big brick one, but a wall nonetheless, between our movie-going-and-knitting-brunch friendships, and the kind of support-each-other-in-good-times-or-bad friendships that my life distinctly lacks. I wish I could say I didn't know why none of my friendships are currently at this level, but I do, and it is nobody's fault but mine.

Whenever I think to pick up the phone and call a peer, which is what I so freely did during high school and even most of college, my next thought is "I don't want to burden them." How can I ever expect people to share their joys and confidences with me if I can't show them I have the same needs? Yes, it's a rhetorical question.

There is a fine line between reaching out for needed support and over-burdening people with my problems. But I don't have a whole lot of problems these days, and since I get to vent most of them on this blog, I'm quite sure I don't even come close enough to that line to walk it. So here's another rhetorical query - what am I so afraid of?

The closest I've come in a long time to really opening up has been the last few Fridays with Zev. Not that we've done anything spectacular or talked about anything horrifying. On the contrary, it's just been some straight up, get reacquainted shit. But the breadth and depth of the subject matter has been really satisfying, and he is the first person in a while that just gets it. I don't have to explain, I can just talk, or better yet listen, because for the most part he's right there with me.

Have I told him that? Of course not. In this case I didn't think it required putting into so many words. Though I will say my feelings about him and what he decides to do in the next few months are muddy. But summertime's coming; maybe a good natured, barefoot traipse through the mud is exactly what I've needed.

Sex and The City fans may recall the episode where Miranda buys her own place. There's a sequence in the episode that finds her having to explain to men (attorneys, real estate brokers, etc.), that "It's just me." My favorite part is where the closing attorney says "And the down payment will be coming from . . . your father?" She pauses, you know that pause where your former self would have reached for the brass knuckles, but now supposedly you know better, and says through gritted teeth, "Nope, just me."

I was reminded of this today when I went to Etsy to look for some indie housewarming invites. I found loads of cute, one-of-a-kind cards that my friends would ostensibly send *to* me ("Congrats on your new pad!"), and all were gender and number neutral. But when I came across the scant few address change notes, this is what all of them said:

"We've moved!"

At first this seemed like a joke, and I would surely come across something less couple- or family-centric. But after about 12 or so of these card sets, their underlying message was clear:

"You're single! Exclamation point!"

I know that buying a home, or in my case an inexpensive garden level condo, as a single person is a bit rare. But not so rare, I thought, that property ownership was assumed to occur only after you had met a "significant other" (who, according to most of the stationers on Etsy, will pair with you to form a necessarily heterosexual union) and were on your way to producing heirs.

Perhaps it's only indicative of the people making the cards, and not of society at large. Maybe all the card requests they get are from couples, so that's what they make.

Nah. I am way too cynical for that shit.

Want to know what I think the message is? Women don't have the means, and men don't have the desire, to own property. A home is something you lock yourself into when you have small children and need to find a school system - or worse, something your girlfriend talks you into shortly after you've finally laid down the rock. And while the "means" thing has some truth to it for all sexes, at least in Massachusetts, the rest is total bullshit.

Despite the noticeable lack of singletons searching for homes on HGTV, I venture that many people want a place to put down some roots and a build life they can be proud of. They want to make sound investments and watch their net worth grow. Babies and wedding rings and SUVs are merely optional.

It only took me 27 years, but I realized recently that in this third wave of feminism, it comes down to one thing: have money, will travel. As long as I am gainfully employed, empathetic, and giving, I never have to get married, have children, or even "mate for life" in order for my life to be meaningful. I don't have to breed to have an impact on the next generation, and I don't have to pair-bond to make a difference economically (or to get some decent tax breaks, apparently). I just have to show up, be grateful, and have a wicked good time. The friends and the memories will follow. Living by example is enough. Giving back to other women so they can learn the same freedoms is enough.

Okay, so all this pro-feminist, anti-marriage stuff is great, but you know what really pisses me off? I am going to have a hell of a time finding cool housewarming invitiations.

Update: Score!

Oh, this will be short, since I am sick (tiny head cold, goin' round', methinks) and should already be in bed. So here's the good part right up front:







I just finished a bunch of racerback, drop-stitch tanks for TL6 The Gallery, in downtown New Bedford. Thank you so much to them for taking my pieces on consignment!

They're having a grand re-opening at the end of the month that I'll remind you all of in about a week via blog and newsletter. And thank you to Zev for the indian food and general inspiration that got me off the futon and over to the machine to finish what I'd started.

This means the site has finally been updated, with a new splash page and at the very least a preview of these puppies in the shop. The plan is to add more of these so you can buy each of them directly from the website too, in loads of colors and sizes. Also, I'll be writing up the pattern so you can do them as a seamless hand knit should your little heart desire.

Housing update: the inspection on Saturday went swimmingly, and I'm just waiting to make sure the radon is copacetic. But so far it looks like in about 5 weeks I will be the proud owner and resident of the cutest little condo in JP.

Radom aside: I just watched three or four episodes of No Reservations back-to-back, all in China and Japan. Now I want to go more than ever, but I also am last on the Anthony Bourdain fan wagon. Better late than never. If you like to eat, swear, and travel, not necessarily in that order, definitely check it out.

More later after loads of Ricola and Zzzz's.

I hung out with my turning-18-next-week cousin last night. She and my mom and I went window shopping for prom dresses at the Natick Mall. Somewhere in between the chummy road trip, the $30 plate of vegan heaven at Sel de la Terre, and the sadly bridesmaid-esque gowns, I learned three things:

1. I am one pushy gal. I need to learn to leave a little room for the other person in one-on-one discourse. However, I am also happy that I can so freely and easily speak my mind, and need to accept the fact that my mouth is going to separate the social wheat from the chaff for me whether I like it or not. As long as someone isn't running away because I was stupid or mean to them, I can live with that.

2. They should be teaching cell phone etiquette in high school.

3. Mark Twain was right: adolescents have their heads up their collective ass.

Lots of adults do too, but in many cases as you come into the latter half of your twenties, things start to get a little clearer. Maybe we still aren't good with money, particularly compassionate, or patient with others. But we have by and large learned the concept of perspective.

No matter how lazy, spiteful, bigoted, or cruel an adult is, they usually have a tighter grasp on the fact that the future is coming with the end of each day, and those shifting sands of time change everything. Teenagers, not so much. And this is simply because a person can't know the value of time until a lot of it has slipped by. After a couple of rounds of 20/20 hindsight, perspective is inevitable.

But in the meantime, being a pseudo-child in adult clothing really takes its toll on friends and family who have to stand by and tear their short hairs out one at a time while said teen willfully ignores the valuable information they have to give. Young'uns can only hear the bells of truth ringing, it seems, once they have lived those mistakes for themselves.

To be fair, not all info older people spew has value, and not all teens ignore it. My brother, for example, listened very closely to the sound of me calling my parents at 3 in the morning, drunk and sobbing, and was smart enough to translate that into "drinking is not a necessity". Further one-on-ones with other alkie family members drilled this into his manchild skull, and he is still sober now at 22 years of age. If the message is important and portrayed violently consistently enough, it can be taught.

I just watched and listened to my cousin be defensive, inconsiderate, and hyper-boyfriend-centric for 3 hours, all the time knowing that she's an intelligent, generally kind and giving person. It chaps my ass, because it reminds me that I was 15 times worse right up until I was 25. Some would argue longer, though ideally none would say still. And seeing even a small part of that behavior in the proverbial mirror is nauseating.

If I ever have kids, I am going to have to enjoy the shit out of years 0 - 10, and hold my nose while waiting for 30. Because no matter how clear I make it to my kids how reckless, distasteful, and self-centered I was, they are still going to be their own brands of reckless and distasteful. I know the popular theory is that "self-centered" and "teenage" are synonyms, but I'm not sure it's true.

I think anyone trying to define themselves against the backdrop of a larger society for the first time is going to be a little self-involved and vulnerable. Shit, I feel like that about 4 days out of 7. But I am hoping against all odds that I can at least show my hypothetical kids, or any other kids whose lives I'm part of, how big the world is as early as possible. And if I can do my absolute, level best to teach them real gratitude, maybe I'll learn to be more gracious too.

Then when they say things like "You couldn't possibly understand my point of view," I can just sigh, knowing I've done all I could, and say "You're absolutely right. I have no idea what the world looks like from inside your colon. But thanks for trying to describe it for me. When you'd like to know what it looks like from out here, just let me know."

I awoke to the realization this week that, in terms of real estate anyway, I am living out other people's lives. Right before I moved to Onset, I remember a friend of mine saying that if he had his druthers, he'd live down The Cape. But how on earth could anyone find full time, year round work down there? And then of course, I did.

Now I find myself remembering how badly another friend of mine from the same circle wanted to settle in JP. He did rent there for a while, before ultimately moving with his wife to Haverhill, I think. But now I am buying a condo in JP, which is somewhere I never thought I would be able to afford to live, much less find logical or convenient. But it is both, as it turns out.

Your question, I believe, is how did I manage to be buying a condo in JP when I was supposed to be signing on a house in Wareham? Technical difficulties. The home inspector found some things that needed to be brought up to code, and the seller was unable or unwilling to fix them at this time. Seeing as how some of it was expensive electrical work, it was nothing I was willing to pay for. And so we were at an impasse.

To add to my already over-developed sense of synchronicity, I was volunteering at the Down 2 Earth Expo (which was quite a good representation, for those of you who couldn't be there) last weekend, and showed up on Sunday morning, only to find out I wasn't really needed that day. So I got back on the orange line to return to my car, and when I got off at Green St., instead of going straight home I said "Oh, let me walk by that condo I saw online and see if it's as nice as it looked".

Well, it being a bright, sunny Sunday and all, they were having an open house. And it was as nice as it looked, still is. Nicer, really. So I wasted no time in making an offer.

And as long as the inspector on Saturday doesn't find any radon buildup or werebeasts living in the walls, I will be applying for a mortgage shortly, and forfeiting most of my disposable income to the banks in return for a title by way of deed on May 16th. Please wish me and my credit scores the best of good fortunes.

To my city dwelling friends who had all but thrown me a going-away-to-the-south-shore party: Surprised? Yeah, me too.

I got sick of everyone I met asking me if my alma mater was RISD, so I decided to go back to art school. But unfortunately, RISD only really has full time programs for the stuff I'd like to do, or the con ed classes like I took last summer, which are great for starters, but the options for more in depth study are limited.

So I ended up finding this thing at Mass Art called the Fashion Design Certificate Program. It's two classes a semester, nights, for two years, and the whole thing (all two years plus summers) will run me about $8950. In a word, perfect.

I went this route for a couple of reasons:

1. Timing

2. Price (school of fashion on Newbury was way more expensive and the timing was worse)

3. Location (RISD would have been better with the new house in Wareham and all, but whatever. I have to go there straight from work in Canton anyway.)

4. Subject matter. It's the only fashion design program I've found for people who might already have a bachelors that isn't dumbed down (like, learn to cut your own skirt pattern), or a full time bachelor's degree (which would cost 4 or 5 times more and take 3-4 years of full time study - nuh-uh.)

5. It's a certificate, which means it is to a Masters what an associate's is to a bachelors. Which is all I need right now, because eventually, I still want an MBA. But for now, I can put this on my resume as formal training, which allows me (along with hands on experience and any internships I arrange) to qualify for jobs both in the design department of my current company, and of course elsewhere.

Again, in a word, perfect.

Of course, the application is due Tuesday. I have nearly finished it, but was sick all morning, so I will have to mail it tomorrow. But after tomorrow's lunch hour trip to the post office, it's out of my hands and up to Athena via the people at Mass Art admissions.

How did I decide on fashion design? A little of the soul searching a few posts ago about my own fickle nature helped. I realized fashion is the only thing I've never veered from my whole life. That's got to count for something, even if I am sometimes too blind to see so. Also, I started reading up on women's studies again.

(Aside: I tried to read The Beauty Myth and The Feminine Mystique in college but wasn't ready to fully absorb either because I was still so lost - at least now I can see a few breadcrumbs in the woods. Since I am at the Trident right now, I will finally pick up a copy of both! Though a used copy of The Second Stage is already on my bookshelf begging for attention.)

Where was I? Okay, so, I realized a little while ago, and finally articulated for this Mass Art application, that my interest in fashion was self-invention. Reinvention. Tranformation. Identity. I lived one big identity crisis from day one to 25 years of age, and it wasn't until the last few years that I finally started to get a handle on where I want that identity to be today, and how I'd like to see it grow as I age.

The lesson is that once I acknowledged that mainstream fashion is still wasteful, oppressive, and limited (We can agree on this in shades, yes?) I was then able to acknowledge all the people (kind of like Stella McCartney and Yohji Yamamoto, though there are many, many others) who are working to change that from within the system. And then I was able to envision joining up myself so that I could be one of them, albeit hopefully even more radical in the changes I would make long term.

In other words, I think fashion is an important tool for self expression, artistic expression, and scial interaction, but I think the current fashion industry is mostly bogus. So I am trying not to throw the baby out with the bath water, but rather to buy a clawfoot, marble bathtub and fill it with clean hot water and organic, essential bath oils. Clear as mud?

More later, hopefully good news about the house and the application. :)

Actually, I have a few things to talk about today, but let's start with what got me started:





There is was some serious fabulousness going on at the Chanel Spring 2008 Haute Couture show. (All photos here taken from Elle.) Luminous fabrics, classic detailing with really fresh, young shapes, and regal-like-a-fairy-tale up-dos. But as breathtaking as all that is, none of that is what makes this one of the most astounding collections I've ever seen in my short lifetime. Can you guess what it is? Here are a couple more shots to help:









Give up? Or maybe you're nodding along knowingly with me. Either way, let's give Mr. Lagerfeld a big round of applause for putting all his girls in flats.



Bravo, my dear champion of classy, comfortable footwear! I can't say how many women out there actually saw your collection and/or were instantly cured of their Manoloitis (or Choofluenza) but I can say this much: I love being right.

I used to have about 20 pairs of heels. Boots, sandals, tiny and 5" high, chunky with velcro, you name it. Whenever someone asked me if I found them uncomfortable or hard to walk in I would shrug them off with a skip and a wink. Difficult? Painful? Maybe for mere mortals, but not for a true devotee to glamour.

Then last fall, not long after I gave up wearing new animal products altogether (and had donated most of my old leather, incl. many pairs of heels to my very excited, 18 year old cousin), I found myself at a Down concert with my brother, accidentally in heels. I'd come straight from work, so there I am, standing room only, down on the floor at the Palladium, rocking back and forth the whole night in high heeled corduroy boots.

The general discomfort I could hack - I had certainly suffered worse, and worn higher! The fact that I wasn't garbed-out quite like the crowd because I was still corporate-friendly didn't bother me either - no sense in pretending you're 19 when you're nearly 10 years older. No, what really got me was when I looked over at the pit and realized that the only reason I couldn't join in (or even safely dance along the sidelines) was because, in heels, I was too unstable to do so without getting someone else's boot in my face. My shoes were dictating my ability to have fun and let loose. That's when I had this thought:

THIS IS BULLSHIT.

My shoes - correction, the glamour and femininity that I thought my shoes represented - were in direct opposition to my lifestyle. And I'd spent years pretending the opposite - that my life needed serious readjustment so that I would be happier in heels! I know, I'm about 30 years behind the women's lib movement on this one, but better late than never.

And I have not worn heels since. The pictures above absolutely warmed my heart. Even if you hate the clothes, they are proof positive that flats (especially dyed to match ones!) are impossibly chic and can be worn with any pant, skirt, or gown.

Still not convinced? See ANY picture of Audrey Hepburn, in movies or real life. She almost never wore heels. Think it only works for skinny chicks like Audrey and the Chanel models du jour? Let's consider the alternative. Could 300 lbs look any more foolish than when it's balanced on two toothpicks? You be the judge.

OKAY! Rant over. Today's lesson? Go out and get yourself some chic (non-leather) flats for spring! Thong sandals for everyone!

Speaking of fashion, I do have some pics of the new spring items I've finished. It's but a morsel, but there will be more soon, very soon.

First, the fabulous mondrian coat I got for a steal at Saver's in Dedham. It was unlined and needed some upgrades, so here's the finished product, step by step:

Altered the collar to stand up:



Added belt rings:



Changed the buttons from gross faux-gold to fabulous mustard art-deco cutouts:



Lined the whole thing in red acetate:



E Voila!



I think it looks a little limp on the dress form, but it looks *fabulous* on, and that's what counts. Pics on models coming soon.

And here are some shots of my latest knit piece, a big creme cotton tunic, meant to be a bikini coverup, but also kind of makes me think of a whimsical beach wedding dress:







Here's a shot of the fabric the matching bikini will be made out of (it's a recycled polo shirt!):



This was done on the machine, but seamed by hand because of the webby bits. (Which are actually very non-vegan cashmere that my work was getting rid of. Better to recycle than throw away, yes? That's what I tell myself.) The cotton was a mish-mash that Judy was kind enough to gift me. Yay for monochrome! Yay for texture!

Okay, there's loads more to talk about, but I'll wait until I have a few more pictures to add of new clothes this coming weekend. But speaking of this coming weekend, I hope I see you at the first ever Down 2 Earth Boston Expo! Click on the link for full details! I am volunteering Saturday night and all day Sunday, so please stop by, check out the fabulous, sustainable clothing, food, and home vendors, and say hi!

More later, I have been at this cafe so long my flat-sporting feet are starting to tingle. ;)

I had a little bit of a spaz out last night. I am on the verge of purchasing my first home, and I am currently in my first really sane, semi-upwardly-mobile job, but I'm not 100% sure it's what I love, and I'm definitely by no means sure how I feel about borrowing $100K. Frankly, I'm never 100% sure of or fully committed to anything, and that's what this post is really about.

Buying a home, no matter how pink you color it ("a sensible investment", "the best money you'll ever spend", "a home of your own", etc.) basically means going deeply into debt so that all the rent you pay could possibly be made back someday by selling the house to some other soul foolish enough to also go deeply into debt for the chance to live, in my case, by the seashore. This process also involves putting roughly half a year's net salary down on the table, in cash, to secure the massive loan.

This is understandably preferable to throwing money into a superintendent's black hole and being left with no way to turn a profit. Okay, I get it. That said, I don't think anyone should ever have to pay to have a roof over their head. (No, I haven't worked out how everyone gets the space or location they want, and you haven't either. Hence why America isn't socialist. But shelter does seem like a basic right, am I right?) So why join the throngs of homeowners?

I need stability. I need to commit to something. And if I'm going to start, why not start with a beach house that, at least in standard, capitalist terms, is a good idea? As I realized last night, it puts everything else I could possibly want to do on hold or into a much different framework, for at least a few years. But is that really so bad? I'll be enjoying myself in the meantime, and it will probably give me some much needed time to make slower, more thoughtful decisions. Because as many of you know (and I am the last to figure out) I am a bit of a:

dilettante

adjective
1. showing frivolous or superficial interest; amateurish; "his dilettantish efforts at painting"
noun
1. an amateur who engages in an activity without serious intentions and who pretends to have knowledge [syn: dabbler]

I am historically interested in everything. I see an article on how innovative the work of Yves Behar is, and I want to be an industrial designer. I see an article on thermal depolymerization, and I want to go into environmental engineering. I see Chanel's spring haute couture collection, and I am drawn right back into my long-term, on-again off-again affair with fashion design.

There are very few things I don't want to do. But for a change, I am sure of two of them:

1. I don't want to go back into mechanical engineering.
2. I don't want to be motivated by:

guilt

noun
1. the state of having committed an offense [ant: innocence]
2. remorse caused by feeling responsible for some offense

So much of what I am inspired to do is born out of guilt. Genuine interest is there too, but it starts from a warped sense of responsibility. "Noble" professions are medicine, civil engineering, industrial design, law, etc., etc. "Frivolous" professions involve feeding the broken, capitalist waste machine with items that people are conditioned to be compelled to buy until they have a debt load that outweighs any possible savings they could reasonably accumulate. You know, all the professions I'm really, truly, interested in. Passionate about, even.

I've been struggling with this sense of "I have to do something for a living that fixes the world for all humankind" since I was small. It's not a new headache, but it's an ailment I'm not willing to suffer anymore.

I think this rant just left me with a two more things I can be sure of:

1. It is not my responsibility to fix the world. (Though I will probably always wish I could invent a way to effectively break down plastic, I can rest easy knowing someone smarter than I probably will.)
2. It is my responsibility to be a living example - in my work (whatever profession I choose) and my personal life.

Being able to work number two via my career is really the crux of the issue. I have a naive hope that I can help to shift the current paradigm of retail and fashion to one that is no less vibrant, but much more sustainable - materially and economically. And there's nothing frivolous about that.

Bottom line? I'm 27 and tired of having this debate with myself. I am blessed with great intellect and a desire to use it to help people - and the economic stability to do it. I don't want to look back in 10, 20, 30 years on a string of jobs that I performed well in, but that had no memorable impact either on my own character or on any one facet of society. I have the opportunity to do good work and be grateful everyday, right where I am - but I don't want to use mindfulness and "living in the present" as an excuse to not make long term plans.

I am too old not to pick a path and walk it without regrets. I cannot keep looking back on what I might do or might have done. I have to move forward.

You read that right. If I was still fresher out of my degree, I'd feel less apprehensive about finally finding out that the thing I wanted to do all along is actually a field in its own right, not just a dream job I made up in my head.

In short, I want to be this guy.

I discovered who Yves Behar was about 6 months ago, sometime last fall. Talk about an amazing mind. But focused! He went to school for industrial design and has been building his resume in exactly that field ever since. More importantly, he's been making solid contributions to society via thoughtful design.

So, like I said, I want to be that guy. Or one of the many like him who are trying their best to make life better one coffee mug/cell phone/car/laptop/sweater at a time.

I always though being an engineer meant having to choose one type of thing to work on (according to my alma mater it was mostly planes, trains, and/or automobiles) and doing mostly FEA for the rest of my life. That's why I tried to get into engineering sewing machines, which was not wasted time. But sadly it was not my window to the world of industrial design.

And so now I sit at a great, totally unrelated job with wonderful people and benefits wondering what my next move is. I think it has something to do with RISD but I'm not sure when, given my current commitments.

Hey, better to know and be temporarily paralyzed than to not know, right?

On another note, I am sorry there are no pics of Saturday's fashion show on the site or blog yet. I almost didn't go because I was feeling pretty crap Saturday night, but when I did finally get off my arse, I did not bring my camera. So I am waiting for the club to hopefully send me some shots of the show. Barring that, I will get some mannequin shots up this week as a WIP preview.

Thanks for your patience, and have a great Monday! :)

Just a quick reminder from your friendly neighborhood designer:

Felt Boston's Rockin' Runway is this Saturday, March 15th! Green Beer and Pretty Dresses combine forces with Live Music to conquer boredom! It's Voltron-esque!

If you can't make it, fear not, I'll have pics up on the site by roughly Sunday evening.

ALSO!

Knitting 911 starts tonight at the Franklin Mill Store.

7-9 pm, every 2nd Thursday I'm there to help you eat cookies, drink caffeine, and sort through your latest textile dilemma. Anything you want to start, finish, or chop into tiny pieces but know better than to give up, bring it on down! Ideally there'll also be some socializing and meeting of new friends - they don't call it Stitch 'n' Bitch for nothing. ;)

And finally, please wish me luck, because I am having a home inspection tomorrow morning. As long as all goes well between now and May 16th, I'll be the proud owner of a beach house just in time for summer! (Yes, yes, pics of that too coming soon!)

Have a great weekend!

I read an old colleague's blog recently. It's not very long, since he's only been at it for a few months, but highly entertaining. It's all about his business and the fact that he's been traveling, quite literally, all over the globe trying to learn about his industry and pimp his company's product. It's worthwhile travel for a noble goal. And as a true Sagittarian, I believe that travel in and of itself is plenty noble, so of course I would be rapt reading about the exotic foods and places and sights, etc.

I digress.

The reason I'm not linking to his thought-provoking corner of the blogosphere is that the thoughts it provoked in me today were not entirely kind. As such, I don't want to bias someone else's opinion of his work or give bad PR (if there is such a thing). Besides, I thought about posting a comment about this on his blog, but it occurred to me that I'm the one learning a lesson from this, and that's enough. It's not my job to teach him anything.

The lesson? Be prepared, I mean Boy Scout style.

What happened was this: I read about weeks upon impressive-sounding weeks of international progress, which was only preceded by all kinds of domestic press. I started thinking "Holy shit, they have really got their act together! What can I do in my life to make that kind of progress?" (Note how this thought promptly discounts any progress I've already made. Nice.)

Then today he posts that he went to a trade show, which presumably they had to register and plan for, etc., and only after the fact does he conclude that he really needed a rolled-up sales pitch to succinctly explain the value of their brand to potential buyers.

What. The. Fuck.

I may be blowing this all out of proportion. Jet lag and frustration may have made the whole thing sound a lot more Captain Obvious than it really is. But from what I know about him, coupled with the fact that they've had ongoing sales and supply problems since starting the company nigh-on 4 years ago, I'm pretty sure I'm right. His statement reflects a total abandonment of reality.

I should know, I'm great at leaving the real world behind. It's something I strive not to do on a daily basis. This was a powerful lesson for me because, as I said above:

1. Holy be prepared, Batman! I just assume grab all opportunities by the forelock as they approach, rather than ruminate about how I need a stronger grip as they run by.

2. Apparently, for as far as I've come, I could still stand to tighten my grip on the real world. Because the fact that I believed, for even one second (especially since I have more info to go on than just his one blog post) that he had somehow gotten ahead of the proverbial curve, is a testament to my ability to dream. (And this entire post is proof that I still have one toe in the grave and it's time I yanked it out.)

Truth is, I can't acknowledge my own growth and simultaneously close my mind to the idea that he could achieve similar progress. But I can't pretend it's already happened if he hasn't either. To be fair, he and his company seem to have made great strides in the last few years, much of which is very real. But I have to remember it's still mostly smoke and mirrors, and this is just a tiny glimpse of that.

I have to give him credit for putting on a good show. And I have to accept that some people may never live up to their (extremely high, IMO) potential. But after reading that, I won't be one of them. I'll be prepared, so bring it.