freebie

Cold, but sunny. It's a lovely day.

I think I'll get a cookie and window-shop on Newbury. And then go bowling.

And, yes, thank you for noticing, I did do something to my hair. Glad you like it.

You and Mii, and Mii and You...

Second Life fascinates me. I haven't ever participated, and I really don't know what it looks like - other than one small clip on The Office where Dwight is playing and his life is EXACTLY the same - except he can fly.

But the avatars are amazing - what a perfect way to look into how people view their own selves. Take Dwight, our fictional friend. Equal parts egomaniac and supernerd, he views himself as perfect other than what his mortal body cannot - achieve.

The closest thing I have to my own avatar - my Mii on Wii - looks as much like me as it can. I just find it funnier to see a cartoon of myself doing everday, mundane things - hula hooping or boxing or racing cows... Okay so maybe not mundane, but you get the idea. It's like kids and cameras - and I specifically mean today's digital cameras with viewing screens. If you take a picture of a toddler (or any teenager) they immediately ask to see it - it's the novelty of viewing themselves that they crave and find thrilling. I enjoy my Wii avatar for that reason - and considering the limitations of the design features (at least to date), that's the kind of use it seems built to serve. That's part of what makes the Wii as a game system so popular.

Miis and Second Life are obviously different, but they relate to each other in that the opportunities for escapism afford greater artistic capabilities. In SecondLife you can enhance your own self by taking on social roles that you hadn't imagined or perform impossible physical feats. Or you can replace your own self completely. Does this mean, though, that each and every Second Life avatar created is a psychological experiment for its creator? No - to me, this is bordering on something close to performance art.

And this article:

Portrait of an Artist as an Avatar

makes some excellent points about what this means. Ahhht is becoming accessible in ways it never has before. Artist DC Spensley, who creates digital "sculptures" that are viewing experiences unto themselves (think mouse controlled roller coaster meets jungle gym), declares that “Art is moving toward the participatory.”

He's right. And better yet, the avatar as alter-ego isn't even necessary to the viewing experience, it's interactive for the people behind their computers - the ones who create it and buy it. From an industry standpoint, even more exciting is the fact that it's still operating as a viable business for its creators. Gotta love that. I definitely recommend giving this a read if you have some time.

so, what am I?

Generation OMG - American youths and the Great Recession

Oh goodie. First we were Gen Y. Then Generation Why Me. And then it looked like we were shaping up to be Scuppies. But not any longer. All thanks to this depression - er, Depression 2.0... The Recession - Recession/Depression (Repression!).

What's this new label? Will we really be defined as children of the Great Recession? I'm hardly a kid (never mind the obsession with candy and puppies). I prefer the "millenial" catchphrase - 20-somethings emerging from the sheltered walls of educational institutions into the working world. Yeah...millenial - we sound like intrepid explorers with flying cars.

I suppose it's better than being "born" into the crisis, or "growing up" during it. I can't say I'd want to inherit Uncle Sam's debt right from the get go. I'd rather my Gen X sense of entitlement heighten the Gen Why Me sense of MySpace martyrdom and top it off with a Scuppie-Can-do attitude so I can roundly castigate my elders for their lack of fiscal responsibility.

The article describes the households of Depression era families:

With incomes dropping, parents fought more and drank more, leaving children bewildered and often alone. Years later, the group looked back on their childhood as a period of unpredictability, and their high school years as a time they lacked direction or a sense of confidence. As one small-business man put it, “my entire adolescence was a period of painful and frustrating disorientation.”

A period of pain, frustration and disorientation? Sounds like high school.

Besides the doom and gloom, some of the researchers imagine the younger of us in this generation will echo the conformist tendencies of the penny-pinching workhorses who grew up in the Depression (1.0). Us elders, on the other hand, are apparently flocking to AmeriCorps, Teach for America, etc, and "public agencies and Internet infrastructures."

Oh, and not to fall out of line with every other piece of Repression Coverage, here's the token silver lining bit:

Regardless of their age, members of the recession generation will most likely be shaped by a return to Things That Matter, a re-definition of values.

And then the author basically says we end up all the same anyway when we reach middle age. Generation Repression will be as diverse and as kooky and gunshy about money as the others are and were. Only we'll be more web savvy because we all learned to type through AIM.

Whatevs. I see the economy as the perfect scapegoat. Late for work in the morning? I get to blame the economy. The T is late? Damn the MBTA's fare hikes. Daylight savings? Everyone's cutting back - even on sleep.

And you just know that we're gonna be all over this when we tell our grandkids our sob stories some day. "We didn't have no hover cars, kids, nope. Only one computer to a household. And - omg - the ECONOMY WAS IN THE TUBES."

My own take? This feels too immediate to gauge how the future will define us. I do know, though, that The State of the Economy is making me hyper aware of costs, funding, spending... for my vacation in April.

thanks for playing

Phew! What a week...

Ms. Andrea and her beau came to Boston to visit and the weekend was full of food and beverage and karaoke and Newbury and beverages and taxidermy and Harvard and snow and Wii and aaack more snow and more beverages. Our house looks like a recycling plant. And that is awesome.

I've also decided Beacon Hill Tavern is my favorite new spot. I haven't exactly sampled the entire menu, but I love the atmosphere and the decor and the staff is friendly and incredibly professional. They win. However, Cafe of India, in Harvard, loses. Big time. I should've guessed - their sister restaurant, Diva, in Davis Square, is lacking too. Both are showy and, in appearance at least, seem like higher end spots. And both have terrible, horrible service.

Tonight the bf and I return to Tasca - maybe they'll start to recognize us there...

I think that about covers it. I would post pictures but you really don't need to see me doing karaoke. Just picture your own least flattering photo and imagine my features on it.

This weekend....no plans? Really? Bizarro. I'd like to plan that vacation I've been talking about...the one that seems like it'll never happen.

the temptation of mediocrity

These two articles go hand in hand:

Wall Street bust a hidden blessing for grads?
and
The Disadvantages of an Elite Education (posted by a commenter on the first article).

The first article...a bit reductive. Every sector is suffering. Whether you sell out of not, your options are slim, and none of these elite school grads are going to be industry heavyweights in any capacity, anytime soon. And sooner or later, Wall Street will bounce back and recover its rep as lifestyle manna for the self-entitled Ivy kids. Or, in the mean time, another industry will emerge as the destination of choice for those looking to get on the fast track to six-figure incomes.

If I could predict what that was, I wouldn't be writing this blog. Ha, just kidding! But not really. Someone, please, pay me more...

I appreciate the sentiment - if you can't make bank, then why not make your pittance doing something you actually enjoy. However, I imagine the so called "sell-outs" wouldn't be so easily swayed, and the second article suggests the same. Daddy's portfolio might be bone-dry, but dagnabbit, he got Junior into Harvard and he can get him a job with that law firm downtown specializing in wrongful termination suits.

And what's to prevent those waylaid from their Wall Street dreams from pursuing a few resume padding graduate degrees until this whole thing blows over? Well, maybe a shriveled trust fund.

The real question is: where is this purported generation of money-grubbing sell-outs?
Today DABA was revealed as a hoax. I called that WEEKS ago! Maybe I can be overpaid by the Times to fall for some mischeivous Bergdorf babes!

The 20-somethings I know, while they may not all have jobs, aren't crying on the steps of Louis Boston. We couldn't afford to shop there in the first place.

truthiness

Whoa - I think this year marks the first time I've ever sat through the ENTIRE Oscars ceremony. I was sucked into the red carpet gushing, the Hugh Jackmania, and even the commercial blitzes. And I loved it. Oops. I'm reading The Reader now, and enjoying an excuse to see the movie later. And dang those Slumdog kids were great. Steve Martin and Tina Fey should make a family of comedic babies. Or at least a movie.

Things are hectic and awesome at work, and I'm really looking forward to a weekend of Miss Andrea and her Southern beau.

This article on the Iraq Museum makes me so sad - I hope in the next few years souls braver than myself will turn it around, and make it an international center of peace and learning that shames art thieves into returning their stolen "loot." Assyrian and Babylonian cultures - and the entire Mesopotamian belt - are incredibly under-represented in ancient Art History. Not everyone had a wonderful history teacher to tell them that Subbiluliuma was the greatest Hittite king. You can't Google that kind of thing.

Of course, it's largely due to Western arrogance and the continued assertions that Rome was the cradle of Civilization as we like to define it (and inexplicably Caucasoid). But the fact that many of these artifacts and pieces of art have been consistently looted, spirited away to palaces, obscured behind barbed wire, or buried in the rubble of bombs and tanks doesn't help our understanding. The media rarely talks about history as a casualty of today's wars. But entire cultures are falling further into obscurity. Soldiers - whether through malevolence or just ignorance - are too often to blame. This program seemed to help, I wonder what happened to it.

I'd love to imagine that in my lifetime I could visit the Iraq Museum as casually as I might visit the Prado or the Uffizi.

psych

I woke up today wondering two things: 1) who was trying to break into my apartment and 2) why wouldn't they just let me sleep in a little bit longer...

After I busted out of bed to find the source of the steady scraping sound and swore like a sailor when I realized the snow removal company was...well, removing snow (shakes fist at winter), I flopped back into bed.

I really wanted to to try and get back into the dream where my amazing boyfriend had given us an adorable bulldog puppy but the dog doesn't want to go to the hockey game and hey why would we go to a hockey game when we're at your sister's wedding never mind she's already married it's just a party-pretend-wedding thing and why am I always under-dressed for these things and isn't this Maine?

Weird.

Speaking of weird...last night's concert was fantastic. Cirkestra is a five piece band with an accordion player (and former circus clown), fiddler, sax/clarinetist, tuba player, and percussionist. They did klezmer, folksy pieces, along with zany tangoes and their trademark: creepy circus waltzes. I kept thinking of Gogol Bordello for all it's Eastern European gypsy wonder... but minus the ska, punk, and reggae, and with some caberet, tango, and jazz instead. They rock.

Argh! I want a piano...and I want an accordion. What do I do??? Craigslist has tons of pianos that are just about being given away...but I'm wary of a lemon that needs refurbishment. Reputable music stores have plenty of options...starting around $500. And accordions don't come cheap either.

If only I'd been in the right place at the right time, then I could have scored this.

PS: I know it's a typewriter, but I love me some Ms. Fey.