Quality Control

I've been thinking a lot about quality lately. Quality of life. Air quality. Quality wardrobe investments. Top quality pieces of furniture. The quality of my writing (which has taken a nose dive on this blog, sorry about that.)


So many things in 2011 are disposable. As a culture it seems we've decided that disposable = easier. Maybe that's true in the short term. Buy a bottle of water and throw it out when you're done. That's easier than remembering to fill up a water bottle at home, carrying the empty vessel around when you've drank all the water, and washing it when you get home. But think of all the hidden work in that water bottle. You have to stop somewhere to get it. You have to throw almost $2 away on it. You acquire a useless receipt that may or may not hang around in your pocket for too long. You have to wrangle with the recyclables at your house. And then there's the psychic toll of thinking about how all our empty water bottles have turned into the 8th continent of the world. Ugh. (Have you seen The Story of Stuff? It takes 20 mintues. Do check it out.*)


Or take most of things that are bought at Ikea. Sure, my $600 Ikea couch lasted almost a decade. But I also have a garage full of $20 lamps, chairs, and $2 vases that I cannot bear to throw out but don't want in my house anymore. I bought them when I moved from an apartment to a house and felt the imperative to fill the house up. But I couldn't afford nice pieces and didn't take the time to muse about what the chair that I would really love and treasure for the better part of my lifetime would look like. I just saw things at Ikea that I could afford immediately, and voila -- problem solved. (Apparently I'm not the only one, and that's why Ikea is the biggest furniture manufacturer in the world.)


Or all the sweaters I've bought because they were $20 on sale and who doesn't need another cardigan? You know who? I don't. It's taken me a long time to figure out that having a glut of bargain clothing doesn't make me a better dresser because I have more options. In fact I tend to wear the same things over and over again because I can barely squeeze my hand between the clothes in my closet to see what's in there. I forget about a lot of the clothes I have because they are lost in the oversupply. I give away a garbage bag of clothing every seasonal wardrobe rotation. I just keep filling up my closet with irresistible bargains. The quantity obscures the quality. 


Having a baby who comes with lots of stuff has really amped up my anxiety about being overstuffed. There are less drawers in which I can hide away my extra things. The baby has a lot of stuff that is constantly in use and has to stay out in the open. So I find myself, about every 2 weeks, thinking of a new corner of my house that needs to be organized and cleaned. All the things stuffed into my secret hiding places need to be ruthlessly sorted through, thrown out, or put back in an orderly fashion -- in clear bins labeled with a P-Touch! I want to be one of those Bed Bath & Beyond ladies!!!! Okay, no, I don't actually need to go shopping to acquire more things to put my things in. But I have never before had the desire to take on these particular Martha Stewart qualities (in the past it's always been glue guns, yes, overly organized drawers, no). 


A lot of people feel over-stuffed at this time of year with food and with objects. This year my family tried to reduce the amount of presents exchanged, and though we did make a dent, I still found myself really disappointed with the amount of shopping, spending, and wrapping I did. But it was a step in the right direction. 


I have gained a lot of resolve and taken solace in a blog called Treehouse Chatter. It's written by a friend of mine who over the past few years has embraced veganism, minimalism, and environmentalism. I don't want to speak for her (you should really read her blog), but I think her personal evolution has come from a very curious, exploratory place, and as a result I find what she shares on her blog (and in our conversations) to be inspiring and ellucidating, not judgmental, intimidating, preachy, or militant. I am really happy to have a place on the internet that I can visit when I have cruised my regular assortment of pretty blogs that have me thinking that I would be a much happier person if I got yet another incarnation of a long-sleeved striped t-shirt. 


It's nice to know that there are blogs that inspire healthier living, not just online shopping. I'm not sure what Seven Presidents inspires, but I hope maybe I have piqued your curiosity enough for you to click on Treehouse Chatter and see what it has to say. 




*After you've watched that, perhaps you need something a little lighter. I recommend Marcel The Shell With Shoes On One & Two.

Seven Questions: The Greatest Person Currently Living On The West Coast

No offense to all you other Left Coast dwellers, but this girl is my college roommate, the girl who NYU randomly placed me with back in 1999. For that, I am forever indebted to them. We lived at 35 Fifth Avenue, once home to Mark Twain and surely the most fabulous address I'll ever have. To the questionnaire!


Q 1: What's something you wish more people knew?
A 1: Good intentions, strong opinions and a loud voice do not necessarily mean a person will be a good policy maker.  I wish people would understand the complexity behind public issues, and recognize the sophistication needed to make good policy.  Sometimes what sounds good in the press will have some truly horrific unintended consequences and sometimes what sounds less than ideal, is really better in the long run. Policy is much trickier than people think.  If you're sick you go to a doctor.  If you want to address social problems like the economy or unemployment, you should have someone who is highly trained in that field.  Politicians with BAs in oh say theology, just won't cut it.  Sorry...


Q 2: Current favorite sources of inspiration?
A 2: Infrastructure (especially in San Francisco).  It's where art, engineering, history and public policy collide to make poetry.


Q 3: What did you want to be when you grew up? What do you do now?
A 3: When I was 5 or 6 I wanted to study dinosaurs bones because I loved learning about them in school.  Today, I work in public finance (and love it - go figure!).


Q 4: When you look back on your first love, how do you think your idea of love has changed or stayed the same?
A 4: First love is exquisite, maddening and for better or worse fleeting...


Q 5: What is your biggest weakness? (Spiritual, disciplinary, dietary)
A 5: Men with scruffy beards and good sneakers.


Q 6: Three things you want or are working toward in your future?
A 6: 1. Excelling in my job, hoping my analysis helps shape better pubic policy. 2. Finally getting that dream apartment. 3. A big trip to Asia (want to come?)

The perfect apartment? Via designsponge.

Q 7: And finally, for my records, chocolate/chocolate, chocolate/vanilla, vanilla/vanilla, or other? This is helpful in case I case I am ever bringing you dessert.
A 7: Chocolate/vanilla - I don't discriminate, I regulate every shade of cake.

"Showing my weakness."

What's For Lunch?*

Some big changes are afoot in the SevPrez household. Mr. SevPrez is embarking upon the road to another career and going to grad school in September. As such we are switching gears from a couple of bon vivants to a hungry student and a starving artist. Only I don't think we'll actually be all that hungry or starving, because we have been cooking up all sorts of great meals at home in lieu of dining out. Our spirits will be hungry and starving, not our appetites. I'm looking forward to the change.


I've started bringing my lunch to work instead of dining at fine establishments in lower Manhattan. This affords me more time to do other stuff on my lunch break (which I still get, and take.) Lots of walking, park-sitting, reading, sun bathing of the shins (a fruitless endeavor, for sure), taking pictures, and drawing.


These last bits have been inspired by my purchase of the Maira Kalman retrospective book, Maira Kalman: Various Illuminations (of a Crazy World). I got over my grief of narrowly missing her exhibit at the ICA in Philadelphia enough to carry the book from the shelf to the register of McNally Jackson. The book is a gigantic reminder of the things I should be doing with my life: things I will be happy to have done on the day I die. Lucky for me, these things don't require that I quit my job and start over. All I have to do is work on a little something every day.


I've been reading lots of good, inspiring things and trying stuff that I don't think I'm all that great at in the hopes that one day I will be better. Mainly I am searching for ways to call forth my life. The resulting pursuit is quite enjoyable, magical even. 


This is all a preamble to my request, dear readers. Please bear with me as I post some of the proverbial fruits of my lunch breaks. You may follow the blog for other reasons, or not enjoy the first drafts of my artistic endeavors, but it's helpful for me to share, and sharing is why I have a blog in the first place. Nobody likes a miser.

It has to be stated that I drew this Vaseline jar from memory, since I could have googled the label on my Blackberry when I wanted to remember it better. I had to draw it after I read a rant by Dave Eggers and got that old Flaming Lips song stuck in head. 


*PB&J on whole wheat. Ate it at 11:30 and it hit the spot in a big way!

This Holy Life We're Living

Yesterday I dove into a wormhole after Scottish poet Kathleen Jamie* and wanted never to emerge. Great poetry pierces the heart of everything. 


Is this what church is supposed to do?


Jamie wrote, "When we were young, we were told that poetry is about voice, about finding a voice and speaking with this voice, but the older I get I think it's not about voice, it's about listening and the art of listening, listening with attention. I don't just mean with the ear, bringing the quality of attention to the world. The writers I like best are those who attend." 


I found this poem of hers, which I wanted to share with you, because it doesn't require too much parsing. It's a poem you don't have to think about, you just have to open yourself up to feel. Maybe poetry is like church — and hallucinogens.


The Way We Live
by Kathleen Jamie


Pass the tambourine, let me bash out praises

to the Lord God of movement, to Absolute
non-friction, flight, and the scarey side:
death by avalanche, birth by failed contraception.
Of chicken tandoori and reggae, loud, from tenements,
commitment, driving fast and unswerving
friendship. Of tee-shirts on pulleys, giros and Bombay,
barmen, dreaming waitresses with many fake-gold
bangles. Of airports, impulse, and waking to uncertainty,
to strip-lights, motorways, or that pantheon -
the mountains. To overdrafts and grafting

and the fit slow pulse of wipers as you're
creeping over Rannoch, while the God of moorland
walks abroad with his entourage of freezing fog,
his bodyguard of snow.
Of endless gloaming in the North, of Asiatic swelter,
to launderettes, anecdotes, passions and exhaustion,
Final Demands and dead men, the skeletal grip
of government. To misery and elation; mixed,
the sod and caprice of landlords.
To the way it fits, the way it is, the way it seems
to be: let me bash out praises - pass the tambourine.

From Mr. & Mrs. Scotland are Dead: Poems 1980-1994 (Bloodaxe Books).

The end reminded me of the poem/performance piece called "Shout Out," by Sekou Sundiata. Here's a snippet:

Here’s to the best words
In the right place
At the perfect time
To the human mind blown-up
And refined...

To the was you been to the is you in,
To what’s deep and deep to what’s down and down
To the lost, and the blind, and the almost found.

Two different beasts, both walking the same path up the mountain — Cold Mountain?

Clambering up the Cold Mountain path,
The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on:
The long gorge choked with scree and boulders,
The wide creek, the mist blurred grass.
The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain
The pine sings, but there's no wind.
Who can leap the world's ties
And sit with me amoung the white clouds?

Han Shan translated by Gary Snyder, from Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems. 

This morning the Daily Dharma told me that even Buddhism — the put-it-in-quotation-marks religion — is based on faith, a profound faith in the enlightenment of the buddha, that "human nature, all existence, is intrinsically whole, flawless, omnipotent — in a word, perfect."

Amen.

*It's been written about Kathleen Jamie that she is "somewhere between the Presbyterian and the Tao." An excellent place to be.

Refreshing

Don't you love it when your friends do things that impress and inspire you? You get happy for them for being so fantastic, and you get happy for yourself for having such great friends. Well here's an example — my college roommate has gone on to become a city planner and started her own company, The Planning Collective, with fellow graduates of her UPenn masters program. They are making things happen in Philadelphia, and they will make some more things happen if you vote for them on Pepsi's Refresh Everything website.


Do it here!


Yay friends!

May Day, A Spiritiual Heyday

Today's a pagan day, a day for fires, flowers, dancing -- we are opening the gates to the heat of summer and everything that comes with it. As such, I wanted to give a shout out to the WaterFires of Providence, Rhode Island. The whole family was in town for a late Easter celebration and we went downtown on an unseasonably warm Saturday night to check it out. 

It is just as it sounds, a simple spectacle of wood bonfires burning in metal cauldrons perched just above the water of the joined rivers of downtown Providence. Music is played. Gazing crowds gather quietly on the banks. It's a return to a more primitive form of entertainment, and a reassurance that us humans, we pretty much dig on the same stuff. We can't resist sitting in a big circle and staring at a fire. It's our DNA, it's who we are.

Then this May Day morning I listened to Leonard Cohen on "Fresh Air." You know I kind of forgot about him, but I went through a serious LC phase in college, and hearing him brought back the memory of finishing the first semester of sophomore year and retreating back to my housing project of a dorm room, opening up all my windows, blaring "New Skin for the Old Ceremony" at a level only 19-year-olds can tolerate, and attempting to take a nap. Do you think I was trying to telegraph that I was sad? Holy mackerel.  It was the last day my crew of friends would be together before we sprinkled ourselves around the globe for the next six months. Two of my best friends came in, pulled me out from under my comforter, and cajoled me into accompanying them downtown to pass out flyers for some show. 

The verve and panache with which they passed out these flyers cannot be described with words -- all I can say is that I have been walking the sidewalks of New York City for ten years now and I have never seen anything like it before or since. You couldn't not take a flyer. It was a gorgeous display of enthusiasm, the kind of thing that makes you believe that having a great time is always an option.

God knows, sometimes you just have to put the Cohen away and keep to the sunnier side of things. But today's for the natural, for the beautiful, for everything and everybody exactly the way it is. As Buddhist nun Pema Chodron writes, "Life does continually go up and down. People and situations are unpredictable and so is everything else. Everybody knows the pain of getting what we don't want: saints, sinners, winners, losers. I feel gratitude that someone saw the truth and pointed out that we don't suffer this kind of pain because our personal inability to get things right...We no longer believe that there are people who have managed to avoid uncertainty."

Did you know that Leonard Cohen lived at a Zen Monastery for five years? Yeah, neither did I.

Tonight I crack open the ol' compact disc collection in search of his old albums, and play them loud, listen to this aging Pan, savoring my dip into the lows with the knowledge that it will pass on like all things. I leave you with an excerpt from Cohen's poem, "The Street."

I know the burden’s heavy

As you bear it through the night

The guru says it’s empty

But that doesn’t mean it’s light

From The Book of Longing, 2006. You can hear Cohen recite this and other poems, during his interview with Terry Gross here.

Introducing You To David's Back Pages

Please meet David McKirachan. He is a good guy to know. He's a Sagittarius, he's written books, he talks to people every Sunday at a little white church in Shrewsbury, New Jersey, and he's even available for weddings, if you book him early.

He just started a blog, David's Back Pages. (There's a blogging movement going on in my corner of Monmouth County, and it's rocking my world.) I recommend it to you. Bookmark it, follow it, or if you prefer to do things the old fashioned way,  read his books or go see him in person.

Three Library Books Yield One True Gem

With my New Yorker subscription on sabbatical, I was bold enough to check out three books during my last visit to the library. My palms were sweaty, but I did manage to read all three books in three weeks, something I probably haven't done since college (when it was more like three books in one week -- how did I ever graduate?). 

Of these three books, I saved The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz for last. I had heard great things, but was not sure of the first few pages. I pressed on, and low and behold, it's the best book I've read in a year. I highly recommend it if you like classic American tragedies in the line of Faulkner and Fitzgerald, but want to read something newer and rougher around the edges. If Faulkner is Southern Gothic, Diaz is Caribbean Gothic. 

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao tells the story of the Leon family, tracing it's cursed history back three generations from Paterson, New Jersey to the Dominican Republic. Diaz includes copious footnotes that explain his references to Dominican history and culture, since he doesn't expect his readers to know much about Trujillo and what went on behind the Plantain Curtain.  For instance, he tells us we shouldn't feel bad that we don't know about the two American occupations of the D.R., since our kids won't know we occupied Iraq. Oh snap! The history major in me really lapped that one up. 

It was a compelling read. In the end, I was satisfied in knowing the complete story of the Leons, but sad to let them go. These characters stay with me much in the way that I carry around the Compsons, Sutpens, and Bundrens. Diaz weaves a fabulous tale of obsession, betrayal, escape, and ultimately, murder, all the while managing to keep his characters' profoundly identifiable human vulnerability in the forefront. Oscar Leon's unhappy ending will cause you to be thankful for your luck in having a modicum of good sense in this beautiful and cruel world.

Listening to Malcolm Gladwell...

Involves a lot of laughing. The man is a firecracker. A really calm, cool, collected firecracker. I guess, more specifically, Gladwell's wit is the firecracker. He knows how to tell a story, connect that story to another one, succinctly explain the academic research that fits the two together, throw in a streetwise parenthetic anecdote, coin the perfect analogy to make sure that you really get it, and -- just when you think he's rambled off topic -- he ties it all together with a perfect Martha bow to answer the original question. Anyone who's ever hobnobbed with overachievers at a fancy college or watched too much PBS can really appreciate how awesome it is to find a person with such a gigantic intellect who is also accessible, unpretentious, funny, and quick on his feet. 

Gladwell was at the 92nd Street Y to answer questions about his new book, The Outliers. Since this is the same guy who wrote The Tipping Point and Blink, odds are this book is going to be huge. When there's throwaway exposition in "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" about a tipping point, you know the man's idea has really hit the main stream.

Megan Wheeler: The one-five's overwhelmed. There's too many clubs, too much crime. The mayor is worried Chelsea's reached a tipping point.
Mike Logan: Tipping point?
Megan Wheeler: The last moment before an outbreak turns into an epidemic. 

Like I was saying, the world finds this guy's ideas pretty useful.

He talked about a lot of fascinating things in the new book, some of which are on his website. I won't presume to sum up his thesis, except to say that the book is an attempt to find more contributing factors to success beyond the mysterious label of genius, and the magical story of the self-made man. He posits that both of these are not useful ways to think about achievement. They're non-starters. 

I think the most useful thing he said to our particular audience of New Yorkers was his advice New York City parents that drive themselves crazy trying to get their unborn children into the top pre-K private schools (2 more points for the move to the suburbs). His recommendation? Throw a dart at a board. All the private schools in New York are great -- the difference between the best and worst private schools in Manhattan is statistically negligible. 

Which sort of tied into another point he made about how kids are sorted and selected into the fast and slow tracks in their single digits, in education and in sports.  So your kid is an early reader. It makes you feel good about yourself and your child's future, but so what? As he put it, once you can read, you can read! "We're done!" There is no body of literature that kids are reading between the ages of 3 and 6 that will make or break their future effectiveness in society. That point elicited a lot of chuckles from the crowd, and maybe even a few sighs of relief.

The moral of the story, as I see it? The heroes we annoint -- the Rockefellers, the Kennedys, the Armstrongs, even the Obamas -- they all arrived at their position in life as a result of hard work and ingenuity, and a complicated matrix of circumstances. We should be careful not to be seduced by their creation myths. It is a testament to Gladwell that, with Outliers, he is able to give those myths a run for their money.