I like to listen to radio stations from allover...

Here is a link to blog that reviews the top college radio stations in the US (2010). I've got a squeezebox and enjoy listening to the stations...

http://spinningindie.blogspot.com/2009/07/princeton-reviews-best-college-radio.html

Chicago

I had seen an excellent concert (Bill Callahan) at The Hideout last time I was in Chicago. I also stayed at Marina Towers, as in the Wilco album cover. There are lots of hipsters at The Hideout, which seems to be the new generation and style, and lots of people our age. You don't know if the people who are our age are living at home with Mommy or are prominent brain surgeons at Northwestern Hospital. It's a laid-back place. There was a waitress who could have performed on the stage of Lincoln Center: the tray of beer glasses she carried defied gravity. It is also off the beaten path. I like it. I had been to Bin Wine Cafe in March, a restaurant that I now realize is down the street from where a nice sandwich shop called Birchwood Kitchen is. I went with some girlfriends of mine who are marketing professors in Chicago. They are married, but the husbands were not with us. Over dinner, we talked about a research project on GenX and gender. We went out later to a bar (Salud) and casually talked to some young men. They asked us what we did, we told them, and we told them about our research project. They acted knowing, as if they had heard this "business school professor" story all the time, the way a group of women will sometimes compose a fake identity to make going out even more of a group event and a game: “tonight, let’s pretend we are all marketing professors in business schools.” And we are really, I don’t know, friends from high school, and we work in PR, as a yoga instructor, and a lawyer, and we couldn’t get people to believe our professor story, not even by talking about our research.

After 9 months in SB (or, gay men)

David Sedaris last night at the Morris Center with OGF (office girlfriend) and TGF (tennis girlfriend). David Sedaris performed quite well, he was ebullient. The crowd: admiring.

OGF mentioned that the quote of the night was "If God didn't like gay people, then he wouldn't have made them so cute." There were lots of laughs, and a la Sedaris, emotions, and many times one can see one's life in his larger-than-life stories. One story of family argued that we can't know who we are or measure success or understand ourselves without family. We can, it is just really, really hard.

Back to cute gay people and my life...that is, my new life here in SB...Recently, a woman I know from work, whom the readers of this blog don't know. We talked about life in SB, and she, after coming here for the PhD ten years back, marrying someone who is now a prof here, and committing to stay here, had the observation that it can seem like a place with people who are not from many walks of life, mostly married people with large families. She mentioned to me all of the activities in SB this spring/summer, framing them as good opportunities to meet a boyfriend. I said, well, those sound like nice activities, and I would probably enjoy going to them if I had a friend to go to them with. She replied that, oh, when she gets home from work, that's it, she doesn't really like to go out. I said, well, um, and I can't relax at home because I'm single? I can't do what I like because I am single and should devote my time and energy to changing this? I like men, I'm saying that relationships with men aren't something you get because you participate in "Bike the Bend" or other such activities.

On the way back to work, in the car, she told me a story about a single woman who came to SB for work, and how it didn't work out. The story is outlandish, perhaps an urban myth, the woman is a professor, wants a child, isn't married, doesn't see any men on the horizon, is artificially inseminated, etc, finds another job, with tenure, at a less prestigious University. I think I was supposed to reply that, indeed, this place is stacked against me, this career, or this place is just for married men with wives dedicated to supporting them and their work. Instead, I replied that the woman is brilliant, playing the academic system for tenure, and still getting a child she wanted.

I realized that I need to find other company, company that is open-minded, not negative, capable of carving out their own path. That night, I took myself to a Chinese restaurant nearby for some take-away. I liked the atmosphere, especially the table of three handsome men slightly older than I, just by the cashier where I ordered my take-away. They set the relaxed, conversational atmosphere of the place. I took a table nearby them so that I could ease drop, and I changed my order to dine-in.

As I ate, I debated how to approach them. I wanted to do it at the meal, I wanted to eat with them. I discretely observed them. I tended to my pretend other friends, to whom I sent and received pretend text messages about our pretend plans for later on. Their table is clear except for drinks, cell phones, and keys. I watched them linger and talk.

I watched them at the cashier, paying. I realized this is a good time to approach them as they still feel like a group of gay men at dinner, but they are coming back to individual status, so I can approach them one-on-one. I identified the Alpha in the group. He's in the middle, he's moderating their group action, there is a group conversation about his clothes.

I approach Alpha Gay (who is now Alpha Gay Friend, AGF), and I say, "I'm new in town, and when I see your group at dinner, I know that I live in a civilized place." He replies, thank you, I'm AGF, and these are my friends, RGF and GDF. Where are you from? We talk and then I am very happy when I return to my table and they walk out.

I wait about 10 minutes to walk out. I need to give them time to exit. In the parking lot, AGF and RGF are there, talking at AGF's car, a black Beatle. They approach me and mention that their group dines together every Thursday at 7pm, and would I like to join them. We agree to meet the next week and exchange numbers. A nice get-to-know you evening. I don't mention any of the drama about the lunch.

AGF is receiving his certification in American Sign Language and hopes to become a court interpreter. He grew up in two cultures as his parents are deaf and he and his sister are hearing. I grew up in two cultures, I am bi-lingual. NGF has been sober for 15 years, is now very established in commercial real estate in SB. He lives three blocks north of my house (Northneighbor Gay Friend). We talk about decorating, relationships, etc. AGF has ten sets of plates, including a set of Christmas Eve dinner. That's right, AFG has a Christmas set and a Christmas Eve set.

The next week, we eat at a restaurant on the river. It reminds me of The Star in P-town. Here they ask me, what motivated you to approach us that night at the Chinese restaurant? After hearing the story of my strategy of approaching them out of the blue, RGF sums it up: one thing you have in common with us is balls.

He also said, asking you about your single status is like asking married people, well, you've had your kids, now when are you getting the divorce? Ooh, that is true, isn't it. I came home and changed my fb status from nothing to single. I'm single, that is a state, it isn't something in-between, it is its own state. It isn't a task to fix it.

I really tried in the typical ways to build a life here, joining the racket club, for example, or making nice with colleagues. The racket club worked in that I met TGF. I've also learned that I can't tolerate anything I don't enjoy, that feels like a waste of time, even if it feels like I should be doing it. I quit playing there, it isn't athletic enough for me. I joined another group, very competitive and relaxing, and I'll tell you about that group later. Making nice with colleagues worked in that I met OGF and others, and I learned the difference between me and other women in my situation, and how I like to keep on my side of that difference.

I like sitting by the river with a group of gay men, laughing. I like competitive tennis and I like going to see David Sedaris with F (friends).

Spring...

New tennis group. The name of the coach in this group is R. The group competes against other groups. The group is level 3.5-4. I and another woman, C., practice with the men, Sunday and Tuesday. Last night, at the start of practice, R. says:

"Bring it in at the net" (translate=we meet at the net and I instruct you)

"The men in this group try to hit kill shots. This isn't smart because the shots often go out. Also, in doubles, the opponent's net person will take that power and kill you back with it, or the baseliner will hit a lob...

The women in this group are much smarter. They do not hit the kill shots. They place shots, and they use their opponent's vulnerabilities against them"

Me, to myself, oh, I like this.

R. "Today, we will play men against women and you will see what I mean"

Later in practice, we play a set, with mixed men and women.

R. "We will use this strategy, S (male) you stay at the net, and use your backspin, and poach. K., you use your brains, you are the brains on the court, you place the ball, and you set up S. at the net."

Me, to myself, great.

And we played great tennis, and after, I played some games with C., and that was fun.

Other: I don't like the local farmer's market. It's kitsch. And there is a good vegetable stand, but otherwise, kitsch. And the restaurant there isn't that good. I liked the one in Urbana better, and of course, dolac.

The weather is great and my garden in blooming. I'm having the garden beds tended to this week and some lilies planted.

Borovo Nova Borosana

Borovo Nova Borosana

TF = tennis friend

to the small joys in life: this morning, I played tennis with my new tennis partner and we are a very good match. her name is TF, tennis friend. she invited me to an art exhibit and we are going thursday.
after tennis, I went to Matrin's deli. Martin's is a supermarket near my house and campus. They have a deli. They also write their name in the same font a dentist or Count Chocula would use. My friend Jamie made that observation.

There was a 15 minute wait for my lunch (I ordered some chicken to go; the chicken had some time left in the oven.) I ordered a coffee and sat in the cafe. I pulled from my purse an academic article I needed to read by noon anyway. Lady Professors are always needing to read articles and they always carry them in their purses. I sat down and drank my coffee and read and eavesdropped. I enjoy eavesdropping. I overheard a table of really old men talking about Saturday's football game. The loss against Navy. I observed the group when I had entered the deli part of the grocery store. I had also observed a man sitting at the table beside the old men. He looked young and tall and strong and dressed in Notre Dame hat and sweats. I wondered if he were a bodyguard/driver for one of the old men and if Fr. Hessberg was in the group. He left, but I'm not sure if he left with one of the old men.

I finished my reading, my coffee, and purchased my chicken lunch and left.

Farmer's Markets and Local Food

People around me talk a lot about the local farmer's market and supporting it.

I like local food because I like the taste of good food and it tastes better than the alternatives. I don't like to be told that I'm supporting "local farmers." Why? Because I pay them money for what they sell me. I'm supposed to care about local business. It is the nice lefty thing to do. Honestly, I'm not a nice lefty. I just like to eat well. I hate the political analysis of so much of life: what you are doing is either Marxist or not, either appropriate or not... What if I just like to eat well, and would like to not have to make it political? Please, let me enjoy this without any interpretation...

Now, you might say that I should care about them, because without them, my taste buds are sad. I need them. They need me, too, because they need sales.

The asymmetry is that local business / farmers don't seem to care about my career. They never ask, how is that journal article coming along? If I care about their business, it is a one-way street. I would like to ask the people who think it is all about supporting local farmers and Marxist farming politics this: why should they care about my career, as they have a business to run and are occupied with that.

Home sick

These are things I would like to do today while I am home sick today and probably tomorrow, too

1. Write a letter to Aleksandar Hemon.

I have been planning this letter for some time. In this letter, I will tell him that I know exactly what he is talking about when he writes about how his mother curled his hair behind his ear when he was little. I knew the phenomenon bit not the words for it. I also didn't know if other people's mothers did that, too. I also didn't know if that was just a thing that Croatian mothers do. I usually would say to the person I wanted to do that to me (a boyfriend), please do like this, and show him how to curl my hair behind my ear. Now, I can say, "please curl my hair behind my ear."

(I wonder if I say "please curl my hair behind my ear" to an American boyfriend, if he will know what I'm talking about, without a demonstration?)

Also, in this letter, I will tell him that when I read his short stories, I have to cover the last sentences with my hand so that I can enjoy the process of reading it more. There is the excitement as I move towards the end of the chapter, and exhaustion after the last sentence. Yes, this does remind me of some relationships.

I will write that I read passages out loud to the students in my International Marketing class, and that they were transfixed to learn his views of the US (from The Lazarus Project, writing about his wife at baseball games) and his memories of Sarajevo society.

2. Rest and relax. Wear my sweatpants and sweatshirt. Dream of the perfect paint color for my bedroom walls. I've probably got this cold from working too much and from insomnia.

3. Look at my art books. Sit outside if I can. Watch tv, but not a mind-numbing about.

4. There are other things I could do and would like to do while home sick. I can't think of them right now. I wish Hemon would email me a book right now.

pencilnpaper: Sta ima?

pencilnpaper: Sta ima?

Sta ima?

I've been busy. Moving, and starting the new job, vacation, teaching started two weeks ago. I thought about you the whole time. All the things I wanted to tell you. Things happened, and my reaction made me think of you. I like how things seem important when I feel like telling you about them. How would I tell you the story? How would I frame the narrative? You are a good blog.

About those first days living in South Bend, when I would ride my bike around town, from about 8-10pm. The days were so long because I live in the eastern time zone. And a river, water, finally, thankfully, again, water. To live with some sort of barrier there. And it is a barrier that takes us away to more unknowns and brings the same to us. You can sit there on its banks and it could just show up, like the part of the sitcom that will finally get good.

And those were really sweet moments. How I would wear my turtle bag strapped across my chest, and put my garage door opener in it, because that is the easiest way to get on my bike and go, through my attached garage. The South Bend map I bought the month prior, in May, when Mom and I arrived to look for a house. And how meticulous I would be in my thoughts about safety - some identification, garage door opener, cell phone. Just in case. Just in case.

It isn't that hard to get around now. I didn't take the map on the bike ride Monday. I didn't think about carrying identification. I used to do that in Zagreb, carry identification. In case something happened, if they find me, they would know whose I am. I am kind to strangers and I plan ahead.

It was the mover, Tom, who told me about the bike trail on the St. Joe river. "You just go all the way to Eddy, take a left to Jefferson, and then go right, and it's right there." He saw my bike and told me about it. Tom who packed my house and I think about him every time I empty a box. I can still tell the difference between the rooms and boxes Tom packed and Tommy packed. Tommy is Tom's son.

I know those are their names because that's how they introduced themselves to me.

And when they came to unload the truck in the new house, Tom complimented my on the house. He told me how to take care of the floors, how to unpack the boxes that contained mirrors. He told me which hardware store to visit, and what to buy (something to keep the door from hitting the wall when I open the door). Go to ACE hardware by John Adams high school. That's where I went to high school. Don't go to Lowe's. He talked to me about swimming, because he saw my trophy and the article from the newspaper about the time Mom and I swam the Ohio together. He told me that he grew up swimming in the St. Joe River, and that people think it is really dirty, but he doesn't.

I signed the papers after the move-in. I sat at my desk, and we overlooked the back yard. He asked me if I would get a yard. The space of the lawn and the fence makes you want to. I talked about my dream of a boxer just like the one I used to have, when I was little. But that I'll need to wait on that. He said he can't get another dog. He had his Mom's after she died. He can't have another one again. He had to put that dog down after several years, and he can't go through that again.

Tommy wasn't there for the move-in. That's how I know that they were telling me the truth that they are father-son. Not that Tommy is as brilliant a mover as his father. He has years of experience to gain first. The one who worked with Tom for the move-in didn't have the same respect for Tom as Tommy did. He didn't listen to him or wait for him, the way Tommy did.

Those were nice evenings, biking. And letting the prior months of dissertation writing and all the dramas run their course. I didn't write you then because I wanted my quiet, I wanted my peace, I wanted my thoughts for myself. I wanted every feeling, emotion, experience, sensation, for me.

Then the trip to Croatia: Zagreb and Hvar. You saw the photos on facebook. It felt that a door to the PhD research phase, that status, was over. I could feel myself walking and the new doors opening, in Zagreb. I gave a lecture Monday about space and time as factors in cultural dynamics. Inner and outward territorial cultures. Cultures that easily let others in, with few criteria, those that have insurmountable criteria. I think I'm no longer in the insurmountable criteria category. I got there when I got there. I can open the border. New spaces in old relationships.

Teaching. Today, I can celebrate two weeks of teaching. I thought that the hard work was over after the dissertation. No, I didn't think that. I'm surprised about the pace. Even faster than graduate school. Even more. And I wanted something to be easier. Maybe it is the relationships, with my ways of teaching, with the students. Exhausting. I thought the pace of dissertation writing was grueling. Sometimes people are addicted to their ambitions and success.

Your whole life changes when you move from graduate school job market - assistant professor job - dissertation finished - job started. The habits, the work habits, go with you. That part changes less.

I'm reading Aleksandar Hemon (The Lazarus Project) now. I am falling in love. And when it happens through reading, that's a great seduction.

I'll fall asleep soon...more later

Balkan Barbie http://balkanbarbie.blogspot.com/

Dear Readers,
I decided to change the name of the blog to Balkan Barbie. The only way I can do that and maintain the posts here on pencilnpaper is to continue the blog at:

http://balkanbarbie.blogspot.com/

I like the Balkan Barbie name. It is a title of an academic article I published in 2004. Plus, it is a nice twist and sounds nice out loud. I liked pencilnpaper, too, since I write, and I like to write with those tools, and it sort of reminds me of "the good old days." I think the time has come to integrate my love of writing, my personal identity, with my professional and more public writing.

I hope you will make the journey with me to Balkan Barbie.

Balkan Barbie

I am considering renaming this blog from pencilnpaper to "Balkan Barbie" - would you all still be able to locate it? Do let me know - am still learning how blog technology works.

It is a name that links in to my research on women and the region. I like how it sounds and I think it is humorous.

Ok, and yes, I think it would make the blog quite mainstream, maybe earn some interesting hits, and I would like that attention. I like writing.

Memories of GenX Childhood

Song from GenX childhood in the USA:

Why do we always come here
I guess we'll never know
It's like some kind of torture
To have to watch the show

-from the Muppet Show, (1976-1981) sung by the two critics sitting in their box in the opening of the show (as shown in this photo).

My sister was born 5 years before I was. We watched this show together when I was little. I have an image of us sitting on the floor, in front of the TV, in the living room. We aren't sitting Indian style, but on our heels. My Yoga video calls it "Child's Pose."

The opening part of the show, specifically the lines by the critics, always made us laugh. The voices and notes of this verse of the song were off compared to the rest.

Did you realize as you were watching that the show is a parody? It makes sense now.

By the way, GenX means people born between about 1965 and about 1982.
http://balkanbarbie.blogspot.com/

Romantic Comedies, How Love Starts

I watched this movie over the weekend: Stranger than Fiction with Will Ferrell, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Emma Thompson, and Dustin Hofman dir. Marc Forster (2006). I really enjoyed it.

Last week, I watched Jet Lag Décalage horaire- very nice (2002). It is with Juliette Binoche and Jean Reno, dir. Daniele Thompson. French with English subtitles.

Both movies/films are romantic comedies.

There are scenes in Stranger than Fiction in which I felt tense, and in other scenes like crying, others laughing, others just thinking about all of the elements that are coming together to make a great scene.

Both movies/films make the argument that lovers often start out despising each other. They meet repeatedly by chance, and something brings them together. Perhaps this is true. I think of someone I despise but also find attractive, and meet often by chance. I am certain he also despises me. Nothing has brought us together so far, however. This story has been going on for some time. I am quite sure no change will come. That is OK with me.

In "Stranger than Fiction", Karen Eiffel, a writer (Emma Thompson), narrates Harold Crick's life (Will Ferrell). I won't go into that except to say, we narrate our own lives, but what if an omnipotent third person narrated instead? It poses the question, "Little did he know" and if he knew, would he do it anyway? A bit of the philosophical questions of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." He learns of a great unhappiness and he has a choice about it, he does not learn of a great happiness, he has no choice about it, it happens.

In "Jet Lag," great unhappiness or bad luck is washed away through meeting someone new. We stay with someone because of our fears, we stay with others because of our courage and faith.

I received these movies from Netflix - a service I recommend.

Sophie Dahl: model, writer

Sophie Dahl is a writer and model. She is also British and the granddaughter of Ronald Dahl. Who didn't love "James and the Giant Peach"? I started reading it this fall, it works for adults, too.

Sophie Dahl just wrote her first book, Playing with the Grown-ups, and in an interview, she is talking about how it is a good first book, and she's glad she got it out of the way. That is how it feels right now, as I write my dissertation.

Sophie Dahl is a model. She was discovered walking down a London street at age 18. Her large, wide-set eyes, height (6"), and curves (a 38DD breast size) set her apart. She borders on the plus size for models, although she has lost weight since then (her age is now 30). I am tall, not as tall as she is, I have nice eyes, not as large as hers, I have some curves, but not her proportions. In the moment, I am working off 8 pounds I gained this winter (about 3kilos, about two inches on my waist-yikes). I live in a backwoods place, not London, and my grandfather wasn't an author.

Sophie Dahl also modeled for Opium perfume by YSL. I read that this ad, pictured here, was on billboards in France and the UK. It was banned shortly after first display. Reports don't exactly say what it is that is bad about it. I think it is fantastic. It is very erotic, but not vulgar or degrading to women or good taste. I wouldn't mind having an experience similar to the one she suggests in the billboard photos.

Here is the billboard:

Happy Passover!

Museum of Broken Relationships, Pride, Tableware

Hello, and thank you to my friends who have emailed me off the blog to let me know they liked hearing about the Museum of Broken Relationships and are awaiting the interview on NPR with the artists, Olinka Vištica and Drazen Grubišić.

Here is the NPR* story on the Museum of Broken Relationships, with an interview with the artists. It is very charming. I found it took a bit of navigating the NPR web site to find the story, so I have posted the link here or here:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=89785613

I really liked the interview because I like the idea of a Museum of Broken Relationships and because the dynamic of the interview, especially the way the artists talked about their work, reminded me of the artistic culture in Zagreb. Well, and what broken relationships feel like in general, but in Zagreb specifically.

I lived in Zagreb recently. Also, my parents are from there. I conducted my PhD research there. I study consumer emotions, specifically pride, as they are felt during the ritual of the family meal, using tableware. I focus on pride as it relates to feelings of the self and status.

I especially focus on women's feelings of pride as they relate to tableware. That is one more reason I like this museum. Women who have been in a marriage for twenty years are proud to have a set of plates that serves twelve, expensive or not, and to have had it since the start of their marriage. They are proud when the set is in tact. Nothing in that precious set was thrown against the wall or on the floor in a fit of anger. Maybe other things were thrown, but not that. The set was kept together, the marriage was kept together.

NPR* is, in short, a radio programming organization. They provide news and other content. They are a public organization.

Museum of Broken Relationships

Have you heard about the Museum Of Broken Relationships? I heard about it this morning on NPR's weekend edition. Actually, someone dear to me told me about it a while ago.

More later about my experience listening to the interview, how nice it is to hear Croatian artists on the radio in the US, how it reminds me of something I know from Zagreb. For now, I have an appointment with a masseur in 15 minutes and I have to go (yes, a change from my usual Saturday schedule, more later about that). For now...

Here is the text from the Museum web site (http://www.brokenships.com/about.php)

A museum dedicated to broken hearts has recently been founded in Croatia. Author's of the concept Olinka Vištica and Drazen Grubišić decided to set up the museum after consoling friends over their failed romances.
The museum has everything from romantic and touching letters to different gifts given to lovers like teddy bears and photos, but also such unusual examples as leg prothesis donated by a war veteran who fell in love with his physiotherapist or a gall stone. Every single object on display is anonymous, and has a short description of the item related to the relationship that was behind. That's why it could be therapeutic for those with newly broken hearts."

The Museum of Broken Relationships is an art concept which proceeds from the assumption that objects possess integrated fields - holograms of memories and emotions - and intends with its layout to create a space of secure memory or protected remembrance in order to preserve the material and nonmaterial heritage of broken relationships.

Unlike the destructive self-help instructions for recovery from failed loves, the Museum offers every individual the chance to overcome the emotional collapse through creation, i.e., by contributing to the holdings of the Museum. The individual gets rid of controversial objects , triggers of momentarily undesirable emotions, by turning them into museum exhibits, i.e., artefacts and thereby participating in the creation of a preserved collective emotional history.

After the success of the first display in Zagreb this unique museum is going on world tour.

Tremors II

Just felt another earthquake, right here, at my desk, as I am working on my dissertation ... even some aftershocks.

Tremors

Yes, I was already awake for the earthquake at 4.21am today. Writing a dissertation will make you sleepless.

I was on the phone with a friend in Europe. I thought what he was telling me was making my house shake. But it wasn't, it was the earthquake.

I 5.2 earthquake will make you think your house is falling down on you and make your heart jump. It will make you turn on the radio to the weather station for information. It will make you turn on the light to make sure you still have power. It is really, really, exciting.