Browsed by
Category: Atlanta

Self-Centeredness and Anthropomorphic Projection

Self-Centeredness and Anthropomorphic Projection

Comments 0 Comment

In which the author of this blog indulges in an freewheeling rant over a fairly trivial irritation:

Clouds!!!! Gotta get those clouds, man! They are SO DOOMED.

I KNEW IT!!!! I knew that something would interfere!

All I wanted was to see the MOON! Is there something WRONG with that?

I mean, how often do I get to see the gorgeous beautiful full moon, and during a partial eclipse too!

I had it all built up. No detachment for me. I had EXPECTATIONS. And I got Ben all excited about it too.

We all went out to see “Journey to the Center of the Earth” in 3D and it was fun. Then we went to the little airport near here and watched planes take off and ate calamari and chicken fingers and all that kind of thing. And we didn’t even mind when it started to rain, because it was muggy and the water was refreshing at first. We did eventually have to come inside… Of course, when the under-trained manager wanted to tell us where we could and couldn’t sit (the place was half-empty) I had to explain that our waiter was a bright boy and I had every confidence in the world that he could find us again. She actually persisted! So we all just sat down and I had to say in a sweet – really! – but firm tone, “we’re sitting right here.” But things were still good. They WERE.

As we drove home, I observed that the heat was steaming the recent rain right up into the air. Ben and I laughed about driving through a baby cloud. And then the sweet little bits of wispy evaporation had the NERVE to turn into cloud cover and deprive me of my moon tonight!

John crashed early, but Ben and I were determined to see that moon. Oh, we walked. Finally, we even drove. We climbed up to “top field” at his school, we went over to the grocery store area, where there were no trees. Not ONE BIT OF HINT OF THE MOON IN ANY DIRECTION!

We drove all around and I finally had to give up. We came back. Ben was mopey from the hopeless search. Where is the MOON? Where IS it?

I looked up moonrise, moonset, the direction.

Yes! Just as I thought. From our back deck, straight back into the horrible horrible woods full of huge menacing oak trees. Those trees, dropping huge limbs every time there’s a breeze, covered with purple meat-like fungus clusters, and all kinds of other unidentifiable sporey creatures.. Those TREES – always threatening to fall down and kill us, leaning toward the house with their rotten cavities gaping…. oh, they don’t like me. And I don’t like them right back. No wonder my boys can’t breathe right.

The trees often block my view of the moon, but once in a while they filter the moonlight in a charming blue-silver pattern so I try to forgive them. But it doesn’t matter WHAT I do, does it?!?! Nothing is ever good enough! I try and I try and it’s never enough to matter for anything! If I’m so damn smart why can’t I EVER EVER EVER…..

Those CLOUDS!!!!! They aren’t even pretty clouds. No individual formations are visible… it’s just a high diffuse COVER dense enough that all you can see is the pink-orange reflection of the city lights. Not a star. Not a moonbeam, not even a GLOW. Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

Ahhhh….. why is it that the universe conspires against me like this? Once in a while, can’t you choose somebody else??? I just want to be invisible. I don’t ask for much. Once in a while, can’t you be a little more F’ing BENEVOLENT? What do you WANT from me anyway? Don’t you have some peers for your reindeer games?

Bam! Bam! BAM-BAMMMM!

Blasted clouds. Stupid city where you can’t see any stars. Ridiculous pink-orange night sky. I hate it.

I hate it all. I hate this city. I hate this place. And it’s all the clouds’ fault.

WHY DID I EVER COME TO THIS PLACE?

ATLANTA? WAS I OUT OF MY MIND?

I thought I’d be here for a couple-few years, get my Ph.D., get a job at Berkeley maybe or in New England, and LEAVE. I never intended to put myself in this position forever.

And then it took forever. really. forever.

And my advisor… and then I … and I met… and I couldn’t even.. and it…. and it was suddenly too late… everything was too late… AND THESE CLOUDS ARE REALLY PISSING ME OFF!

ARGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I can deal with people hating me for being an educated white female liberal from Massachusetts (or Massa-TWOSHITS), I can deal with every insincere “bless your heart,” and every attempt to indoctrinate my son, I can even forgive idiotic and self-righteous conformity to profoundly destructive viewpoints, but really, NOW I CAN’T EVEN SEE A FULL MOON WHEN I WANT TO?

The CLOUDS ARE OUT TO GET ME! IT’s NOT FAIR!!!!!!!! And I’m SICK of IT. Sick of it. Sick of it. And I don’t CARE that I’m being unreasonable!

I’m sick of being forgiving. I’m sick of being an adult. I want to have a gigantic tantrum, and shake the earth! Thunder! Lightning! Wind! I want to SHAKE things and scream “What is WRONG with you?” And then, “JUST DO WHAT I SAY! DON’T THINK, JUST DO IT!” ARGGGGGGG!

EVERYTHING! I Fu…

Deep breath.

Loop it. Reality check – completely missing of course, but in kind of a cute way. Liking the clouds anger. Good scapegoat target for pent-up frustration. Kind of a Peanuts “curse the darkness” thing going.

I’m gonna SMACK those clouds, man. SMACK! Right in the face. SMACK. Hee hee.

Whew. That felt great.

Gotta let it out every once in a while. I think the clouds can take it. They’re stronger than they’re given credit for.

But those clouds – and water in general – owe me one.

Let’s review, class: I can’t even get up a full rant. It didn’t even generalize completely. Still, I think we’ve covered Projection, Paranoia, Anthropomorphism, Infantile Regression, Displacement, Scapegoating, Power – Command/Control, Catharsis, Humor, Cultural Intertextuality and therefore Intellectualization, ending with light touching of Magical Thinking. Oh, right, and Self-Pity, Self-Centeredness – an overall Temper Tantrum.

Because I was denied an archetypal experience of cool serenity, the antidote to my lonely bit of nothingless in the cosmos… and yet, I am detached from it, too.

Actually, things have gotten a lot better in the last year or so. Most of this anger is just old echoing stuff that I’m actually done with now. Atlanta’s not so bad, and it’s not as if I ever really belong anywhere anyway.

I do feel better. I just hate being disappointed.

If I can’t soak up the cool moon, a homeopathic dose of fire will suffice.

Reader Suggestions?

Reader Suggestions?

Comments 0 Comment

Some questions – would love it if you have advice.

1) So, I blew a couple of capacitors on my motherboard and now I’m looking for a deal on a new computer. I’d like a dual- or quad-core processor and 2-4G RAM and lots of disk space. I also need a monitor because mine is snapping and crackling and it’s only a matter of time. A built-in webcam would be kind of neat, too. Post links if you happen to see anything. No Celeron anything.

2) To keep myself busy this weekend, I purchased a pressure washer and started in on the layers of mold and other crud on the deck. It was like painting a house with a calligraphy brush. I spent… oh… six, seven hours on the first pass – just with water. I don’t want to use bleach on wood, and I also want to protect the plants and the fish in the pond, but I also want to kill the mold. Recommendations?

3) Besides monkeygrass and pachysandra and vinca, what other groundcovers do well in drought, and on a hillside, and in scorching sun or mildrew-y shade?

4) What color should I paint a room that has orange couches in it? No yellow.

5) Is this a really bad time in Atlanta to trim back azaleas and other shrubbery, or can I do my Kali dance with the hedge-clippers?

Yellow Sky Over Atlanta

Yellow Sky Over Atlanta

Comments 0 Comment

I had just finished writing the first draft of my post below, and a dear dear friend called me just as the wind started up. We got off the phone a little bit before 8, and the rain began. I ran out to pick up a couple of things, came back, and was just starting to have a bite to eat when John and I both noticed that the sky had turned a very eerie shade of yellow. The sun was starting to set, but I don’t remember seeing sky that color before – or seeing clouds like that either. The rain had stopped, and so had the wind, but the sky made me think of tornadoes.

Here’s what it looked like at about 8:45 or so:

Atlanta Sky 1

Atlanta Sky 2

Atlanta Sky 3

Atlanta Sky 4

Atlanta Sky 5

It’s already June 30th now – I have to go to sleep! – but the data is for the 29th.

Everything seemed wild tonight.

Time 68° humidity Pressure Visibility Ceiling Wind /td>

Weather
8:52 PM 68° 93% 30.03in 10mi 5500ft SW-9mph Broken Clouds
8:30 PM 66° 94% 30.03in 10mi 25000ft SW-8mph Broken Clouds
8:06 PM 70° 88% 30in 7mi 3600ft N-5mph Overcast Thunderstorm
7:56 PM 68° 88% 30in 2mi 3300ft S-8mph, Gusts 38mph Overcast Thunderstorm
6:52 PM 79° 69% 29.97in 10mi 4000ft SSW-19mph, Gusts 25mph Broken Clouds Thunderstorm

Wow! The air quality went crazy! Look at that carbon monoxide burst! Did something happen?

Today’s AQI (Primary Pollutant) for Metropolitan Atlanta

Hourly Atlanta Air Quality

1-8 9-16 17-24
01 43 (PM25 ) 09 44 (PM25 ) 17 128 (CO )
02 43 (PM25 ) 10 45 (PM25 ) 18 206 (CO )
03 43 (PM25 ) 11 45 (PM25 ) 19 236 (CO )
04 31 (PM25 ) 12 47 (PM25 ) 20 268 (CO )
05 31 (PM25 ) 13 48 (PM25 ) 21 53 (PM25 )
06 44 (PM25 ) 14 50 (PM25 ) 22 53 (PM25 )
07 44 (PM25 ) 15 52 (PM25 ) 23 53 (PM25 )
08 44 (PM25 ) 16 66 (CO ) 24 53 (PM25 )

Carbon Monoxide (CO) is an odorless, colorless gas that is a by-product of the incomplete burning of fuels. Industrial processes contribute to CO pollution levels, but the principal source of CO pollution in most large urban areas is the automobile. Cigarettes and other sources of incomplete burning in the indoor environment also produce CO. CO is inhaled and enters the blood stream; there it binds chemically to hemoglobin, the substance that carries oxygen to the cells, thereby reducing the amount of oxygen delivered to all tissues of the body. The percentage of hemoglobin inactivated by CO depends on the amount of air breathed, the concentration of CO in air, and length of exposure; this is indexed by the percentage of carboxyhemoglobin found in the blood.

Health effects
CO weakens the contractions of the heart, thus reducing the amount of blood pumped to various parts of the body and, therefore, the oxygen available to the muscles and various organs. In a healthy person, this effect significantly reduces the ability to perform physical exercises. In persons with chronic heart diseases, these effects can threaten the overall quality of life, since their systems are unable to compensate for the decrease in oxygen. CO pollution is also likely to cause such individuals to experience angina during exercise. Adverse effects have also been observed in individuals with heart conditions who are exposed to CO pollution in heavy freeway traffic for 1 to 2 hours or more.

In addition, fetuses, young infants, pregnant women, elderly people, and individuals with anemia or emphysema are likely to be more susceptible to the effects of CO. For these individuals, the effects are more pronounced when exposure takes place at high altitude locations, where oxygen concentration is lower. CO can also affect mental function, visual activity, and alertness of healthy individuals, even at relatively low concentrations.

Air quality levels
The air quality standard for CO, which is designed to protect public health with an adequate margin of safety, is 9 parts per million, averaged over 8 hours. EPA is required to issue a public alert when CO levels reach 15 ppm, a public warning when CO levels reach 30 ppm, and a public declaration of emergency at the level of 40 ppm. The significant harm level, at which serious and widespread health effects occur to the general population, is 50 ppm of CO.

–Condensed from Measuring Air Quality: The Pollutant Standards Index; Office of Air Quality Planning and Standards, US EPA; EPA 451/K-94-001; February 1994. Cited at http://www.air.dnr.state.ga.us/information/co.html.

The same site listed today’s air as healthy.

Health Advisory: The air quality is good and you can engage in outdoor physical activity without health concerns.

Kevin Max and Nick Savage at the Bridge

Kevin Max and Nick Savage at the Bridge

Comments 0 Comment

Ok, it’s a first, but I was in a celebratory mood. We went to see a show at a Baptist church in Stone Mountain. John wasn’t feeling that well, but he still went with me (thank you, my sweet hubby).

I didn’t know where the venue was, and all day Friday I was trying to find where “The Bridge” could possibly be at Stone Mountain Park. The covered bridge? It seemed unlikely. Finally (and thanks for the link, B!) I found out – ah! – The Bridge at Mountain Park, in Stone Mountain the city, a small auditorium connected with the First Baptist Church. Oh. Well, despite my studies in religion and my mystical imperatives I have to admit that a Baptist community – especially in Georgia – is not a place that anyone would normally find me, even in curiosity and exploration. Baptists are just too close to the Jehovah’s Witnesses in their literalism and such. Still – I had to go. Kevin Max was playing.

Kevin Max has been my Facebook friend for a while (and he’s the only friend ahead of me in Vampires). I love his voice, and we share some interests in common. I suspect that his God is something very close to mine. And I think we both understand some aspects of darkness and lightness, and transcendence – although it may be that he is more apocalyptic than I am. We’re both poets, and I really enjoy his poetry, too.

It was a blast. Not that many people turned up, but that just made it all the more cozy and enjoyable for me. We got there early, and I stuck my head in and saw the Nick Savage Band practicing. At first, from a distance, I thought Nick was Kevin (John was amused. “That guy has no idea who on earth you are.” Enough said.)

Nobody was around yet so we couldn’t pick up the tickets I had ordered, but it didn’t look like there was going to be a huge crowd so we went down the street to a seedy-looking bar and had a beer. Two older guys at one end of the bar were discussing when it was that humans first had written language. One of them had an almost supernaturally deep voice. They were interrupted by a husky-voiced and still fairly attractive older women who stood between them and proclaimed, “I’m the rose between two thorns.” I love listening in to bar conversations. There is something almost universal about it. I was hit on twice on my way to the rest room. It was that kind of a place. And there is something so quintessentially American about the church and the bar existing side-by-side.

When we went back to The Bridge, a very cordial but semi-official looking man greeted us at the door. He introduced himself and shook our hands and assured us that we were at the right place.

Everything was very informal after that, and I have to say that I didn’t get any bad vibe there at all. I really shouldn’t let my religious scar tissue continue to affect my expectations so much. At the end of the concert, the young pastor encouraged everyone to choose this as our church, mentioned the next in the concert series, and wished us a blessed night. Nothing wrong with that – I liked it. So that’s one less closed place in my heart. Very good.

It must be strange to be an overtly Christian musician. One obstacle is the crowd. A crowd like this – supersensitive to sin and suspicious toward any kind of fun – doesn’t seem able to feel comfortable enough to enjoy the music. Maybe they do – they certainly knew Kevin Max – but they do it in a very restrained way. They were a bit stiff, unsure. At any other kind of venue I would have been moving to the music, but I couldn’t be the ONLY one dancing. Well, not anymore (grin).

Kevin’s voice is truly amazing. He’s got a great range and that certain kind of timbre that really appeals to me. I’ve been listening to his songs for months now, but live music is always different and I enjoy it more. I was sitting in the front row, rapt.

While he was singing “What if I Stumble” I was worried the whole time that he would stumble! There were big bulky grey cords all over the place, including where he was standing.

At a crucial point in the middle of “Stay,” Eric Cole’s guitar string did not stay. It went BOIINGG!

Eric kept playing – rather heroically – until they just gave it up, laughing. Nick Savage jumped up on stage and offered him the other guitar that you can see in the picture.

And then the mike failed!

Kevin made a comment about not backing down in the face of opposition (grin), and there were no further performative ironies.

At a certain point I stopped taking photographs because I got signals that the flash had become a bit distracting. I wasn’t the only one taking photographs, but I was right there in the front row. Here are a few more for your enjoyment:

The warm-up group was the Nick Savage band. Nick Savage was terrific on guitar and he had a good voice, although not as versatile or strong as Kevin’s. Nick also has a very sweet and endearing smile that I didn’t capture in the photographs. Although I tried, it was too fleeting.

I liked the faster songs better than the couple of slow ones that they played.

One musician in the band went from playing sax to flute to harmonica to some instrument I didn’t even recognize. He was very impressive. The whole band was fun. These are guys that care about music qua music – you can tell.

I’m also on board with the kind of “love missions” that 1) leave the business of salvation up to God, and 2) try to raise money for interesting films. They seemed to have a good time jammin’ even though the venue had some limitations. As a fund-raiser, the concert was probably a waste of everyone’s time, but I feel especially fortunate to have been there sending out waves of appreciation. These guys put their talent – and their hearts and souls – out there, and it really is a service of love. Thank you.

Kevin Max:

Nick Savage Band:

My Dinner with John and Rainier

My Dinner with John and Rainier

Comments 10 comments

Oh! What a wonderful night it was!

Rainier is in town. He’s giving at paper at the National Association for Ethnic Studies Conference this afternoon, but last night he was free for dinner.

Through the rain and lightning and terrible traffic, John and I drove into the center of Atlanta to meet him. I had made reservations at Nikolai’s Roof! Oh boy, oh boy!

So, some background. Rainier and I were fellow graduate students in the ILA at Emory, and became really close friends when we were there. He has always been very sweet and respectful and easygoing with me, and I love him dearly. The last time I saw him was nearly ten years ago, when John and I got married.

Heidi and Rainier May 1998

He’s a real professor now – the University of Nevada even featured him in an ad (“Be a Rebel!”). His daughter is all grown up and he has a grandchild, which is really difficult for me to imagine. On my side, I’m out of academe and Ben will be 8 next month. Compare us ten years later – not too bad!

Heidi and Rainier

Now, I have always wanted to have dinner at Nikolai’s Roof, but in all the years I’ve lived in Atlanta I have never gone. Since the dinner was my treat, I got to decide, and I grabbed at the opportunity. It’s at the top of the Hilton and at night the view of the city is stunning. The decor is Russian, but the food is French contemporary with a Belgian touch. I haven’t had such a good meal since we were in Dijon.

We started with a bottle of Roco Pinot Noir.

John Heidi and Rainier

Some kind of fish mousse – about the size of a pat of butter, with drips and drops of sauce and an edible frond of something that might have been a baby leek – was the chef’s opener.

We were well into an wide-ranging and animated conversation when the piroshkis arrived. These were three little puff pastries, each stuffed with pintade, beef tenderloin or salmon, and served with a creamy dipping sauce on the side. Totally yummy. By the third bite, I was trying not to moan – I love this kind of food and it really gives me a buzz. The wine helped, too (grin).

John

It was very interesting to observe some of the other diners. My notice was particularly taken by a corrupt-looking older man whose smooth manner was of an oily, repulsive type – much like how I would imagine the portrait of Dorian Gray. His… um… escort was much younger, provocatively dressed, strikingly beautiful, and (I could be completely off but) I wondered what she takes home for an evening that starts with such a dinner. Meeeeiaow… I know, but you had to be there.

Back to the food. Next came a plate of three liquid tasters, each surrounded at the base by a different kind of salt (I liked the “lava salt” best): Lobster bisque with lobster at the bottom, some kind of shrimp-based thing, and I couldn’t tell you what the third one was. The bisque was the highlight.

I think it was at this point that we got the second bottle of wine – a Turley Red Zinfandel.

The main course was a melt-in-your-mouth medium-rare beef tenderloin over caramelized veggies (mostly onions, leeks and cabbage, I think) with chanterelles risotto cakes. Each plate was covered with an ornate silver dome, and the servers chimed them down-and-up at precisely the same moment. Impressive.

For dessert, the guys got crème brûlée, but I had heard about the Grand Marnier soufflé, and so I chose that instead. Someone topped it with orange crème fraîche and almonds. It was the best dessert I’ve ever had. Ever. My espresso was only so-so; I should have ordered the french-press coffee instead.

The rest room was an experience, too. I’ve never had someone hand-deliver the soap, and hold the towel for me. And stuff. “Bon soir!” she said to me. By this point, I was lucky that I didn’t fall down the stairs on the way back to the dining room.

Heidi and Rainier

The server – a very handsome lad dressed in a formal red Russian-style jacket – brought me a rose and smiled at me. And then he brought me the bill.

Have you ever managed to stagger while sitting in a chair? It’s a strange sensation.

We closed the place down. I don’t think we made it home until almost 1 a.m.

I can only do that about every decade (or less), but oh! what a night. I’ll always remember it.

Thank you so much for a lovely – and very memorable – evening. Exquisite food, romantic atmosphere, and the very, very best of company. Happy sigh.

Thor Hesla Killed By the Taliban

Thor Hesla Killed By the Taliban

Comments 1 comment

Thor Hesla was killed on January 14th, 2008 in an attack by the Taliban in Kabul, Afghanistan. I may have met Thor once or twice, but I didn’t know him.

My perspective on this tragedy is that I know his father, Professor Emeritus David Hesla. David Hesla is a beloved and somewhat eccentric professor, one of the original members of my home department of the Graduate Institute of the Liberal Arts at Emory University. Among other things, he wrote the best book on Samuel Beckett that I’ve ever read (Art of Chaos). Not too long ago, he and my original dissertation adviser were granted Heilbrun Awards to support their current research. Prof. Hesla looked as happy as I have ever seen him, waxing enthusiastic about three projects that he was working on.

This is truly horrible news. Those of us who know David Hesla have been in contact, and everyone is stunned and heartbroken for David.

We weep for ourselves as well. By all accounts, we lost one of the very, very good guys in Thor Hesla. It has taken me several days to be able to write this blog post.

Thor Hesla, 45, of Atlanta, worked for BearingPoint Management & Technology Consultants, which had a contract with the U.S. Agency for International Development to help war-ravaged Afghanistan rebuild, a company spokesman said. He was one of the eight people killed in the bombing and shooting attack Monday on the Serena Hotel in Kabul. Authorities in Kabul said an American, a Norwegian journalist and a Filipina who died of her wounds Tuesday were among those killed. A longtime family friend, Margaret Hylton Jones, told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution that Hesla was aware of the danger of Afghanistan, his most recent assignment after stints in Kosovo, South Africa and Kazakhstan. Hesla “put his affairs in order” before leaving for the assignment, which began Nov. 1, Jones said, including updating his will. He took his father, a retired Emory University professor, on a trip to New York and spent time with his 12-year-old niece and 10-year-old nephew.

The Memorial Site for Thor Hesla is http://www.rememberthor.com. There you will find a lot more information about Thor and what he was doing in Kabul, planned memorial services, reminiscences, 100 things Thor didn’t want you to know, official recognition letters, a sTHORy about how Thor was strangled by a dwarf in Pristina, Kosovo, and much more. A book will be made from the site to benefit Doctors Without Borders.

News Links: