6.29.2006
separated at birth
When you have a job, it really doesn't matter how much time you waste on internet silliness. Watch all the YouTube you want (with the volume turned down); figure out your stupid little anagrams; read all the slash fiction you can stand.
When you're not working for the man, however, time-wasters are far more serious, I contend. They waste your time. So as of this moment I am swearing off MyHeritage, the new face recognition website. Here's how it works: You upload a photo of someone and the site searches its database to find the celebrity photo that it most resembles. As Gawker puts it, "this is useful if, say, you want to settle an argument over whether or not you look like Brad Pitt,"--or if you just want to figure out who will play you in the movie of your life.
Or not: I think the software is designed more to compare the particular expression on one face with the particular expression on another, plus the overall proportions of nose to mouth to eyes, etc. This is my explanation for why the first "celebrity" who popped up when I entered husband's face was Robert Bloch, author of Psycho. As for me: Laura Dern. Really makes no sense at all.
However, my second-most similar face was Sarah Silverman, which is probably exactly who would play me in the film if Janeane Garofalo was too busy with other projects. And husband's third-most similar? James Marsters! OMIGOD! That is so perfect.
(Full disclosure: Also on my list were The Rock, former British PM Harold Wilson, and Umberto Eco.)
As for baby, she seems to most resemble various Japanese pop stars, which makes sense when you think about Anime.
When you're not working for the man, however, time-wasters are far more serious, I contend. They waste your time. So as of this moment I am swearing off MyHeritage, the new face recognition website. Here's how it works: You upload a photo of someone and the site searches its database to find the celebrity photo that it most resembles. As Gawker puts it, "this is useful if, say, you want to settle an argument over whether or not you look like Brad Pitt,"--or if you just want to figure out who will play you in the movie of your life.
Or not: I think the software is designed more to compare the particular expression on one face with the particular expression on another, plus the overall proportions of nose to mouth to eyes, etc. This is my explanation for why the first "celebrity" who popped up when I entered husband's face was Robert Bloch, author of Psycho. As for me: Laura Dern. Really makes no sense at all.
However, my second-most similar face was Sarah Silverman, which is probably exactly who would play me in the film if Janeane Garofalo was too busy with other projects. And husband's third-most similar? James Marsters! OMIGOD! That is so perfect.
(Full disclosure: Also on my list were The Rock, former British PM Harold Wilson, and Umberto Eco.)
As for baby, she seems to most resemble various Japanese pop stars, which makes sense when you think about Anime.
bitten in proverbial posterior
So last time I had a chance to post, it was to make fun of the puking in the Beckham household. Next thing I know I get the worst migraine of my life--complete with three, count 'em, three "Beckham boots," as I now think of them.
I knew this blogging thing was a bad idea.
Meanwhile, baby and I both have summer colds, which is really the cruelest sort of cold, isn't it? Winter colds may feel worse, but summer colds are just plain wrong. Luckily, she thinks it's hilarious when she sneezes, particularly when she's sucking on a pacifier, and the sneeze propels it out of her mouth in a gorgeous little loop-de-loop. One of the many ways that babies are like cartoon characters, or vice versa.
Oh, and in case you've been wondering (and I know you are) why RC posting has been a bit slow, it's because of Will Shortz. (Oh, Jesse, don't be offended, it's surely your fault as well.) I have become obsessed with constructing a beautiful little crossword puzzle, and as a consequence spend every free moment scribbling like a madwoman in my grid-paper notebook. I am really close to finishing, but of course that means little in this context, since one square can throw off the whole thing (or at least a whole corner). Which is not a metaphor for anything at all.
I knew this blogging thing was a bad idea.
Meanwhile, baby and I both have summer colds, which is really the cruelest sort of cold, isn't it? Winter colds may feel worse, but summer colds are just plain wrong. Luckily, she thinks it's hilarious when she sneezes, particularly when she's sucking on a pacifier, and the sneeze propels it out of her mouth in a gorgeous little loop-de-loop. One of the many ways that babies are like cartoon characters, or vice versa.
Oh, and in case you've been wondering (and I know you are) why RC posting has been a bit slow, it's because of Will Shortz. (Oh, Jesse, don't be offended, it's surely your fault as well.) I have become obsessed with constructing a beautiful little crossword puzzle, and as a consequence spend every free moment scribbling like a madwoman in my grid-paper notebook. I am really close to finishing, but of course that means little in this context, since one square can throw off the whole thing (or at least a whole corner). Which is not a metaphor for anything at all.
6.26.2006
how i make husband laugh
Yesterday, when we were watching Beckham puke (from dehydration) during the England match, I pointed out that Becks was probably used to the scent of vomit, you know, from living with Posh.
Bulimia humor! This is the height of funny in our house.
Perhaps you had to be there.
Bulimia humor! This is the height of funny in our house.
Perhaps you had to be there.
6.24.2006
the end of time
One of my ongoing projects is to unpack and assimilate the contents of the cartons we still have in the basement. Most are from our move, but a few contain the remnants of my office. So in an effort to retrieve a seriously cool orange plastic Ikea container, I had to dump out its contents (basically, all my desk accessories) and figure out what to do with them. Among the galvanized metal pencil cups, retro stapler and Italian spiral paper clips, I found the desk calendar I'd been using. It was the Shoes Gallery Calendar, the kind that comes in a display frame, where you slide out yesterday's card each morning to reveal today's date. Each day has a different image of a historic shoe (whether clog, chopine, slipper or pump).
I pulled it out of the Ikea box and looked at the image on the front. A beaded t-strap from 1930s Europe--not one of my favorites, to be sure, but it was the date that caught my eye: August 2, 2005, the day that my life ended--or, you might say, the day that it really got started. I left the office on August 2 to have my labor induced, and consequently never flipped another page on my desk calendar again. Which, when you think about it, is quite a wonderful metaphor for why I'm in no hurry to get back to my 9-to-5 life.
I pulled it out of the Ikea box and looked at the image on the front. A beaded t-strap from 1930s Europe--not one of my favorites, to be sure, but it was the date that caught my eye: August 2, 2005, the day that my life ended--or, you might say, the day that it really got started. I left the office on August 2 to have my labor induced, and consequently never flipped another page on my desk calendar again. Which, when you think about it, is quite a wonderful metaphor for why I'm in no hurry to get back to my 9-to-5 life.
6.21.2006
last night's fun
Well, if you watched The Daily Show last night you know that Juliet kicked ass. That's all that needs to be said. Even Jon Stewart was impressed. (You can find a video clip on this page.)
This being the creature's blog, however, I have a few observations from my 18 hours in New York.
1/ Even if you're on the "VIP" list, you still need to wait in line. We were told to get to the Daily Show studio by 4:30, and decided to be there even earlier. Which meant we stood in line for nearly TWO HOURS--almost half of that outside in the heat.
2/ Jon Stewart is shorter than you might think, and slightly grayer, but even nicer.
3/ Warm-up comedians aren't very funny, but they are effective. In this case, the guy revved up the audience by making us clap, and yell, louder and louder. He also made jokes about a few of the 216 people there. Including me. (Why do you think he said I looked like a grad student? And should I take it as a compliment?)
4/ Stewart's people are very, very good at their jobs. The taping was extraordinarily smooth--we had expected to see retakes, or at least a flubbed line, but they just ran straight through.
5/ Rob Corddry: Closer than you think. You know when he's "reporting from Baghdad" or whatnot but he's obviously in a studio in front of a blank screen? Well, he's actually standing in front of a screen right next to Stewart's desk.
6/ Juliet kicked ass. And thanks to the swag bag they gave her, she now has enough Altoids to last the rest of her life.
This being the creature's blog, however, I have a few observations from my 18 hours in New York.
1/ Even if you're on the "VIP" list, you still need to wait in line. We were told to get to the Daily Show studio by 4:30, and decided to be there even earlier. Which meant we stood in line for nearly TWO HOURS--almost half of that outside in the heat.
2/ Jon Stewart is shorter than you might think, and slightly grayer, but even nicer.
3/ Warm-up comedians aren't very funny, but they are effective. In this case, the guy revved up the audience by making us clap, and yell, louder and louder. He also made jokes about a few of the 216 people there. Including me. (Why do you think he said I looked like a grad student? And should I take it as a compliment?)
4/ Stewart's people are very, very good at their jobs. The taping was extraordinarily smooth--we had expected to see retakes, or at least a flubbed line, but they just ran straight through.
5/ Rob Corddry: Closer than you think. You know when he's "reporting from Baghdad" or whatnot but he's obviously in a studio in front of a blank screen? Well, he's actually standing in front of a screen right next to Stewart's desk.
6/ Juliet kicked ass. And thanks to the swag bag they gave her, she now has enough Altoids to last the rest of her life.
6.19.2006
tomorrow and tomorrow
Blogging may be light the next couple days as I am off to support the big J during her Daily Show appearance. So tune in (or tivo, or dvr if you're lame like us) Tuesday night and look for me in the audience. I'll be the one in need of a haircut.
freedom, just $1.25 (and a transfer)
On Friday, I got a glimpse of myself--my old self--again. Husband was home with baby (well, home with the soccer, of course, and baby on the side), and I had a coffee appointment downtown. So I set out with my fancy pocketbook and my iPod, no bottles or diapers or wipes or wriggling ball of giggle-snorts. Decided to take the bus, and left an hour for the ride, seemed like a sure thing.
Half an hour later and I'm still waiting at the bus stop. I think about taking a cab, decide that if another 15 minutes go by that's what I'll do. (The bus is sure to be air-conditioned; the cab is sure to be hot and stinky.) Finally, the bus comes, I get on, wondering why no one else who is waiting follows. Then I realize I've made a rookie mistake--I'm on the crowded standing-room-only bus, there is an almost empty one right behind us that everyone else boards. Clearly it's been a while since I've been in the commuting business. Bracing myself against the handrail near the front window I make another error, when we stop to pick someone up and the doors fold open--smacking me in the side.
Oh, I'm paying for my freedom, no doubt about it.
By the time I finally get to the coffee shop--after the FIFTEEN MINUTE DELAY by the White House, waiting for the secret service to escort someone out, I am late and sweaty. But the meeting is perfectly lovely, and--despite the seriously insane and verbally inventive man hanging out on the bus-stop bench--the trip home, via a free transfer, is just fine. I rush in excited to see her again, and baby just looks at me with that "yeah, what else you got?" sneer and turns back to the World Cup. Which is how it should be.
What does this all tell me? That while it is huge fun to be home with baby, much more so than you might imagine, it is also going to be amazing when I become one person again, not two, or, to be exact: one-plus-monkey-hanging-off-my-hip.
Half an hour later and I'm still waiting at the bus stop. I think about taking a cab, decide that if another 15 minutes go by that's what I'll do. (The bus is sure to be air-conditioned; the cab is sure to be hot and stinky.) Finally, the bus comes, I get on, wondering why no one else who is waiting follows. Then I realize I've made a rookie mistake--I'm on the crowded standing-room-only bus, there is an almost empty one right behind us that everyone else boards. Clearly it's been a while since I've been in the commuting business. Bracing myself against the handrail near the front window I make another error, when we stop to pick someone up and the doors fold open--smacking me in the side.
Oh, I'm paying for my freedom, no doubt about it.
By the time I finally get to the coffee shop--after the FIFTEEN MINUTE DELAY by the White House, waiting for the secret service to escort someone out, I am late and sweaty. But the meeting is perfectly lovely, and--despite the seriously insane and verbally inventive man hanging out on the bus-stop bench--the trip home, via a free transfer, is just fine. I rush in excited to see her again, and baby just looks at me with that "yeah, what else you got?" sneer and turns back to the World Cup. Which is how it should be.
What does this all tell me? That while it is huge fun to be home with baby, much more so than you might imagine, it is also going to be amazing when I become one person again, not two, or, to be exact: one-plus-monkey-hanging-off-my-hip.
6.18.2006
since you asked (fifth in a series)*
What do new parents do on their first Father's Day?
In our case, the answer was predetermined, in part: Baby wore her Brasil outfit and watched all three World Cup matches along with husband. Meanwhile, I had a date! My dear pal Wray brought me to a special screening of the documentary Wordplay. (I felt a bit like an elderly aunt being taken for a Sunday drive, truth be told, but I was very glad to get out of the house.)
The film is about Will Shortz, the Times crossword, and the annual crossword competition he runs. The interviews with famous people who like puzzling (Jon Stewart, Bill Clinton, Mike Mussina, among others) are nearly as compelling as those with the champion puzzlers themselves. Former Times ombud Dan Okrent has a few particularly nutty moments. All in all, it was very entertaining and impressively sweet, with the subcultural peculiarities you might expect, but much less of a freakshow than you might imagine.
Anyway, this being a festival, Will Shortz and the film's director were both on hand to answer questions afterward, and then we all repaired to the "cinema lounge" for a crossword competition of our own, run by Shortz. Wray and I hesitated, but decided to see what it was all about. Most of the rest of the audience showed up, too. We were given 20 minutes to solve next Tuesday's puzzle, with prizes for the first several people to finish fully and correctly.
Eyeing the room, I figured the competition would be fairly tough. The Q&A questions had been very good, very well-informed, and there were clearly a lot of New York Times types in the group. And while I do the puzzle every day, I didn't think of myself as a particularly fast solver. Anyway, they handed us the puzzles and we were off. I was really tense. Really really tense. But when I filled in the last square and raised my hand, Will Shortz was holding up a large card marked "2" and looking pointedly at me. At me!
Of course I then panicked, because I realized that I hadn't actually checked my work. But when the 20 minutes were up, and he announced the top two finishers, there I was! Number 2! I walked up and claimed my prize (the companion book to the film, pretty cool, actually) to hearty applause.
So who was number one? A ringer! He was a SEVEN-TIME CROSSWORD TOURNAMENT CHAMPION who lives in the area and happened to be in the audience! So unfair. He got the festival swag bag as his prize. That should have been mine!
There is no justice in this world, not even in the puzzler segment of this world.
Still, that couldn't detract from the thrill of victory. But it does raise two pressing questions. For one thing, why am I suddenly on an unintentional quiz-competition kick?
And, perhaps more troubling: Since I've already done the crossword, what will I do with myself on Tuesday??
*other entries in this series can be found here.
In our case, the answer was predetermined, in part: Baby wore her Brasil outfit and watched all three World Cup matches along with husband. Meanwhile, I had a date! My dear pal Wray brought me to a special screening of the documentary Wordplay. (I felt a bit like an elderly aunt being taken for a Sunday drive, truth be told, but I was very glad to get out of the house.)
The film is about Will Shortz, the Times crossword, and the annual crossword competition he runs. The interviews with famous people who like puzzling (Jon Stewart, Bill Clinton, Mike Mussina, among others) are nearly as compelling as those with the champion puzzlers themselves. Former Times ombud Dan Okrent has a few particularly nutty moments. All in all, it was very entertaining and impressively sweet, with the subcultural peculiarities you might expect, but much less of a freakshow than you might imagine.
Anyway, this being a festival, Will Shortz and the film's director were both on hand to answer questions afterward, and then we all repaired to the "cinema lounge" for a crossword competition of our own, run by Shortz. Wray and I hesitated, but decided to see what it was all about. Most of the rest of the audience showed up, too. We were given 20 minutes to solve next Tuesday's puzzle, with prizes for the first several people to finish fully and correctly.
Eyeing the room, I figured the competition would be fairly tough. The Q&A questions had been very good, very well-informed, and there were clearly a lot of New York Times types in the group. And while I do the puzzle every day, I didn't think of myself as a particularly fast solver. Anyway, they handed us the puzzles and we were off. I was really tense. Really really tense. But when I filled in the last square and raised my hand, Will Shortz was holding up a large card marked "2" and looking pointedly at me. At me!
Of course I then panicked, because I realized that I hadn't actually checked my work. But when the 20 minutes were up, and he announced the top two finishers, there I was! Number 2! I walked up and claimed my prize (the companion book to the film, pretty cool, actually) to hearty applause.
So who was number one? A ringer! He was a SEVEN-TIME CROSSWORD TOURNAMENT CHAMPION who lives in the area and happened to be in the audience! So unfair. He got the festival swag bag as his prize. That should have been mine!
There is no justice in this world, not even in the puzzler segment of this world.
Still, that couldn't detract from the thrill of victory. But it does raise two pressing questions. For one thing, why am I suddenly on an unintentional quiz-competition kick?
And, perhaps more troubling: Since I've already done the crossword, what will I do with myself on Tuesday??
*other entries in this series can be found here.
6.15.2006
can't the bodyguards take care of this sort of thing?
According to an US magazine exclusive, Britney's done it again:
... with 9-month-old son Sean in tow, [Spears] picked up pink thongs at a Victoria’s Secret in Mission Viejo, California. Her next order of, uh, business? Changing Sean’s dirty diaper — on the floor next to the cash register! Says the source, “Britney then tried to hand it to an employee,” but the salesperson wouldn’t take it.
I for one salute Britney Spears: She seems to have learned that mothering is about improvisation. The baby has a soiled diaper while you're out shopping? Use any level surface you can find! And while one could fault her for patronizing the cheese-ass Victoria's Secret, it does make her little gift of poo all the sweeter, of course.
But that salesperson? Doesn't she know what that diaper could go for on Ebay?
... with 9-month-old son Sean in tow, [Spears] picked up pink thongs at a Victoria’s Secret in Mission Viejo, California. Her next order of, uh, business? Changing Sean’s dirty diaper — on the floor next to the cash register! Says the source, “Britney then tried to hand it to an employee,” but the salesperson wouldn’t take it.
I for one salute Britney Spears: She seems to have learned that mothering is about improvisation. The baby has a soiled diaper while you're out shopping? Use any level surface you can find! And while one could fault her for patronizing the cheese-ass Victoria's Secret, it does make her little gift of poo all the sweeter, of course.
But that salesperson? Doesn't she know what that diaper could go for on Ebay?
6.14.2006
and now for something completely different
(or, The Enduring Wisdom of Spies Like Us)
For many folks in the blogosphere, yesterday was all about this AP photo of Tony Snow and Dan Bartlett choppering into the Green Zone....
But somehow, this shot seemed more, well, familiar....
Oh, yeah, that's why.
Chase and Ackroyd, is there nothing those guys can't do?
For many folks in the blogosphere, yesterday was all about this AP photo of Tony Snow and Dan Bartlett choppering into the Green Zone....
But somehow, this shot seemed more, well, familiar....
Oh, yeah, that's why.
Chase and Ackroyd, is there nothing those guys can't do?
6.12.2006
don't mess with tigers, and other important information
From this week's New York magazine piece about (supposedly) surprisingly ambitious Princeton alum Charlie Gibson:
When [ABC News president David] Westin gave her the news [that she was losing her new anchor job because she was pregnant], [Elizabeth] Vargas was taken by complete surprise, say people close to her. Having been assured by Westin that she would retain her job when she returned, they say, she felt betrayed.
Westin has a different memory of Vargas’s reaction. “Surprised?” he says. “No, I’m not sure it is right. She had raised with me her concerns about her health and family. We made a mutual decision. I don’t think so, but you need to ask her.”
Yeah, 'cause why should she be surprised? You mean getting pregnant doesn't inoculate you from losing your job? You know, because of, like, the law?
Not in the media world, it seems. (And no, we never got that bugaboo....)
When [ABC News president David] Westin gave her the news [that she was losing her new anchor job because she was pregnant], [Elizabeth] Vargas was taken by complete surprise, say people close to her. Having been assured by Westin that she would retain her job when she returned, they say, she felt betrayed.
Westin has a different memory of Vargas’s reaction. “Surprised?” he says. “No, I’m not sure it is right. She had raised with me her concerns about her health and family. We made a mutual decision. I don’t think so, but you need to ask her.”
Yeah, 'cause why should she be surprised? You mean getting pregnant doesn't inoculate you from losing your job? You know, because of, like, the law?
Not in the media world, it seems. (And no, we never got that bugaboo....)
6.11.2006
things that other moms probably don't worry about
Is it strange that so many of baby's favorite toys are, well, vermin? And that it looks like her transitional object is going to be a plush rat a friend brought back from Germany?
Should we be concerned that baby now sleeps on a futon, like some tiny teenager? She kept bumping into the sides of her crib while she flopped about in her sleep....
While we don't encourage her to watch TV, for some reason she squeals with delight when she sees the Geico gecko. (Are geckos considered vermin?)
Why is it that she loves to eat mushed up seabass and flounder but gags and vomits from a tiny bite of mashed potato?
Should we be concerned that baby now sleeps on a futon, like some tiny teenager? She kept bumping into the sides of her crib while she flopped about in her sleep....
While we don't encourage her to watch TV, for some reason she squeals with delight when she sees the Geico gecko. (Are geckos considered vermin?)
Why is it that she loves to eat mushed up seabass and flounder but gags and vomits from a tiny bite of mashed potato?
6.09.2006
to mark the first day of the world cup
6.06.2006
in case you haven't seen it yet
and it's a good thing, too
Currently posted at Craigslist DC:
AOL is looking for an Editor to join there growing team (Dulle, VA)
AOL is looking for an Editor to join there growing team (Dulle, VA)
6.03.2006
my sister=still better than your sister
Baby's American aunt just posted about her, and it's so damn pretty it made me cry.
slowly but surely i am returning to normal
There was a time not so long ago when I would often read a book a day, sometimes two. This was during a period when (1) work was particularly light, (2) I had terrible insomnia, and (3) baby had not yet come on the scene. When I got pregnant, I had the insomnia, but was literally unable to read anything that wasn't a book about pregnancy. Literally. The smell of magazine print made me sick, I couldn't follow novels, and anything upsetting was, well, too upsetting. I believe that during this period I read 35 books about pregnancy, plus many, many pages of pregnancy-related websites.
A lot of parents of young children will tell you that they don't have time to read novels, but maybe that's because they have jobs? I dunno, but lately I've been reading again. Not as furiously as I once did, but fairly seriously. One thing I'm trying to do is to catch up on the books I've been meaning to get to. Plus I'm doing a little book reviewing. So--perhaps as a bit of incentive, perhaps as a bit of showing off--I am now going to start keeping a list of the books I read. It will begin, at least, on the left hand side of this blog. See it over there? Yeah, that thing, over there.
A lot of parents of young children will tell you that they don't have time to read novels, but maybe that's because they have jobs? I dunno, but lately I've been reading again. Not as furiously as I once did, but fairly seriously. One thing I'm trying to do is to catch up on the books I've been meaning to get to. Plus I'm doing a little book reviewing. So--perhaps as a bit of incentive, perhaps as a bit of showing off--I am now going to start keeping a list of the books I read. It will begin, at least, on the left hand side of this blog. See it over there? Yeah, that thing, over there.
6.02.2006
oh, no
It's 5:30pm and I just realized that I never brushed my teeth today.
This may be the key signifier of new-parenthood. (Which suggests a question: When do I have to stop referring to myself as a "new mother"? It's such a great excuse, it would be a shame to lose it....)
This may be the key signifier of new-parenthood. (Which suggests a question: When do I have to stop referring to myself as a "new mother"? It's such a great excuse, it would be a shame to lose it....)
6.01.2006
if the dizzy-bat race doesn't make you sick enough
livin' on the edge
There is currently one clean diaper in the house. ONE. And I'm just sitting here sipping on my morning coffee, not a care in the world.
I am such a rebel.
UPDATE (11:03): And then there were none.
I am such a rebel.
UPDATE (11:03): And then there were none.
since you asked (fourth in a series*)
A reader has requested to hear more about our experience at the quiz tournament last weekend (also known in some circles as Geekfest 2006). I won't go into too much detail because I'm currently working on a radio documentary about the tournament, which should air this summer. But here are the basics:
My brother, a quiz tournament veteran, brought me, our sister, their mother, and our father to Valencia Community College in Orlando to compete against 9 other teams. We were the only family team, and indeed, the only people who had never competed in one of these before. (Our team name, of course: The Aristocrats.) It was a grueling schedule, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., 20 tossup questions per round, plus bonuses. And the questions were brutal. Here's a fairly typical example from a previous tournament (remember, you get extra points if you can jump in very early in the question with the right answer):
In the fourth chapter of this work, the author describes the need for social interaction, beginning with a struggle to the death. Having learned that a corpse cannot provide validation, the next interaction becomes a struggle for dominion, resulting in lord and bondsman forms of self-consciousness. Its famous Preface outlines the author’s characteristic method of Zusehen. Contrary to popular belief, this work was not finished the night before Napoleon’s invasion of Jena, where its author had a university position. Name this book tracing the path of consciousness to absolute knowledge, the first major work of Hegel.
ANSWER: The Phenomenology of Spirit
And that's not even one of the science or math ones, which are technically in English but completely unintelligible to me.
Anyhow, somehow we won four out of the nine rounds, and I even got to answer a few ("Dashiell Hammett!" "Frida Kahlo!" "The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas!" "A barber!" etc.). Most of all, it was a kick being back in a classroom, and hanging with the mathlete set. Gotta love 'em.
* links to other posts in this series can be found here
My brother, a quiz tournament veteran, brought me, our sister, their mother, and our father to Valencia Community College in Orlando to compete against 9 other teams. We were the only family team, and indeed, the only people who had never competed in one of these before. (Our team name, of course: The Aristocrats.) It was a grueling schedule, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., 20 tossup questions per round, plus bonuses. And the questions were brutal. Here's a fairly typical example from a previous tournament (remember, you get extra points if you can jump in very early in the question with the right answer):
In the fourth chapter of this work, the author describes the need for social interaction, beginning with a struggle to the death. Having learned that a corpse cannot provide validation, the next interaction becomes a struggle for dominion, resulting in lord and bondsman forms of self-consciousness. Its famous Preface outlines the author’s characteristic method of Zusehen. Contrary to popular belief, this work was not finished the night before Napoleon’s invasion of Jena, where its author had a university position. Name this book tracing the path of consciousness to absolute knowledge, the first major work of Hegel.
ANSWER: The Phenomenology of Spirit
And that's not even one of the science or math ones, which are technically in English but completely unintelligible to me.
Anyhow, somehow we won four out of the nine rounds, and I even got to answer a few ("Dashiell Hammett!" "Frida Kahlo!" "The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas!" "A barber!" etc.). Most of all, it was a kick being back in a classroom, and hanging with the mathlete set. Gotta love 'em.
* links to other posts in this series can be found here
