New Christina Aguilera Record!!!!

According to Perez Hilton, it’s coming in the next couple months!!! Ooooh, I can’t wait. I love that girl. She’d better be playing Seattle on her new tour.

And according to Perezzle, X-tina was seen leaving Forty Deuce hand in hand with a cute girl. Seems like Mrs. Bratman still swings both ways. Awesome!

Protecting the Residential Quality of Pomona College

One evening during our last semester at Pomona College, my friends and I sat in Frary dining hall and contemplated a prank that would create havoc among the freshman class. We were planning to fake an e-mail from an administration official claiming that due to severe housing shortages, the rising sophomore class would not be guaranteed housing. At first this struck us as a hilarious way to rattle the freshmen - but as we continued to discuss it, we realized that it could be potentially damaging to the way that our underclassmen and women perceived the residential character of the college - even after the e-mail was exposed as a prank. We decided on much more innocuous tomfoolery.

But our decision not to send the prank e-mail seems positively prophetic given the disturbing article I read in this issue of The Student Life. The news: students returning from fall study abroad programs next year will not have guaranteed on-campus housing.

One of the things that attracted me to Pomona was the school’s guarantee of on-campus housing for all students, and the high percentage of people that took advantage of this. The resulting community spirit was a huge reason that I chose Pomona over some of the larger East Coast schools I’d previously set my heart on. To suddenly declare that students taking advantage of the study abroad program during the coming semester will not be given the same guarantees offered to all students is a real problem.

I understand and respect the administration’s position. Pomona is suffering a housing crisis. More students going abroad in the fall than in the spring compounds this problem severely. They cut it incredibly close this year, and something has to give. But just because revoking the housing guarantee is the easiest move doesn’t make it the smartest for the long-term good of the college.

I never went abroad myself. I was too busy being in love with my fiancé and having the time of my life in SoCal. But as I understand it from my friends that did go abroad, there were a number of programs that they would have loved to explore but couldn’t because they would not be guaranteed credit for the semester. Pomona should look into expanding its approved list of programs, particularly those offered in the spring. To further balance the equation, they should enter students who make their study abroad plans in the spring in a raffle for some kind of fabulous prize. Those two measures alone would probably go a long way to curb the shift towards fall study abroad while preserving Pomona’s residential character.

I hope other alums that read my blog will weigh in on this issue as well. Perhaps our voices, joined with those of the TSL Ed. Board and the student body will help convince the administration that there are other ways out of this unfortunate situation that do not involve revoking guaranteed housing for even one Pomona student.

Two Canovas, Two Sets of Lovers: An Art Mystery Solved

I first fell in love with the work of Italian neoclassical sculptor Antonio Canova when I visited Paris in 2000 and saw his take on one of my favorite Greek myths. The passionately entwined figures of Psyche and her husband Eros brought the story of love, death, jealousy and redemption to life with a poignancy that took my breath away. So when I saw a miniature of the sculpture in an antique shop near the center of town in Montpellier, I had to bring it back with me.

But recently, I noticed something about my sculpture that led me to believe it wasn’t an exact replica of the one in the Louvre. In the sculpture housed in the Louvre, the cloth covering Psyche’s loins is short - showing the length of her legs. The cloth in my sculpture covers her legs to the ankles. I wondered, what prompted the artist to take such liberty with Canova’s work. Were Psyche’s legs too much for him? Did he want to dress her a bit more modestly? Was he better at carving cloth from stone than he was at carving a woman’s legs? (I’m assuming that the person who carved my miniature was male, but I could absolutely be wrong.)

Tonight I got my answer. While browsing online through the sculpture collections at the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, I saw a later copy of the same sculpture. Until that moment, I was unaware that Canova had executed a second rendition of the sculpture - this time with the more modest, classically executed loin covering.

Images from left to right: The 1787 original by Canova housed in the Louvre; The 1796 version housed in the Hermitage; My miniature by an unknown artist; detail of Psyche’s loin covering on my miniature

Of course, this isn’t news to you art buffs. Some of you are probably going, “duh!” right now. But I never took an art history class. I’m honestly not much of a visual art person. But occasionally I stumble across something that really strikes my fancy. This was one of those things. I didn’t really think to dig through its history until I came across the answer by happenstance.

Sometimes I think that’s the way art was meant to be enjoyed - with a sense of discovery that no textbook can give you.

Torino 2006: Disappointed in Women’s Figure Skating Medalists, Looking Forward to Meissner in Vancouver

Since I don’t own a television, it wasn’t until tonight that I was able to watch the women’s long program. Even though I knew the outcome, I was excited to watch my favorite women take the ice.

I felt so terrible for Sasha Cohen. When she’s in the right frame of mind, she brings that elusive ingredient to the ice. She possesses the same rare combination of passion, joy, technical brilliance and seeming effortlessness that has make Michelle Kwan figure skating’s darling for so many years.

On Tuesday night I was moved to tears by her short program. But just as the NBC commentators pointed out before her free skate, you could see the doubt in her eyes. She was thinking too hard. Her two falls left the door open for Shizuka Arakawa - whose performance was technically and artistically brilliant, but didn’t have that special fire - to take the gold.

But what I found so remarkable about Cohen is that after her two falls - which could have eliminated her from medals contention altogether - she skated beautifully. After she knew the gold was out of reach - that ingredient came back. I can only conclude that she’s a bit of a head case. But it’s possible that being a head case is part of what makes her so great when she’s on. Just like Kwan.

My other favorite, Irina Slutskaya seemed sure to win gold until she fell on the second to last jump of her program. She had the passion, she had the jumps, she had the footwork. I can’t decide whether she got cocky or just had bad luck. But at 27 it’s sure that she won’t be back for another attempt.

The real stars of these games were the rising stars: Emily Hughes and Kimmie Meissner. Both sparkled with spunk and joy. They knew that they weren’t in it for gold. They were just in it for the love of skating. Despite that, I got the sense that in four years - when she skates at Vancouver as a 20 year-old - Meissner will be a serious threat for gold.

Oh What a Tangled Web We Weave

A couple of you made excellent comments yesterday on my post about port security and the outsourcing of port operations to a company based in Dubai. And so I thought I’d continue the discussion by bringing in the very intelligent points of The New York Times’ Paul Krugman (subscription required) to the table.

The central idea behind Krugman’s column today is that after years of blurring the lines between bad Arabs that attacked us on 9/11 (Al Quaeda, Afghanistan) and bad Arabs that didn’t attack us on 9/11 - the Bush administration has no credibility with the American people when it points to Dubai and whines, “but these are the GOOD Arabs!”

He writes:

The administration successfully linked Iraq and 9/11 in public perceptions through a campaign of constant insinuation and occasional outright lies. In the process, it also created a state of mind in which all Arabs were lumped together in the camp of evildoers. Osama, Saddam — what’s the difference?

Now comes the ports deal. Mr. Bush assures us that “people don’t need to worry about security.” But after all those declarations that we’re engaged in a global war on terrorism, after all the terror alerts declared whenever the national political debate seemed to be shifting to questions of cronyism, corruption and incompetence, the administration can’t suddenly change its theme song to “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.”

The same tactics that have so infuriated progressives - blatant manipulation of the truth intended to manipulate the masses - are now coming back to bite the Bush administration in its collective tuchus. And I suppose it’s poetic justice. There was little that we could do to combat such a powerful and masterfully delivered tactic - but things that powerful are often double-edged swords.

I for one, am enjoying the spectacle of Bush running away from the results of his own campaign of lies. As CNN pointed out a few weeks ago, Bush only has 1,000 days left in his administration.

Here’s hoping he’ll be on the defensive for most of it.

The Security of Our Ports

At first, when I heard about the possibility that we might outsource the operations of some key American ports to a company based in the United Arab Emirates, I was mystified by the brouhaha. I saw the reaction as racist and xenophobic, and I really believed that the White House was right on this one.

But as I thought on it more, I realized that I’d feel safer if American companies were being run by Americans. It’s not that I think foreigners categorically can’t do the job - but nobody has more of an incentive to defend the United States of America than Americans.

I think Maureen Dowd (subscription required) got it right today when she wrote, “maybe it’s corporate racial profiling, but I don’t want foreign companies, particularly ones with links to 9/11, running American ports.”

Unlike Dowd, I don’t care that this company may have links to the 9/11 attacks. After all, a lack of terrorist links shouldn’t mean that a company is qualified to guard something so critical to national security. It’s really a simple equation: American ports should be run by American companies. Because there’s no way that I trust this White House to do a good job of overseeing anyone else.

Again, I think Dowd said it best:

Our ports are already nearly naked in terms of security. Only about 5 percent of the containers coming into the country are checked. And when the White House assures us that the Homeland Security Department will oversee security at the ports, is that supposed to make us sleep better? Not after the chuckleheaded Chertoff-and-Brownie show on Capitol Hill.

So call me a xenophobe. Call me racist against Arabs. I don’t care. And for the record, I don’t object for a second to Arab-Americans running our ports. Just not foreigners. Not when American lives are on the line.

On the ports issue, this administration should be doing more - not less - to maintain our national security.

Inverse Hips, Hops

I have to send some love to my boys Tunji and Toby - otherwise known as Inverse (”remember the name”). They’re not exactly straight outta Compton, but they’re just as badass.

Tunji was my male sponsor my freshman year at Pomona. (For more on the sponsor program, click here.) He has the honorable - or perhaps dubious - distinction of being the first really, really amazingly hot guy I’d ever seen with his shirt off. Let me tell you people, I damn near creamed myself.

Toby - or as he’s sometimes known “Jewpac Kippur” - is Tunji’s partner in rap. He’s my boy back from the days when he played the kid who turns into a raccoon - or was it a cat? - in Don Bluth and Dan Kuenster’s cinematic masterpiece, Rock-a-Doodle. He was also on an episode of “Cheers” and in the movie “Black Sheep” with Chris Farley and David Spade. Once upon a time, while being incredibly dorky in the recording studio while Tunji was trying to rap, Toby and I came up with the fabulous line, “I’m so gully, I’m Fern Gully.” Incidentally, he too has a smokin’ body.

But enough making fun. These guys are some serious rappers - the real fucking deal. And their recent performance at The Space in Santa Monica kinda proves it. If you overlook the fact that Tunji’s hat makes him look kind of dorky, you can see that both of these fools can seriously flow.

I eagerly await the release of their record, Long Day’s Journey.

Muhammad Cartoons and Nazi Sympathizers, Where I Stand

I’ve held off on talking about the cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad - may peace be upon him - that have set off such anger in the Muslim world because it’s taken me a while to figure out exactly what my stance is on the whole thing. But today’s news that an Austrian court had sentenced a man to three years in prison for claiming that there were no gas chambers used during the Holocaust helped me to clarify my thinking.

The cartoons depicting Muhammad were deeply disrespectful of Islam because of their flagrant disregard for the religious injunction against depicting the Prophet. The claims of British “historian” / Nazi sympathizer David Irving are deeply disrespectful of the Jewish community because of their flagrant disregard for the atrocities committed against us by the Nazis during World War II. Jews and Muslims alike have the right to be offended, furious and hurt - and I feel all these things about both pieces of trash.

But that doesn’t mean that those who issued the offensive material in the first place should be punished. David Irving should not be going to jail. The people at Jyllands-Posten (no link for a reason) should not have been fired for their publishing of the images. There should be no rioting over this issue.

That doesn’t mean that people don’t have a right to be angry. Sometimes freedom of speech angers us. I may not like what neo-Nazi groups or anti-abortion zealots have to say - but I am still committed to preserving their right to say it. And that means allowing people like David Irving and the editors at Jyllands-Posten to continue to spout hateful, insensitive and mean-spirited words and images into the world.

I think that people the world over have a right to boycott Danish products, and to protest peacefully against the cartoons. That is their exercise of free speech - a rule that protects the offender and the offended alike - which should be protected above all else.

Thoughts on Marrying Young

Many people assume from my relative maturity level and the engagement ring on my finger that I’m in my mid to late twenties. When I tell them I’m 22, some people are a little shocked. I’ve been told by family members and strangers alike that I’m awfully young to be getting married.

Guess what? I know. I know that at 22, I still have many things to figure out. I know that people who marry right out of college are likely to get divorced. And I know that being from a divorced family myself greatly increases the odds that my marriage won’t work out. But I’m getting married anyway - for a lot of reasons.

The qualities that I value in Andy aren’t the kind that will fade with time. My favorite thing about him is that he’s a good communicator. Sure we’re attracted to one another, but the friendship, support, kindness, and compassion that we share - even from 3,000 miles away - is much more important to both of us. Perhaps most importantly of all, I trust him because he’s simply the most honest, decent person I’ve ever met and the best friend I’ve ever had.

I was reading a piece in Elle last night about Ayelet Waldman, the woman who famously wrote in The New York Times that she loved her husband more than she loved their four children. When I grow up, I want to be just like her. I want to have that passionate marriage that she shares with her husband - novelist Michael Chabon. I want to have that partnership, that gender-neutrality, and that sense of fun that pervades their lives - even as they work hard and chauffeur their kids hither and yon.

I can see myself having that kind of marriage with Andy. That’s why I will make the biggest promise of my life while I still have more zits than wrinkles and more hopes and guesses than experiences and disappointments.

After all, I want to share the latter with the best friend I’ve ever had.

Teresa Sandwich: Tales from the Middle Seat

Red-eye flights are always a pain in the ass. But they are especially daunting when you’re in the middle seat. And when your seat mates are two suspicious men, you can forget sleeping. I’ve heard tales of women being borderline molested on flights, their male seat mates “asleep” with their hands in places they shouldn’t be. And really, who wants to sleep next to some man they barely know?

I should point out that my seat mates, while slightly sketchy, didn’t do anything wrong. But at the same time, I felt very uncomfortable. I should have said something to a flight attendant. But I didn’t because there wasn’t anything they could do about it, and the plane was full anyway.

I think that airlines should segregate a section of the plane by gender for any flight on which sleeping would be the norm. These seats should fill up on a first-come, first-serve basis. That way, women - like me - who feel skeezed out by sleeping next to an unknown man can sit in the company of women and sleep soundly.

Long-Distance Love

As I’m sure my faithful readers know by now, I am a huge fan of PostSecret the online interactive art project where people send in their secrets on postcards. Sometimes a postcard really hits home, like the one at right. Being in a long-distance relationship, I have asked myself that same question many times. And the answer, it always seems, is a qualified yes.

In some circumstances, love can survive distance. But there are no givens and no guarantees. All I know is that mine appears not only to be surviving, but thriving. Of course, there are difficulties. The three-hour time difference means that Andy goes to sleep before I even have dinner. And going six to eight weeks at a stretch without so much as a hug from my fiancé can be stressful. But there are also upsides. I can honestly say that I’ve never once felt under-appreciated or taken for granted. And the distance has spawned a lot of creativity when it comes to keeping in touch. My personal favorite is watching the same television show at the same time while connected over Skype. I love hearing Andy laugh at some stupid television show. It’s almost as good as watching it together.

And the beautiful engagement ring he gave me doesn’t hurt either :-).

How You Know You’re in Love.

At about 4:30 this morning, my phone rang, rousing me out of a dream that had something to do with yoga. Drowsy and confused, I lifted the receiver, expecting to hear the only kind of news that can prompt someone to call at 4:30 - death or grave illness.

I couldn’t hear anything on the other line.

Suddenly, I was terrified. Was a creepy serial killer outside right now - watching me through my window slats as I sat in bed?

Then I heard the radio on the other end of the phone, and my fiancé singing along (badly) to Jimi Hendrix’s “All Along the Watchtower.” And I realized that he must have accidentally dialed my number from his pocket.

But instead of being mad over the early call, or trying to get his attention by yelling into the phone. I just laid there and listened to the noise of his car, the songs on the radio. The honking of a passing truck. His drumming on the steering wheel. The low hum of his car being turned off. His voice as he walked into work with a colleague.

I don’t think I’ve ever had such a pleasant wake up call.

What’s Wrong with Catcalls? Everything.

Yesterday, as I was walking home from work, a man in a van leaned out his window and began to yell sexual obscenities too vulgar to be reprinted at me. The basic insinuation was that if I came over and got in, he’d show me a “good time.”

Then, today as I walked home from work, a group of young men waiting for the bus looked me up and down and made obscene gestures with their mouths before asking me if I would like to “hang out.”

In the workplace, sexual harassment can be loosely defined as a set of unwelcome behaviors of a sexual that make a member of the workplace feel threatened, belittled and/or unable to do his or her job. I think that the same ought to be true of the outside world. I may not be able to take the young man on the street corner or the older man in the van to court for harassing me, but what they did was no less inappropriate or intimidating. In both instances, I was not only offended by the unwelcome and uncouth attention, but afraid for my safety.

In the final analysis, these ruffians were likely trying to show off or to bolster their own inadequate sense of masculinity. But those sorts of behaviors lead down the slippery slope to more serious offenses, like grabbing a woman on the street, or the use of date rape drugs in a nightclub. If a man must violate a woman’s sense of safety in order to feel like a man, then perhaps over time these other activities will become a part of his repertoire as well.

And I have a few words of advice for my male readers. Catcalling will never get you anywhere with a woman. If you find someone attractive, and the situation is appropriate, approach politely and ask if she wouldn’t mind a bit of company. Introduce yourself, ask her name and then ask her what she likes to do and LISTEN. This will go further than complimenting any aspect of her appearance in any way, polite or otherwise.

From Katrina to Libby: A Bad News Day for the Bush White House

Two stories broke today, both of which do not bode well for the already unpopular presidency of George W. Bush.

The New York Times reported that the White House was aware of the levees’ failure by the evening after Hurricane Katrina first struck New Orleans. Yet President Bush remained on vacation in Crawford Texas until two days after reports first began to arrive at the White House that the damage was “far more serious” than the media was currently reporting. Said fallen FEMA head Michael Brown in an interview, “”There is no question in my mind that at the highest levels of the White House they understood how grave the situation was.”

Meanwhile, reports are surfacing that indicted former vice presidential chief of staff Scooter Libby has said he was following directions from superiors when he leaked the name of a covert CIA operative to the press. The operative, Valerie Plame Wilson is the wife of former Ambassador Joseph Wilson, who issued a scathing rebuke to the White House entitled What I Didn’t Find in Africa after President Bush claimed in his 2003 State of the Union address that Iraq had attempted to buy nuclear materials from Africa.

The lead in to the CNN story says it all. According to court documents, Libby “told a federal grand jury that his superiors authorized him to give secret information to reporters as part of the Bush administration’s defense of intelligence used to justify invading Iraq, according to court papers.”

In his State of the Union address this year, President Bush tried to end the debate over our reasons for attacking Iraq. It’s clear now more than ever that those attempts are a part of a larger coverup that leads directly to the Oval Office.

Barbie Needs to Be Single and Fabulous - Sex and the City for Little Girls

In a desperate move to make Barbie dolls relevant to girls again, Mattel announced today that Barbie is reuniting with Ken after she ran off two years ago with Australian surfer Blaine.

Is it just me, or is Barbie a serial monogamist? And is that a big part of her problem?

Barbie is being rapidly outsold by the Bratz dolls made by rival MGA Entertainment. The girls these dolls represent don’t have boyfriends. They don’t have much of anything really, except for fashion sense and tiny bodies.

If older, more sophisticated Barbie wants to compete with these shallow teeny boppers, she needs to get in touch with herself. She needs to strike out on her own with no boyfriend and no safety net. The Barbie I envision is an independent woman. She has a fabulous bachelorette pad in a cosmopolitan city like Chicago or Seattle. She’s got a closetful of awesome clothes and designer shoes, a really cool job, and awesome girlfriends.

Mattel needs to make her smart and complicated. She should have a blog so girls can keep up with her daily adventures, her thoughts, and her feelings.

Sure she’ll go on dates. But none of them can capture her attention for long. She’s done the relationship thing, and now she’s more interested in pleasing herself, doing exactly what she wants, and spending time with the remarkable and equally complex women she calls her best friends.

That’s what Barbie should do, if she wants to survive as a toy for girls.

On Being 22

One of my favorite poems is John Milton’s Sonnet VII. By his 24th birthday, many of his contemporaries had proven themselves, but Milton felt that he had yet to produce anything even remotely worthy of the genius he knew he possessed. In the sonnet, he looks back on his young life and wonders where the fulfillment of his promise is, concluding that he can only put his fate in the hands of God.

Sometimes I feel a bit like Milton must have when he wrote this. I have no idea whether I am nearly so talented as he was - but like him, I have been told my whole life that I have promise. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever fulfill it.

There are infinite ways of passing the time we are given. Some are mean and some are high. All are filled with struggle and their own kinds of pain. In the end - no matter what we have accomplished - I’m sure we are all left with the feeling that if we had just been better, focused more, worked harder, we could have achieved so much more.

Perhaps that’s my greatest challenge: to be satisfied with what I can do, instead of trying to live up to whatever expectations others have for me. I must learn to listen to the voice of God inside me and live up to God’s expectations, rather than struggle to do what I think others want from me.

But although God’s will is powerful, God has also given me a voice of my own. And this is perhaps the most challenging voice to hear. Amidst the din we are so accustomed to, listening to the authentic self is the hardest thing of all.

What do I know? And what do I want? I know that life is difficult, and that I am prepared for struggle and sacrifice. But what I want above all is to be happy. I want - despite the turmoil and challenges - to have a corner of the universe in which I can simply be myself and be loved for it.

Low Fat Doesn’t Prevent Anything

A study released today by the National Institutes of Health revealed that a low fat diet does nothing to curb cancer, heart disease or stroke in women. It also demonstrated that higher intake of carbohydrates doesn’t lead to diabetes.

I don’t purport to hold all the answers when it comes to human health, but I don’t believe that we can isolate one particular component of a person’s diet and expect that it’s going to be the key to curing all disease.

The equation for health is pretty simple. Eat sensibly. Exercise regularly. See a doctor when you feel sick. Get annual pap smears, breast exams or prostate exams. Practice abstinence if you can, safer sex if you’re one of the many who can’t go without getting laid. If you get sick, do what your doctor tells you.

Yes we should be working toward solutions for the great diseases of our time like cancer, heart disease, AIDS, etc. But we shouldn’t be misleading people by looking to one dietary element - like fat - as an easy substitute for what should be a lifelong commitment to health.

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