While I have a spare minute

I have a question for everyone. Do you generally think that the Police Department is a benevolent organization dedicated to serving people? Because my AmeriCorps swearing in thing was presided over by not only one but two police chiefs. One of them being the Seattle Police Chief. I haven't been in the country for a long time, but from what I remember the SPD was not particularly well thought of.

And I don't really think my family has ever been that big on the cops anyway. But still. Cops, like nonprofits? Yea or nay? This is possibly the stupidest question I've ever asked. If nay, you must give reasons why!

Edit: I should also mention that during our interminable swearing in ceremony, they talked all about how cops love helping people and making a difference in their lives. If it's not already apparent, I had great difficulty restraining my derision.

Conversations from the house

Housemate: Ick, stinky cheese.
Me: What kind of cheese was it?
Housemate: Goat cheese. I thought it was ok, but then I smelled it and it smelled like (Other housemate's) sponge.

Conversations from the house

Housemate: You look great. (gesturing at buttondown shirt and sweater vest) More like a student than a teacher, because you're so young. That's a good thing right?
Me: Um...

Rhapsody on a windy night

T.S. Eliot

Twelve o'clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of the memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions.
Every street-lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

Half-past one,
The street-lamp sputtered,
The street-lamp muttered,
The street-lamp said, "Regard that woman
Who hesitates toward you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
You see the border of her dress
Is torn and stained with sand,
And you see the corner of her eye
Twists like a crooked pin."

The memory throws up high and dry
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton
Stiff and white.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.

Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter."
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay.
I could see nothing behind that child's eye.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.

Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp muttered in the dark.
The lamp hummed:
"Regard the moon,
La lune ne gard aucune rancune,
She winks a feeble eye,
She smiles into corners.
She smooths the hair of the grass.
The moon has lost her memory.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone
With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevises,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets,
And female smells in shuttered rooms,
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars."

The lamp said,
"Four o'clock,
Here is the number on the door.
Memory!
You have the key,
The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair.
mount.
The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,
Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life."

The last twist of the knife.

Conversations from AmeriCorps

when coming up with our "group norms"
Person 1: I think we should have up there "care-fronting"
Boss: What is care-fronting?
Person 1: It's when you confront someone because you care about them. So it's not confrontation, because you care. It's care-fronting.
Boss: I don't think I'm comfortable with any kind of confrontation.
Person 2: How about we just say "no fronting"?

Old people make for less funny stories

"A person who makes you afraid." my student's (tongue-in-cheek) definition of the word terrorist.

You know

life was a lot simpler when I didn't talk to anyone.

Dubious thoughts about life in general

It's been (relatively) silent up in here for a while. Perhaps in part to moving and then a low level continuous sick, as well as some preturbing insomnia. However, longtime readers know that insomnia and bitching about insomnia is practically the status quo around here.

The housemates are good, suspiciously good, next week they'll probably turn out to all be some sort of cult or give money to Pat Robertson (like my grandpa!) or something.

The job is challenging. I should really learn how to let things go and not be too stressed out or not get depressed about it. There are some parts of it that are really good. There are parts of it that are not so good.

It's cold and rainy that doesn't help.

Somehow, acting cheerful all the time seems to help, but at the same time, I feel a little disconnected from what is actually going on both outside and inside. I think Haruki Murakami writes lots of books about people with detatchable selves, where things can happen to people, sometimes really horrific things, and it's not like it's happening to them. Not that anything horrific has happened to me, quite the opposite really, but still I feel sometimes like my life is happening to some me that's not quite me, if that makes sense.

Conversations from the house

Roommate: So how many Asians were at in your year at school?
Me: Five.
Roommate: (not listening) No no, **** is a competitive school. I'm not talking about Asian Americans, how many Asian nationals were there at your school?
Me: Five. (to demonstrate) There was me, Miri ***, Hyun ****, Michelle ***, and Meng **. Five.
(silence)

Conversations with my friends

Friend: I think I'm prejudiced against people with eyes that are too close together or too wide apart. Like Brandi.
Me: What are you talking about? She's a pretty girl.
Friend: Oh she's a pretty girl. I just bet it would be pretty hard to sneak up on her.

A thought

After the bus stop thing yesterday, I was talking to a friend about it, and she mentioned her own strategy of putting on an old hoodie and cap when she rode the bus, to avoid unwelcome attention. At a certain point, how different is this from putting on a veil?

Taiwanese pop interlude

I'll be honest. The tune's kind of catchy, but the video really embodies anything and everything wrong with Chinese pop today. Hapless people in animal costumes, pouty men with mullets, the notion that all of this is "cool." As my friend says, Chinese pop is the only thing that simultaneously makes you cringe and tap your foot at the same time.

Conversations from living with my mom

My mom: inaudible
Me: What?
My mom: Oh sorry, you had your earplugs in.
Me: Earphones.

Picture posts mean the lovelesscynic is a lazy jerk.

a couple months ago I took a trip to Portland, as you can tell, my trip consisted of visiting friends and taking pictures of the sky.

I swear to fucking god

if I am accosted by one more man at the bus stop who tells me he "would give anything to hold an Asian woman in his arms" I won't be responsible for any broken bones. One is far more than enough. I would have punched him anyway, but that would have involved actually interacting with him. Getting off work is enough of a drag without this kind of crap.

all moved in

I have had very little time or energy to report anything recently. My new boss is going on maternity leave, I have lots of procedures and acronyms to learn. Also I just moved into the city, like as of today. If I ever get some sleep (my odds are increased with my increased distance from a certain asthmatic parakeet) perhaps I can write something. As it is, well, we'll see.