on september 11th and comedy

Time: 9:11pm

Location: Kitchen

Knock knock.

Who's there?

September Eleventh.

This isn't a September Eleventh joke, is it?

Just ask, “September Eleventh who?”

Okay. September Eleventh who?

You said, “Never forget!”

My cousin was actually in the Twin Towers that day.

Oh wow.

He was on the sixty-first floor. They told everyone above the sixtieth floor to go up. That they would be evacuated by helicopter from the top of the building. But the helicopters never came. If he'd been one floor lower, he may have lived.

Oh my gosh, your cousin died?

Yeah.

One of my friends worked in an after school program with twelve-year-olds. One of their outings was to a local library where they learned about all of the research implements that have basically been made obsolete by the information dominance of the internet. You know, microfiche and the like.

The kindly librarian guide explained how they could use the library tools to help them with school research papers. The topic she chose to demonstrate how the available resources could be used was September Eleventh. To engage the youths she asked what year the September Eleventh attacks occurred. These children of the new millennium answered, “Sometime in the 1960s, right?”

To further illustrate how removed the school children of today are from the tragedy that defined mine and my peers' adolescence, one of these twelve-year-olds nearly ate pavement tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. Her response to her near-brush with scraped knees was, “Man, I almost went down like the twin towers.” The twenty-something group leaders we appalled alleging it was “too soon.”

I've always been an advocate of humor and its power to take the edge off of life. Everything is absurd an unpredictable and I guess we get to choose if we are going to laugh or cry at the chaos of it all. But maybe sometimes we have to cry before we can laugh? And we are not really allowed to laugh at the pain but is it okay to laugh at the absurd? Am I terrible person for telling a silly September Eleventh joke to someone who had to attend a funeral for someone who died that day?

Comedian Tig Notaroperformed some groundbreaking stand-up comedy after she was diagnosedwith breast cancer. She announces her diagnosis to her audience in her characteristic candid and dead-pan way. The respond with a concerned guttural sound, like they'd been gently punched in the stomach. However, as she continues to discuss the sounds emanating from the crowd turn from pained “oohs” to uncomfortable laughter to genuine amusement and a beautiful cacophony of encouragement. Interestingly, her monologue is mostly her convincing those gathered to hear her performance that it will be okay. And it is funny.

I like the idea of comedy as comfort. I also like the idea of comedy as a means of awakening sensibilities (e.g. racism exists, sexism exists, the world in many ways is not fair, etc.) However, I guess it has its limits, but I am all for gently and respectfully pushing those limits.

un[der]employment and thoughts and such

i got my hair cut today. it was out of vanity's necessity. the edges were frayed by the flames of an early spring bonfire where we roasted the carnage of the day's tree trimming ventures. those branches burn hot. hot enough to singe the tip of my pony tail, a few of my eyelashes, and a portion of arm hair.

the hair stylist kept clucking about how scraggly my ends had become as a result of this minor mishap. i bemoaned the four inches of length i parted with, though this this webcam shot has helped me to affirm that my locks can still be classified as "long."

Hello, Emo-Eye-Covering-Bang-Sweep.

these days getting a haircut marks the highlight of the day. mostly because right now, i tend to work one or two days a week tops.

i always get excited by the prospect of unemployment. while unencumbered by the responsibility to show up at a certain place at a certain time and trade my labor for dollars, i expect that i will engage in all those creative endeavors that i put off because of how much time of my day is reserved for that "the man" character referred to so often. 

but in reality, i spend an inordinate amount of time on websites like these:

eelslap.com 

and 

www.sanger.dk 

(i highly encourage you to click on them. on eelslap.com, you literally slap a man with an eel.)

i suppose productivity comes down to goal-setting, but i do not want to set artificial goals and feel an artificial sense of accomplishment, you know?

i feel there is an often overlooked precursor to setting goals and that is assessing personal values, priorities and passions. A goal that makes splendid sense to you may be completely wrong for me.

like on old parks and recreation. garry/jerry/larry gergich and leslie knope.

one particular episode in which garry/jerry/larry's retirement is celebrated, leslie tries desperately to piece together the highlights of his decades-long public service career and comes up with next to nothing. she visits his home to see that he never cared much for professional accolades. he was more of the type of guy to leave early to spend time with his family rather than put in extra hours to win a promotion or to prefer dedicating time to a painting class than climbing the career ladder (in fact, in one of my very favorite episodes garry/jerry/larry paints a scene which ignites controversy. the painting even has its own wikipedia page.) 

conversely, leslie is a community and career-minded go-getter whose focus is building a better pawnee using the mantle of power granted to her by her deputy director of parks and rec status.

however, i do feel like the family/career goal dichotomy is far too simplified. nonetheless, i hope it drives home my point that a goal is only as good as it is relevant to what brings an individual fulfillment.

i guess that is what i am working on: determining my values and assessing what life objectives (big and small) align with those values--in between eel slaps.