From a NY Times Magazine article about Aaron Sorkin and "The West Wing": When I ask others involved in the show about this apparent gulf between Sorkin's experience and his work, they quickly get defensive and object to the media's radical-chic bias for vicarious darkness. 'Ooh, violence -- I went to prep school but I'm down with that,' mocks Bradley Whitford. 'Aaron is pushing the envelope of intelligence and hope, and that's so much more radical than the envelope of violence and sex.'"

The article is really interesting, mostly for the larger implications about the do-we-write-what-we-know-or-what-we-want-to-know question, but also for the specifics. I didn't know anything about Sorkin's issues with drugs. And I never really considered the show to be all idealized happiness and light. I think the author's a little off the mark with that... the characters are almost universally "good" and the show has a very positive tone, true, but it's not as though nothing bad ever happens. Then again, I only started watching the show this season, so maybe I don't know yet. And who's Bradley Whitford, the one who's cuter than Rob Lowe but doesn't know it, or the older balding Jewish guy?

OK, I'm saying it, you... the Diamond... the Diamondbacks... the Diamondbacks happened to win the World Series tonight. They are not, however, the best team in baseball, and you know it. Talk to me once they've won a couple more. :) But they did play really darn well and I have to say I enjoyed watching the playoffs way more this year than last -- if the best team can't win all the time, at least the games can be exciting. More exciting, in fact, because they *don't* win all the time, and that's as much of a concession as you're getting. Go 2002 Yankees! Heh.

I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear you.... what's the best team in baseball? Say it, out loud, to your computer screen, right now. SAY IT! SAAAAAAAAAAY IIIIIIIIITTTT! :)

I don't buy into any of this "it's magic! it's the ghost of Babe Ruth!" rubbish, by the way. And it's not luck, because luck like that wouldn't happen twice in a row. Is the collective energy of a lot of people who really, really want something positive to happen in their city a factor? That one, I wouldn't completely discount. I definitely hesitate about forcing some kind of larger context onto this; baseball can be a forum/outlet/stage for emotional expression/release/projection, if you will, but I don't want to make it something it's not. Still. How great are they? I don't care if the Yankees never win another game, in this series or for the rest of their existance -- these last two games are the best thing ever.

I had a really weird dream last night. Wonder what it means.

Because we try to be accomodating here at Take It Easy, I will put out some sort of appeal to get the errors fixed. I can't see them so I don't really understand what they are, and no one besides Alissa has said anything -- now's the time to speak up if you can see them too.

And, because I believe in democracy and all that, does everyone think there should be a counter thing for the comments? That I do know how to work and I took it off myself, although I'm not sure why... I guess I didn't want to feel like anything was a popularity contest, but I'm open to suggestions. So here's your assignment: Tell me 1) if you see error messages when loading this page and, if so, what they say and 2) if you want me to put a counter thingie on the comments. Vote early and often.

H. and I just deconstructed Cake's "Short Skirt Long Jacket," and I have determined that -- whether or not you believe Cake is being sarcastic and/or metaphoric -- I want to be the girl. I will soon start taking definitive steps to become her. Especially this part:

"I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity who uses a machete to cut through red tape
with fingernails that shine like justice and a voice that is dark like tinted glass.
She is fast, thorough and sharp as a tack,
she is touring the facility and picking up slack."

Unfortunately, I am starting at a disadvantage because I possess exactly none of the qualities she does. With the exception of staying up late and owning a long jacket (I don't think I even have a skirt that one would consider "short," per se), I am the antithesis of most of the things this girl is or has — but no matter! I will start hanging out at CitiBank and I will trade my Honda for a white Chrysler LeBaron...

Something's funky with my comments, so listen, you. Bush's opinion polls, our status as a sovreign nation and my personal opinion about terrorism have NOTHING to do it. What I was talking about is the total inconsistency in what the U.S. purports to be doing what these pamphlets say -- i.e., we ARE waging a holy war. We're using God-with-a-capital-G (if not in word, than in spirit) to prove our point. The language of those pamphlets is pretty unambiguous: revenge, hellfire and damnation, seeking justice for the dead. You can think that's right or wrong, but you absolutely cannot argue that that's what they're saying. Well, you probably can, but you'd be a freak. OK? OK.

And don't drag Plato into it. If we were using Plato's -- Socrates' -- literal idea of a republic, we'd be abandoning babies in caves, outlawing imitative art and assigning people careers based on the precious metals in their souls. The only thing that bugs me more than people invoking Plato's Republic is people starting arguments with the phrase "the founding fathers intended." They *intended* rich, white, land-owning men to run this country. You can talk about the modern interpretation of their words or the spirit behind the law, but once you go literal, the argument loses all credibility. Ditto with Plato. OK? OK. Again. Hi Ben and Lauren, by the way.

So here's today's excitement: I won the office football pool! I RULE! I have several trusty methods of choosing teams based on meanness of mascot, places I'd like to live and color of uniform... but the one that came through this week was the very scientific... drumroll, please... alphabet! That's right, kids, I chose the teams that came first in the alphabet. And I triumphed over all the football fanatics who walk these halls. Me and my $34 are sitting pretty.

U.S. propaganda to Taliban: I promise I will not talk about scary and/or depressing things all the time, but check out an excerpt from one of the radio broadcasts: "Attention Taliban! You are condemned. Did you know that? The instant the terrorists you support took over our planes, you sentenced yourselves to death. The Armed Forces of the United States are here to seek justice for our dead." Yikes. That's the language of a jihad, I guess.

Anyway, I am off to New Hampshire for the weekend. On a plane, which, now that I think about it, I *haven't* thought much about. Hrm. I've been focusing much more about how excited I am to go -- my roommate's family has an indescribably gorgeous house on the lake, and I'm expecting bright cold autumn air, vibrantly beautiful trees, happy reunions with old friends, consumption of thick warming drinks served in mugs, etc., etc., etc. Happy weekend to all, and to all a good flight.

And oh yes -- go Yankees.

I just finished writing a truly nasty e-mail to some poor webmaster at D.C.'s ABC affiliate. As someone who's usually on the receiving end of these e-mails, I know they're not wholly enjoyable -- but for heaven's sake, the damn channel canceled "Politically Incorrect" after the whole controversy about what's-his-name's "coward" remark. (This article explains it. Disclaimer: I do NOT like Arianna Huffington and I would never vouch for her journalistic competency, ethical veracity or unbiased presentation of anything. But it's pretty hard to argue with the facts in this case.) I don't watch the show, but the principle -- and precedent -- of this is pretty unbelievable.

So in about two hours, I'll have been on this planet for 24 years. (Insert joke: Which planet were you on before that? Ba-dum-bum. You're hilarious.) Apparantly I share this special day with Evil Keneivel, Arthur Miller and Eminem. The four of us should form a band, or a traveling performance art troupe... we could write plays about witch trials comprised solely of four-letter words, and rap them while playing the oboe (my contribution) and jumping over flaming barrels on our motorcycles. That's my new life plan. :)

Anyway, thank all of you for your nice happy birthday wishes. You're the best.

It's nice to be happy about something trivial once in a while. I adore the Yankees. If you don't, it's only because you're jealous. Don't worry, it's understandable...

Trying hard not to think or talk about this or this. Someone put a big box of rubber gloves on top of the mailboxes this morning.

Let's talk about hiking instead. We rule, by the way. We did something harder than I thought we could do. I am despairing of ever being able to use my arms and legs normally again, but we still rule. I experienced the most embarrassing moment of my life and was helped out of it by Angie and a total stranger. For a brief and terrifying second I thought I might have to start believing in guardian angels or some such thing (thank you, Robert), but then I realized I could just believe in nice people, and that's sort of better. Have I mentioned that we rule?

Also, did you know that Alissa wakes you up at 5:40 a.m. -- a time when few of us are sunshiny -- by saying "good morning, sunshine"? :)

Anthrax. Not to be alarmist, but this is scary, and I don't know that I believe this is Terrorists with a capital T. I think there is a distinct possibility that these are wackos of the home-grown variety, non-Taliban members, people-with-no-point-other-than-to-scare-the-hell-out-of-everyone. Then again, who knows anything. Ack.

So I signed on to this program at work to be a mentor to a fourth- or fifth-grader at a local elementary school, and we had an orientation lunch today. I'd sort of off-handedly decided to do it because someone recommended me for this program and I'd like to volunteer in some capacity (i.e., attempt to better the world in some tangible way rather than just feel guilty about never attempting to better the world in some tangible way) -- and I've finally arrived at a time when I have enough flexibility in my hours that I can leave for an hour in the middle of the day. Perfect.

But as we were crouching on kid-sized plastic chairs eating pizza, the guidance counselor started describing what we'd be doing and it hit me: This is going to be a big deal. Apparantly the kids they choose for this program are the ones who need an "adult friend," not necessarily the ones who need the most help academically or emotionally. Over 50 percent of the schools' students are on free or reduced lunch programs... I forget what diplomatic turn of phrase the guidance counselor used, but basically they need a person in their lives who will be a good role model blah blah, but most of all, who will be stable. People who will always show up when they said they would.

That just struck me as something so elemental, something it's so sad anyone should need so badly that some random adult who shows up for an hour a week is going to be able to provide it better than the other people in their lives. And obviously I know not everyone had this as a child, or has it as an adult -- but it's different to be confronted with it like "they need someone consistent in their lives, and now it's YOU." Doesn't sound so profound now, but at the time it felt like a big wake-up call.

And that should do it. Hit reload on your browser and watch the big surprise. Do it again. Hurrah!
And there are comments, although I reserve the remove them again because I do like talking to myself an awful lot. Plus the weird control-freak side of me that seems to come out with all things web-related is really irritated by the inability to make it look consistent with the rest of the site. (That doesn't mean I don't totally appreciate the person behind reblogger, who did an awesome job of making installing comments the easiest thing ever.)
Don't look at the journal, that's not done yet. And, as usual, let me know if there are any glaringly obvious problems...

voila?

As a P.S. to yesterday, the sign has been changed back to "DON'T MESS WITH THE U.S. GOD BLESS AMERICA!!!" And, actually, it's the Arabic Baptist Church. I saw a guy out there this morning -- an Arabic Baptist, I'd presume -- mounting a big honking flag behind it, too. We should get those people to update our Web site... they're awfully diligent about keeping things current... :)

On the sign of the Arabic United Church of Christ in my neighborhood: "BIN LADEN DON'T MESS WITH THE U.S. IN OUR NAME!!!" It's gotten progressively more emphatic over the last few weeks -- at first it just said "DON'T MESS WITH THE U.S.", then "IN OUR NAME," then specifically addressed to bin Laden, now the exclamation points. I think there was a GOD BLESS AMERICA at some point but I'm not sure if it'll still there...

What Gwen promised herself she would do: stay home tonight, have lazy evening, finish this page. What Gwen actually did: took hour-long nap, allowed herself to be convinced to go out for Thai food, played 62 million games of backgammon. I'm sort of tempted to just finish it all now -- I'm probably about 40 percent done -- but it's already almost 2, and I have to pick a friend up at the train station at 9:30. Ah well. More suspense never hurt anyone, right?

Redesign imminent. Sort of. Expect more white space, fewer spices, more fun, less blue, smaller images, cooler fonts, a bit of fancy javascript. Also expect comments. Probably.