tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68255252024-02-06T21:40:56.155-08:00Julia Goldberg's BlogThis blog began as part of a voter-education project in 2004 and has now morphed into my personal sometimes newsy musings with, hopefully, emphasis on Santa Fe, New Mexico, and <a href="http://www.sfreporter.com">The Santa Fe Reporter</a>, the alt.weekly newspaper I edit.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comBlogger954125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-87809164452781342672009-07-06T19:27:00.000-07:002009-07-06T19:34:32.541-07:00and then it was julyIt's been a very strange and turbulent summer. There's the weather: afternoon monsoons coupled with morning rains and chilly nights. It doesn't quite feel like Santa Fe.<br />And there's the added workload, some of which is not exactly voluntary but some is and, at any rate, it is what it is.<br />Right now, the sky is purple and black and lone fireworks are still being set off in the neighborhood. The yard, which the boy has been throwing himself into (he says it's good therapy after a night in the ER on shift, although he certainly doesn't use the word therapy) is very green and has an almost secret garden feeling. At least it does if you stand in one particular spot.<br />The last week has felt very charged. I returned home from the AAN convention filled with various thoughts on all the things one is supposed to be thinking about these days in journalism: twitter and aggregation and whatnot. I'm interested enough in all of it to have been pretty engaged, but en route learned of the car crash that killed four Santa Fe teens and left one of our employees' daughters in the hospital (slowly, slowly recovering) and was suddenly plunged into the most basic of journalistic tasks: obituary writing, albeit with heart, I hope.<br />I have this sense of Santa Fe imploding around me. It makes it hard to sleep or stop thinking. Although not in an entirely bad way, since I like to feel engaged whenever possible. Beats being bored, which I am not.<br />Am almost ready to revamp this blog and give it some real attention. Almost. As soon as I finish thinking.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-86739377136522265312009-06-24T14:32:00.001-07:002009-06-24T14:35:16.858-07:00If you can't stand the heatthen don't go outside. That's pretty much my current mindset. I'm in Tucson, Arizona for the annual <a href="http://www.aan.org">AAN </a>conference and I'm pretty sure it's at least 100 degrees outside. I don't really care how hot it is digit wise, all I know is it's so hot that when I step outside I literally don't know what I'm supposed to do. Walk? Breathe? How?<br />The conference is being held in a big hotel with many pools. Normally, lying by a pool with a book is my idea of heaven, but I feel like once it reaches 110 degrees, what's the point of even getting in the water? Why isn't the water evaporating? <br />I'm very determined not to spend five days complaining incessantly about the weather, but so far I'm not off to a very good start, particularly if you factor in facebook and twitter, where I've been complaining relentlessly.<br />On the bright side, if I close my blinds in my room and turn down the temperature to about 60, it's quite comfortable.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-74514595566893454612009-06-03T08:48:00.000-07:002009-06-03T08:50:02.278-07:00happy anniversaryThe <a href="http://www.sfreporter.com">Reporter</a>'s 35th birthday is coming up, and I'm hoping to include lots of feedback on Santa Fe's past and future in the upcoming issue. To wit, I've created an extremely easy five-question survey. Fill it out, and your opinions, thoughts and creative ideas may be published on June 17. <a href="http://www.sfreporter.com/35survey/">Here's the link</a>:Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-73870164150107484952009-06-02T11:08:00.001-07:002009-06-02T11:08:51.307-07:00My Sister's Marathon in San Diego<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AHfw9D5bCeo&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AHfw9D5bCeo&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-87329996135073702062009-05-26T15:04:00.000-07:002009-05-26T15:05:52.429-07:00Terminator 4 Needs Salvation<a href="http://www.sfreeper.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/terminator-salvation-1704.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-3463" style="margin: 10px;" title="terminator-salvation-1704" src="http://www.sfreeper.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/terminator-salvation-1704-300x225.jpg" alt="" height="225" width="300"></a><br /><br />In 1984, a world rendered apocalyptic as the result of machines fighting back against the people who created them had enough metaphoric foresight to do what good <span class="zem_slink">science fiction</span> can do—capture your imagination and make you think.<br /><br />In 2009, it's really not enough to just throw a bunch of killing machines into the ether and rely on the inherently profound notion that machines can think, but they can't <em>feel</em> like we do (not that there's actual evidence of believable human emotion in the movie), to provoke much of anything—other than boredom and irritation.<a name='more'></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.sfreeper.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/terminator-salvation-image-7-11.jpg"><img class="alignright size-medium wp-image-3467" title="terminator-salvation-image-7-11" src="http://www.sfreeper.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/terminator-salvation-image-7-11-300x153.jpg" alt="" height="153" width="300"></a>Even though the bulk of <strong>Terminator Salvation's</strong> action takes place in 2018, there is no acknowledgment by the filmmakers that this futuristic hellhole is just nine years away. Even an army of homicidal ipod shuffles would have at least given a nod to how much technology actually has taken over our lives since the <em>Terminator</em> franchise began. Lacking that, <strong>Salvation</strong> needed to bring what the <strong>Matrix </strong>brought when it explored a similar (I mean identical) trope: better gadgets. Matrix technology, like that of these movies' optimistic cousin <strong>Star Trek</strong>, is at least fun to think about. Keanu Reeves puts on some ridiculous head piece and is suddenly able to master kung-fu! Capt. Picard says "Earl Gray" toward a console and the tea appears! Wolf Blitzer is talking to a hologram of wil.i.am!<br /><br />In <strong>Salvation</strong>, technology, despite being the supposed thematic bedrock of the franchise, doesn't even try. How will <strong>Skynet </strong>(maybe that name sounded scary 20 years ago; right now it sounds like the name of an airline) be undone? Um, a weird sound undoes it, you know, pitched at some weird frequency. The early version of the Terminator? Half man, half machine... It doesn't know it's a machine. Or follow orders. Whatever. Um, yeah, we gave it a human heart...because that makes sense. Because then when <strong>John Connor</strong> needs a <em>new </em>heart, we can just pop that half machine/half human's heart out, right there in the middle of the desert and do a little switcheroo. Man, medicine has come a long way in less than 10 years. You don't even need equipment anymore to do open heart surgery. And the Resistance? It resists in a submarine. The only interesting technological accomplishment was the shininess of <strong>Moon Bloodgood</strong>'s hair in the middle of an apocolypse in the desert—the movie was shot in New Mexico—no one here has hair that shiny. (As a side note, when a real person named Moon Bloodgood plays a futuristic character named <strong>Blair Williams, </strong>it might be time to reset the entire series in the Renaissance era).<br /><br />The other main facet of the Terminator series has been its reliance on Rule # 78 of the <strong>Space/Time Continuum. *</strong> It's sort of a "you break it/you buy it" philosophy when it comes to how time works. The series began with <a class="zem_slink" title="The Terminator" rel="amazon" href="http://www.amazon.com/Terminator-Arnold-Schwarzenegger/dp/B00005N5S5%3FSubscriptionId%3D0G81C5DAZ03ZR9WH9X82%26tag%3Dzemanta-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3DB00005N5S5">The Terminator</a> (the movie misses <strong>Arnold Schwarzenegger</strong> so bad it uses real technology to cameo Schwarzenegger kind of naked and really young...please don't let anyone ever do that with our governor) going back in time to kill <strong>Sarah Connor</strong> so that she can't give birth to John Connor, who will one day defeat the machines). In Salvation, the machines are after <strong><a class="zem_slink" title="Kyle Reese" rel="wikipedia" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kyle_Reese">Kyle Reese</a></strong>, (Anton Yelchin) Connor's father, who is just a teenager in 2018, to try to keep him from going back in time and knocking up John Connor's mother. ("I think I'm getting confused," my boyfriend said as we left the theater; my advice: "don't try to make it make sense.")<br /><br />This new twist on the machines' determination to keep John Connor (Christian Bale, who grows ever less charming) from being born by going after his teenage father before he becomes his father, opens up the door, of course, for endless variations for future Terminators. Here's just a couple I've come up with:<br /><br /><strong>1. Terminator: Supreme Justice</strong><br /><br />A Terminator goes back in time and becomes a US Supreme Court judge who gets to rule on Roe v. Wade. But instead of allowing women to have abortions, Terminator Supreme Court Judge requires all women, including Sarah Connor, to have them, thus eliminating the machines' future nemesis.<br /><br /><strong>2. Terminator: Oral Fixation</strong><br /><br />When John Connor is just a child, he gets an absessed tooth and is saved from dying from infection by a kind Resistance Fighter Dentist. The machines take the dentist out, thus ensuring Connor's death.<br /><br /><strong>3. Terminator: Helena Bonham Carter</strong><br /><br />Carter is given a role in yet another Terminator movie. The humans decide that perhaps people really should be extinguished off the face of the earth.<br /><br />*I have no idea what rule of the Space/Time continuum this is. My geekdom has its limitations.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="margin-top: 10px; height: 15px;" class="zemanta-pixie"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/b901e25e-b5f9-47b1-9cb2-e7876901c097/" title="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"><img style="border: medium none ; float: right;" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=b901e25e-b5f9-47b1-9cb2-e7876901c097" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div><br /><br />crossposted at <a href="http://www.sfreeper.com">sfreeper.com</a>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-40945556227441462862009-05-21T11:25:00.000-07:002009-05-21T11:28:41.564-07:00Send money, nowNo, that's not an order. Don't you love it when people ignore their blogs and then the minute they post again, it's all, "send me money, send me money."<br />I don't really want you to send me money. But it would be cool if you'd send my sister some.<br />My sister, Abby, is running <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/rnr09/agoldbe5ja">her first marathon</a> in a week in San Diego, California. It's a marathon to raise money for leukemia. I'm still not entirely clear how or why fundraising for diseases and marathons have become inextricably linked, but, at any rate, obviously this is a good cause. And all the more remarkable if you knew my family, whose family crest (if we had one) would read: We Only Run When Chased.<br />I'm flying to San Diego next weekend to cheer on my sister at the finish line. And, if leukemia/blood diseases are an issue you care about, or you just want to support a good cause and a very sincere and good person (different gene pool), please consider sponsoring her.<br />Click <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/los/rnr09/agoldbe5ja">here </a>for the link.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-89116047087895111672009-04-08T13:11:00.000-07:002009-04-08T13:14:56.296-07:00Don't Quit Your Day Job<a href="http://toonlet.com/archive?i=25490">Although I think I captured the boy well.</a>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-37536151486512981752009-04-01T15:27:00.001-07:002009-04-01T15:48:06.772-07:00down to the wireI didn't watch <a href="http://www.hbo.com/thewire/">The Wire</a> when it was on TV, despite the urgings of many people, some of whom even understand my aesthetics and tastes. I figured I'd watch it someday or not at all. <br />And then I got my second bout of the crud and was so buried in reading for work that any other reading became verboten, and HBO started offering The Wire on On Demand etc. etc.<br />Several weeks later, I have finally finished all the seasons, including the final fifth one that everyone especially said I HAD TO SEE because it involved a newsroom etc. etc. (it is not, btw, a wrong assumption that I would be interested in anything involving the media; I do have that mad meta love; I even liked the movie The Paper, although Robert Duvall, when I met him last year, laughed at me for that).<br />Anyway, The Wire: Much has been written on its breaking of narrative conventions and, indeed, I liked that quite a bit. Very clever. And, of course, the characters, so many tightly drawn and unforgettable.<br />But when I finally finished, all I could really think about was the ultimate message. In three different, but connected "public" sectors: police, schools, newspapers, there is a common tension between people who just really want to do their jobs: real policework, real teaching, real reporting, versus those who are running the various institutions, who require proof that the work is making a difference. So in the copshop, you have people "juking the stats" to show that crime is down to please the politicians; in the schools, teachers teach to the test to improve scores so they can get federal dollars. And, in the poor newsroom, desperate reporters fabricate stories and overwrite them to please the higher-ups so that the newspapers can win Pulitzers (which, in real life, hardly guarantees fiscal solvency, but anyway).<br />It's an over-simplification to say the heroes are the ones who refuse to play the game, because such heroism isn't necessarily rewarded in The Wire (at least not materially), but it's not too much of an oversimplification. What is clear, by the end, is that any attempt by an individual to change an institution will take down that individual long before it takes down that institution. And, lo and behold, there will be someone else to pop up and take his or her place. Even the drug trade, the fourth "institution" of The Wire, is an unbreakable machine: No matter how many people die, no matter how much drugs are confiscated, there will always be someone to step in and keep the machine going. There will always be someone willing to juke the stats, teach to the test, or publish bullshit.<br />So, you know, not an overwhelmingly positive message. And such a reductive one that my tiny inner optimist (she's there, I swear) started narrowing her eyes during the final montage scene and shaking her head (optimists can narrow their eyes and shake their heads too).<br />The only real happy ending to the entire series comes for "Bubbles," the former junkie who, after massive loss and serious 12-step rehab, finally seems like he will have a chance to just live a decent life (you know, one day at a time) and his story, his actual true story, is told by a real reporter, who just writes the story "clean." And even that reporter gets his little reward—it's not a Pulitzer, but the moral of the Wire's fifth season is that going for gold is a good way to lose your way and end up either with nothing or so morally bankrupt that if you could recognize your own actions for what they were, you'd be disgusted too.<br />Would that it were, I suppose.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-4004048242319894812009-03-24T11:15:00.000-07:002009-03-24T11:26:56.556-07:00fooled againI'm usually the loudest when it comes to spreading the gospel of Santa Fe spring: "Don't think it won't snow again," you might hear me saying to some easily-deceived-by-a-day-nearing-70-degrees person" or, perhaps, "just you wait until the winds pick up!"<br />Anyway. I, too, was hoodwinked by last week's warm weather. So much so that yesterday I froze it out in sandals, as 80 mile an hour winds swept through the parking lot (Hello sweet hyperbole. What?)<br />I don't know; couldn't climate change ever mean that it changes in a good way. Like: no more wind? Does wind serve any useful purpose. What would happen if shit never blew around again anyway? Hair stayed in place; pollen clung to trees rather than flying up my nose, skirts never blew up in the middle of the street...<br />I spent last weekend's windy weather dealing with the stupid sinus headache that likes to now make itself randomly known. I've discovered Musinex D, one of those drugs you have to sign a meth-disclaimer form to buy. It's pretty good on the old noggin, and has the added bonus of making it impossible to either sleep or eat, so hello productive extra time. Shit, who needs a meth lab anyway?<br />Was sufficiently medicated by Sunday to attempt first grilling/bbq party of the season. Which was fun, even though it got a bit cold as the sun started setting (it actually got to be about 30 degrees, but, you know, I don't want to whine or anything).<br />And now it's Annual Manual season, which I could moan about, but if you've been reading this blog for the last, um, eight years or whatever, you've heard it before.<br />Oh the phone is ringing.<br />I guess I'll answer it.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-51680481968479477802009-03-02T05:55:00.000-08:002009-03-02T05:58:21.536-08:00emergingDespite my best efforts to avoid the sickness that spread through our office last week (which included constant handwashing and opening doors without touching them), on Friday the sickness began. I spent most of the weekend sneezing violently and shut in my house. I took every decongestant on the market (which included having to sign my name at the pharmacy as I bought the ones they keep behind the counter), and none of them worked. Except at keeping me from sleeping. The good news is, although my face feels like it's been rubbed repeatedly with sandpaper for the last 36 hours, I've only sneezed twice so far this morning (of course, it's not even 7 am yet). The bad news is it's Monday and I have almost no memory of the weekend. The only evidence of the weekend are crumpled tissues everywhere and opened pill bottles on every surface. I refuse to believe this was just allergies. I pray it's over.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-48494807229688883212009-02-24T09:41:00.000-08:002009-02-24T10:26:28.451-08:00Protesting Too MuchI'm not sure I have it in me to read <a href="http://www.tnr.com/story_print.html?id=a4e2aafc-cc92-4e79-90d1-db3946a6d119">yet another story/obit arguing for the importance of newspapers and singing their swan song</a>. Much as I love journalism and revere newspapers (and, of course, make my living editing one), the decline of print media at this point could pretty much be summed up in a twitter: coulda,woulda,shoulda.<br />Don't get me wrong. I eat up all these stories: <a href="http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5i-ngA_SO-9eGzrcFJmJEV0fUA8mwD96HM8AO0">They're dramatic</a> and <a href="http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/opinion/401115_cornwellonline24.html">compelling</a> and, ultimately, <a href="http://blogs.westword.com/latestword/2009/02/rocky_mountain_news_john_templ_3.php">really freaking sad</a>.<br />It's like looking out the window as you drive by the detritus of a car accident, except in this case the car accident is a 20-car-pile-up and instead of driving by you're actually stuck in traffic with nothing else to look at.<br />But there's something spurious about insisting to people that they understand the importance of newspapers: their intrinsic link to democracy; their watchdog role over government; their connection to community. It reminds me of interviewing blowhards who spend the whole time explaining how humble they are.<br />Of course, I believe all of it: the democracy, the watchdogging, the community part. But, then again, I'm not the one who needs to be convinced. And, just as it's bad form to write for your sources no matter the beat, newspapers' insistent coverage of their own industry strikes me as slightly problematic. No, it's not a story that can be ignored, but there's a weird disconnective flavor to all of it. How can any journalist write about the decline of newspapers without some level of conflict of interest?<br />More importantly, what is the public, assuming they have been or can be convinced of the importance of newspapers, supposed do about the problem? Read them? They are reading them. Buy ads? Sure, if they have the money to do so. Sign on to a Day Without the Internet? (Now there's an idea).<br />I'm not saying I have tackled and solved the question of how to re-envision newspapers (I'll leave that to greater minds than mine), but it does strike that it might be time for someone to generate a To Do List for the newspaper-loving public. Because harping on abstractions (newspapers promote democracy)is about as convincing as making someone eat their vegetables because children elsewhere are starving. Even citing specifics (as journalists are supposed to do) isn't that helpful. We can all cite important stories that sparked change and hypothesize about what might have happened if, instead of column inches, we had to change the world one twitter at a time (God save us all). But that doesn't really change reality.<br />Maybe there's nothing working journalists really can do, except keep plugging away and producing journalism that shows, rather than tells, the importance of this endeavor. (although as I wrote that last sentence a vision of the musicians on the Titanic popped into my mind; even worse, it was the James Cameron <span style="font-style:italic;">Titanic</span>).Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-58660637653712776862009-02-10T15:31:00.000-08:002009-02-10T15:36:54.597-08:00evidence of mental malfunctionOn Friday I woke up to no hot water and, upon further inspection, a big-ass flood. As the workmen worked and Nero ignored them (as in, did not even get off the couch as plumbers traipsed in and out), I decided to do the only reasonable thing a person could do in that situation: Find compatible software to hook up my printer.<br />I failed, although while hunting for various needed electronica and such in my home office, I found a box with memory for my computer that I apparently bought and never installed. I then contemplated installing it, but decided (after receiving a variety of conflicting and very male advice on facebook) to hire someone to install it. And then forgot about it some more.<br />On Sunday, after the Valentine's party, the boy and I headed for our weekly joint workout at the GC3. I put my stuff in my locker, locked it. Went back a few minutes later, opened the combo lock and stashed my sweatshirt. Forty-five minutes later, after racing the boy around the indoor track, we went to our respective locker rooms where I was completely, 100 percent, unable to remember the combination for a lock I have used, oh, maybe five times a week for the last two years.<br />So the workmen came into the locker room and broke the lock with bolt cutters.<br />The boy was very understanding of this short-circuit in my synapses. As he said, he would never expect to remember a combination lock; that's why he uses one with a key. And when I, a little whiningly, said I didn't want to have to carry a key around while working out, he made me a key holder that slips around my wrist. I mean, if that isn't love, what is, people?<br />Speaking of love, we had many nice loving photos taken at our pre-Valentine's party last Saturday night, at the Lodge, by photographer <a href="http://www.tercerophotographystudios.com">Jonathan Tercero</a>, and here's the sneak-peak at the slide show I put together today. It will be up on the <a href="http://www.sfrepoer.com">Reporter website</a> tomorrow.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CLobB0XmTTE&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CLobB0XmTTE&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-18718302454854498532009-02-08T17:53:00.000-08:002009-02-08T17:54:54.652-08:00On Cerrillos RoadMe: What, no comeback?<br />Boy, while driving five miles under the speed limit: No, because you're right.<br />Me: Oh yeah?<br />Boy: At least more right than I am. Any argument I make now wouldn't be based on fact. I could say that vegetables have feelings...<br />Me: Then you'd be arguing that no one should eat anything.<br />Boy: Exactly.<br /><br />—The end of a very silly discussion about whether or not it's wrong to wear fur. I won.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-45181807006514617622009-02-01T19:42:00.000-08:002009-02-01T19:55:08.711-08:00Everything I Learned about I Life I Learned From Watching Zombie Movies With My Boyfriend1. Corporate domination over society will result in most of humanity turning into the walking dead.<br />2. The government will be complicit in such corporate domination.<br />3. If everyone tries to escape through a single exit from a city, go the other direction.<br />4. Trying to videotape apocalyptic events is a guarantee you will not survive them.<br />5. If your best friend is bitten by something that doesn't die, you should probably say goodbye sooner rather than later.<br />6. Your car will eventually run out of gas if there is no more gas to be found.<br />7. Reincarnation may have some philosophical glitches.<br />8. Everyone looks good in black.<br />9. A sense of humor does not guarantee a long life.<br />10. The end of the world is no excuse not to have good hair.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-64781501606813049652009-01-30T09:48:00.001-08:002009-01-30T09:49:11.418-08:00sleepy friday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE34gpo3hNnTQO86UDN68GZTC12L-2w9UfytfMqD5dcdu58iuEOIgqaMmTQ77fPILWI0LtRVrEz6BkfoXiSOKt6cY13k_etzYhdHcMgnNvcWwA5nWYGSIXSFXQpUqs6tI18ptT/s1600-h/mike&nero.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE34gpo3hNnTQO86UDN68GZTC12L-2w9UfytfMqD5dcdu58iuEOIgqaMmTQ77fPILWI0LtRVrEz6BkfoXiSOKt6cY13k_etzYhdHcMgnNvcWwA5nWYGSIXSFXQpUqs6tI18ptT/s400/mike&nero.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297145280655059554" /></a><br />The boy and the dog, circa this morning, as I left for work. In their defense, the boy had just worked a 12-hour shift and the dog had <span style="font-style:italic;">almost</span> chased a rabbit in the field half an hour earlier.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-67751451134744522712009-01-27T15:22:00.001-08:002009-01-27T15:25:28.255-08:00Yet Another Facebook Energy SuckAmong facebook's many disturbing traits, it sometimes spawns various meme-like lists that are much harder to pretend you haven't seen than the ones that used to come via email. The latest, 25 random things about me, came to me earlier today. And since it came via Samia, one of my favorite people who is too nice to blow off, I succumbed. Here it is below:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheST8k7bRFHcJriK7u6gI8f-9zc6Zssu72_GESeboHxemJRdtgqCcovPcent3F0MYBjQYkZJKlOXp_lkwFnRhG_nUKtcB-cYhfxLXCfcKbp46qHkoaBkGSALwn5bBXuCdbQQk3/s1600-h/25.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 356px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheST8k7bRFHcJriK7u6gI8f-9zc6Zssu72_GESeboHxemJRdtgqCcovPcent3F0MYBjQYkZJKlOXp_lkwFnRhG_nUKtcB-cYhfxLXCfcKbp46qHkoaBkGSALwn5bBXuCdbQQk3/s400/25.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296118559535178258" /></a>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-23052484270828987202009-01-20T10:39:00.000-08:002009-01-20T10:45:26.820-08:00Relief Like No Other<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGdj1XuyDt80PpycGqkW-i1yAsvm6SlbF_uZeNKl6f2s0vufxH-OK_UGbORvMQhy3DYZOA9H3avOAPguO8RCRc0LBmsZYYD9OvmcihoN9z6HIN_nikKKLOm3ejycQTbTcGlM_x/s1600-h/calmrock.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGdj1XuyDt80PpycGqkW-i1yAsvm6SlbF_uZeNKl6f2s0vufxH-OK_UGbORvMQhy3DYZOA9H3avOAPguO8RCRc0LBmsZYYD9OvmcihoN9z6HIN_nikKKLOm3ejycQTbTcGlM_x/s320/calmrock.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293448370427910386" /></a><br />Better than finishing my taxes or getting into grad school or driving down Agua Fria in a blizzard without crashing—the sense of relief I experienced as that helicopter took the Bushes away to Texas was enormous. And, yes, I know that was barely a sentence.<br />Most of the editorial department sat (or stood) in my office watching Obama's speech on my computer. I'm pretty sure that our constant wisecracking was just because none of us wanted to cry in front of each other. I was very anxious and spent most of the speech fondling my Calm Rock. Also, we were drinking mimosas. Hopefully there won't be an horrific typos in tomorrow's paper. I can't believe it's not even noon and the entire universe feels different. Calmer. Better. I also can't believe I have to watch Gov. Richardson's speech in an hour. Not really envying Richardson these days; talk about a meteoric nosedive. He thought he'd be there, in DC, part of the new regime, and instead he's stuck here, if he's lucky, giving a sloppy second speech to a Rotunda-full of doubting Thomases. <br />He should probably have a mimosa too.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-63956557912964596572009-01-15T09:45:00.000-08:002009-01-15T09:46:57.062-08:00Maybe Denial is a Reasonable StrategyI spoke this morning, briefly, with a woman who told me she feels very optimistic about 2009. I told her she's the only person I've spoken with who feels that way, and that everyone else I know (and don't know) seems to think things are going to be grim.<br />She said she just feels positive. And that she's stopped watching the news.<br />She may be onto something.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-17622726514022845352009-01-14T15:37:00.001-08:002009-01-14T15:37:59.591-08:00tonight<b>THIS WEDNESDAY at 8PM </b><br /><br /><a href="http://www.geekswhodrink.com">Geeks Who Drink</a> pub quiz at...<br /> <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/catamount-bar-and-grille-santa-fe" >Catamount Bar & Grille</a>:<br />125 E. Water Street, Santa Fe<br /><br />Featuring <a href="http://www.sfreporter.com">The Reporter's</a> very own Editor: <big><b>Julia Goldberg</b></big> as <b>Celebrity Guest Quizmaster!</b><br /><br /><a href="http://www.geekswhodrink.com"><img src="http://www.unm.edu/~cheezric/geekswhodrink/geek-badge-400w.png" border="0"></a><br> <br /><br /><em>Does it cost anything to play?</em> Nope, it's free.<br /><br /><em>Do you need to sign up beforehand?</em> No, that's silly.<br /><br /><em>Uh...what exactly is it?</em><br /><br />The pub quiz (kinda like trivia night, but better, smarter and wildly superior in every possible way) consists of eight rounds of eight questions and is played in teams of up to six people. Questions are read aloud by the quizmaster; teams write their answers on provided answer sheets and turn them in at the end of each round. <br /><br />Geeks Who Drink quizzes are unique in that they include two rounds of music questions - like name that tune, but with an edge. Examples: Country Music that Doesn't Suck, Pop Songs Butchered by David Hasslehoff…<br /><br /><em>What do you win? </em><br /><br />Bar cash and prizes ranging from <a href="http://www.mcphee.com/items/11723.html">this</a> to <a href="http://www.mcphee.com/items/11640.html">that</a>. And of course, the winning team gets their photo on the blog at <a href="http://www.geekswhodrink.com">www.geekswhodrink.com</a><br /><br />Wednesdays @ 8pm <br /><a href="http://www.geekswhodrink.com">Geeks Who Drink</a> pub quiz at...<br /> <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/catamount-bar-and-grille-santa-fe" >Catamount Bar & Grille</a>:<br />125 E. Water Street, Santa FeJuliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-2648783621238218312009-01-09T08:24:00.000-08:002009-01-09T08:29:26.533-08:00halfway there<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBBVcmxQfjgVgSw7ziRJo1IogHIjxSdwPpRlpx85NZXODABp87tVSa1gox7oJd1gMmwhm0VK2DoPQkiK7QWHyKWWdv_sL5kZyi-OnETUYf186VWUqS19w2exjYD-OBWPSdUTP/s1600-h/hentoff.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBBVcmxQfjgVgSw7ziRJo1IogHIjxSdwPpRlpx85NZXODABp87tVSa1gox7oJd1gMmwhm0VK2DoPQkiK7QWHyKWWdv_sL5kZyi-OnETUYf186VWUqS19w2exjYD-OBWPSdUTP/s320/hentoff.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289331747119127602" /></a><br />My favorite thing about this NY Times article on <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/09/nyregion/09nyc.html?_r=2&ref=nyregion">Nat Hentoff's departure from the Voice</a> is the photo.<br />As a lifelong struggler with clutter and paper-related chaos, this photo makes me think that maybe my natural impulse, which is to just stop trying to be some kind of minimalist metrosexual Ikea freak and give in to my actual nature; let myself be surrounded by endless papers and books. Of course, Hentoff is 83 and I am barely halfway there and am already surrounded by as much clutter, so maybe I should keep up my halfhearted attempts to organize for at least another decade or so.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-55808682537967111172009-01-02T05:11:00.000-08:002009-01-02T05:19:25.397-08:00Eich bin AmericanishOr something like that.<br />I have returned from Switzerland, where I: ate lots of chocolate, ate lots of cheese, drank tons of coffee, drank lots of wine (my tolerance for alcohol in Europe is 20 times what it is in New Mexico; I'm working on a scientific explanation for this).<br />I saw A LOT of art: Picassos up the wazoo.<br />I froze my ass off, walked a bunch, saw many medieval streets and buildings.<br />Most of all, I spent a lot of time with my closest friend, Sonya, talking and doing all of the above.<br />I mostly was surrounded by people speaking German, which I don't understand, and discovered it's very pleasant to not overhear conversations or interact with people.<br />I also got a teensy bit frustrated by it at times and was grateful for Sonya's German.<br />And now I am home, about to start getting ready for work.<br />I am bussing it in because the boy was hit by a drunk driver in my absence and his car was totaled. That was the one sad note of the trip, because it was very worrisome to get that call. Had the boy not been in his now-destroyed tank of a car, he would likely have been very seriously injured. At any rate, he's got my car today so he can get some things done. On the bright side, the drunk driver had no license, warrants out for his arrest and was in a stolen vehicle, so he is (hopefully) going to jail for a good long while.<br />I can't tell if I have jetlag or not because my sleep has been so crazy in general for more than a week. I guess I'll know if I pass out at work this affternoon. Or maybe that will be a sign; sometimes I feel like doing that anyway.<br />I may post more pictures later (or I may not; I don't want to make promises I'll be too unconscious to keep). For now, here I am being cold over a scenic view of Zurich:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOA0IvR2aF8huRN3cfy580fNhyphenhyphenSG80kwR6nQj8D-PLSLqyOCk784SmJO_AzPODmWKekwA3vld8-ekBVCG8YKkxNU8PyrLeoITqLPB4RdZZm9_I73uoV-ny5yec_w5muDervG1a/s1600-h/me+with+a+view.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOA0IvR2aF8huRN3cfy580fNhyphenhyphenSG80kwR6nQj8D-PLSLqyOCk784SmJO_AzPODmWKekwA3vld8-ekBVCG8YKkxNU8PyrLeoITqLPB4RdZZm9_I73uoV-ny5yec_w5muDervG1a/s320/me+with+a+view.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286685324761373922" /></a>Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-35526292140026432492008-12-19T10:02:00.000-08:002008-12-19T10:07:17.748-08:00holiday hooplahWoke up this morning with a song from Hair stuck in my head (stuck in my hair?). Times like that I realize what a murky soup my brain must be. It wasn't the Aquarius one, but the one about "especially people/who care about strangers/who care about evil/and social injustice!"<br />God only knows what I was dreaming about. Not to mention why I have the lyrics to the song memorized, apparently.<br />Nero hasn't seen his friends, AK and Fatty Rodriguez, in more than a week, so I surmised that their owner has been walking them super early and vowed to Nero we'd get out and try to catch them. 6 freaking a.m. Pitch black. Crunch crunch on the frozen tundra, um, field. Nero took the darkness as an opportunity to try to run off and be invisible, but he underestimated my ability to follow his dark shape and crunchy ice sounds.<br />We're wrapping up our final/double issue of the year, and then we're off the streets until Jan. 7. I, too, will be off the streets, as I'm going to Switzerland to see Sonya. It's sort of an odd place for me to be going ("I'm going to Switzerland" doesn't sound quite as natural/likely as "I'm going to the gym."). But, there you have it. Really I just want some decent hot chocolate, yo. And, of course, to see my dearest friend. And to spend 15 hours on an airplane, because that's a lot of uninterrupted reading time.<br />OK, speaking of reading...back to it.<br />I'm sure I'll blog again, but just in case:<br />Have a safe & merry whatever!Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-34992822082027793182008-12-15T13:39:00.000-08:002008-12-15T13:43:52.934-08:00Worry WartingI know, in theory, that I used to drive in the snow without a care in the world. I commuted three times a week to Albuquerque when I was in graduate school, regardless of the weather. I even sat on the side of I-25 one night in the midst of a white-out, pre-cell phone, calmly weighing my options (there actually were no options. And at one point, a knock on my driver's side window nearly sent me into a coma. It was a state police, informing me I'd pulled over into the middle of a lane and I better just try to make it home since they were about to close the highway).<br />I drove to Española every single day when I worked for the SUN, through plenty of treacherous storms.<br />So why am I now considering taking the bus until the snow desists? Is this just yet another tedious result of ageing: fear, fear with a side of fear? Or is this a wonderful sign of growing maturity: the ability to make reasoned and practical decisions?<br />Or (and?) do I need to break down and buy a honkin' SUV to carry me safely through winter storms?Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-13936777163289921622008-12-04T12:17:00.001-08:002008-12-04T12:31:37.732-08:00And what is a humbug anyway?People always assume that I hate the holiday season. I'm not sure why this is. Maybe there's some kind of Aristotelian syllogism going on here.<br />Cynical people hate holidays<br />Julia is cynical<br />Julia hates holidays<br /><br />I actually don't hate holidays and, in particular, I don't hate Christmas. Why should I? What does Christmas have to do with me? Am I Christian? No. Do I resent the pressure of consumerism? Not nearly as much as I resent having to spend thousands of dollars on my stupid teeth, which are bad solely due to genetics. If there was a holiday celebrating genetics, I might hate that. Unless that's my birthday, which I don't hate, although there is something sort of tedious about birthdays. Well, the date, obviously, is predictable. It would be much more interesting if one celebrated one's birthday on a different date each year. Although that might damage the idea of a birthday as an anniversary of one's birth, I suppose. <br />I don't hate Christmas. I actually rather like Christmas songs. They are so very insipid and silly. But catchy. Kind of like a Nelly song. Nelly should put out a Christmas song. <br /><br />It's getting hot in here<br />Santa says take off all your clothes<br />Refrain: I am getting so hot Santa! I'm gonna take off all my clothes!<br /><br />Maybe not. I also don't hate Christmas trees. I think hating a tree seems like a sign that you have too much time on your hands. Hating an evil dictator I can understand. And Christmas ornaments? Granted, I'm not a fan of stuff, especially little stuff that has no real purpose, so Christmas ornaments are not really for me, but I think they're pretty. I asked the boy the other day, as we passed a Christmas Tree lot, if he planned to buy one. He said he was considering buying a menorah, because they are "classy." The boy really likes candles. I do not like candles. They are too waxy and only useful on those rare occasions when the electricity goes out. The boy used to buy me candles as presents until I begged him to stop. I also put stuffed animals and plants on the list of No Buy options. I guess I am somewhat hard to buy presents for, although not if you have a lot of money. Then I'm very easy.<br />All this began because the one thing I don't like about this time of year is that people say the same things over and over again. Like "Bah Humbug!" It only just occurred to me that I don't have any idea what a humbug is. It turns out the word humbug basically means balderdash. So Bah humbug is the same as saying Bah Balderash, except less alliterative, and possibly kind of weird. Still, I think I may try it out this holiday season, if the occasion suits.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6825525.post-53063566778295603062008-12-02T19:51:00.001-08:002008-12-02T19:51:34.374-08:00College of Santa Fe Dramacontinues to unfold at a rapid rate. Here's Zane's <a href="http://www.sfreporter.com/stories/college_confidential/4277/">latest update</a>.Juliahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11281156198896741638noreply@blogger.com