To LOL, or not to LOL.

So, I have a confession. I LOL. And use smiley faces (but only of the colon/open parens variety; anything else is just silly). And I do it often. But, I also judge people who do this. Because LOL is not a word, and it’s lazy and it sounds ridiculous coming from a thirty-year old woman. So I never LOL with someone I’ve just met. Because if I can be so hypocritically judgmental about it, heaven forbid anyone else judge my LOLing.

I only LOL with friends who know me well. People who are past the point of judging me. Well, at least, people who have witnessed me do so many other embarrassing/lame/evil/dumb things over the course of my lifetime, that a LOL every now and then is insignificant in the grander scale of things to judge me about. Because while LOL is dumb and lazy, it’s also super convenient. It says: that was funny, I am laughing (probably on the inside) now. Hurray.

So, enter new relationship with someone, someone who texts me funny things. I want to LOL. I want to let them know I agree about the funny. But… I don’t want them to think I’m a LOLer. Not *that* kind of LOLer (think: tween girl in pigtails who says things like UR A QT). So, now, I am constantly baffled by how to respond to funny texts. Or worst yet, sarcastic texts. How do I let them know that I know that they are being sarcastic? This is killer. I don’t want them thinking that I’m a tween LOLer, but GOD FORBID they think I don’t get sarcasm. I love sarcasm. Me and sarcasm are best friends, friends with benefits even.

So, I usually just stare at my cell phone willing my hands NOT TO LOL. But, they so want to. Instead, I sometimes use Hahaha. It’s okay, kind of stilted. At least is a word (sort of...well, ok: it’s a sound, but it’s an actual sound) and is showing rather than telling (that was for you Prof. Byrd, creative writing teacher from hell). Or, there is the option of saying something equally or more funny in return. But that’s hard. And it requires that I wore my funny pants that morning, and have had enough caffeine, and that my brain will deliver the requisite amount of funny. If the text was already a funny response to a funny text I sent earlier, than I can fall back on touché. But my text software on my crappy phone doesn’t do the accent above the E, and someone recently informed me that touche (sans accent) means something else (arguably provocative) and so now then I worry that I am again being grammatically incorrect (or potentially suggestive). So if the recipient actually speaks French, touché is out.

About now is when my brain gives up—can’t take the pressure. So, I just don’t respond. Or I change the subject. And take the chance that the person on the other end of the texting either a) is hurt that I did not give the funny it’s appropriate fanfare, b) thinks I’m a droll, humorless being, or c) does not give a shit because who put this much thought into their stupid text messages.

Lesson? I guess don’t judge the judicious use of LOL. Because I only use it when I really mean: hey, if that was a line in a movie that I was watching in a theater, I probably would have laughed out loud.

No, none of this is your money.

So, something pissed me off the other day. I went to the bank to cash my paycheck and they wanted $5 to cash it because I didn’t have an account with them (keep in mind this was the bank which actually cut the check). GRRR. I cash my paychecks nowadays because they have developed the bad habit of occasionally bouncing, and this tends to make my checking account overdrawn. Apparently, some employers will cover the cost of their employees cashing their paychecks, but not mine. $5 is not a lot of money to most people, but to someone making $8/hour plus tips it’s worth not just giving away. What did I do? I quickly snapped the check off the counter, quickly snapped “Thanks” to the bank clerk and drove to my bank and deposited the check (hoping my employer had the available funds to clear the check). While at my bank I asked if most banks charge to cash paychecks they had issued. Her answer was “Yes” and “Most banks do this,” which just served to piss me off even more. Now this was a universal issue! Not just little ol’ me getting screwed by the financial system.

Imagine for a second you are making minimum wage, and because of your horrid financial history (likely partially caused by unregulated and predatory lenders) a bank will not allow you to open an account with them. Every two weeks you take your paycheck to the issuing bank and pay a fee to access your hard-earned money. This SHOULD NOT be legal. Banks handle money, they cut checks, this is what they do. A clerk spending 30 seconds to cash a check does not justify a $5 service fee. Am I to believe a clerk’s time is worth $600/hour? Fuck that.

And this whole fucked-up notion of charging to access your own money has created a whole industry of shady check cashing establishments that ostensibly charge a poor tax on people that wish to access their hard-earned money.  Once more, FUCK THAT!

Relevant to my interests

Whenever Hulu.com runs an advertisement during a video, it asks if it’s relevant to me. Almost always the answer is no. But what if all ads I saw WERE relevant to my interests? Would watching ads really be that bad?

Advertisers are wasting advertising dollars when they show me a Tampax or Lexus commercial. Clearly, it is in advertisers’ best interest to show me ads for things I may actually want or need to buy. Google AdWords already does this, but very clumsily (browsing a page about craters on the moon may spur ads about acne cream). But what if ad personalization was done well? The reality is IT WILL be done well, and this means some interesting things for consumers.

Imagine in five years every single force-fed video advertisement you saw, whether on the web or on television (and in five years you will get the web through apps for your television) gave you the opportunity to rate it - a sort of hotornot.com for ads. Over time advertisers will use this data to decide if you’re a good target for their advertisement.

For the user, this means slightly more bearable commercial breaks, and a higher frequency of ads he or she may actually be interested in watching. Taken to the furthest extreme, advertisements may cease being an annoyance and become another bit of input as interesting to the user and the programming he or she is watching. This is dreadfully frightening to someone wary of the existing consumer culture, but it seems an unavoidable future.

Welcome to the Lit Department, and how's Brazil?

I think people sometimes forget how truly global society has become thanks to technology. Here we are, this small blog posting articles on Sesame Street and Pabst, which are mostly read by friends and family, yet we have visitors to our site from literally all over the world.

Check out our latest site stats (click to enlarge):

Twelve visits from Brazil isn't really that much in the bigger picture, but I still love the fact that total strangers from all over the globe are finding their way to our strange little corner of the web (no, I don't think web should be capitalized, it's become a thing like the ocean, or the sky, it's far too common to capitalize).

And, people of New Zealand, get your shite together.  Don't let Sweden make you look bad.  Kiwis, TLD is calling on you!

Can you tell me how to get, how to get to...

Since we here at TLD owe our literacy to Sesame Street, I thought we should honor the show's 40th birthday. On this week's Fresh Air, they played a compilation of interviews Terri Gross has done with various writers, actors, and musicians from Sesame Street (including Frank Oz). The entire episode is worth a listen, but her interview with Chris Surf triggered the most visceral memories. He was the musician behind the Beatle parodies Letter B and Hey Food, among others. In the interview he explains that to avoid copyright laws they tried to suggest the words and the tune, without completely copying it (something that finally explained to me why the tune is not quite right to Letter B... not that its been bothering me for 25+ years or anything). But Rebel L has got to be own of my favorites, hands down.

SESAME STREET ROCKS. Enjoy.

Rebel L:


Cookie Monster steals the show in this one:


And because of this song, I thought the Beatles really were singing Letter B, not Let Her Be (and for much longer than I care to admit):

Syllabus, November 10th, 2009

Every now and then we feel the need to recommend things that we've been enjoying lately. Think of it as The Lit Department's syllabus to life. Only less academic. And less oppressive.

"Watching the Planets" by Flaming Lips (music)
This song sounds not a thing like the Flaming Lips. The low-fi vocals are vaguely reminiscent of Joy Division, and the overall feel is at once industrial and tribal and less futuristic and psychedelic than what we've come to expect — no robot wars here. But, oh, that drumming. The jury is still out on the rest of their new album, but do yourself a favor and download this song immediately. - CM

Pomplamoose (music)
They're a band, a collaboration between two YouTube sensations (Nataly Dawn and Jack Conte), and you should buy their album on iTunes. Their cover version of the late, great Jacko's "Beat It" blew up thanks to Digg.com (some Digg users strangely reacted with anti-hipster hate, which leads me to believe nerds aren't very skilled at telling the difference between hipsters and indy musicians... and yes, there's a difference), but it's Pomplamoose's cover of Beyonce's "Single Ladies" that really is the gem in their musical treasure trove. Their original tunes are lovingly crafted as well, and remind me of a cross between Feist and LCD Soundsystem, as sung by a pretty girl with a degree in French Literature. - EB

Glee (television)
If you like musicals, stories about the underdogs, pop music, country music, classic rock, mash-ups, teenage angst, flashy dance numbers, or if you ever sang in a choir, had a gay friend, fell for someone already married or dating someone else, had doubts about your career, future, or current partner, ever got slammed into a locker by the cool kids, or basically, if you went to high school ever in your whole life, you will like this show. - CM

(EB's note: I've never watched this show, but I did catch the clip of a bunch of football players performing the dance routine to Beyonce's "Single Ladies," which was mildly entertaining; also, I promise no more "Single Ladies" references for the rest of the article).

Regretsy.com (web)
There are people in this world who make gorgeous crafts with their own two hands: jewelry, sweaters, wall art, sculptures, knick-knacks, plush robots, and on and on. These people sell their wares on Etsy.com and have managed to eek out a living based on their handiwork. There are also people in this world who think your water-bottle needs a crocheted pink vagina cozy, or that you are dying for hand-painted converse sneakers depicting Bella and Edward from twilight, or that your backyard would be incomplete without a taxidermied unicorn. These people can be found at Regretsy, along with site creator, Helen Killer’s ruthless commentary. - CM

Black Adder (television)
Before seeing Black Adder the 2nd, I had no idea that Rowan Atkinson (better known as Mr. Bean) was capable of not acting like a complete idiot. And beyond that, that he was capable of portraying someone with devious intentions, moral depravity, or even wit. But that he is. The BBC series follows Mr. Atkinson, as the Black Adder throughout British history (well, a loose tie in with some historic events anyway), joined by Stephen Frye, Hugh Laurie, Tony Robinson, and a variety of other standout English actors. And, the complete series is now on iTunes, so you have no excuse for not watching it. - CM

Maybe the Navy

Recently, I got the idea that possibly, just maybe, it would be a good idea for me to join the Navy. Admittedly, I know little about life in the military, and I would be among the first to hightail it to Canada if the draft was ever reinstated (I've often said the only scenario in which I'd pick up a firearm for this country was if our shores were in eminent danger of invasion, and I use eminent in the oh-shit-they-are-off-the-coast-in-battleships way, not the threat-level-orange way). Let go from an absurdly idiosyncratic sales job in Boston that takes nearly as much energy to explain as it does to perform, and faced with the prospect of moving back home broke and unemployed (which seems to be the default state for any wide-eyed English major adverse to teaching and wholly incapable of the moral flexibility entry-level sales jobs require), I realized I had obtained for myself a decidedly ungrownup existence.

I ventured in all earnestness to Navy.com, took the online personality test and found I was considered, brace yourself, creative. The suggested Navy careers were limited. I could either become a combat photographer (no thank you, if I am in combat I want the thing in my hand to go BANG, not CLICK), or I could become a Public Affairs Officer. That I could do! I imagined myself in a plain room with wood paneling and crisp blinds (think Top Gun) editing a two-paragraph press release about jet fuel, doing the sort of menial, vaguely creative task reserved for English majors unafraid of getting yelled at and doing an inordinate amount of push-ups. I did more research about becoming a Public Affairs Officer and the training involved, and in all honestly, I was interested. Besides the duty-specific instruction given by the Navy, I would have the opportunity to earn my Masters in Communications at San Diego State while a Navy officer. Not too bad, I thought.

I was directed to call 1-800-USA-Navy and speak to a recruiter if I had more questions, which I did. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hello, I have possible interest in becoming a Public Affairs Officer.

Navy Guy: Okay, do you have any experience doing that?

Me: Um, no. I took the online personality test and that type of job was suggested.

Navy Guy: No you have any hours in marketing or public relations?

Me: Not really.

Navy Guy: [incredulously] Well, you'll be rubbing elbows with heads of state, and you'll need that kind of experience.

Me: I didn't know that.

Navy Guy: [more incredulously] Yeah, usually people applying for that have tons of public affairs experience, like working in a congressman's office.

Me: Oh, I... wasn't aware.

Navy Guy: What's your degree in?

Me: English.

Navy Guy: Where'd you go to school?

Me: University of California at Santa Cruz.

Navy Guy: Ha, really?

Me: [stunned] Is that a problem?

Navy Guy: Well, it's like saying you went to Cal.

Me: Well... I don't have... I don't have a problem with the military.

Navy Guy: [something about hippies and protests].

Me: So... you're saying I need public affairs experience before I apply?

Navy Guy: Yes.

Me: Well, thanks for your time.

So, it was quite the experience. First off I was made to feel like an idiot for not knowing anything about being a Navy Public Affairs Officer, even though I was calling a fucking informational line which I was directed to contact with more questions. Secondly, the whole University of California thing is absurd. I can't believe the guy laughed at me over the phone when I said where I went to school, and then went on to imply that not only was UC Santa Cruz somehow defective, but so was UC Berkeley, which quite possibly is the most prestigious public university in the world. Needless to say, my interest in joining the Navy has passed.

The Great Unread Love Poem

I was rummaging though some old .doc files and found this gem:

Writing Not Perfect Enough For Her

Countless magical moments
I see everyday I am near thee
The kind of charm lovers sense
And brings men to their knees

The stars do act in distaste
By trying to match the beauty
Of your precious and fair face
That only blessed souls can see

True dreams are rarely sought
Before a mortal man's eyes
But when in a stare we lock
I see my dream and my soul flies

Recall when the lazy rain stops
And the sun's magic hits the mist
Remember a rainbow from an artisan's thoughts
Colors for that a blind man would wish

The feeling you get from that splendid arc
I feel when I see your smile
That feeling I know deep down in my heart
That never will fade to a quiet exile

This sugar-sweet concoction was written, I believe, when I was 16. I certainly get a kick out of it more than a decade later, and I wonder what happened to the idealist kid that wrote it. There isn't much back-story to the poem, other than its intended recipient never got it. I think I read it at an open-mic night my freshman year at UC Santa Cruz, and I apologize to all of those that attended that reading.

I recently found this next poem as well. I believe I wrote it when I was about 19. Enjoy:

Tick, Tock

A day far off
we will figure
it all out,
write a book about
it all,
congratulate
each other,
at which point
someone
will back into
the button
and
blow us all up.

Really an uplifting piece, isn't? It apparently took only three years for me to go from an unfettered romantic to a fatalistic cynic. Hooray for real life!

Twitter!

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A poem is never finished, only abandoned

My dad once heard W.H. Auden read the poem "September 1, 1939" and commented on the infamous line "We must love one another or die," remarking that it made no sense, didn't work, and wasn't true. Auden's remark was that it had bothered him since he wrote it. He actually changed the line to "We must love one another AND die," but felt it had lost its "rhetorical punch" as one article said, so he struck the line altogether, only to reinstate it years later at the persuasion of friends.

Ah, the power of words.

I was taught once by Edward Mendelson, Auden's pseudo-protogé and literary executor. Mendelson was a strange man who couldn't handle boys wearing hats or pens clicking and once referred to my friend and me as "watermelon" when I wore a pink shirt and he wore a bright green one. Peculiar, meaningless, and yet somehow unforgettable.