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Oct 21 2013

Agatha Christie, Psychologist

I’ve been reading Agatha Christie novels for the first time, and what surprises me is how shrewd an observer she is of human nature.  I’ve decided that she’s like Jane Austen, with a body count.

For example, here’s a great exchange between two young heiresses, from Death on the Nile. Heiress 1 is about to visit with a friend of hers, who’s fallen on hard times, and she’s talking about her unfortunate friend with Heiress 2:

 “Darling…won’t that be rather tiresome? If any misfortunes happen to my friends I always drop them at once! It sounds heartless, but it saves such a lot of trouble later! They always want to borrow money off you, or else they start a dressmaking business and you have to get the most terrible clothes from them. Or they paint lampshades, or do batik scarves.”

“So, if I lost all my money, you’d drop me tomorrow?”

“Yes, darling, I would. You can’t say I’m not honest about it! I only like sucessful people. And you’ll find that’s true of nearly everybody — only most people won’t admit it. They just say that really they can’t put up with Mary or Emily or Pamela anymore! ‘Her troubles have made her so bitter and peculiar, poor dear!’ “

“How beastly you are, Joanna!”

“I’m only on the make, like everyone else!”

“I’m not on the make!”

“For obvious reasons! You don’t have to be sordid when good-looking, middle-aged American trustees pay you over a vast allowance every quarter.”

I love this exchange for so many reasons. First, the descriptions of people who’ve fallen on hard times selling dreadful, tacky items . . . it is an exact analogue to today, when fallen C-list celebrities launch their own lines of mediocre handbags.

My favorite part is her canny description of how we justify dropping people once they fail. That was revelatory – so clear, concise, and true. We really are just the same today, only with the advent of that great blame-the-victim trend The Secret, our disdain is sprinkled with such comments as, “I just don’t know why she keeps attracting such bad things into her life.”

And finally, the comment that you don’t have be sordid when you have a trust fund. How often the wealthy complain that their inferiors seem to talk a lot about money. Yes? And asthmatics always seem to be talking a lot about breathing, for some reason. I can’t imagine why.

Sep 20 2013

On Corporate Doublespeak

I just received a letter from our internet provider that irritated the crap out of me.

Here are the pertinent parts:

“We hope you’ve been enjoying your special monthly promotional rate {note: in other words, the normal rate we signed up with and have had for one full year}.

Currently, you pay a total of $65.98 per month, which includes your promotion . . . As this promotion is set to end soon, your next bill would reflect the current standard rate of $90.98 per month.

As a thank you for your continued business, we’d like to extend you another special offer on your services.

When your promotional rate comes to an end . . . you’ll keep enjoying the services you love for a total of $75.98 per month — that’s still a savings of $15.00 per month off the standard rate . . .

No action is required — this great new rate will begin automatically with your next bill.”

Ok. There are several things here that are just incredibly irritating:

1. The way corporations now say things like, “Well, the real rate for this is x, but for now we’re going to give you a lower rate” is ridiculous. In reality, everyone is getting the lower rate. But when they start off with this gambit, they think somehow you are fooled into thinking that a rate hike is not a rate hike, but rather a “discount” off the “real rate.”

2. Can’t people just use simple verbs? Instead of saying, “your service will continue” they have to say stuff like, “you’ll keep enjoying the services you love.” Really? I enjoy this service? I love this service? You mean, like, love love?

3. They think that if they call something “bad” by the name “good” enough times, you will believe them. “This great new rate” — really? Sounds like a “higher” rate to me. You’re not fooling anyone with the whole, “Mmmm, rate increases are wonderful! Actually, if you look at this rate increase from a completely asinine point of view, it’s actually a rate decrease!”

It’s insulting, not only to a customer’s sensibilities, but also to a customer’s ability to perform basic math. Grumble.

Sep 11 2013

Dear Professor: A Letter from Post 9/11 New York

When I was in college, I had this amazing professor named John Stilgoe. Stilgoe’s classes taught you how to look at the world. We examined cities and towns, train stations and shopping malls, billboards and magazines, trolley tracks and cereal boxes. After his class, I looked at everything with new eyes.

Stilgoe often talked about unlikely disaster scenarios. “What would you do if the country shut down, and you had to get back home? What if the roads were closed? What would you do?” At times, he seemed a bit odd. A bit out there.

Then 9/11 happened. So. Not so “out there,” after all.

The following is a letter I wrote to him in early October of 2001.

This September, as we turn to the possibility of yet another Middle Eastern war, my thoughts and prayers are with those still suffering the after-effects of 9/11 . . .

…Which is most of the world.

 

October 9, 2001

Dear Professor Stilgoe:

How are you? I am fine, if you put fine in quotes (“fine”) and take it to mean, uninjured, without any personal losses. Which I am…

I’ve thought of you a lot these past few weeks — suddenly everyone seems to remember that the interstate highway system facilitates troop movements, and all kinds of infrastructure debates — which never happen in normal times — are on radio and tv and the news. This would certainly be a time I would enjoy sitting in on one of your classes. I think I would hear something different than everything else I hear around me.

Things are completely surreal here, and since every day of news brings with it not a fading into memory but a renewal of anguish and fear, I, like many of my friends, have taken to avoiding “news” (propaganda?), or at most, looking at it guiltily. Every time I look I feel worse, and I berate myself – “Why did I do that?” I knew I would feel worse afterwards!”

On Sep. 11th I saw the second plane crash in, looking from my lovely expansive view up in Brooklyn. Throughout that afternoon came a slow, steady stream of refugees from the financial district, each with their own story to tell and faint white coatings of ash on their shoes and hair. Like they’d had a sitcom-style baking accident. 

In the grocery store I met a man who was a businessman from L.A., and had been staying in the Marriott across from the WTC. I ended up taking him home with me, to my tiny 11 x 18 studio apartment. At the time I felt like I was doing him a favor, but it was really a favor to me, too. We stayed up that night and, too wired to sleep, we played gin rummy till 3:30 in the morning. Then the next day he rented a U-Haul (all the cars were rented), and drove it to St. Louis before finally being able to catch a plane.

But that whole thing, that happened four weeks ago, seems like an epoch ago. Each week is like its own discreet era. Like, “I remember when we didn’t know if bridges were going to be hit next,” or, “I remember when the country was in mourning, but we hadn’t retaliated militarily yet,” etc. I feel like I’ve lived a year for every one of the last four weeks. I guess that makes me 30 now.

I’m writing this at work, but I’ve given up on trying to concentrate for more than 10 or 15 – minute snatches. It really is too hard. And every day I find out someone else I know has been devastated by some unendurable loss. I feel completely at a loss as to what to say, but then . . . 

Well. I’m still making art, poetry and song. This helps. The only drawback is it helps whatever I’m feeling then — and what I’m feeling keeps changing drastically, as world events change.

I hope that you and your family are continuing as well as could be expected, and that the alumni of your classes are unharmed.

I wish you well,

– From New York, where, in the midst of everything, I am surprised to realize that something as mundane as the mail is still functioning normally,

Sofia Echegaray

P.S. it still smells like smoke here.

Aug 25 2013

‘The Least of These’ Are Our True Teachers

The first step to healing our broken world is to find the teachers who will lead us. For too long, we have looked to the blessed to teach the unfortunate. It is the other way around.  The holders of privilege may be partners in this struggle if they choose. But they are not our teachers.

If we want to learn, we must turn to those who have something to say.

We must turn to the landless, the dispossessed. Those who have learned, over the course of generations, to weave the ties of their culture through song and story, rather than through land…

They are our teachers now.

We must turn to the sick, the powerless, and the weak — those who have always had to find their own success and happiness through means other than brute force…

They are our teachers now.

We must turn to the insane and the mentally ill — all those those who cherish as a gift any day in one’s right mind. All those who know first hand the truth; that there is no Heaven or Hell, but what the mind makes of it…

They are our teachers now.

We must turn to the women of the world, downtrodden for countless generations, yet still the first to give love, kindness, and compassion.

They are our teachers now.

We must turn to the children of the world, who see with clear eyes what is right, before the world teaches them to doubt…

They are our teachers now.

We must turn to the elders of the world, who can help us embrace the best of the new, while holding tight to the best of tradition…

They are our teachers now.

We must turn to the sensitive, those who have a damaged response to a damaged world. Like the canaries in the coal mine, they offer a warning that is important for us all, if we wish to survive…

They are our teachers now.

We must turn to the castoffs of the world – the throwaways – all who have been made to feel it would have been better if they had never been born. They know better than anyone the value of kindness and inclusion…

They are our teachers now.

For years, those with money and privilege have turned to the poor and said, Learn from us. But I say to the wealthy, humble yourselves before the poor, and learn from those whom you would cast aside. Let those who have gone before you in suffering help lead the way to the end of suffering. Let us all learn from those who, in the face of hardship, have somehow managed to keep their own small flames alive.

Aug 3 2013

Disappearing Packaging

A while ago, I posted about my pet peeve: excess packaging and waste.

Here’s a man after my own heart. For his senior thesis at Pratt, he re-imagined products with better packaging. Not only are the designs creative and fun, but they would also save the companies money if implemented.

Here’s the link.

Apr 29 2013

Plus ça Change…

From my journal when I was 14:

A friend of mine and I have noticed something. It isn’t very original, but some things just have to be discovered by yourself. This is it; if you think a guy doesn’t like you, you like him, but if you think he likes you, you don’t like him. Why? It’s weird. 

Apr 27 2013

Special Lady Time.

This was a special week at Sofi Labs, a magical time henceforth to be known as Meet Your Deductible Week. In addition to going to a Very Fancy Specialist Doctor who doesn’t take insurance,*  I awoke on Wednesday with a painful twinge in my lower right side.

Now, since the lower right side has a bunch of stuff in it, including the incredible exploding appendix,** I went over to the local walk-in clinic. “It’s not appendicitis,” said the nurse practitioner dude. “But you really need to get a CT scan.”

I was all, “Hey, can I not get a CT scan and just, you know, save it for later?” and he was all, “Nope.”

At the CT scan place, a nice lady at the front desk started explaining to me exactly why, even with my fancy-shmancy health insurance, I would still be paying $500 out of pocket. She spoke sentences that were probably intended to be English, like, “So we’re taking 50% of your deductible, after we deduct what you’ve already paid, and then of course that’s the agreed-upon rate, and then we take 20% above that thanks to the 80-20 calculation.”

I got in close to her and said, “Look, I’m good at math. I took Calculus. And I don’t understand a word you just said.”

She started again, from the beginning. At last, I understood how — in a parallel universe where everything is hopelessly complex — one might be able to say I owed $500 today. I was certainly not happy that it was all so baffingly complicated,*** but I was satisfied enough for now. I took my seat.

At that point, the nice technician gave me a large cup of liquid. It was a contrast dye, so that my insides would show up better on the CT scan.

It didn’t seem so bad, in the beginning. They’d mixed it with Crystal Light®, and the taste wasn’t awful. But somehow, as I drank, it got harder and harder to get it down. I felt like Dumbledore drinking that bottomless liquid in Voldemort’s cave. (Sans zombies.)

I had 2 hours to kill in the waiting room while the contrast dye worked its way into my bloodstream. In vain, I searched for a People or even a Hello!, but they only had hyperspecific medical journals, so I had to curl up with Separation of Conjoined Craniopagus Twins: A Case Study. The article showed step-by-step diagrams of the process by which 2 twins joined at the head were eventually separated. The end showed both twins happy and relatively healthy, wearing special protective helmets. One assumes their skulls will be rebuilt once they stop growing.

Even after reading this informative article, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to separate conjoined twins in a pinch, but it passed the time.

At last, my two hours of waiting were up, and I went in to get the CT scan. The technicians were very nice, and except for that moment where I felt extremely weird when they injected me with dye (More Dye), it all went fine.

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* “None of the good people take insurance these days,” I was assured by the office of another fancy specialist. So, this means that if you want to get medical care, you better A) pay for insurance, then B) pay for your deductible and then C) have another Large Stack of Money to pay out of pocket for the doctors who are actually good, in case  you actually want to get “better.”

** Funny story about the appendix. My friend once had emergency surgery for appendicitis, and when she awoke from surgery, her doctor said, “Congratulations! You had the Appendix of the Year!”

Turns out, her appendix had started to rupture, but then her right fallopian tube had reached over and twisted around the rupture to tie off her appendix.

This is when I realized, we really have no idea how the human body works at all. 

***  I’m reminded of the following quote, by P.J. O’Rourke:

“Beyond a certain point complexity is fraud … when someone creates a system in which you can’t tell whether or not you’re being fooled, you’re being fooled.”

Apr 17 2013

Advice on the Ivies – Part III

Ok, here’s part III of my series, Advice on the Ivies. In this part, I’ll talk about step 5:

Take advantage of unique opportunities in Junior High and High School to give yourself a leg up

So what do I mean by that?

Well, let me give you an example. I remember hearing the same words, all throughout freshman orientation at Harvard, said from one freshman to another:

“Oh! I remember you! We went to CTY together!”

“What’s CTY?,” I asked. Turns out, it’s a kind of intensive summer nerd camp. It’s a place where kids with good test scores go, and meet each other, and work really hard. They get to surround themselves with other like-minded kids, and they also find out about opportunities for kids like them. And, experience shows, it pays off. A whole lot of Ivy League kids once went to CTY.

I’m not an expert on CTY, but here’s their website. It looks like they have scholarships available.

Places like CTY help to naturally feed people into good schools. The faculty there know about how the game of elite colleges works. In turn, they can help to steer students in the right direction.

What other experiences can do this? Well, there’s prep school. A good private school will prepare its students well, with excellent courses, and world-class college counseling. Of course, they cost as much as a fancy new car – every year. However, as with colleges, you can sometimes get a full ride if you meet their income qualifications. The best schools to apply to for this sort of thing are well-endowed schools like Andover, which promises needs-blind admission. That means, if you get in, they’ll pay whatever you can’t (at least, according to their calculations — which might be different than yours, so sometimes you have to haggle after you get your initial financial aid package).

The best situation to be in, scholarship-wise, is broke. Low income kids get a full scholarship. Rich kids have parents who can afford the tuition. It’s the folks in the middle that have trouble — because they really can’t afford those tuition bills either, but on paper, it might say that they can.

In addition to Andover, there are a bunch of elite northeast boarding schools, which basically make up the high-school equivalent of the Ivy League. There’s Exeter and Choate and St. Paul’s, Groton and Deerfield and…the list goes on. I’m not linking to them, because I trust you to have good Google Fu, young Grasshopper.

If you’re interested in private schools, most big cities have a few that are really strong. For example, in Austin, the two big ones are St. Stephen’s and St. Andrews. The sky’s the limit.

So. What other kinds of opportunities can help give you a leg up?

If full-time private school is out, you might try an intensive summer program at a private school or college.

Also, does your state have a Governor’s school, or something similar? These are public schools, for elite kids. You should also look into Magnet school programs in your area.

If you’re very strong in a subject area, you might be able to take classes at a local college while you’re still in high school.

And finally, don’t be shy. High school is a great time to go up to people and say, “How did you do what you did? How did you get what you have? I want to be like you.” Adults love that, and will talk to you for hours with advice.

Good luck!

Apr 17 2013

Advice on the Ivies – Part I

The world of elite schools seems impenetrable to those who don’t grow up around it. Worse, it can seem like the kids who go to places like Harvard are anointed with some kind of special golden blessing from God, and they are different from other mortals.

Nothing could be further from the truth. I went to Andover, and then I attended Harvard. In my experience, only about 5% of the kids at Harvard are what you’d call “scary-super-smart.” The rest are just smart, like all the hundreds and thousands of smart people you’ll meet over the course of your lifetime. What people who get into elite schools have in common, besides smarts and hard work, is being well-positioned. It’s hard to have AP classes on your high school transcript, if your high school doesn’t even offer AP classes…get it?

So, your task in junior high and high school is to work hard, get good grades, and also do what you can to get yourself well-positioned. 

At any rate, here is my advice for students who aren’t as familiar with the world of the Ivy Leagues:

1. Of course, get really good grades, but don’t freak out if it’s not 100% straight A’s. Still, it needs to be as close to that as possible.

2. Try to be ‘well-rounded” – academics, sports, and something else (like music or community service)

3. If possible, have one or more unique niche skills and interests

4. TAKE LATIN AND GREEK

5. Take advantage of unique opportunities in Junior High and High School to give yourself a leg up

In this first post, I’ll talk about points 1 through 3: Get Good Grades, Be Well-Rounded, and Have a Special Niche.

Ok, so first: Get really good grades. That’s pretty self-explanatory, right? And of course, you want to take AP courses in the subjects you’re good at, and you want to have strong extra-curriculars to put on your resume. But it’s not quite that simple.

Places like Harvard get a ton of well-rounded (yet cookie cutter) kids with straight A’s who play the violin.** Your best bet is to make as good grades as you can, while also fostering whatever it is about you that makes you unique. The best position to be in, when applying to Harvard and company, is to be a great student, but also have at least one niche area where you’re truly exemplary.

What’s special about you could be something about your academics, athletics, or other interests. Like you’re a math genius, or a published poet, or a state champion in a sport.  Or you have an interest or talent that’s unusual. Let’s say you’re a boy who founded his own pastry company. Or, at 16, you’re a talented musician who specializes in playing 1920’s blues. Or you’re great at playing an obscure instrument, like Viola da Gamba.

Also, bear in mind that the elite colleges want to have a class that’s “diverse,” and so you may fit some demographic categories that give you an edge. (I put “diverse” in quotes because the vast majority of admissions are from economically comfortable backgrounds, so it ain’t all that diverse.)

These schools want students from all 50 states. If you live in states like Tennessee or Kentucky, you have a slight edge, because fewer kids apply from those states. If you live in states like New York or California, it’s a bit harder.

If you’re from a lower-income household, congratulations! Harvard gives a FULL RIDE to any kid whose family makes $65,000 or under. Some other Ivy League schools have similar programs. Plus, they actively *want* non-rich kids. So go ahead and apply. School application fees can be expensive, and they can add up. If you’re really strapped for cash, contact the school and find out what they can do about waiving application fees.

Also, the schools have other “soft” categories they’re trying to fill for each entering class, like,

– The quirky genius

– The prodigy we get to brag about it

– The jock who will help our football team be slightly less bad

– The person who actually has a soul (great community service or volunteer work, etc.)

So, to review: you should be an all-around great student, and then on top of that, have several things that make you special to them, and at least one talent where you truly stand out from the pack. Which leads us to Part II.

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** When places like Harvard say, “We don’t just want more kids with perfect SAT’s who play the violin,” they mean, “We don’t want our schools to be 35% Asian.” All of these schools have their own problems, and this unacknowledged Asian quota is one of them.