Posts under ‘Conserved Conversations’
This weekend, I abruptly stopped smooching someone and said, “Wait. Does your therapist know about this?”
He said no and pulled my mouth back to his. I pulled away.
“Maybe you should tell her about me,” I said.
I spend a significant part of my week playing with numbers, looking at Hunch data, and saying the word “algorithm.”
Today the latest Hunch infographic came out. It’s all about interesting correlations based on how thousands of people answer Teach Hunch About You (THAY) questions. If you’re into fun stuff, go ahead and check out the rest of it.
Oh, and here’s another look at some fun Hunch correlations. Fast Company’s design blog liked it.
Improv Everywhere can just stop its antics now. I’m not sure the group can do anything better than this Bryant Park carousel horse race. It’s amazing.
Costumed race patrons, announcers, and a jockey went to the Bryant Park carousel for the mission. But the real stars are the delighted children. They’re surprised, but they just go with it. It makes me tear up every time.
I’ve never been one to romanticize childhood. I would never want to be a kid again. I wouldn’t mind thinking more like one, though.
When you’re an adult, you have to strain to see the magic. When you’re a child, it’s just there. You don’t have all the explanations yet, so you make up your own. You’re two or three or four feet of raw feeling. No wonder you anthropomorphize everything.
I remember doing word searches in elementary school, imagining the two, three, or four columns of words underneath the puzzle to be separate teams. Who would win first place? I struggled to make it fair. I didn’t want any team to consider forfeiting.
It took me ages to finish one of those things.
I guess the point of this is that we all can stand to be more like the kids in this video. And the adults who stayed in character and made it happen.
Giddy up and play along.
This is one of the poems sent to the people on my National Poetry Month email list back in April.
I hope you take it personally.
Don’t take it personal, they said;
but I did, I took it all quite personal—
the breeze and the river and the color of the fields;
the price of grapefruit and stamps,
the wet hair of women in the rain—
And I cursed what hurt me
and I praised what gave me joy,
the most simple-minded of possible responses.
The government reminded me of my father,
with its deafness and its laws,
and the weather reminded me of my mom,
with her tropical squalls.
Enjoy it while you can, they said of Happiness
Think first, they said of Talk
Get over it, they said
at the School of Broken Hearts
but I couldn’t and I didn’t and I don’t
believe in the clean break;
I believe in the compound fracture
served with a sauce of dirty regret,
I believe in saying it all
and taking it all back
and saying it again for good measure
while the air fills up with I’m Sorries
like wheeling birds
and the trees look seasick in the wind.
Oh life! Can you blame me
for making a scene?
You were that yellow caboose, the moon
disappearing over a ridge of cloud.
I was the dog, chained in some fool’s backyard;
barking and barking:
trying to convince everything else
to take it personal too.