From Your Weekly Circular, Meaning

Here’s a question: If you could, would you be a Sears catalogue model? You’re not at the height of your profession, other models look down on you and you may never star in or even appear on a reality TV show. But still, you’re better than average looking and you make a decent living.

Chances are, you’ve already answered that question with your own job. Even if Sears catalogue models dream of walking the runway in Paris and being a special guest judge on America’s Next Top Model, they’re still pursuing something. And nearly everyone I know is doing the same. For now, living the dream has us metaphorically posing in discount thermals instead of vomiting up champagne and caviar around the world. Sears catalogue models, I don’t judge you. I am you.

Where Are They Now?

Today is high school reunion Thursday as I’m having a lunch and dinner date with two old friends from NRHS. I wonder what these friends have been up to. Where are they living? What do they do? Have they gone on any vacations recently?

Except I don’t wonder this. Facebook has done all the wondering for me. There’s no need to catch up—I’ve already read their newsfeeds, seen their pictures and made inferences about their wall postings. So today at lunch and later at dinner, these friends and I will have to discover whatever new things about each other that weren’t reported online. Eak!

Facebook has done for old friends what VH1 has done for B-list celebrities. Those who want to be discovered and remembered put themselves, and all their personal information, out there. There’s no need for a big high school reunion or a Where Are They Now special. I already know where everybody is. The Susan Olsens of the world aren’t online. And like Cindy Brad, those people seem gone forever.

Uncle Toming it for Uncle Ben

Vincent Howell, president for the food division of the Masterfoods USA unit of Mars, on Uncle Ben’s transformation from slave figure to CEO: “What’s powerful to me is to show an African-American icon in a position of prominence and authority,” Mr. Howell said. “As an African-American, he makes me feel so proud.”

Um, proud might be the wrong word, and I’m not sure if that modifier is necessary either.

Related:

Radio, Radio

If you read last week’s George Packer article in The New Yorker about US military’s betrayal of pro-American Iraqis, you may have been shocked to learn about the danger of being a translator in Iraq. Many were harassed and killed by anti-American groups and the military did nothing to stop it. Of course, if you had heard last week’s This American Life episode, By Proxy, you would had already known about the disturbing situation, plus you would have heard Davy Rothbart’s touching story about helping to raise a little boy he had recommended be aborted. So check out the episode. Also check out Davy Rothbart’s story about Aaron, the Buddhist monk who only his mom can see. It’ll make you want to believe in God, or at least in Davy Rothbart’s mom.

Changes to the East?

I live in area of Prospect Heights my dad tactfully refers to as “a changing neighborhood.” Parts of Prospects Heights have already changed. West of Washington Avenue, the neighborhood is teeming with restaurants, coffee shops and quality produce available for purchase, but east of Washington Avenue, I seem to be the only person trying to gentrify the area. In the stretch of Washington Avenue near my apartment, the street itself is divided. On the west side, there’s Tom’s Diner, Café Shane and a good C-Town. On the east side, there are just sketchy Chinese places and a grocery store that might as well be a bodega, except the hours are worse. I think the problem lies in Washington Avenue itself. The street goes through Fort Greene, Clinton Hill and Prospect Heights. But instead of acting like Smith Street, which creates continuity through Carroll Gardens, Cobble Hill and Boerum Hill, Washington Avenue is an east-west border in the neighborhoods it passes through. Based on The Death and Life of Great American Cities, the problem seems to be that the lights on the street too strongly favor cars traveling north-south, which discourages east-west foot traffic and ultimately splits up the neighborhoods.

But east of Washington Avenue, things are happening. My window overlooks the construction of two new large apartment buildings. Once they’re up, I wonder how the neighborhood will develop. If the city changes the light patterns on Washington Avenue, in a few years I’ll be able to annoy people with stories about living in Prospect Heights before it was anything. Until then, I’ll continue to enjoy squashing the packets of duck sauce I find littered along the east side of the street.

Related article: Sometimes I Feel Like I’m The Only One Trying To Gentrify This Neighborhood [The Onion]

Check It

Inspired my own generous comparison to an email list serve, I decided to start a new feature, Check It Out. Today, Raronauer, speaking of herself in third person, says check out this Washington Post article on the Vote Different clip on YouTube and how user generated content could be the wild card for the 2008 election.

Are We at the End Yet?

rv_m01_advance.jpgVery Short List is like your friend who never stops emailing you about that great new book/movie/internet sensation. Earnest, reliable, kind of annoying when you’re busy at work, Very Short List is like an ad-sponsored version of being friends with me.

So when Very Short List gushed about Joshua Ferris’s debut novel, Then We Came to the End, I added it to my own Very Long List of books to read. When the Times Book Review put it on the cover last weekend, I went to Strand and bought the last half priced review copy.

I’m about half way through, and I can’t decide what to make of it. The monotony, drama and helpless of office life is depicted with unflinching honesty. Ferris’s introduction of characters, ambiguous time sequences and the book’s feeling of urgency and listlessness so accurately reflect what it’s like to work under fluorescent lights it’s almost hard to enjoy what he’s accomplished. I can’t imagine a worse college graduation present or a better retirement gift than this book.

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For those following the commenting action on Raronauer’ed at home, “

From the Embarrassing Details Archives …

From 8 to 13, I went to a posh camp in the Berkshires. When I was little, I was happy just to get away from Westchester and run around outside. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized my camp was just Westchester East. By the time I was 13, it was quite clear that I was different from my fellow campers. No one else liked to play sports or go on adventures; no one got my sense of humor.

This came to a head the first week of my last summer when a new counselor for our bunk arrived. Before she came, I had it in my head that I should be in the shower. When she said, “Where’s Rebecca?” someone would say, “in the shower.” That would be her first impression of me, and for the rest of the summer I would be Rebecca “in shower” Aronauer. There’s a nice rhythm to that, kind of like my nickname in 2nd grade, Rebecca on the hour, every hour, Aronauer. (And to this day, I’m pretty punctual.) Unfortunately, the new counselor arrived before I could get into the shower, and my plan was thwarted.

Whenever I get an idea, I became a little monomaniacal. This was true when I was young, before I read Moby-Dick or knew what monomania meant. So even though I wasn’t in the shower when my counselor arrived, the first thing I told her was about my plan to be in the shower and the nickname that would ensue. Ironically, my introduction did garner me the “in the shower” nickname I so desired all summer. In fact, a few weeks ago my age group had a reunion in—surprise, a gross Murray Hill Irish bar—it was one of the first things an ex-bunkmate said to me. Of course, she didn’t remember the original joke, just my disappointment in failing to execute it. And looking back, I can see the joke was far too conceptual for 13 year-olds. Frankly, it’s a bit weird—I mean, who creates nicknames for themselves centered on cleanliness? And yet, if I were a character on Freaks and Geeks or something, wouldn’t that story be adorable? It’s too bad life isn’t a short-lived TV series.

In Like a Lion …

Spring is nearly here, and I’ve been thinking about some urban adventures I want to curate when the weather turns nice:

A bodega scavenger hunt. One neighborhood, infinite bodegas and a race to find 10 obscure products occasionally found in corner markets like Dr. Brown’s Diet Cream Soda, Kinder-Bueno, dried fruit, All-Night powder …

A redo of last summer’s taco and beer tour of Sunset Park. We went to some great places last time, but we must have passed a million tasty taco stands.

A Brooklyn Cyclones game. I might like Coney Island too much.

A bike ride to the Staten Island Mall followed by a trip to

The Multiple Choice Equivalent of the Gift of the Magi

Every history class I took from grade 6 to 12 included an immigration unit, and on the big test, there was always a multiple-choice question about the difference between immigration and emigration. On the test, D: If you say im/emigration fast enough, no one can hear the difference, was never offered.

Self-Hatred at an Elevated Heart Rate

My grandmother used to say, “We mock what we are to be.”

And how right she was. She was pretty wise for a woman who married at 17. As a disgruntled youth, I would make fun of my family’s commitment to personal fitness. Now I make plans around spinning classes.

The beginnings of my relationship with the gym had little to do with health. As someone who lives in an unhip area of Brooklyn without a cable ready TV, the gym was a place to kill time and watch Bravo. Instead of going from home to work to home to watching a dvd on my laptop in bed in my pajamas, I had plans, and they involved a change of clothes and sweating next to strangers. Like seeing an entire television season in one sitting, the gym made time disappear while creating an odd sense of accomplishment.

But now the gym has become like that ugly person you hook up with because you’re bored and lonely. Some strange inertia kicks in, and suddenly you’re in a serious relationship and taking double spinning classes with your favorite instructor.

On Saturday I’m getting a couch delivered and I plan on taking a long run to train for the Brooklyn Half-Marathon. I need to be by my phone from 12 to 2, which means that I have to finish running before then. I’m totally, and totally lamely, annoyed. I fear I’m living in a workout black hole. My teenage self would hate my 20-something self, and she’d be right.

The Truth About Hair Loss

It’s not attractive!

But there are shades of ugly. An honest balding man is more appealing than a liar pretending to have a full hairline. After the fakers, there are the balding men who can’t stop talking about their hair loss.

Last week, I attended a two-day branding conference where every balding man in the meeting made self-deprecating comments about their deprecating hairlines. Everything, work, family, even long commutes, was an excuse for their horseshoe hair. Forget the extra testosterone floating in your system—the MTA must be to blame!

The truth about hair loss is that there are plenty attractive bald men, just as there are “striking” noses and pretty overweight people. But few can seem appealing talking about their physical faults. If politics has taught us anything, it’s that ignorance looks good on everyone.

OMG, TAL on TV

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=aXya_2K4nMY]

This American Life is coming to Showtime. Anyone with premium cable want to hang out?

Raronauer Recommends

Click Click Click Click by Bishop Allen
This week I saw Andrew Bujalski’s second movie, Mutual Appreciation. It’s about everything and nothing, but specifically it’s about 20-somethings trying to figure out what to do with themselves. Relatable, huh? The film stars Justin Rice, who in real life is the lead signer of Bishop Allen. In the movie, he’s the lead singer of a band that plays Bishop Allen songs. After the movie I had an interest renaissance with Bishop Allen, and found this track. It’s about getting caught in someone else’s picture, which seems to happen to me a lot lately.

Lifehacking My Way to the Top

Lifehacker is perhaps the most earnest blog on the entire World Wide Web. With advice ranging from turning a paint chip into a card holder and two postings on how to wrap headphones, Lifehacker is for people looking to get the most out of life while wasting time at work. Perhaps coincidentally, these eager beavers often suffer from low self-esteem. Luckily, LH often posts quick fixes for that, too.

Today’s advice: Think of times when you did something that you thought that [you] never could do but managed to pull off successfully.

So today I registered for the lottery for NYC 2007 marathon. Right now, I don’t think I’ll make the cut. (Around 98,000 people are expected to apply for 38,000 spots.) How will I feel if I get in? If this lotto winner is any indication, I’m hoping for pulling off frizzy hair good.