FreeRice.com

A fabulous little website that tests your grasp of English vocabulary while simultaneously donating food to impoverished nations aorund the world. Also, slightly addictive; I somehow managed to get up to level 50 and have now spent almost a half hour failing to accomplish that feat again.
Seriously, though, it is a much better use of the ten or fifteen minutes that you might be tempted to waste on celebrity gossip. And now that my SAT days are firmly in my past, I can almost enjoy the vocabulary lesson.

http://www.freerice.com/index.php

Do it.

People Watching

On the train into the city yesterday, I realized that I have become quite the people watcher. Right off the bat like that, that statement does have a stalker-ish ring to it, but I do not mean staring people down in an intimidating and frightful way. Instead, I really find myself fascinated with just watching people. It astonishes me how different people are. In the same country, in the same city, on the same train car, there were a myriad of different people, all looking like they were off to do very different things with their evening. I find myself occasionally trying to work out these unknown faces' life stories in my mind as I sit a few feet away from them or watch them walk by. I have a wonderful image of an older woman sitting knitting what looks like it might one day become a jumper, and I can imagine her hurrying off the train, eager to get home to a nice hot cup of tea and a distinguished little husband in herringbone slacks who sits, reading, waiting for her. It tickles me to no end when this same older woman turns to the surly looking teenager seated next to her with a pursed expression on his face and his head bopping to the music playing in his earphones. She leans into him a bit and starts brushing some lint off his shoulder. I would not have guessed for all the world that they were any more closely acquainted than that they happened to be sharing the same seat together. People surprise you, and I like that. People offer so much, continually keeping me on my toes, forbidding me from lethargic complacency and amusing me when they turn out to be quite different than you think they are.
And so, I think that, thus acknowledged, I will continue with this delicate little people watching habit of mine. It certainly makes train rides pass more quickly.

Daring ... You either have it or you don't

Somehow I got sucked into watching a marathon of America's Next Top Model this past weekend when I was really supposed to be preparing for finals. As I watched some very annoying model hopeful dissolve into tears when she was told she was going to be attached to a wire cord and hoisted up in the air so that photographers could snap pictures of the girls in karate poses, ala Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, I realised that daring is one of those things that you either have or you do not. It's very hard to tell someone that they have to buck up and act daring. I realise that models acting on a painfully contrived show are not the best example for this kind of thing, but I think it is pretty common across human nature. It's either naturally part of a person's personality, or one is just not that type of person. That is not to say that the daring among us are daring across the board. I would have absolutely jumped (no pun intended) at the chance to flit around in the air striking martial arts poses, but there are quite a few things I cannot picture myself doing with ease. I will probably end up sky diving at some point in my life, but it will be the result of a great deal of nerve and mental work. I do not suppose that I could simply get on board the aircraft, cooly fly to 10,000 feet, and then walk over, cross my arms, and fall out of the plane. So if I have daring, it is of the rather timid variety, I'm afraid. I have to work a bit to bring it out, but it is there, hidden beneath the surface. But there are those people who just exude it. People you can imagine energetically going after anything they wanted, or doing anything they got into their heads -- these are the truly intrepid. More than blithely doing stunts that make it onto network reality shows, they have a "just go for it" mentality when it comes to all sorts of things. It's curious; they often know and appreciate all the dangers involved, but the risks do not phase them. I envy it really, this unabashed view of life, but I cannot imagine taking that mindset and implanting it successfully in the mind of someone who did not already think that way. So, again, you either have daring or you do not, and more power to the people to whom it comes so easily.

Do not go . . .

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-- Dylan Thomas

Election 08

It makes me chuckle to see just how abstract all my postings tend to be. I'm always, it seems, talking about things 'in theory', and with a lot of stream of consciousness thrown in to boot. I am not quite sure how I get caught up in that trap, but it's pretty amusing nevertheless. In some ways, I find that I cannot help myself -- the big picture interests me far more than the little everyday things that go into the big picture, and I hope I can train myself to somehow wrap my mind around part of that big picture some day. In the meantime, however, I'm afraid I am going to sound pompous and insufferable.



TodayI thought , I would take a break from mysilly musings , though -- a bit of peripeteia if you will. In that spirit, I am going to talk about practical and only practical things. And here is where the presidential election comes in. I could go on and on about the innane little tidbits of electoral history I've picked up from somewhere or another, or how we seem to be walking down the road toward a battle between two political dynasties called Bush and Clinton. But I will, instead, restrain myself, and just say that I really haven't a clue who I am going to vote for.



Of course, in any other year, when the election process gets started at the reasonable one-year mark, that would not be a problem. But in the 21st century, where it seems that these campaigns kick off earlier and earlier, the fact that I don't feel I zealously support one candidate or another is a source of concern. After all, we've certainly seen and heard enough of them to feel as though we are getting to know them, whether we like it or not. But that's part of the problem, I think. Because they all know they are in for a long haul, they are careful not too rock a boat that is supposed to keep them afloat for a year yet too much. Capsizing this early in the game would just be embarrassing. So instead we have these sorts of mediocre characters who occasionally say something defined and controversial, but two days later quickly step back from that show of guts. At this point, I think I would be more attracted to a candidate who went out and firmly and with gusto laid out his agenda, even if that agenda made me hate him (or her). I would prefer that to these pathetic feelings of indifference.



In any case, here is the present run-down. It was helped along partly by a grid that MSN has come up with to rank the candidates according to their take on the issues. Supposedly, once you go through and fill the whole thing out, you will be able to separate the candidates you support based on the number of green squares they have under their name from the ones who have red squares plastered near issues on which you diverge. Happily, this set everything straight for me: at the end of a well-spent half hour I was sitting and staring at a grid awash in the muddy green and red squares of neutrality. Nevertheless:



Hillary Clinton -- Undoubtedly smart and experienced. Oily, however, in the answers she gives to just about everything. Plus, I just cannot trust her. And she is going to have to decide whether she wants to wear the badge of her sex proudly or as a millstone round her neck that the male candidates tug on from time to time. She can't play both cards.

Barack Obama -- I like the guy, I really do. He seems more honest and less given to puffing up statistics so that they favor him. He is humble and well-spoken. And he has held his ground in the Iraq war, which is admirable. But as much as I would love to vote for candidates solely based on their positions on issues (and we see how far that silly grid got me) I think you also have to factor in ability and leadership. Now Obama is young, so maybe the leadership will come in time. The problem, however, is that we need a strong leader and we need him or her now and I don't think we can wait a year or two for a candidate, no matter how likable, to mature without paying a high price for it. Also, I am nt wild over his stance on foreign policy. I agree that dialoge and diplomacy works a deal better than going into a country guns a'blazing, but promising unequivocably to talk to any foreign power at pretty much any time could dampen considerably the delicate behind-the-scenes work of the State department.

Bill Richardson -- My suprise candidate. Unexpectedly, his position on the issues aligned with mine more than any other candidate. Plus, he has significant executive experience. And he's from New Mexico, and so occupies a special little place in my heart. But does he have the grit it's going to take to win a general election?

The rest of the Democrat playing field -- Edwards is unappealing, despite the shiny silky hair. Kucinich is interesting but impractical. And Joe Biden is just a little insane.

Rudy Giuliani -- The man cannot get his story straight. And he needs to understand that although he did lead New York through the chaotic days following 9/11, New York is one small and uncommon part of a much bigger country. He faces the very real possibility of not resonating with voters west of, well, the Hudson. Also, he cannot get his facts right to save his life. He seems determined to take perfectly straightforward statistics and tweaking them so that they fit his needs, but no longer are perfectly straighforward. (See relentless comments on prostate cancer in the UK).

Mitt Romney -- In case you haven't heard - he's Mormon. With all this talk abotu religious tolerance, it's pretty laughable that people are willing to vociferously writing him off for this reason alone. Fiscally, I think he's got some interesting and workable plans, and his focus on education is dead on. Socially, I cannot agree with him as much as I'd like. His position on immigration is one of the most perceptive out there, but his views on gay marriage are inconsistent and contradictory. I like the alternative fuel goals, but I think we need to stop looking at drilling in Alaska as a feasible idea; it would only be a very short-term fix in any case.

The remaining Republican playing field -- Ron Paul has taken fundraising to new heights, but for what exactly, I am not quite sure. Duncan Hunter is intimidating as all ____. And I liked Fred Thompson better on Law & Order.

And there you are . . .

Grief

Grief has a strange evolution. At times, it seems like it will never end or even fade. It makes the days pass slowly and painfully, excruciatingly dragging out moments of loneliness and regret until they themselves seem to last for days. But then, all of a sudden, years have gone past, and you look back and realise that you have inched your way out of the worst parts of grief.

I cannot believe that it has already been a full year and a half. And yes, I still feel like half an orphan many times during the course of a day. But I've come to accept it in a way that I was not able to in the months immediately after my father's death. There are times when I am smacked with the desire to talk to him, to ask him questions I know he would be able to answer. I continue to wish that I had gotten to know more about his life and what kind of person he was outside of simply being my father. And I still feel guilt that my life had more of my father in it than have my brother and sisters'; I don't think I will ever be able to stop regretting that my youngest sister will have no virtually memory of my father, nor he of her. But I no longer mourn the conversations I never had but should have. For one, I would drive myself crazy that way, and the pragmatic part of me has finally made itself heard and told me that if I had all the conversations I wanted to with all the people who warranted them, I would neither sleep, eat, nor do anything else. Perhaps there were some things I was just not meant to know.

And I cannot help but perversely note that, in some ways, I am closer to my father than I was when he was still alive. I realize now just how fortunate I am to have a loving family and what a difference it has made in my life. I am more determined than ever to do what would make my father proud. His death has allowed me to more fully appreciate and understand ideals like humility, patience, fraility and basic human pride; and while being grateful for that may seem inexcusably selfish, I can only hope that someday, I am able to do the same for someone else. And it reassures me that even as we leave this earth, our last moment can be of value.

And so I don't think I am completely over my grief, nor do I believe I ever will be. But it has morphed into something different than it once was. I still grieve, but with that grieving comes a sincere gratefulness for what I had, even if it did not last as long as I might have liked.

The Allure of the '60s

Yes, it is true. My second post in as many days. What, you may ask, is the occasion? Well, to be perfectly honest, after writing about the broadcasting market in China and the origins of the National Bank for hours straight, I needed a break. With such thrilling topics I know it is unbelievable that I could grow tired, but there it is. And somehow, sitting on here and typing more or less without purpose for a few minutes won't make me feel as guilty as just taking a break. So, for the sake of my psychological welfare, here I am again.

And since I have been tapping my feet the past few days to the soundtrack of the hippie-inspired film Across the Universe, I have decided to bless the world with my views on the 1960s. Perhaps it's just because I've seen so few films lately (and the most recent before this was the most unfortunate The Game Plan with some of the babysitees, which I can only assume The Rock, or whatever his name is, will come to regret). But this one really got me. The entire score is done to Beatles' songs, but they weave together a remarkably coherent story. It traces the life a young Liverpoolian, coincidentally named Jude, as he travels to America, gets involved with the anti-war movment, and falls in love with a And, with the exception of Bono, none of the actors are very well known, but they did a fantastic job. And it made me fall in love with the Beatles' music all over again. They certainly put a lot out into the world while they were together.

And as I happily listened to "Revolution" for what must be the 40th time earlier today, I got to thinking -- what would I have been like had I grown up in the 60s? They were such an explosive time, and proved definitely that the young and idealistic could in fact move the world. And I do so feel like I am at that painfully idealistic stage in my life, where nothing seems satisfactory, but there's still that glimmer somewhere on the horizon that tells me that we can in fact make things better. I want to believe it; I have to believe it. And while books I've read and what people older than I have said tell me that the feelings of idealism will fade a little bit under the pressure of pragmatism, right now I can empathize with the hippies' drive to create a new world order.
But I have to wonder if that's only because the legacy that the generation left us. Would I be so quick to understand the desire for a revolution if it were not for all the stories, and policies, and music left behind by the 60s? Somehow, I suspect that by giving importance to those teenage feelings of energy and revolution that had been quashed or hushed for generations before, the hippies really changed the world a little bit for all of us who came after. We were all forced to approach everything just a bit differently.
I'm not sure what kind of hippy I would have made, though. The clothes are right up my alley, the music still makes me grin, and the some of the ideas still strike me with their power. But drugs don't make any sense to me, particularly if you're trying to make the world a different place -- kind of hard to do so if you're high all the time. Plus, kaleidoscopes make me dizzy, and all the drug-induced art I've seen seems to involve far too much kaleidoscope imagery. So I suppose that means I would have made half a good hippy, and that's good enough for me.

And, with that, now back to the ever-scintilating growth of the Chinese TV market . . .

It's been a month . . .

I know, I know: it's been a whole month since my last post. And while blogging should be something like mother's milk to me at this stage in my life, where I feel in desperate need of some sort of soap box, but where, ironically, very few people care to listen to me, I find it hard to set aside the requisite time. I am not so talented that I can sit down at a moment's whim and spurt out an intelligent, or even reasonably intelligent, set of paragraphs that get across the point I'd like to make. Sadly, my writing requires much more deliberation, and usually about two of three drafts and some editing before I am confident enough to put it out there and say "This is what I mean. Period."

I've seen articles written by rabid bloggers who claim that posting their thoughts, hopes, and frustrations online has become a daily therapy session they cannot live without. I'd like to send them some of my work, since they seem to have so much idle time on their hands . . .
Maybe I am just a poor prioritizer, but any free moment it seems I do have, I am overwhelmed with the desire to climb into my bed and snag a bit of sleep. Laziness, of course, could be the answer as well, but I shudder to admit that, however accurate it may be.

In any case, to prove that I have in fact been managing to keep up with important current events despite all the tedious midterms I've been glaring at recently, I will include the following thought from a very amusing little article on the BBC.
"In America, every election has been more expensive than the last, and yet the White House has passed from a Bush to a Clinton, back to a Bush and, many believe, may pass back to a Clinton.
It seems an awful lot of time and money to spend on what looks to outsiders like two rival dynasties fighting over the same address. " http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7036876.stm

I would copy and paste some of the tedious midterms here as well, but let's be honest and acknoweldge that no one has the slightest interest in reading anything of them.

Until the next time . . .

The trials of being sick

I've managed to get quite sick this weekend. And since I know that noone really wants to hear me complain -- I am in fact annoying myself with the constant coughing followed by little miserable whimpers -- I figured I would complain online. That way, when someone's decided they've had enough, a deft little click to the corner 'x' will relieve his pain.
In any case: being sick.
Everyone knows it's miserable. But I want to take just a moment here to discuss how visiting the neighborhood drug store does very little to make you feel any better. I went this morning, and am now about $35 dollars poorer, and have the dubious distinction to own half the cold products that they sell. And these things probably have much the same ingredients, and in the end, probably address the same symptoms. But there's an instinct when you're sick to make sure you cover all your bases in a frantic and usually desperate attempt to try to avoid the thing at any cost. The makers of Dayquil capitalize on this, and stick about 20 different kinds of their silly medicine on the shelves, making you feel guilty if you don't buy them, in case it turns out that the particular concoction in whatever box you decided not to pick up happens to be the one you need.
Mostly I do this for other people's sakes. I can't afford to be more cranky and unpleasant than I already am to people, so I want to make sure that if the medicines do not help me feel well enough to make a go at being amiable, they at least drug me up enough so that I am not too wretched.

But now, as I've spent the last ten minutes whining about being sick, unsuprisingly, I have developed a headache, and am going to go consult the growing dispensary in my medicine cabinet and take a bit of a nap.
Three cheers for Dayquil "for sinuses and headache pressure" . . .

For the eager and informed voter, (especially since this election process begins so darn early these days ...)
http://www.factcheck.org

A possible compilation of my favorite sites to follow.

It has rained now for about 4 days straight. Any thought I may have had of someday moving to either Britain or Seattle has gone up in smoke ... and then gotten rained on. I cannot imagine having the wherewithal to stay cheerful and chipper day after day as it rains on in those regions. After less than a week of dreariness, I am totally ready to invest in one of those light machines they use in Iceland and Alaska. I'm telling you . . .

Healthcare

I usually try to avoid delving too deep into politics, especially in a public or semi-public forum, mostly because it seems often to be little more than a a nuisance. I understand how the whole system works, and I am even struck at times by its astonishing practicality and pragmatism. It's worked better than the plethora of other systems. But despite this, the average day in Washington seems to involve far far far more talking than actual doing, which frustrates me to no end. And I have found that usually, when you bring the topic up, it just starts to frustrate other people; and next thing you know, you have a room full of frustrated, disgruntled people who grow increasingly annoyed with each other rather than the system. My college friends dealt with the problem pretty ingeniously, I think. We all knew each other's differing view points, and took a bit of pride in the fact that we actually had viewpoints, but we didn't take it any further. Sure, we would mention things, but we avoided the full-out frontal assault that usually comes when you stick a staunch liberal and a equally resolute conservative at a table and tell them to argue about politics. We knew we weren't likely to change the mind of the other, and for the sake of our friendship and because little more than a headache seemed likely to come out of the argument anyway, we took the conversation only so far and then held our tongues (or vented in our own heads or to reasonably like-minded buddies later on).

But when, unlike our college-selves, one is actually in a position to do something, to affect change, how helpful is all the arguing, particularly when you've already researched what the other person is going to say ahead of time. Why is it so hard for D.C. politicians to just leave the acknowledged differences at the door and walk in determined to get at least a little something done that day? Don't these people like to see progress rather than inertia, however loud and fiery it might be.

I don't know ...

But what prompted this little rant was the fact that I have stumbled across three articles talking about what seems to me more and more like a healthcare fiasco that is gripping us right now. I was not intent on finding these articles by any means, but they caught my eye since they appeared almost simultaneously on sites that normally focus much more on the latest J.Lo tush-baring outfit.

One was about a woman who has seen her life's savings fizzle before her eyes as she battled ovarian cancer, after finding out that because of some incomplete paperwork filed years and years before, her insurance company had decided to drop her coverage when it found out how much it would likely owe for her care. She faced the unenviable option of going broke or losing her life. Five minutes later, I had run across another similar article about the state of healthcare in Massachusetts that had prompted legislators there to create a tentative universal coverage plan. The stories there were only more heartbreaking.

On to the BBC's website, where right on the front page was a long piece about the phenomena of overseas healthcare shopping -- people heading off to India or China to receive necessary treatment that would be financially impossible to get in the US. Thankfully, this article was slightly more upbeat, since I was about ready to nurse my depression (no doubt to the detriment of my health) with a carton of ice cream or the like.

Clearly, this country must do something about these problems.

Having worked in the healthcare field a few years ago, and having seen the positions of both the doctors and the insurance companies, I know this will be no easy fix. But I do not believe that we can claim to occupy our coveted place as the worlds most civilized country if our citizens are unable to get care which should today be routine.

Instead of turning to the ice cream carton, I decided to look into things a little more. It turns out that we are the only highly industrialized nation in the world that does not guarantee universal health care coverage. Of course, one need only look at the state-operated systems in Canada or France to see that simply guaranteeing coverage does not necessarily solve the problem. Sometimes having the government manage the system causes more red tape and delays than even American insurance companies can dream up. There is also something to be said for the ability of the U.S. to develop cutting-edge treatment options due to its competitive and open system. But as we make leaps and bounds in the technological advancement of our treatments, the base of care should be catching up at least marginally. Instead, more people are choosing to go without coverage and chancing just staying healthy because insurance is simply too expensive to afford.

I remember in my gap year between high school and college, when my mother demanded that I find some way to get on an insurance plan since she refused to accept the idea that I just avoid getting sick or injured, I was paying a huge portion of my paycheck to go towards the most basic of coverage plans. Two days, if not more, of my five day workweek were going to pay for health insurance, so that I would be covered if I got in a car accident. And I was a healthy, active 18-year-old! Not only that, the deductibles on the silly plan were so high I think the couple times I needed to see a doctor that year, the money came from my own pocket anyway. And seven or eight months in, I reviewed my plan to discover that the coverage would only cover up to a certain amount anyway, leaving me still vulnerable to a catastrophic accident or illness. And I must have spent four weeks researching, confident at the end that I had found the most affordable plan available to me.

I cannot even imagine if I had a chronic illness, or children to insure, or got in a debilitating accident. The plan that I scrimped and saved for would be almost worthless.



In any case, after reading those articles, hunting some more down, and becoming more and more indignant and concerned by the moment, I have decided that this is going to be my hot-button issue for the next couple of weeks. Now that I am nearly 25, and hopefully people might actually listen to what I have to say, I am seriously going to study issue, and maybe even right some letters bound for Washington or something. Because despite my own experience, I had little idea how much of a heinous situation this was turning into, and someone needs to make some noise -- and take action -- about it so that things improve.



Because I still can't quite believe that this country, which is capable of the iPhone and space exploration and Jack Kerouac, cannot locate some sort of solution that might perhaps even work for other parts of the world.

Britney and Facebook

Second things first today:
I read an article yesterday that chastized college students for not effectively marketing the important skills they have gained over years of using Facebook. Honest. It claimed that students without much work experience should really push the fact that they are comfortable with reaching out to potential customers or contacts using new and evolving technology. Skill with Facebook (earned from hour and hours of procrastinating and avoiding actual course-work) should be termed "connecting with customers through new and expanding technologies."
Interesting ...
But the larger questions becomes this: could I really sit straight-faced in an interview and extrapolate when asked just what those new technologies are? I can see the picture clearly. A young, nervous recent college-grad who is desperate to impress, well, anyone who is in a position to give him or her a job that could help pay for those looming student loans freezes for a moment before answering the question. "Well, sir, I have had extensive experience networking and making new contacts utilising online technology." Actually, that doesn't sound half bad. I might even have to remember that one. But, when the time were to come, I think I would unfortunately fail to pull it off without a telling grin washing over my face. The real story that should capture my potential employer's attention would be the fact that, courtesy of 6 years in the world of higher education, I am able to twist virtually anything to my advantage with a little word smarts. Making all that procrastination pay for itself is no easy task, I tell you.

And now on to Britney, covering two pop culture phenomena in one fell swoop. (Impressed, no?)The latest news from the ever-cringe-inducing Spears camp is that Britney has now taken a liking to dinging up others' cars on her way to dire shopping or salon appointments and then leaving the scene without so much as a note. A personal run-in in a Panera parking lot that shall stay between my roommate and me aside, this seems quite careless, even for Brit. But then, her record when it comes to obeying basic rules of the road leaves something to be desired. Who can forget those photos of her trying to elude the pursuing paparazzi, little son perched on her un-fastened lap.
Also in recent news is talk of some late-night escapades with a twenty-one-year-old college student who has clearly spent far too much time on Facebook to make it useful on his resume, many of the brain cells we presume he once had having leached out during the hours staring at the computer screen. You would think through the mere fact that Britney leads such a colorful and interesting life that she would be able to find someone a bit less insipid, but maybe this is her way of toning things down.
I actually feel bad for Britney. The girl is seriously like a walking war zone, with casualties dropping like flies on every side. But as a public, we should remember to thank her as much as we can't help criticizing. For one thing, her story -- or stories, more often than not -- make for one hellacious boost to the hallowed self-esteem. Seeing photos of her most recent late night activites cannot fail to make one feel so delightfully normal and grounded despite whatever craziness one's own life may hold. Britney is like a national public service to the altar of self-respect, selflessly dragging herself down for our benefit.
You heard it here first.

Art Museums

So maybe I am an art museum snob, but is it really necessary for people to make quite so much noise while in a museum? Is it really of dire necessity that you discuss cousin Pam's latest hernia surgery in out-door voices while blocking the best view of a Monet masterpiece for however long it takes to get to descriptions of her recovery. I mean, really . . .
I have always been in favor of people visiting art museums. For my own part, they are usually the major highlight of any trip to a new city. So I certainly cannot begrudge anyone the iniative that drove them to the museum in the first place. However, I do see a strong need for some kind of pre-visit museum etiquette course that you can prove you've passed before you are issued your charming little button as proof of payment. After all, they issue licenses for just about everything else these days, why not for museum visits, too?
While not sitting here trying to claim that each and every person passing through the museum doors will enjoy the art inside in the same way and through the same methods, does it not seem likely that visits will prove more enjoyable for all if we can find a way to weed out the cell-phone answers, hernia surgery discussers, and those who tromp from room to room, stepping right in front of others with little more than a cursory glance at what is on the walls?
Call me a snob, but I feel inclined to ask those sorts if they wouldn't be happier in the mall, breezing from one flashy store window to another.

There is one particular room in the Philadelphia Art Museum that I just adore. Nestled in among the rooms of the contemporary art exhibit, it displays a slew of paintings by different artists -- but I like every single one. From Toulouse-Lautrec to some Rodin sculptures, and a portrait of a severe-looking Spanish arisocrat, every piece of art in that room captivates me. But it almost annoys me to go visit it on a weekend afternoon because I leave feeling like such a misanthrope. A world-class display of impressionist era art, and people literally clomp through the room, laughing uproariously or tittering while dropping their programs carelessly on the floor. I get more peeved than I can believe.

But before I sound like a complete clod, I have to admit how pleased I am when I see someone gazing up at what has become my favourite painting in the whole place (which is saying something considering how huge that museum is). It's a Lautrec painting that has been seen on countless posters all around the world, but it more than anything other piece makes me wish there was a way to bring back the painter, just for a moment, so that I could ask him what he was thinking when he created it.
The one shockingly red man -- with a bright tailcoat and a mass of reddish curls -- who stands amid the crowd at the back of The Dance at the Moulin Rouge has always been such a mystery to me. He stands out, the first thing my eye travels to when I look at the painting. But he seems like such a small character, and hides in the back of the crowd. Yet his presence has an air of intention, of purpose, about it, and I have to think that the painter put him there for some significant reason, though I cannot fathom what it is.
And it always makes me happy to see someone standing there, looking up at the painting with a wistful expression on his face, because I imagine he's thinking of the same thing. So long as he is not talking about his hernia surgery while doing it ...

Eh; I guess I am an art museum snob. And proud of it.