These days, I sometimes feel that I would like to be less proximate to the reality I live in. There are more and more people on the street, and they are not usually able to have a conversation. There is one man, Jeff, who for years hung out around the corner and had rich, lucid talks with us, in-between rants about the government, who we got supplies for, who now seems to live in a newly-cropped up settlement across Telegraph, and is now almost unrecognizable and unable to make eye contact. It is devastating to be in proximity to Jeff, this person I knew who is now so ravaged by neglect, and to the many, many people who wander around our neighborhood screaming, sleeping, sometimes shitting on the sidewalk on my walk home from dropping my daughter at preschool. And yet, they are here, even more than before, they are our neighbors. This is our world, our country, our state, our city. Why would we hide from it?
I made you a New Year\u2019s Gift! A while back, my friend and personal-shopper Christie suggested that I set up a parenting-advice booth ala Lucy in Charlie Brown, or create a magic eight ball with parenting fortunes in it, some silly way to acknowledge the \u201Chealthy tension\u201D (thanks Margaret for that term) between the fact that I both think parenting advice is mostly insufferable and insensitive and unhelpful and the fact that, when friends come to me with challenges with their kids, I really do have something to offer up, usually one of the same half-dozen acorns that I\u2019ve squirreled away after years of consuming this stuff and watching how it plays out in actual families.
The other day, my mother introduced me to this concept, \u201Cproximity,\u201D a social psychology term popularized by \u201Cgood kind of lawyer\u201D Brian Stevenson, who has already achieved one of my lifetime goals (not the Macarthur Genius award, the having a super hot person play you in a movie). Stevenson says:
This arrangement can be difficult, painful even, and in places like Oakland it is becoming almost unbearably so. When we first moved here, there were many unhoused folks who cycled through our neighborhood. Often, I knew them by name. I knew Eric\u2019s order from Walgreen\u2019s (Ritz crackers, and often feminine hygiene products for his wife), and Sen\u2019s preferred ice cream flavor (Haagen-Dazs Caramel Cone). They had conversations with shopkeepers and residents. I don\u2019t kid myself that this was a good situation. That for one second Eric thought that the reality of living in an old car parked on 45th street wasn\u2019t so bad because some lady got him crackers once a week. I knew then, and know now, that in some way it wasn\u2019t just tragic that they lived on the streets and I lived in a comfortable apartment, but also related. That one was in some way responsible for another, even if no one had presented me with the choice to be comfortable and have others suffer, I had made it. We had proximity then, certainly. We talked with affection, even to our baby who was too young to understand, about all of our neighbors \u2014 housed and unhoused.
A few weeks ago, we came home from a very expensive meal (whiplash) not far from our house to cop cars on our corner and caution tape in our lawn. There had been a drive-by shooting across the street, a dozen shots fired. I ran into the house like I have never run anywhere and found my children, alive and very much awake (not because they were scared, because they are shit at bedtime). Our babysitter, a long time city dweller, had told the kids it was fireworks. I thought of all the families in our city who had already experienced this fear, experience it often, found something different when they came home. I thought, after that, that surely I would want to leave, as I often think about doing when I travel somewhere else and return to my city and my neighborhood and am almost punched in the gut by the proximity. But I didn\u2019t. I don\u2019t.
I am in awe, every day, of how much joy flows through us in our little corner of the world. I think I will go for a walk, and see what proximity has in store for me today, and make some pathetically insignificant attempt to alleviate someone\u2019s suffering, and drop off some lentil soup to the woman who runs the bakery, who has given us many free cookies and referred to me the other day as \u201Cfamily,\u201D because this is our home, and we live here together.
Complicating behaviors include excessive avoidance of reminders of the loss, compulsive proximity seeking, or both. For example, people with CG may dramatically restrict their lives to try to avoid places they went with the deceased or situations the deceased would enjoy. They may avoid being with family or friends because of feeling envious, embarrassed, or anxious because of the death. At the same time, a person with CG may spend long periods of time trying to feel closer to the deceased person through pictures, keepsakes, clothing, or other items associated with the loved one. They may want to see, hear, touch, or smell things that remind them of the deceased loved one.
A lot has been written about the insufferable rents of Brooklyn, with a particular emphasis on our neighborhood, Bushwick. As a rule of thumb one can say that the closer to Manhattan, the higher your rent will be. But is that always true? The short answer is yes. However a detailed look at a rent map subway stop by subway stop along the L and JMZ trains created by real estate website BrickUnderground suggests several unexpected elements.
A time trial is a thing of terrible beauty \u2013 of solace, of the mind competing with the body, competing against the insufferable terrain and the wheeled machine and the clock. When they come in soaked, their faces are haggard, for this self-competition is fierce, perhaps fiercer than any match against any other man. After all, we know ourselves and our weaknesses better than anyone. It was a glorious time trial, too, the best kind there is, a nail-biter. The stories within were resplendent \u2013 Rogli\u010D versus his battered body, a fight he would soon lose, Mathieu van der Poel\u2019s epic cram session after which he would ride the time trial of his life, clinging onto the yellow jersey for yet another day, and, of course, the boy prince, Tadej Poga\u010Dar, reigning supreme, calm and cool in his angelic white, offering a seductive look at the camera as if to say, that\u2019s right, watch me.
Stage six was spent driving. We got there just in time to see Cavendish win again, which, yeah, unbelievable, right? I can\u2019t remember much of that day because I was a little hungover and busy with other work and wasn\u2019t even taking notes, as you can tell by this rather frazzled diary entry. That\u2019s the thing about being on the Tour, there\u2019s a lot of going places and the watching is rather minimal. The most spectacular part of it is being there when they come in, to see their initial reactions, to speak to them. But the rest is spent in the car, in hotels, in overheated and unventilated press rooms crammed together like sardines, refreshing the free wifi when it inevitably cuts out for the umpteenth time. It\u2019s not glamorous, but the moments of proximity make everything else worth it. Sometimes these moments are heartbreaking. In Laval, I was deeply moved watching the UAE soigneur put on Marc Hirschi\u2019s jacket for him, his big green eyes red with tears after the time trial, because he still could not move his arm. It was indelible, how childlike he seemed, how helpless. And yet he goes on, knowing that there is a point where things will hurt less and that this point is worth reaching. Yesterday, Hirschi was better, clearly so. Sometimes there is a light at the end of the tunnel of pain, and getting there is a matter of grit, a matter of the discipline of living.
Kang Sol A, just wants a one normal year. Just one year without some kind of explosion, or murder, or world ending event.Unfortunately, disaster has struck in the form of a 5' 11" insufferable, quidditch player and genius Han Joon Hwi and their friends who thought it was great idea to lock the two in a cupboard.
Briefly, CCA and McCunney et al. reviewed relevant literature looking for causal links between exposure to wind turbine noise and negative health effects. Both concluded that individuals living in proximity to turbines experienced higher levels of annoyance but could not state with certainty whether the annoyance was attributable to turbine noise or other factors such as attitudes toward the visual appearance of the turbines or financial reward. 2b1af7f3a8