Is it possible to get lung cancer from a TV show?

For the past 72 hours or so, I've been watching Mad Men, AMC's period drama that is a critical darling. I am utterly addicted to it.

Not only is it a drama that, despite a pace only slightly faster than plant growth, maintains interest and keeps you guessing, it is also a drama that has actual characters. This is not a drama of stereotypes; it is a first rate ensemble cast with each character having their own story, and each story intertwines. And yet, every single character, for the most part, isn't likeable. There's Don Draper, a creative genius who isn't faithful to his wife. Pete Campbell, who was given everything and is more sexist than the rest. Roger Sterling, who broke up his marriage of 25 years. And yet I cannot resist watching their stories unfold.

In addition to the writing and acting, Mad Men is a true period drama. But where some shows pander to cheap nostalgia and make fun of the era, this show is a stickler for detail. There are no anachronistic pieces, and no anachronistic situations. This is the era of the three martini lunch and a perpetual cloud of cigarette smoke around the office. Secretaries were skirts to be lifted, and infidelity was the norm. These "Mad Men," men of Madison Avenue who worked advertising magic, had gritty undersides, once you get past the chrome.

I also appreciate the fashion of the show. Men looked sharp in suits, and women looked put together and finished. Fedoras were everywhere. An era of skirts and heels and suits with skinny ties. As much as the social conventions of the era disgust me, I will say it was nice to see an age where people tried to look put together once again.

And so I hope like mad that the fedora comes back.

Haiku

Walt Disney World: So
much magical pixie dust.
It's a small, small world.

Of Yeti and Movie Stars

The next day, we woke up respectably early and meandered over to Disney's Animal Kingdom.


Oh, the humanity. More people than I've ever seen at a park were here, and they all seemed to be a large sea of t-shirts and shorts, which smelt of sunscreen and sweat. Animal Kingdom isn't my favorite park, mostly because it's the hottest, and there isn't a lot to keep you entertained. However, a relatively new addition to the park, Expedition Everest, helps-- it's a roller coaster that I very, very much enjoy. Also, the imagineers at Disney did a very good job of theming the area, down to an altar and prayer flags, which fluttered with more spirit than most of the people below them could.

We ate lunch at a new restaurant called the Yak and Yeti, and I loved it. Though pricey, it offered pho and dim sum, a welcome change from normal Disney fare of hamburgers and sweet things. Its decor was up to the same high standard as the rest of "Asia," and though it was much more Nepal, India, and Tibet than it was China and Japan, it still did an admiral job of accuracy. Though this makes me wonder whether children will ever really appreciate the true artifacts if they see fair reproductions only a three hour plane ride away.

After lunch, we staggered out of the park and had to cross the Great Pathway Desert, which is a concrete slab with no shade that is very far from the bus stop oases that we needed to reach. Despite hallucinations, we made it, and moved on to Disney's Hollywood Studios, formerly Disney-MGM Studios.

It was so crowded and so hot, prayers of doing any rides were kind of a fail. We went on the Great Movie Ride, which is a cliffs notes of the great films of Hollywood, and we went on a quest for Dug the Dog, from Up. He existed as a plush creature that spoke, but proved to be an elusive prey.

We finished the evening at Boma, an African buffet at one of the hotels. As usual, delicious, but there is always a sense of suspense when I eat there. You never know what you get there, really, until you try it, but that's fine by me. I tend to make excellent discoveries. Curried pasta salad? Yes.

Disney World, Serenity Now Edition

This past week I traveled from the grey northeast to the obscenely sunny south, to Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida. I and my family have visited this little patch of land more times than I can remember; we know the place very well. This was a quick trip, with enough time to go to each park, and not much more.

And so, the first post of a few:

We actually left a day early, due to the miracles of modern technology, and lucky finds on earlier flights. This was a twofold good thing, in that we got more vacation time, and we also wouldn't have to wake up at 3 am to catch our plane. So, we flew down and caught a cab to get to our special one-night hotel, the Swan.

I like the Swan; it's a nice hotel with great access and a relaxed feel. It's popular with conventions, but it's still very family friendly, though not gratuitously so. Other places, like, say, any other disney hotel, have a kid-friendly atmosphere that borders on too much at times. Case in point: all toilets in Disney World are lower to the ground than normal. But, then again, given the audience that is Disney, it makes sense. But I digress.

That night we went straight to the Magic Kingdom, where throngs of humanity all clambered around, riding rides, and ate food. It was surreal going back, after two years, with all the happiness and magic (tm) that is Disney. It was jarring, almost, but one acclimates quickly, mostly because it's nice to lose yourself in the magic. We did a few rides, namely Pirates of the Caribbean and other such endeavors. Then we ventured back to the hotel by way of Epcot and collapsed.

It was tough acclimating to the heat, at first, but after a few hours of uncomfortable perspiration I got used to it. Everyone else there seemed less content, in that they became heat-zombies by lunchtime and failed to react to any stimulus except air conditioning.

The next day, my acclimation would be put to the test.

From Within Outward

Today, I went to the Guggenheim Museum in New York. It was a beautiful day, one of the first truly hot of the year, and a great day to see a museum so full of windows. As it is the 50th anniversary of the Guggenheim's opening, a huge Frank Lloyd Wright retrospective was the main exhibit at the museum. The building, designed by Wright, was breathtaking. Based on circles and spirals, it brought its viewers up to the top, and then back down, with exhibition rooms at every turn in the spiral. I loved the light and airy feeling the building evoked, and the unique layout to a museum; most museums tend to be boxy.

I was surprised about the other works of art in the Guggenheim; I didn't expect a Kandinsky gallery or a Monet picture (a wonderful depiction of the Palazzo Ducale in Venice) to be in there.

This trip, at the very least, made me much more appeciative of the space around me, and how gifted architects can truly be.

Bubble trouble!

I saw the "Gazillion Bubble Show" today in NYC. While entertaining, it was meant for a much younger audience.

Highlights:

Bad puns, including "unbubbelievable!"
Child volunteers: "Where are you from?" "Church."
Zen and the bubble? "The bubble has a soul and becomes one with the water, where it lives in harmony." "We all have an inner rainbow."

Lowlights: Urging 6 year olds to scream loudly.

An interesting day, to be sure.

The Perfect Meal

Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma is one of those few nonfiction books that are unsettling and force open one's eyes to things one might not necessarily want to see. It follows three food chains: agribusiness (most of the supermarket), organic (in both the Whole Foods and Farmer's Markets varieties-- industrial vs. local), and extremely local (he makes a meal from things he was directly responsible for-- gathering and hunting).

Pardon the pun, but I devoured this book. Having always been conscious of what I eat (a fan of McDonald's I am not), I was not surprised about some of the practices used to increase crop production. What I was surprised about, however, was the extent to which corn has infiltrated our society; I don't know whether I can ever look at a food in the same way. In addition, I was particularly surprised about industrial organic food production-- I see organic and assume it's better, but most times there are practices that, though they slip through the USDA's regulatory cracks, are not a far cry from agribusiness. Particularly in this vein is the grass fed burger; nearly all steers are grass fed in their youth, or they are offered grass in the last two weeks of their lives. Is this the same as pastured? The answer, I learned, is no. The Omnivore's Dilemma makes this omnivore even more mindful of what she eats, and I think that this is a good thing. That's not to say I will go on a raw food diet, or a vegan kick, but I will think twice about Fritos and chicken McNuggets.

And this made me mindful of how amazing the food at Yale can be. The Yale Sustainable Food Project, which adheres to standards of local, sustainable, and preferably organic food, offers dishes with every meal. In addition, the Yale Farm, which I had a brief encounter with at an Italian study break, gives students an opportunity to put some work in on a plot of land and to take a break from the hectic reality of daily existence. I see myself going to the farm more this year, and enjoying it.

And I will also never look at the cornfields near my house in the same way again.

I Hid under the Porch...

Today I saw Up, Pixar's latest grin-inducing film. It started with the customary Pixar short, consisting of a tale about a cloud that made....special babies; it was so cute I was smiling the entire time. Then the movie began, and magic ensued. Pixar has improved on both their landscapes and their hair rendering, and I really lost myself in the room.

Also, Dug the Dog is adorable in every way possible. I highly recommend.

The Edible Garden

Today I went on a mini-adventure to the NY Botanical Garden, which was as low-key and neat as usual. It's a huge space, with every kind of plant you could want to look at, and there's always a fun theme to the gardens. This year, jumping on with the organic, local food trend, was "The Edible Garden," which was really well done; a walking tour of the gardens was set up with food in mind, and many of the gardens were redone with edible options, like Martha Stewart's Herb Garden. Also there was a small Greenmarket, with a few vegetable sellers, a baker, and what looked like a butcher type outfit; people were swarming around and buying everything from Swiss Chard to dill to garlic.

I visited the Rock Garden, which, contrary to expectation, was not quite as zen as I thought it would be. It was much more chaotic and green, with rocks more as a landscape additive than main feature. I did, however, spot a few lizards, which was a pleasant surprise.

After the rock garden, we visited the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, which, if nothing else, educated me in the way pineapples grow. It also has a wonderful water lily section with koi that I always enjoy spending time in. The water lily center is really cool-- if you dry it out, the seed pod can be a rattle. Plants as musical instruments? Heck yes.

After the conservatory, I just wandered around and took far too many closeup flower pictures. It's easy to do that at the NYBG, which has beautiful specimens, and not just flowers-- conifers are lovely too, in their own understated way.

In any case, further inspiration to have a garden of my own again.

One last thing from NYC:

This is awesome.

Cultured 4th of July, part 2

The next day, I went uptown to the Museum of the City of New York to see a few different exhibits. This is the 400th anniversary of the discovery of New York by Henry Hudson, so much celebration is to be had: the fireworks were in the Hudson this year, and the Mannahatta Project was exhibited in the museum. The Mannahatta Project is a project that looks at Manhattan's changing landscape and ecology since its discovery in 1609, but particularly emphasizes the early years. There was a fun little map where one could find a block of Manhattan and overlay what it looked like back then with its modern landscape, and then look at what the indigenous species and peoples were in the area. In addition, there were Muir Webs, which were webs that connected habitats and creatures with their dependents via lines, creating an endless network between all the species of the area.

Also at the museum was an exhibit on Henry Hudson and the early dutch settlement of New Amsterdam, which had over 400 artifacts relating to the age. This was interesting, but Dutch, to me, is utterly bizarre in its construction. A cool part of the exhibit was the exhibit itself; the walls were sculpted to be like the hull of the Half Moon, Henry Hudson's ship. Other highlights include the amateur drawings of a Beaver and Bald Eagle because they were adorable, and also the numerous paintings of Stuyvesant and other famous New Yorkers. Or New Amsterdamers, as it were.

After the museum, we went to the Conservatory Garden, which is a part of Central Park, but a designated (and enclosed) quiet area. It's divided into three parts, with a British garden, French Garden, and Italian garden. The entryway looked like this:



And it led into the Italian Garden, which looked like this:


The fountain end of it was very reminiscent of the gardens at the Villa D'Este in Tivoli, which I visited last year. The grotto effect of the elevated walkway only helped this analogy, as did the single-jet fountain.

This is a very peaceful garden, which makes sense given that it was a designated quiet area. No cell phones, no music, simply quiet and perhaps the buzz of the outside world occasionally. It struck me as a nice, quiet corner where I could sit down on one of its many benches and read a good book, or perhaps start writing one of my own. I really liked the tree-lined long pathways, which were lined with benches and gave a unique dappled light.

After the Italian garden, was the British garden, which was stifled chaos and very British. It had beautiful flowers, and a few birds and insects as well. Its best part, however, was its fountain, which was dedicated to "the children of the city." Part of it was a birdbath, and there were quite a few sparrows frolicking and enjoying themselves. I had a good time watching them.

The last garden there was the French garden, which evoked Versailles and other such large, expansive gardens, with the centerpiece being a fountain of three little nymphs playing in the water. Overall a very beautiful garden, and a very beautiful day.

Cultured 4th of July, part 1

This 4th I went to NYC, mostly for a momentous cookout on my aunt's patio. However, this weekend ended up being a very cultured weekend, starting with a family trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.


It was relatively quiet, as most of the city was a ghost town this weekend; sunlight and holidays are a potent mix that give most the itch to go away. And so, we jaywalked across Park Avenue with no issue, which really only happens never. In any case, our destination of choice was the rooftop, which has a different outdoor installation every summer. This year, Roxy Paine's Maelstrom:


This was quite a fun exhibit, because we could climb all around the branches of this large metal structure. There were something like six concepts behind the art, but I only remember trying to decide whether this looked more like a nervous system or a fallen tree. It was fun to frolic around, taking pictures from all manner of angles, and just enjoying the sunlight. After we finished looking around on the roof, we went to look at a new exhibit on Medieval drawings, which was fascinating but a huge change of mindset from modern art to medieval. I enjoyed them as well, particularly the "family tree" which was a tree with head and feet that delineated the relations of several generations of a family for inheritance purposes.

I love the Met; it's one of my favorite museums due to the variation of experience had with each visit. One day is not enough to cover the Greek and Roman galleries alone, so each time I try to go to a different part of the museum. My favorite section is probably the Greek and Roman galleries, because the light is perfect for photography, but I also have a soft spot for the Egyptian wing, just because the Temple of Dendur is amazingly cool.

After we finished at the Met, we walked back and watched the fireworks on TV that night.

Morse

I was going through some pictures of my beloved residential college, and suddenly got very nostalgic. I never realized how much I loved it until I got all stirred up staring at its beauty. Yes, it might be considered one of the "ugly" colleges at Yale, and yes, it might not look like it's straight from Harry Potter, but I appreciate its uniqueness. In a campus that looks like Lyra Belacqua's Oxford, Morse (and Stiles, but mostly Morse), offers a refuge from turrets and spires and creates a "home," separate from the rest. There is something to be said about living in a place that looks different from your workplace, and Morse offers that.

Going into Swing Space this year, I wonder what it will be like, and how the "homelessness" we're going to experience will affect us as a college. I believe it will bring us closer together, because we need to make Swing our own; whether that means battleaxes in the hallways or stuffed walruses remains to be seen. Our new freshman are still struggling to accept the fact that they're not in a pretty college; I hope, for the sake of Morse, they will be like us and love it more than ever. Morse, above all, is its people first-- I love all the Morsels because they're all great people, and we are truly close as a class. Swing Space will merely make us closer.

So, the last thing we need for total Morsel domination? Better cheers. My friends and I agree that a cheer referencing the Beatles would be best.

I am the walrus! Cu cu cachoo!