Lately I've been joking about taking up vigilante editing. whiting out such travesties as those obnoxious apostrophes on the name placards in front of houses.  Well, it looks like someone already took the job -- and paid for it.  Ouch.

I think Obama has a good running mate in Biden.  I still wish he had chosen Clark, but it could have been worse, and Joe should knock a few of Obama's "weaknesses" off the table.  I'm kind of glad Matt and I will be camping during the Democratic Convention, as I've already got election fatigue.  Which reminds me, I need to find a way to get my hands on some snorkels for the Channel Islands.  Wheeeeee.

Congrats to all the Olympians, medalists or not.  Until proofreading becomes an Olympic sport, I'll never be among them, but I can really relate to their stories.  

In which I get off my bum and admit I love the Olympics

I have to say, I really didn't care at all about the Olympics this year until the day before the opening ceremony, but now I'm kind of into it.  Watching the women's marathon inspired me to go running today, which was really hard.  Both Olympic track and Emma's cross-country bike feat are making me want to get back in shape again and go running every day.  As it is, it's kind of embarrassing to stagger home after two miles.  The marathon was cool, with its scenic tour of Tiannamen Square, and NBC aired the whole thing during prime time.

Obviously, Michael Phelps is awesome to watch. Dara Torres is inspirational.  Shawn Johnson is, hands down, the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life, and Jamaica's Usain Bolt is just phenomenal.  Even though ball sports aren't my thing, I'm surprised at how much I've enjoyed beach volleyball, especially the American teams of May-Walsh and Rogers-Dalhausser (the latter of whom looks like both Jim Carville and Billy Corgan).  The Chinese synchronized diving was the most scarily beautiful thing I've seen in awhile.  I got to check out some trampoline and badminton last night, both of which were also surprisingly captivating. Having reminded myself how to knit, I've been working on a scarf during my hours of Olympic watching.  If I'm going to watch sports, I have to be doing something else concurrently -- preferably something as nerdy as possible, like knitting, or sudoku, to cancel out the concession to patriotic jock worship I feel compromises my character. Of course I'm being slightly  facetious here, but the multitasking is a great way to create the illusion that I'm not wasting time at all. 

I think I should start a running blog or something, not that I'm going to keep up with it religiously, but because it's more economical than a paper log and I'd really like to get back into a routine.  I've essentially been sick for a year and am staring at square one, but I can accept that.  If Emma can bike across the USA, I can run across town for sure.

State of the world

Congrats to my recently engaged high school friends, Kristin and Lauren!  (No, they're not engaged to each other. Ew, what's wrong with you.)  Seriously, YAAAAAAY!

Another high school friend of mine posted a note comparing Obama to Fidel Castro.  Really? This in the same week the Wall Street Journal prints a pro-Obama editorial.  Go figure.

Everyone is talking about the Edwards affair.  It's too bad, and it makes me lose a lot of respect for him.  I agree with Cenk Uygur on HuffPo that, based on historical precedent, it's ridiculous to say that Edwards' career must be over because he cheated. As he points out, Clinton, Kennedy, and Alexander the Great cheated, and by definition lied about it.  So did John McCain, and I don't think he should be getting a free pass on this.  I hope the silver lining of the Edwards scandal is that this important point about McCain comes to focus.  However, when Uygur asks how Edwards' affair is different from John McCain's, I have an answer.  Edwards was having his affair while dedicated volunteers were campaigning for him.  While college kids and housewives were going door to door, Edwards and his family were guarding this secret, instead projecting an image of the devoted husband.  It was a gamble.  Let's say Edwards had won the nomination.  McCain would now have November in the bag.  Edwards -- and his wife, who knew about this in 2006 -- were banking on not being caught. He would put our country at risk for the sake of sex and personal ambition.  Say what you will about McCain's affair; it did not occur while he was running for President.  That's the difference.  

Russia and Georgia gear up for battle as Beijing kicks off the Summer Olympics. Body count and medal count should dominate the headlines for awhile.  One of the things that has bothered me about the Olympics ever since I was old enough to know better is its nationalist spirit.  The more games are likened to war, the more war is likened to games.  I might sound like a party pooper, but watching the USA duke it out with China for most medals and listening to chants of "USA Number One" makes me uneasy in the Bush era.  Whoever said we had to root for American athletes?  Me, I root for the attractive ones.

RIP, Bernie Mac.

On the weekend agenda:  pick up new glasses, get haircut, re-dye hair.

Everything Must Belong Somewhere

Interesting review of Conor Oberst's work, past and present.  I personally disagree with the author, who finds herself less than taken by the folksy stylings of Bright Eyes' latest efforts; in particular, she does not give enough credit to his better lyrics.  But it's an interesting point: his earlier work, which first caught my attention back in high school (wow), was so raw and youthful. Now he's pretending to be old.  

But is he really?  Yes, his vocals have borrowed more from Cash than Carrabba these days, and nothing on 2007's Cassadaga is as emotive as "Something Vague."  But take a look at these lyrics from the recent release:

When panic grips your body and your heart's a humming bird

Raven thoughts blacken your mind til you're breathing in reverse

And all your friends and sedatives mean well but make it worse

And every reassurance just magnifies the doubt

Better find yourself a place to level out.

or this:

I keep floating down the river but the ocean never comes

And since the operation I heard you're breathing just for once

Now everything is imaginary, especially what you love

You left another message, said it's done

It's done.

No, it's not teen angst, but it's not aging cowboy angst either.  It's twentysomething angst.  It's the music that sounds mature; the lyrics are still lost and unripe.  The rhymes are tighter and the language more contrived, but there's sophistication in that too.  It's not Dylan, but it beats high school poetry.

As for me, there's a time for vintage Bright Eyes and a time for the new stuff.  The former becomes most powerful when sitting in your room, alone and miserable and desperate for solace.  The latter is best when driving down an empty summer highway.  Take your pick.

There are a lot of things I never thought I'd say.  For example, "Why yes, we should nuke Iran" and "I really think I've had enough cheese."  I really never thought I'd see the day when I could solemnly swear, "Paris Hilton is a little bit awesome."

I really need to update more.  The trouble is, I don't have much to tell besides stories about my students, and that would be breaking some sort of confidentiality rule.  You have no idea how hard it is not to rant and rave about them to the world.  They're darling and exasperating and brilliant and innocent.  Like all children.

Um what else.  The Dark Knight is fantastic.  I might write a review if (a) I weren't lazy and (b) there were anybody left on earth who hadn't seen it yet.  Besides my father and my boyfriend, who are allergic to the cinema.

I still can't believe I gained respect for Paris Hilton.