Peanuts

20070520

SL joins me for a day at Knotts Berry Farm, courtesy of one of my employer's vendors. I have a math final tomorrow morning, so I get up early and study at a Starbucks in Buena Park so as to not be late. But I'm still late. :-(

The vendor function is ... better left undiscussed. But I left with a dislike for bingo and chili. The corn-on-the-cob wasn't bad, and I got to show off my eat-a-single-row-at-a-time technique (which I have to admit, is sexy as hell. Not). It might have been rude, but I wish I'd had the courage to bail earlier. SL's roller-coaster hierarchy was borne out: the suspended ones are the best. And the one at Knotts, Silver Bullet, had the fastest moving line as well.

The Xcellerator wasn't bad, but the time in line was much longer than the Silver Bullet, the ride was shorter, and just wasn't as good. The Boomerang had the worst line (they can only operate a single car at a time, as the car reverses on the track), for not that great a ride. Montezooma's Revenge seemed a little antiquated compared to the others (30 miles per hour slower than Xcelerator), but the line was trivially short, a good thrill to line-wait ratio.

Oddly fun was the Supreme Scream, a seated rise of 250 feet with a three-second drop. I didn't scream, but did utter a manly yell of surprise. Then I did pushups on the the ground.

We rode the Silver Bullet again to end the park visit. They have high-speed cameras taking pictures of riders screaming, and I was tempted to buy prints of SL and I the second time around, but resisted.

We got an off-site meal to end the day. I want to say that I've eaten at Pat and Oscar's before, perhaps with my brother (I think he had a friend who managed one). Breadstick sample hit the spot, the salad had good flavor (though it was drenched in dressing), and the chicken and mushroom pizza was tasty. We talked a lot about swing dancing; I can't ever get tired of talking about swing with smart people who share the enthusiasm and have more experience than I.

P&O's wasn't bad but if anyone has a good restaurant they know of in Buena Park, I'd appreciate the pointer. Maybe I should have looked that up ahead of time.

I got home and realized I could still make it for a couple of classes at Atomic... Oh dilemma, your horns are sharp and pointy!

Isolation and Assimilation

In the past year or so, I've found myself reading the online magazine Slate quite a bit. It skews just a touch more conservative than me, which I value greatly (I don't want to read my own opinions written by someone more talented than I). But of course, I also value the coverage of issues which I'm not paying attention to.

Today, I read Justice Girls: The female justices begin to reflect on feminism. I'm speechless. Incredulous. Stunned. Mostly at the Rehnquist maneuvering, but also that I'm not more sensitive to someone being an "only."

I've been the only black guy for most of my life, so maybe I'll give myself a small pass. I've never had a problem hanging out in a sea of white faces (I'm still working on my book, Growing Up White in Orange County; So far, I've got the title). It's a little difficult for me, even today, to get in touch with that feeling of isolation. It really only happens when someone says something which they don't regard as racist, but I do.

I recently told someone that when I meet new white people, it usually takes me speaking (without the blackcent) for others to become comfortable with the idea that I'm a peer. To me, that's not a conscious attempt at assimilation, it's just how I speak. I do often wonder, though, why other people don't make an effort to speak without the accent. Rightly or wrongly, I think it correlates with comfort levels, and thus ability to make more money. That's anyone with an accent, by the way, including me. I think there are situations in which I'm bounded by a California accent.

I've actually seen women do something similar, taking on a "one of the guys" persona. I wonder whether that helps or hurts? No idea.

Wow, I'm blathering, and Ruth Bader Ginsburg could give a rat's ass about how I speak.

Uncomfortable

I realized that losing weight would have side-effects, but my loud-on-the-phone, married, cubicle neighbor insists on telling me that I'm "getting hot," and now I have the "total package."

Thaaaanks.

Awkward silence.

Back to work.