The Million Dollar Question

"Blog (a contraction of the term "web log"): a type of website, usually maintained by an individual with regular entries of commentary, descriptions of events, or other material such as graphics or video[...]

Many blogs provide commentary or news on a particular subject; others function as more personal online diaries. A typical blog combines text, images, and links to other blogs, Web pages, and other media related to its topic. The ability for readers to leave comments in an interactive format is an important part of many blogs." (Courtesy of Wikipedia)

Blogging crosscuts a multitude of information and media currents, running the gamut of communication, dialogue, personal expression and interaction. It is a relatively new, somewhat unregulated and expanding media, which has exploded in the last decade, forcing the online world to keep up with its growth.

The blogosphere is democratic, interactive, and simultaneously diverse and specialized. It spans the spectrum from hard-nosed journalism to personal journal entries, offering something for just about everyone: niche blogs, anecdotes, press releases, how-to manuals, fact, opinion, questions, answers, perspectives and nearly everything in between.

In Clear Blogging, Bob Walsh asserts, "blogging is about power...defined as 'an ability to act or produce an effect.'" He continues, "blogging gives us a new way to communicate, to share, to influence, to connect, to outrage, to matter," (Walsh, 3).

Bloggers write to get and give attention, share ideas and expand on them, generate a voice and connect with other individuals to form a community in yet another realm of communication. The results are immediate, timely and interactive.

Mainstream journalism and marketing have primarily provided a one-way street of communication, speaking and writing from a position of authority to passive consumers and readers. The advent of blogging has shifted the power and granted the public a voice to talk back and influence the powers that be.

The inclusiveness and immediacy of blogging offer strengths:

• Citizen journalism plays a key role in the dissemination of information and opinion.
  
• Returning 'power to the people' with a democratic forum where anyone's words can be read.
• Connecting with other, like-minded individuals in an increasingly isolated society.

"Blogging is the new campfire, office water cooler, town meeting, pub, and place of worship--the place where you can connect with people who understand you and who[m] you understand," (Walsh, 75).

However, there are also drawbacks to this double-edged sword of the information age.

• Democracy in communication does not guarantee quality.
• Reliable, interesting, timely, well-written ideas and information are hit or miss.
• Readers must explore the blogosphere with a discerning, discriminating and critical eye to choose quality blogs; they can't believe everything they read!

Fabrice Florin claims, "It's wonderful to get everybody empowered to get their own voice, but journalism is the practice that requires discipline, training, and just like being a good doctor, a cop, it takes experience to get to a point where you can really serve the public," (Walsh, 214).

For these reasons and others, lines of demarcation have been drawn in the blogging world. Independent bloggers are not officially considered journalists and, hence, not granted many of the same privileges and protection. For instance, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) recently ruled that unaffiliated bloggers must disclose product endorsements in their posts. Affiliated bloggers, i.e. journalists, on the other hand, are not held to the same standards.

Journalism constitutes but one of several components in the gray area of the muddled, ever-growing blogosphere. Another popular form of blogging has emerged in the vein of the personal essay.

According to Phillip Lopate, "The hallmark of the personal essay is its intimacy. The writer seems to be speaking directly into your ear, confiding everything from gossip to wisdom...at the core of the personal essay is the supposition that there is a certain unity to the human experience," (Lopate, xxiii).

Many blogs adopt this personal tone, drawing their strengths from observations of the human condition through personal experience. "The spectacle of baring the naked soul is meant to awaken the sympathy of the reader, who is apt to forgive the essayist's self-absorption in return for the warmth of his or her candor. Some vulnerability is essential to the personal essay," (Lopate, xxxvi). A potential weakness of blogging as personal essay, though, is the slippery slope into narcissism.

Qualities that make for "literary" blogging in the tradition of personal essay, while avoiding narcissism, include:

• The expression of a universal truth of the human condition through personal experience.
• Discussing yourself without discussing ONLY yourself: using the self as a means to an end, not an end in itself.
• Avoiding sentimentality: illustrating emotion, rather than describing it to readers.
• Humility and/or self-deprecation, particularly in a humorous fashion, which makes the ideas more palatable to readers.
  

According to Lopate, "the trick is to realize that one is not important, except insofar as one's example can serve to elucidate a more widespread human trait and make readers feel a little less lonely and freakish," (xxxii).

Blogs like Gwenyth Paltrow's GOOP toe the dangerous line of narcissism, with its lofty and self-important tone and content. On the other hand, The Nienie Diaries, for example, addresses intensely personal issues and experiences, while universally connecting to ideas much greater than the blogger herself.

Even in the event of narcissism, if personal essay-style blogs are well-written, some self-absorption is forgivable. Conversely, blogs that could use polishing can still be entertaining, education and/or quality work, depending on the content. For example, a blog like wehateyourblog.com passes for all of those things, despite minor errors in spelling, grammar and syntax. Ultimately, good content supersedes all other tricks of the trade.

The strongest blogs offer a diverse mix of both journalism and personal essay, providing reliable facts and a sincere, personal voice; clear, concise use of language and a casual tone that connects with readers on their level. Whether or not bloggers are considered journalists or literary writers, they are nonetheless, changing the shape of the information age and influencing the world.

Engrish Brog

I was living in Montreal when my sister emailed me the link to Engrish.com, a website dedicated to real sightings of incorrect and/or humorous English translations, primarily in East Asia.

Since I was a student in a bi-lingual (French and English, although Montreal is a de facto polyglot), multicultural, cosmopolitan city, I had been acquainted with the entertainment and occasional frustration of language barriers. However, most Quebecois ideas lost in translation differ from those rampant across the Asian continent.

• Francophones make adorable references to things placed next to one another being "side by each." It resembles the anglo "side by side" enough that the similarity is endearing.
• They make up cultural dishes with names like poutine, which would make anyone else in the world cringe.
  
• The French word for "seal" always makes my dirty little mind chuckle, though.

Not unlike les francais themselves, their linguistic differences exude a certain--uh, no, not je ne sais quoi-- but a subtlety and delicacy which can be overlooked and excused with a sideways glance and slight smile. The charming inaccuracies simply add to their appeal.

However, on the other side of the globe, even the low-key mistakes appear in neon pink, usually on Hell(o) Kitty stationary. Like the crosswalk in Tokyo's Shibuya or a marketplace in Beijing, the Engrish transrations are an assault on the senses.

• Cantonese menus leave me in stitches, not to mention curious about my questionable culinary options.
• Cambodian instructions in English confuse me to the point that I'd possibly better understand the ones written in Khmer.
• The fact that 'fuk' is even a word in Mandarin makes itself an easy target for juvenile westerners with potty mouths such as myself.
• Japanese t-shirts boast poetic lines--sometimes entire novellas?--which, by the time the reader reaches the end of the story, realizes that there is no verb! And I thought that I was long-winded...
  

And sometimes I just see things like this and think, 'WTF?!'

Make no mistake, despite these observations, I am not an ethnocentric imperialist who is trying to exploit the westernization of the eastern hemisphere. Nor am I attempting to deconstruct the finer points of globalization and life among the subaltern. I have read Edward Said's Orientalism and my intentions are far less ambitious or lofty in nature.

As a traveling American, I cannot poke too much fun without admitting my own ignorance. After five years in La Belle Province, zee French still insist on speaking anglais avec moi because my attempts at their language are, at best, botched. At worst, offensive; hey, I just wanted to know about the baby seal...

Furthermore, after 2 years in Japan and trekking around Southeast Asia, my communication abilities stop short at truncated sentences, inaccurate conjugations, excited hand gestures, body language and a sheepish grin.

I pondered offering my services as an editor for local businesses, correcting the misuse of English. Is that self-righteous? I mean, I was a visitor, albeit a long term one, in their country, telling them how to spell properly. Then again, I would want to know if the Chinese character for "truth" that I thought I was getting tattooed on my arm was really the symbol for "duck." Hey, it has been known to happen. Most Americans don't know one from the other. I certainly don't.

I giggled when my former students would tell me about the "big political erection" in Tokyo or insist that they were "very boring" at work that day. However, I have no idea how to write the word election (or erection, for that matter) in kanji. In fact, I can't even tell you who the new prime minister of Japan is! I'm sure that the erection was huge, though...


Since I no longer enjoy the day to day culture shock and translations firsthand, I vicariously rely on Engrish.com. It never fails to cheer me up, or at least invoke a knowing giggle.

Literary Pet Peeves

For my 25th birthday my mother gave me a copy of Lynn Truss's Eats, Shoots and Leaves, a book about common grammatical errors. It was written by a linguistic stickler for others who share a similar passion for proper grammar. It made my top list of favorite reads, not least of all because it pleases my inner anal retentive editor.

Given her taste in gifts, it should come as no surprise that my mother writes a weekly column for her local newspaper. She dedicates a closing paragraph each week to one "literary pet peeve." I helped brainstorm ideas, keeping Truss in mind, and my mother has included most of my suggestions in her column.

Since I was the mastermind behind most of those literary gems, why not include some of my favorites in a blog?

Pet Peeve: a minor annoyance that an individual identifies as particularly annoying to them, to a greater degree than others may find it.

That Wikipedia definition exemplifies one of the very literary pet peeves I'd like to list:

1) Using inconsistent pronouns in the same sentence.

• "Them" refers not to a single individual, but to a group of people with a minimum of two persons.
• The political correctness surrounding the usage of he/she frightens many writers into defaulting to a neutral description, often at the expense of grammatical accuracy.
  

2) Misuse of the apostrophe (').

• The biggest culprits are "its" and "it's." It's a common error, I realize, but it's really quite simple. "Its" is possessive, like "his" or "hers;" one does not write, "his's" or "her's." Conversely, "it's" is a contraction for "it is." Simple, eh?
• I used to work for a business whose graphic designer made a sign which read "Welcome to Belly Up. Box office located downstair's." The mental grammar sirens immediately blasted and I covertly told the owner. Unfortunately for me (fortunately for him, though), the sign was replaced with the correct use of the word 'downstairs' (sans possessive apostrophe) before I had a chance to photograph the evidence.
• Take caution with your apostrophes, or you may upset the hippo's...
  

3) The use of the word "irregardless" in any context.

• I have heard on several occasions, and even read on a few, sentences beginning the the following fashion: "Irregardless of the fact..." or something along those lines.
  
• The accurate segues include "regardless" or "irrespective."
  
• Somewhere along literary path, the two correct usages merged, creating the illegitimate misnomer which has become the commonly accepted, though ultimately incorrect, irregardless.
• Even writing the extra two letters makes me cringe.
  

4) Saying "for all intensive purposes" in lieu of the correct "for all intents and purposes."

• This may sound odd, but I have heard it on more than one occasion. In fact, and I admit this reluctantly, I uttered the improper form of the expression well into my teen years.
  
• I recently discovered via Facebook that a high school crony also made the same mistake.
  
• Our mutual friend noted this and asked, "what, dare I ask, did you think was an intensive purpose, anyway?" We offered similar sheepish responses: a shrug, a grin and, "I dunno, a really, really intense purpose?"
• As far as I know, there is no such thing as an intensive purpose.
  

5) Replacing "it's a dog eat dog world" with "it's a doggie-dog world."

• "Dog eat dog world" refers to the animal-like instincts of humans, who often hurt others for their own interests (not unlike dogs, at times).
  
• I don't know what "doggie-dog" means, if anything, but I'm fairly certain that this malapropism emerged before the popularity of Snoop Doggy Dogg.

These examples hardly scratch the surface of daily misuse of the English language. In fact, an entire blog could be dedicated to literary pet peeves!

In the meantime, do yourself a favor: pick up a copy of Eats, Shoots and Leaves, if you haven't done so already, and get better acquainted with the rules, even if you break them. Especially if you break them.

Silly Rabbit

Every relationship has baggage: exes, children and debt are the usual suspects. When I started dating Jeremy, the baggage I unwittingly adopted included two bands, a construction business and a stowaway rabbit.

Yes, a RABBIT. Like Roger or Bugs--or even that creepy, tripped out Trixster--only 3-dimensional and less verbal.

He's actually more like the Cadbury Bunny. Although, despite my patience, I've yet to see him lay a creme egg. If he did, I would undoubtedly have more use for him.


Admittedly, I expected a more masculine pet from a rugged rock and roll drummer who swings a hammer everyday. He refuses to chop his long hair or shave the mountain man beard because they enhance the authenticity of his hardcore look. Yet, after bloodying his knuckles on a snare drum during every show, he goes home to kiss his bunny wabbit goodnight.

Apparently, the incongruity escapes him (and, fortunately, he doesn't read my blog. I told him that I'm writing about rock and roll bands in this week's post, which isn't completely untrue.).

At any rate, why couldn't he just have a pit bull called Spike, or a boa constrictor named Lucifer? What about a tarantula?

• Something tough that oozes testosterone and announces to the world, "I'm a bad ass."
• Something threatening and somehow associated with leather jackets, whiskey and The Hell's Angels...those are bad ass, right?
• Something that strikes fear in small children. Or even big children. Anyone, really.
  

(*One of these things is not like the others...*)














Instead of a vicious canine, deadly serpent or lethal spider, I'm trapped with a harmless little creature incapable of scaring anything larger than a dust bunny. In fact, the small children it should be terrifying want to come over after school and play with it!

To my disdain, I'm forced to share my living space with an 11-year old, floppy-eared rabbit named Bonham, a moniker as fluffy and sweet as the animal itself. Jeremy named him after John Bonham, his idol and the late drummer for Led Zeppelin (NOT, as I had initially assumed and somewhat feared, Helena Bonham Carter).
As if that makes living with a rabbit that doesn't pay rent any better...

Perhaps it would if it played the drums like Bonzo.


I have no right to complain. I mean, I have a rabbit, as well, but mine is the kind that belongs in the goody drawer. I guess I'm bad ass enough for the both of us.

Bunnies invoke visions of pastel Easter eggs and Saturday morning cartoons. What kind of ammo is that? Many girls may find it endearing, but when I said that I wanted a sensitive guy, what I had in mind was someone who would write me a song (or a drum solo, in this case), or pacify my PMS with chocolate and hugs. I really need to be more specific.

Perhaps I wanted a sensitive guy because I'm lacking in that department? One time my emotionally delicate rock star was cooing his geriatric pet--at nearly 80 in rabbit years, Bonham is the Hugh Hefner of, uh, well, bunnies, as it were--and suggested I "feel how soft Bonham's fur is."

I responded by fetching my pair of rabbit fur-lined leather gloves, compared the texture and insisted that mine were silkier.











Needless to say, that retort didn't go over so well.

However, when Bonham pees on my favorite pillow, I comment that he will make a lovely pair of gloves someday. Those lucky little drumming feet make for great spare parts, as well.

Not unlike children of broken families caught in the middle of disputes, Bonham has faced his share of threats and manipulation (solely on my part, I'll admit). He has even been the scapegoat (scape-rabbit?) from time to time. I warned Jeremy that if he ever cheated on me, I would pull a Glenn Close a la Fatal Attraction on him. He has suffered night terrors of boiled rabbits ever since. Harshness aside, it does make for powerful leverage.









The worst part is that Jeremy is convinced that rabbits--especially his--are wise (and I quote). I don't know where or how he drew this conclusion, but I'm guessing Winnie-the-Pooh. Has he not observed his beloved pet over the years? If he had, I feel fairly certain that he would withdraw such an absurd claim.

I have heard that owls possess mythical wisdom. Not rabbits, though, literally or symbolically. To be sure, I placed a copy of Heidegger's Being and Time in Bonham's cage, yet he had nothing intelligent to offer in return.

I'm reconsidering the plan to send him to the Himalayas to meditate under the tutelage of Tibetan monks. Clearly this wise guy isn't up to the task.











At my request, Bonham has his own room in the new apartment. However, Jeremy feared that he may be lonely in his own living quarters. To remedy the solitude, I purchased a stuffed bunny and put it in the cage for simulated company.

Little did I expect this inanimate object to be Bonham's friend with benefits: he has had more sex with his new stuffed buddy in the last month than most creatures have in a lifetime.

In the midst of a phone chat, I heard Bonham's telltale cage rattle from the other room. My friend heard it from her end and asked about the raucous. I told her about bunny's renewed passion for life in his later years, joking about spiking his Timothy hay with Viagra.

She aptly replied, "Well, that is what rabbits do." Indeed. Perhaps they are wiser than I realized.

The OTHER, little, white powder...

Addiction: "being abnormally tolerant to and dependent on something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming."


In a rare bout of procrastination-induced TV hypnosis, I recently lounged through half an episode of Cougar Town, until I located the remote. During those 12 minutes of mindless viewing, a brief exchange between Courtney Cox and Josh Hopkins redeemed the other lost 11.5 minutes of my life.

Cox returned from the gym to find her attractive, single neighbor outside and enthusiastically initiated a conversation:

• Cox: "I just finished three back-to-back spinning classes! Two to burn off that sticky bun I ate last night and one for the frosting I licked off the the frying pan this morning."
• Hopkins (the voice of reason and clearly not a sucker for sweets): "Why not just skip the sticky bun?"
• Cox: "Well, now that's just crazy talk!"

I'm willing to wager that Cox has never eaten a sticky bun--much less licked frosting off of any kitchen utensil--in her entire size-0 life. Even as an anorexic teenager, I never looked as svelte as she does at 45.

Nonetheless, her believably desperate character momentarily excused some of my own neurotic behavior. She did so shamelessly while looking fabulous to boot! I was willing to overlook the unlikelihood of the situation to savor that validation.












Surround me in greasy onion rings or cheesy Doritos and I'm likely to die of starvation. But dangle a caramel-covered carrot, a box of Godiva chocolates, or, sadly, even a frosted sticky bun and I'll offer my pinky toe in exchange (since I need my fingers for typing and dipping in cake batter) and promise my firstborn for the prospect of another fix.

The crazed mind plays a plethora of creative tricks on the unsuspecting body to justify its irrational actions. Heroin addicts are said to lie, cheat and steal for their habit. I've only stood up dates, blown off friends and hidden evidence for mine.

Ok, I have also consumed entire cartons of ice cream in one sitting, deeming the binge "healthy" by sprinkling ground flax seed and protein powder on top.

Are these any worse than the "hitting rock bottom" tales shared at an AA meeting?


Whenever my teetotaling mother sees me ordering a cocktail or opening a bottle of wine, she regurgitates a line stripped from one of her nutrition books: "drinking alcohol is just mainlining sugar into your system."

She offers this gem in a more informative rather than preachy fashion, but it still pushes a button accessible only to immediate family members (and the occasional conservative political pundit).














But at least her 'health' mantra offers an explanation for the comparable hangovers. The worst one I've suffered thus far resulted from a batch of cookie dough, not an excess of Captain Morgan mixers or even boxed wine.

In response to my mother's rehearsed comment, I usually smile and obnoxiously pun, "sweet!" as I try to high-five her in vain. Then I chase my brownie sundae with a White Russian, or some similar sweet variation, and joke about hooking myself up to a Kahlua IV.

More often than not, she reacts with a defeated look which silently whimpers, "where did I go wrong?" and proceeds to polish off a box of Triscuits or a buttered baguette.

To each her own vice; everyone has a crutch.

She may be right, though. I have noticed that the fewer bottles of pumpkin ale my boyfriend chugs, the more slices of pumpkin pie he gobbles.












Addiction switching is an interesting phenomenon. Rather than going away altogether, obsessions are simply replaced with others. This is a simpler alternative to hacking at the root of one's thinking or changing the basic behavior.

• I have countless friends who have quit smoking only to gorge themselves and gain 30 lbs.
  
• Or, conversely, friends who have lost weight after taking up smoking.
• Someone actually reported to have started smoking crack to quit drinking.
• Meg Ryan's character started smoking while in alcohol rehab in When a Man Loves a Woman.
  
• Robert Downey Jr. swapped drugs for working out, evident in his Ironman role.
  

As an experiment, I've even recently hopped on the bandwagon of staying on the sugar-free wagon. I make a concerted effort to avoid the baked goods and ice cream aisles at the supermarket. Also, it's been quite some time since I have devoured an entire jar of Nutella with chopsticks. Well, doesn't everybody do that from time to time?

However, such will power has required a replacement: blogging. It is more cost effective, has fewer empty calories and the hangovers aren't nearly as debilitating.


It even allows me to multi-task...

Generation Gaps

[From E.B. White's The Ring of Time]
The sense that is common to one generation is uncommon to the next[...]The only sense that is common, in the long run, is the sense of change--and we all instinctively avoid it, and object to
the passage of time, and would rather have none of it.












The summer after graduating from college, I was offered a teaching position in Tokyo. With an ostensibly useless English degree, I embraced the opportunity for a real, well-paying, professional job. There was even a contract involved.

Packing for the year was tricky, but I needed the essentials:

• English-Japanese dictionary. Check.
• Map of the Tokyo subway lines. Check.
• Culture Shock! book on ex-pat life in Japan. Check.
• Chopsticks. Ch- Wait, they probably have plenty of those in Tokyo...
  

"So, you're going to go teach some Japs how to speak English?" my grandfather asked me, half-incredulously, half-matter-of-factly.

The knee-jerk reactions filling my liberally-educated, 22-year old mind managed to stop short before escaping my lips, twitching in silent disgust. I momentarily felt grateful that my tattoo was in Sanskrit, not Kanji, feeling fairly certain that he held nothing against Hindus.

Although, when he saw the aum etched into my skin, he asked with slight confusion if it was the number '30,' no doubt questioning its significance. I smiled and nodded ambiguously; it was easier than teaching him yoga.


I quickly pondered which 21st century sensibility his question about the 'Japs' offended the most, ready to aim and fire. Ultimately, though, my inner yogi opted for the peaceful path of least resistance.

"Yep," I flatly replied in the best country Vermont dialect I could muster from childhood.

Ahhh, taking the higher ground can be so self-satisfying.

Did he have any idea how much Japan had changed in nearly six decades?


After eavesdropping on the brief exchange, my mother pulled me aside, out of hearing aid-shot, and whispered, "He doesn't see this opportunity from your perspective. His brother was in the Second World War and they both lost friends in Pearl Harbor."

I nodded knowingly at the familiarity of this story, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Geriatrics often get excused in the same way that small children do, as though unaccountable for their words and actions.

Then she quoted her favorite Robert Frost line: "I never dared to be radical when young for fear it would make me conservative when old."

But my grandfather was simultaneously both radical and conservative. During his later years, he was outdated on both ends: trapped in a mid-20th century time warp on some issues, yet far ahead of his time and contemporaries on others.

As a justice of the peace, he oversaw several civil unions, some even in his own backyard! Also, he had a bumper sticker which read, "Take Vermont Forward" in response to the anti-gay backlash across the state when the civil union bill was passed. Few people were politically more progressive than he in regards to this issue.

Well, except maybe Ben and Jerry, who re-named an ice cream flavor in honor of civil unions in Vermont.


In the aftermath of heated political debate regarding gay marriage, Vermont blazed a human rights trail at the turn of the millennium and my octogenarian grandfather was on the vanguard.

The unique and extreme inconsistency of his beliefs baffled and somewhat amused me. If the kamikazes were gay, would he also be homophobic? My mother jokes that he had selective hearing, so it isn't a stretch to think that he could also have selective bigotry.


I felt relieved to discover that this kind of arbitrary and often self-contradictory discrimination was not unique to one generation, my family or even my 'homeland'. On the other side of the globe, I encountered many elderly Japanese with mixed responses. Once I noticed the occasional ojiisan (grandpa) glaring at me while bringing his grandchildren to McDonald's. Perhaps he was from Hiroshima? Maybe he resents that American fast food is so addictive?

Also, my father called me regularly during my stay in Japan and, despite his education and world travels, he nonetheless asked about my experiences with "Orientals". I reminded him, to no avail, that Oriental is best used to describe rugs.

I began to see a trend and wondered in what ways I will offend future generations in the future with acceptable, or even progressive, views I hold today.

My grandparents referred to something thrown together as "Gerry-built"; to my parents' generation, it was "Nigger-rigged"; to my cohorts and me, that same thing is "poorly constructed". The next generation may somehow find that derogatory and create yet another, more appropriate term. We're all speaking the same language, but along the way and over the years, something got lost in translation.

October Opportunities Abound in Aspen

***NOTE: Written as an affiliate blog for The Aspen Daily News, a local newspaper in Aspen, CO. It is directed specifically at Aspen locals, part-time residents and visitors who stay abreast of local news.***
This week's unseasonably frigid climate and early snowfall, both in town and on the mountaintops, have created an environment more fitting for the winter rush than the autumn off season.

However, at a base elevation of nearly 8,000 ft., any weather should be expected at any time of year. A few years ago, I awoke on my birthday to a fleeting snowstorm--and my birthday is in JUNE! By the time I headed to Matsuhisa for dinner, the snow had melted and summer began chirping again. The adage rings true: "if you don't like the weather in Colorado, wait 10 minutes."

Despite the climate mood swings, October is a favorite month for many locals. The tourists go home until the ski season officially starts, the town's population shrinks to its normal size of 5,800 residents, the pandemonium of Ruggerfest has finally passed and finding parking spots around town is much less of a nightmare (not to mention free on Columbus Day!).

The quiet off season, which begins around Labor Day and continues until the ski slopes open on Thanksgiving, grants full-time Aspenites some down time, tourist-free fun and bargains at local businesses. October in Aspen is the calm before the winter storm.


Several restaurants close for the autumn months, but most of those that remain open for business offer deals for locals. The off season is famous for its prix fixe specials: the cost of some three-course meals this time of year is comparable to that of an appetizer and drink during the height of winter or summer madness. The set menus range in price from $29 to $40 and are offered until late-November. This season's prix fixe options include:

• American: Elevation, LuLu Wilson and Rustique
  
• Asian: Asie and Takah Sushi
• French: Cache Cache
• Fusion: 39 Degrees (at The Sky Hotel) and Pinons (reservations required via phone)
  
• Mediterranean: Wild Fig
  
• Seafood/Pacific Rim: Pacifica

If the prix fixe deals are old news, then some newer options may be more appealing. Kenichi and its sister establishment, Bad Billy's Restaurant and Bar, have added a third member to the family, Noodles by Kenichi, which recently opened in the revamped Ute City Plaza. Also, Gisella is the town's newest Italian restaurant, which opened over the summer, replacing the former local fixture, Gusto Ristorante.

Extended happy hours, drink specials and other discounts are more common this time of year around town and throughout the Roaring Fork Valley. Each restaurant has its own stipulations and seasonal hours, so read the fine print carefully.

Food and entertainment go hand in hand, even after the dust settles. Despite the autumn quietude, various local venues offer a multitude of after dinner outings.

• The Wheeler Opera House is open throughout the season, offering a series of John Denver Tribute concerts during the holiday weekend (10/9-10/11)
• Jimmy's is open nightly for food and drinks and its dining room is cleared out for Salsa Night dancing every Saturday into the wee hours of morn. It reopens the following morning at 11am to air NFL games.
  
• Belly Up offers an eclectic mix of live music, parties, and football and movies on the big screen. The venue is open every night this month, except for one, which could get booked soon, given owner Michael Goldberg's intention to keep the club open 7 nights per week.

October reaches its apex on Hallowe'en, when masked partygoers come out of the woodwork for one last hurrah before the stillness of November envelopes the town.


Veteran costumed Aspenites know the drill, but for the neophytes:

• Costume party at La Cantina starts off the night
• Members-only Caribou Club opens its doors to the public at least this one night a year
• Club Chelsea throws an annual Halloween party and offers tickets online or at the door
• Eric's Club boasts its usual late night debauchery, rife with two bars, a pool hall and cigar room
  
• Danger Kitty, a campy '80s cover band, has performed a sold out show at Belly Up (max. capacity 450) on Halloween every year, since the club opened in 2005, and judged the $1000 costume contest. However, they are playing on Friday the 30th this year. For a break in tradition, Julian and Stephan Marley will play on the 31st.
  

Between foliage hikes and biking trips to Moab, Aspenites can squeeze in affordable fun without leaving town this off season. They just have to venture out and brave the unseasonably harsh elements before winter hits.

I'm not narcissistic, I just like to write about myself

One of my favorite scenes of the TV show Ally McBeal is when a colleague asks Ally why her problems are so important. She replies: "You know what makes my problems bigger than everyone else's? They're mine."

That comment strikes a rare balance of simultaneous selfishness and universality. We all feel that way, at one time or another, but few of us have the self-absorbed audacity to admit it. At least not publicly. Ally's candor and self-aware insecurity make her a sympathetic character, if an occasionally obnoxious one, drawing viewers into her honest, self-important world.

Connecting with an audience via the self requires:

• a command of language
• proper use of form
• illustrating a bigger picture outside of the self
• speaking to the audience from the standpoint of an equal
  

Otherwise, the use of the self seems superfluous and narcissism ensues.

The term narcissism, according to Wikipedia:

"refers to the personality trait of self-love, which includes the set of character traits concerned with self-image or ego...Applied to a social group, it is sometimes used to denote elitism or an indifference to the plight of others."



That Greek myth of the cursed god, Narcissus, condemned to fall in love with his own image, has morphed into a modern day psychological phenomenon. Wiki even offers explanations of several different types of narcissism as a personality disorder, including my favorite, healthy narcissism, which,

"is formed through a structural truthfulness of the self, achievement of self and object constancy...[and] forms a constant, realistic self-interest and mature goals and principles and an ability to form deep object relations."

Healthy narcissism? Is that a misnomer or perhaps a loophole which can somehow justify my self-absorption?

Regardless, the distinction is subtle and could mark the difference between good and bad writing, work which either draws in readers or alienates them. "Healthy narcissism" in writing uses the self as a means to convey an aspect of the human condition, rather than using the self as the focal point for its own sake.


In his essay, "Learning to Breathe After the Memoir," E. Ethelbert Miller uses himself as a subject without backsliding into self-importance. He shares his story to benefit others, as well: "We write as individuals," he claims, "but our words often become fruit and bread for others" (Forche and Gerard, 161).

Miller's comparison of words to sustenance echoes references made in class about bloggers 'feeding' hungry readers. He intends to connect with readers and does so with his personal story. Although Miller writes about his experiences as a black man, his memoir spans a much wider range of readers. His use of self is about much more than an identity limited to race or gender.

Using personal experiences as a starting point, Miller reaches outside of himself to weave a story into the wider cultural fabric. His self-references extend into a world beyond his individualism. He fits a painful conversation with his father into a larger context:

"Two bodies in the dark, one talking and the other listening to a strange sound coming from where pain and hurt is mixed with depression and the blues, and if you cry for everyone and not just yourself, this is where you discover the Middle Passage, the Holocaust, the plantation, the concentration camps, the bombing of cities and whatever is left. This is the howl Allen Ginsberg described for an entire generation. That spoken unspokenness" (Forche and Gerard, 162).

My identity and reference points are starkly different from Miller's, which all factor into his writing. Nonetheless, I'm able to relate to the pain and humanity expressed in his work, eager to read more.

On the other hand, blogs like Gwyneth Paltrow's GOOP and cjanerun exemplify narcissism, and not the healthy kind, through their disconnection from the reader. Rather than offering 'tales from the trenches,' they offer self-serving perspectives from a pedestal.
GOOP provides impersonal anecdotes and suggestions to readers who likely cannot afford or relate to the lifestyle promoted by the celebrity blogger. Paltrow's fabulous life is not made accessible to the reader, but rather held up as an unattainable ideal. Also, she name drops in a way that does little besides reinforce her own status. For example, Paltrow writes:

"Recently, I have enlisted the services of an old friend in the style department. Elizabeth Saltzman, the long time Fashion Director (and now Contributing Editor) of Vanity Fair and one of the best dressed girls I know has been getting me dressed when I need to dress up."

In short, Paltrow has an enviable Rolodex of fashionable friends whom I (and most likely, you) will never know. She does, indeed, have a wonderful life, but the way she presents it does little for me, the narcissistic reader. GOOP is more of a one-sided display and less of a symbiotic writer-reader engagement. The narcissism is alienating and, as a reader, I am unlikely to revisit her blog.

CJANERUN is slightly more aware of her narcissism, as indicated in the afterthought of a post-edit. She attempts to clarify and explain her original post:

"Something isn't right about this post, it is my tone. Chup was painfully explaining to me that I didn't go far enough in letting my audience know that this post was about self-deprecation."

However, even the obsession to get the post right has more to do with her reputation than a genuine concern to connect with her readers and offer them something more than her own self-proclaimed status as a "serious" and "literary blogger." She gets in her own way and falls into the trap of self-serving narcissism (is that redundant?).

Furthermore, even self-deprecation can be narcissistic, if the use of it fails to reach outside of the subject's own self-serving world.

Miller writes, "stepping outside of oneself can be risky" (Forche and Gerard, 159). We write about what we know, and, presumably, what we would want to read, which often involves the self. That very notion may be inherently be narcissistic, but it can also be altruistic. That makes it healthy, or at least worth reading.