Virtual World

Madonna had it wrong. Rather, I suppose she was just twenty odd years behind, because this is no longer a material world.

Ian's niece recently had her first birthday, but because 3000 miles of good ol' American living separate these coastlines, we were unable to attend. Which is unfortunate, because I love watching diapered babies smear frosting on their eyelids in an attempt to get it into their mouths.

It's also unfortunate because I do miss that little thing. This summer, while Ian was mannying and I was on the East Coast alone, we got into the habit of Skyping a few times a week, while he was watching Kaylee. And now that he's back on the East coast, I've seen a lot less of the little tyke. This summer, as soon as she would hear the Skype ring, she would run up to the table (I suppose she crawled at first, but she was definitely running full tilt by the end of the summer), climb up on Ian's lap, put her smocheck in her mouth, and stare at the computer screen that knew her name and made her giggle. Evidently, she rarely sat still on Ian's lap for anything other than these Skype sessions, but at the sound of my voice over the computer, she would sit and stare enraptured. For a good five minutes or so. Baba the dog, however, couldn't have cared less for the electronic voice coaxing her to wag her tail.

The virtual conversations that Kaylee, Ian, and I shared this summer initiated a number of conversations on whether Kaylee would be irreparably damaged from so much virtual face time. What if she thinks a nice curly haired girl lives in all computers? What if she can't interact normally with normal people in real life? Will she forever have a vague sense of disconnect between my real self and my virtual self? What are the consequences of subjecting a nine month old to post-humanist theory? Will she become one of those socially diseased people who can't inhabit a material world and are forced into a virtual existence for all eternity? WHAT HAVE I DONE???

To remedy this, Ian and I purchased Kaylee a webcam for her first birthday present. I know normal aunts and uncles buy their nieces pink skirts and baby dolls. But no matter. Ian's niece has officially (in my mind, anyway) become the youngest ever owner of a webcam. Move over Madonna. We're living in a virtual world, and Kaylee is our new virtual girl.

A Picture Would be Worth a Thousand Words

People, I am going to Hell. Seven times over, now, it seems. I am not coveting my neighbor's wife, no. But I am envious of those fancy ipod touches all the kids have these days.

Let me just tell you, I have a rational reason why an ipod touch is actually a necessity in my life, and not merely a luxury or convenience.

You see, the other day while shopping for chairs to fill my abnormally large living room (which looks even more devoid due to the glaring absence of an entertainment center and television), Ian and I stumbled upon an old steel (iron? some heavy metal that rusts, anyway) meat grinder. I have, in fact, made that final step from being a normal, bookish graduate student who loves to cook to a full-on crazy. Watch out, people. I've acquired a meat grinder.

At any rate, it is perhaps the wisest four dollars I have ever spent, since I have owned it for four days and have used it to grind meat not once, but twice. Do you have any idea what ground beef tastes like when it is free of bones and intestines? Do you have any idea how much cheaper it is to buy boneless chicken thighs and then grind them yourself??

Now, I would love to share a picture of my meat grinder with you. It really is the quaintest little thing that could ever take your finger off. There is this wooden handle and a big circular blade and a bit of rust that I'm not too worried about. I would love to share a picture of ground beef pouring out its side, just to prove that the image is just as disgusting as the phrase I just typed. I would even share a picture of the spaghetti after the freshly ground beef was cooked. Or a picture of the paler ground chicken that I used to stuff eggplants with the following day.

But I can't.

There was a little incident a year and half ago with my camera and a floor.

And I have no ipod touch.

What is it About 20-Somethings? is exactly the question.

I realize I'm a little late coming to this post, but I've been busy being a twenty something. And, according to this New York Times article, you cannot judge me for it. Okay?

To be honest, I began this post on the 19th of August, but I was subsequently caught in a twisted mass of boxes and table legs, of rosters and TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FIVE DOLLAR stacks worth of books by Edith Wharton, Seamus Heaney, Henry James, and the timeless Ernest. Hemingway, that is.

And, as such, my scatterbrained mind has entirely forgotten all the quips I had planned for this post, all the commentary I had lined up for your entertainment.

Probably the gist was that I completely agree. That the stages of development and adulthood are changing. That almost no one I know has a career, or children, or a spouse (let alone all three). That this is by no means universal, but the author surely must have had me and the late twenty-somethings I attend graduate school with on their minds while their keys clicked away. And also probably that I think you should read it. Yes, you.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/22/magazine/22Adulthood-t.html?pagewanted=1&_r=3