The Life and Times of Elliot Pike

This morning I just read two articles in the New York Time: PTAs Go Way Beyond Cookies and Grades Rise as Reading Skills Drop in H.S. Study. As a counterpoint, there was also an article about companies catering to the super-rich which got me thinking about Social Class again.

I often ponder Social Class. It’s been a curiosity of mine ever since I attended Pomona College, an elite liberal arts college in California. I could only hope to go there thanks to generous financial aid and a family that was determined to support my education, even when far cheaper alternatives existed in my local state universities. While at Pomona I met an incredibly wide range of classmates across the social spectrum. It has one of the most generous financial aid programs in the country, more so than almost any other private school, so it’s easier for people of humble backgrounds to go there. What fascinated me, however, were the students who came from the wealthy families.
(more…)

I just wanted to write a quick blog update. I’ve been too busy to compose a carefully crafted, substantive entry, which is good news…
(more…)

Let me start out with a disclaimer: I know next to nothing about the true intention of the term “Life Hack” beyond what is described in (my favorite reference tool) the Wikipedia. On the other hand I have read the David Allen bestselling book Getting Things Done and tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to incorporate it into my own life.

A get the feeling that “Life Hack” has become a misappropriated term, at least in the sense that people have turned it from the study of geek tools (namely, quick and dirty computer scripting) to a generalized, faddish Self Help buzzword. My friend who goes by the moniker “Spadzoot” once wrote a bit of a polemic about this particular craze. And I have to agree, to a point, with his assessment. The website 43Folders is a website whose audience is interested in applying the methodologies of the “Getting Things Done” book into their personal workflow systems. For a while I was keeping tabs on 43Folders, but a lot of the postings were becoming downright silly, and I saw the community mostly as a bunch of people who had drunk a little bit too much of the Kool Aid.
(more…)

My mom let me know a few days ago (last Thursday) that one of my favorite relatives had been diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer. I feel sad and sick and conflicted and helpless.

I’m waiting to hear anything more. I don’t know how other peoples’ families work, but in ours you kind of wait for information to flow across the branches of the family tree. I don’t want to call their family directly, pestering for information in case they’ve got bigger things to deal with. I figure any pertinent details will filter through via Mom soon enough.

It’s strange. You’d think I’d have an easier time with this. I’m 36 years old now. At that age one has dealt with family death before. Hell, I’ve lost all my grandparents; I lost my dad when I was just 20. Another close relative a few years ago.

Actually, in a way I had it easy. When I was 20 I had my father, his partner, both my grandmothers, and the dog I’d had since I was six all die in the same year. In a way I was lucky because I was already numb—Dad was the first to die, so I was already plenty numb for all the rest. But I’ve been incredibly lucky since then.

But this time… Prostate Cancer is generally one of those things that, once it’s diagnosed, means you have anywhere from 2-12 months to live. Not much time to put affairs in order. All the other “losses” I’ve had were people who had either lived to very ripe old ages or who had been ill for a number of years. In this case I need to plan a special trip out to Utah to “see her that one last time” probably. It strikes me as so macabre!

Anyway, that’s one of the things I’m going through right now.

For those who know me, this will (sadly) be news and cause for celebration: I actually went on a date last night.

For most of my life I’ve been chronically (and sometimes I worry terminally) single. With brief exception, during the last four years in Los Angeles I not only didn’t have a boyfriend, or dates, but I wasn’t even getting flirted with. Actually, there’s even something worse than not being flirted with: it’s when guys who have no self-confidence look you over with the obsequious look of “He’ll do; he’ll suffice; maybe he’ll like me.” in their eyes. Most often these guys are way older than I am—like 15 or 20 years—but sometimes they’re not too bad except that they have… this is going to sound really nasty to say, but they have no soul left.

So I would go out and the only attention I would get would be from these vulture-like guys, which is depressing because it means that I qualified as carrion.
(more…)