In which the writer contemplates with horror her popular cultural literacy, resolves to rejoin the elite, and spews her first thoughts upon finishing the Beggars trilogy by Nancy Kress.

I've been having rather disturbing dreams about an emotional situation that I thought I'd resolved.

My sister and I always did like the character of Richard (the cynical artist) on "Caroline and the City" best. I caught a rerun today. It sort of seemed as though he had a British accent, but only for a second.

I should eat more asparagus.

I saw a description of a "Friends" episode recently. Monica and Chandler are getting married? What?! And the second-level response: what am I doing caring about the characters on a sitcom?!

Yes, I watched the Oscars, and cursed myself the morning after for giving in to a Daniel Boorstin-type pseudoculture media event. It's scary thatI used to consider myself less mass-media-influenced than the average American bear -- then I caught myself watching the Academy Awards, and caring who won, and realizing that the names and faces of movie stars were more recognizable to me than the names and faces of high school friends and acquaintances. How conditioned am I that I relax, reassured, when I see Julia Roberts's face? I'm creeped out.

I should read The Economist more often.

I finished Beggars Ride. Give me a few days to think about it. But, a preliminary note: the one who has no stake in The System does not, consequently, necessarily have power. The beggar is only unfettered, not enhanced by isolation.

Note to self: Check when Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is playing at the local cineplex, so that my mom, my neighbor and I can go see it today.

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Originally published by Sumana Harihareswara at http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2001/3/28/17742/2342