Last week, I went to jury duty and sat amidst a demographer's dream - a random sampling of Brooklyn humanity. I was overdressed, of course, one of only two women in a skirt. I looked down at my black Talbot's flats and felt a certain unease as I filled out the juror's questionnaire. One question was 'where do you live?' meaning, as the clerk explained to us, in what neighborhood. I wrote "Brooklyn Heights" knowing that this would have to call to mind a certain type of person. Then there was the question about hobbies. How do you fill that in without being completely pegged? I looked around the jury pool. These did not look like people with hobbies. The guy next to me with the messy hair, lined face and enormous hard-shelled briefcase, for example. What could his "hobbies" be? Algorithims? Pipe bombing? I should have put down "cooking." Cooking is safe. Instead I was truthful. 'Writing, traveling, running.' Just the hobbies you'd expect of someone living in the Heights. And now there's blogging. Is there any more self-absorbed useless activity of the idle white? I need to balance this out soon with some trout fishing or salsa. I did have venison this month. And I use a screwdriver at work. Take that and stick it in your demographic profile.
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