the glitter: it is what hurts and what shines

Leftie

2006-06-16T09:41:00.000-05:00

I heard Sherman Alexie speak Monday night. He's a self-described Leftie, and one of his stories that night was about trying to organize an anti-war march in Seattle. His idea was that everyone should wear a suit and tie and carry an American flag. Can you imagine the visual of 100,000 liberals marching through the streets of Seattle in suits and ties, carrying American flags? How completely impressive, imposing, patirotic, and TERRIFYING, right? But they didn't go for it. Too many rules.

I can envision it, and I have to say, it's a really scary mental picture. That's our problem, us lefties, though. We're afraid to show ourselves, because, heaven forbid we look like we're powerful. Then we'd have to accept our power and, I don't know, do something with it. We wouldn't want that. Having power, as a liberal, means stepping away from our victim stance. That's just not in the program. We'd rather whine.

blows

2006-05-26T16:32:00.000-05:00

This is a week for re-discovering how shitty people can be to each other. Sometimes I forget.

Current Preferred Company has hurt my feelings in a way that suggests I have too much emotionally invested in the entire thing anyway. Still, we're supposed to be friends at the very least. And what happened is not something anyone would do to a friend. It's also some treatment that no one should tolerate from a friend. I'm afraid it means all bets are off.

The disappointment comes in me starting from the beginning assuming this would be different from previous Things. There's a pattern, you know. I thought maybe I could break it. But it turns out, no.

It all boils down, I guess, to me being the kind of person who looks at what's right in front of me and no further. Apparently, that's not the way the rest of the world works.

And then there are the multitudes of ways that my friends are being punished by people who supposedly care about them. I don't get it. not even a little bit.

Sometimes people suck. so hard.

Shop Talk

2006-05-25T12:25:00.000-05:00

"If a pair of boots is narrating, would it speak in the plural or the singular when talking about itself?"

"Well, according to the episode of The Simpsons where Otto's shoes spoke to him, it should be plural...Don't worry, we won't hurt you, we only want to have some fun."

"Yes, but the context seems to beg for singular reflexive pronouns."

"Hmmm ... I see what you mean. Perhaps you're correct."

This and many other conversations like this are why I'm a professional editor.

Least Favorite Joke

2006-05-11T13:24:00.000-05:00

Are those Girl Scout Cookies made of real Girl Scouts?

heart sutra mantra

2006-05-09T15:29:00.000-05:00

प्रज्ञापारमिताहृदयसूत्र

नमस्ते

Ellie: 1989–2006

2006-05-08T16:07:00.000-05:00

She was my first pet, one who came to me when I was out of my family's house and in my own. I got her when she was ten weeks old. They called her Diablo, but I knew that wasn't really her name.
It was love at first sight for both of us.

She showed me right away that she was in charge. She merely tolerated the companion I got for her. She moved across the country and back with me, greeted me at the door when I got off the train every night (no matter which train I took, she always knew when I was coming home).
She comforted me when I couldn't comfort myself.

She lived a long, good life.

I miss her.

swoon

2006-05-05T12:09:00.000-05:00

You know anybody who makes you drool? Makes your knees go weak?
This guy does it for me. For real. I'm drooling right now.
There are a couple others (people I actually know), but he's the king.

I love him. L-O-V-E.

He's coming to Champaign in June (scroll to June everybody!).
I will be in the front row.
all week.

Back off. He's mine.

Let History Decide What Did or Did Not Happen

2006-05-04T11:14:00.000-05:00

Stephen Colbert at the White House Correspondents Dinner

Be sure you actually watch the speech.

How much do I love him? A whole freakin' bunch.

Sushi for $1--or Eyes Are Bigger Than Your Wallet

2006-05-02T14:27:00.000-05:00

I love sushi, ok? Love it. It's second only to this in my list of favorite foods,

But that Monday $1 Sushi Special is a real letdown.

It sounds like a deal, right? But no matter where you go, it's never what you think it's going to be. It's not All You Can Eat. It's not even a whole roll for $1. It's one piece for one dollar. So not a bargain. not.

So last night, the Current Favorite Company and I went to a local place and fell for the $1 Sushi grift. Oh, we had some $1 pieces. But we had other things too--things like Tomago and Unagi and Black Mushroom and Spicy Tuna.

And then there was the Sake.

Now, it was all tasty and everything, especially the Sake.
But in the end, we spent a whopping $75.
That's a lot of dollars, even between two people.

$1 Sushi Monday? overrated.

I'll be eating a few of these for my dollar next Monday.

belated thoughts about a dead guy

2006-04-02T14:09:00.000-05:00

When I was 12, my best friend was a girl named Danielle. She had dark hair and freckles and a family so unlike mine that I was enamored of her instantly. In stark contrast to my mom-dad-4-kids-nuclear-family household, Danielle lived with her mom and Tom. There was no “Dad” to speak of, and I didn’t ask. Even the food they kept around made me giddy. Her fridge held ham and baby Swiss cheese from a real deli, not the Buddig meats and generic American cheese that filled my fridge. She even got BBQ Ruffles, something I could only wish for in my kitchen. There was not a family-size box of Cheerios to be found. We spent those heady junior high afternoons watching General Hospital, eating that luscious ham and cheese on Pepperidge Farm bread, swigging root beer, and feeling altogether grown up. After GH ended, we would choose some album from Tom’s vast collection, which we were encouraged to peruse, and talk about whatever we talked about, and sometimes we taught ourselves the songs.

My own father had quite an impressive collection of LPs in those days, and I grew up with a healthy respect for all kinds of music. Danielle’s Tom, on the other hand, dealt strictly in what I would later recognize as Classic Stoner Audio. There was a fair amount of Jethro Tull, Moody Blues (before the god-awful "The Voice"--what the hell guys?), Led Zepplin. We skated by that stuff pretty fast because we wanted something we could sing to. We liked to make up harmonies, in that way that all twelve-year-old girls do, being the pop stars that they are, that we were. And so, one afternoon, we lighted on a little album called Bad Luck Streak in Dancing School. Danielle was pretty familiar with it since it was one of her mom’s favorites. She talked about Warren like he was an old family friend, calling him “Zevon” and speaking of the songs like they were written just for her and her mom. While she set up the turntable, she regaled me with the plot of a song about a gorilla that takes over a guy’s life. For a long couple of minutes, I thought she was saying guerrilla and firmly believed we’d be listening to a song about Patty Hearst. But no, this was a song about a “big gorilla at the L.A. Zoo,” and from that moment on, I was a Warren Zevon fan. The deal was sealed when we got to Bill Lee. The song (which as far as I know is about a baseball player but I’m sure there’s an underlying message there, I just choose to stay true to my adolescent interpretation) spoke directly to my sense of injustice: the injustice of being a fabulous girl born into a dull midwestern city that wasn’t New York; the injustice of having to tolerate the pesky younger siblings who swarmed around me like gnats; the injustice living a middle class life instead of the wealthy one I imagined all my other classmates lived; the injustice of being 12 and wishing to be 25. You’re s’posed to sit on your ass and nod at stupid things, and, man, that’s hard to do, Zevon sang. Didn’t I know it? And if you don’t they’ll screw you. And if you do they’ll screw you too. Right on, brother! I scrawled those words on notebooks from 8th grade to my first year of college. Warren Zevon was my man.

I found a couple more Zevon albums at the public library: The Envoy, and Excitable Boy. I played them both to death but never managed to add them to my own collection. I think Excitable Boy in particular disturbed my family and friends the most. I sang the lyrics often, and, well, the last verse (where he builds a cage with her bones) tends to shake people up, especially when sung by a pre-teen girl. Over the years my obsession with Zevon diminished as I discovered R.E.M., the Violent Femmes, Flaming Lips, and whatnot. But Zevon was always in the back of my mind. Then, some time last year, I saw an article in the New York Times Sunday Magazine about his illness and his final live performance on the Letterman show. I found myself sobbing in my living room. The past couple of years have been full of losses in my family, not just deaths but separations and changes that, taken one at a time are not so troubling, but all in the same 18 months become overwhelming. And this news of the ailing Zevon seemed like another piece of my childhood world crumbling to dust. I began to listen to Zevon again.

In particular, I pulled out those junior high favorites. I have to say, they've held up well over time. Of course, I now listen to those songs with more than a little bit of nostalgia. Right before Zevon died, I happened upon the VH1 special about the process of making his final album, The Wind. I struggled through it as all the lingering emotion of my father’s final weeks came raging up to the surface. This man, this CELEBRITY, lived so hard and fast, admittedly treated his family badly for a time, got a terminal illness, yet managed to outlive his doctors' estimates for his lifespan. His family and friends, the people he loved, got to say their goodbyes in the most poignant way, by helping him with his life’s work. Zevon was allowed to make peace both with his life AND his death. He even got to see his daughter’s children born. My father had none of that. MY father died alone, in pain, in his sleep, far from his home. He will not see his loved ones rally together to finish his life’s dream, whatever that was. He will never know the grandchildren who have since come along, or even the one who was only just beginning her life as his was ending. And once again I found myself sobbing in my living room. Because it’s hard to sit by and see the injustices of life and death visited on the ones we love, even if the ones we love are simply icons of our childhood.

Yer sposed to sit on yer ass and nod at stupid things
and man that's hard to do.
And if you don't they'll screw you
And if you do they'll screw you too.
And I'm standin in the middle of the diamond
all alone.
I always play to win
when it comes to skin and bone.
And sometimes I say things I shouldn't, like ...

spring spring springity spring

2006-03-30T14:08:00.000-06:00

It's really pretty today. Going to be 68. Might be already. I'm going outside in approximately 120 seconds to walk around the building.

It's the time of year when my need for sleep is rapidly decreasing. I'm not sure how I feel about that this year. I've developed quite a love for my bed this winter.

My new job is great. My love life might be improving. At least, I've gone on a date and hung out with the same guy three times in a week. We seem to be well-matched in many ways including in the way where we take things too seriously and freak out about them. But he makes me feel warm inside and all fluttery and girly. And he hates people.
I like that.

I like this whole 2006 business.

I left my heart.......

2006-02-03T00:26:00.000-06:00

This right here is something that makes me pine for the City.

drug study

2006-02-02T23:35:00.000-06:00

Tuesday, NPR ran this story as part of their series about anti-depressants. I've been reading what she has to say about motherhood and debilitating depression for while now, so it piqued my interest. But you know what their big discovery is? Some women who stop taking their anti-depressants during pregnancy tend to have much faster and much worse relapses than some women who don't. But not all of them. And they don't know why.

Now, I'm no scientist, but this doesn't seem like it should be all that shocking. Because, I don't know, my understanding of clinical depression is that it's related to some sort of hormone (serotonin, right? I suppose I should know this since I take the drugs). And, well, aren't pregnant ladies kind of the EPITOME of hormonal imbalance? Jeez, they needed a multi-million dollar drug study to tell us this? Thanks guys. How about letting us know whether the miracle drugs effect the developing babies or not. What? You don't know? The study didn't look at that? hmmm...well that's not very useful is it? Basically, if you're a woman with clinical depression who requires anti-depressants to deal with your illness and you get pregnant, you still don't know whether you can keep taking your medicine and not harm your baby. So it's still a crapshoot---do you want to have a healthy baby or do you want to be able to function?

Twenty-first-century science RULES!

new attitude?

2006-02-02T23:17:00.000-06:00

Things are looking pretty darn good in the land of slamorspike. The new job is good. My co-workers seem like an upbeat bunch. We're busy. I'm sure there are some nutcases among, and I may be one of them. It's totally a nerdly workplace. I haven't sat around talking about such minutiae about language since I left Madison. It's still too early to say it's love, but I'm definitely smitten.

Last semester when I was teaching, I had to stop singing with Amasong. I was simply too overwhelmed with the job to take on any more commitments. I'm happy to say that I'm back at it. So far we've had two rehearsals this semester, and it's shaping up to be wonderful. It's an anniversary year, we've got several new directors, and the whole vibe is just different. I feel like I did when I first joined, waaaaaaaay back in whatever year it was (96? 97?). I've never jumped off a cliff before, but I think it might feel like this--a little scary but exhilarating nonetheless. The landing? yeah, whatever.

I spent this weekend cleaning my house and repotting plants and moving furniture and just generally nesting. Haven't done that in a long time. Of course, it was all in denial of the fact that I was sick--I still have a cough that makes me sound like a nicotine-addicted old woman--but that doesn't change the fact that I did it. There's something about sitting around in my newly-vacuumed living room that makes me feel toasty. Perhaps this is all a sign of better days ahead.

To update the last post: my friend does not have cancer and my other friend's partner is home, having recovered much more quickly than anyone expected. So there's more than a little good news going around.

Happy February.

Holy Hell-o

2006-01-24T13:26:00.000-06:00

Man, this has been a weird month.
Christmas brought the return of my soul-crushing depression. There are many reasons for this, but a big one was the end of my temporary teaching stint. If there's one thing that will send me into the depths of inactivity the fastest, it's not having a structure to my day. I put myself on the substitute list, thinking I would be called to work daily, but for the first two weeks of this month I wasn't. I was in a pretty big panic since I had no money and none coming in. A couple of freelance gigs appeared out of the blue. Good because they kept me busy, but bad because they still haven't paid me. One Sunday, I was glancing through the job ads and saw a call for copyeditors at a local place. I took their test, but it was weird and I had no faith that I did very well. The format of the test was strange, there was a spelling section that I bombed, and, well, part of the soul-crushing depression includes losing all confidence in my abilities as a human being.
To combat the growing hoplessness and panic, I made arrangements to store my things, house my cats, and couch-surf with friends in Chicago so I could look for jobs in the city. Though I miss city life, I was not especially looking forward to this move. I don't like to move. I'm not really in any financial position to make such a large change, blah blah blah. But it had begun to look like I had no other options.
Well, lo and behold, the publishing company called me. I will start work at Publication Services this Thursday. The job is full-time, benefitted, and, best of all, permanent. No more freelancing. Now, with my past experience at having jobs disappear and with being unceremoniously fired, I'm trying not to get too hyped. But this seems like a really good deal. I'm working in my field, using my skills, education, and experience, and I get to work with retail manuscripts. I'm most excited about this part. In my brief fantasizing about my future, I am always a trade-book editor. So here's to me and my new job.
In the meantime, I still await payment for several jobs and my telephone service remains off. If I don't get paid by Friday, my car insurance will also be canceled. I also remain quite unable to make myself do anything beyond reading, watching, television, and eating. I've begun my anti-depressants again, but they take quite a while to get working. I feel fat and gross and all those other things. So, not quite out of the woods in many ways.

Unfortunately, people in the rest of my world are not having such a good time. One friend awaits test results to tell her whether or not she has cerivcal cancer. Another friend has just found out his father's cancer is not in remission but fully spread throughout his body. A third friend sits in the ICU while her partner fights for her life as the result of an accident. She is on a ventilator and god knows what else. At the scene of the accident she was unresponsive and not breathing. My brother-in-law, though finally freed from his Marine Corps obligations, has detoured on his way home to attend the funeral of a friend who died unexpectedly from a drug reaction.

I'm aware that good and bad must come together, but this seems wholly awful. If you're the kind who believes in sending positive energy into the world to combat things like this, please do. This is not the way to begin a new year.

out with the 2005 already, gawd!

2006-01-08T15:02:00.000-06:00

2005: let's review
fired from a job I was counting on in February, death of one of my dearest in March, total financial drowning throughout not reversed until October. I don't like being in financial peril. Makes me feel like a punk-ass bitch, and not in a good way. So, yeah I'm happy to see that year out.
New Year's Eve though, man, that was a blast. I went to the great Iron Post Ringing In. I only saw the last 4 bands, but they were fantastic. Shipwreck, even though they didn't know the words to (Don't You) Forget About Me did a great set. The Beauty Shop did some stuff I hadn't heard before. The Living Blue rocked in the new year righteously. But I have to say the belles of the night were Headlights. They were tight, clearly happy to be off the road, and just amazing. I'm converted!
The rest of the first week of 2006 was filled with friends and (finally) work.
I'm substituting some more, just as part of the sub pool. It's a little disconcerting. For someone who craves transcience, you'd think a job where I'm at a new location every day would be perfect. However, it relies on my natural enemy--the telephone--in order for me to get my assignment. I really don't like that. I have a horrid relationship with the telephone. I don't like to use it, even to speak with my friends. I find it obnoxious and intrusive, and most of the time the only people who call me are people to whom I owe money. So it's beyond ironic that I am REQUIRED to answer my phone now if I want to work. Why? Because the administration of Champaign Unit#4 School District is wily. They do not leave messages. I don't know where they want me to work until I say I'm available. Pret-ty sneaky, sis!
Anyway, I've decided to pursue the teaching certificate option. At worst, it will at least keep me gainfully employed. Of course, what I really want is to get into a master's program that includes teaching writing.

So here's my 2006 list of how I want to improve my life:
1) go to church on Sunday. Tried it today but I slept through my alarm. I'll get there, really I will. To my credit, I slept through because I was up late reading a book about Bible stories.

2) walk somewhere besides to a downtown bar every day. Not doing so hot on that one either.

3) actually complete and send in at least one grad school application--Columbia of Chicago is most likely.

4) go on a date. Yeah, I've joined a couple of online dating services again. One I don't feel to confident about, but the other (OkCupid) seems kind of promising if only because of the cool quizzes.

5) not to get obsessed with the online dating thing. I spent 8 hours yesterday (yes, I said EIGHT) just answering questions and goofing around on the site. um....timewaster? oh yea.

6) eat healthy food.

7) no more chats with Mary

So, not so ambitious I don't think. Of course I also hope to update "the glitter" a little more often. But I say that all the time. It's all about whether I have anything to write or not. Perhaps I will.

I never liked her......

2006-01-08T14:42:00.000-06:00

Your arch-nemesis is:	Audrey Hepburn

Why?	Because they tried to steal your identity
The winner will be...	You
Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

dead at 77?

2006-01-08T14:39:00.000-06:00

I took the Death Quiz at OkCupid. Even though there's no cancer in my family, I'm destined to die of cancer in 2054. The following is much more promising.....

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

meet your meat spirit

2006-01-07T13:19:00.000-06:00

I've been discovering online tests. Been up to other stuff too. More later.

Fried Chicken
Here's your Meat Spirit:

Crispy and salty with a moist, juicy interior, Fried Chicken is your spirit guide.

Your herbal crustiness seduces others by speaking to the very depths of their souls. Your meaty sustinance keeps them coming back to you again and again - you are not necessarily healthy, but certainly nourishing. Your lovers may get a temporary "high" in your presence, but discomfort may later result. Be proud, though: your guide is powerful and charming.

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 50% on meatiness

Link: The What type of meat are you? Test written by stuckinsc on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

long time gone

2005-10-29T12:57:00.000-05:00

Wow, I haven't written anything here in over a month. Here's why: I'm learning how to become a teacher.
In typical slamorspike fashion, I'm not doing it in the conventional, take-some-classes-and-get-your-teaching-certificate kind of way. Oh no. I've jumped in head first, taking over my friend's high school English classes while she has a baby. It's been really really stressful. But after a month, I have to say I might be hooked.
Teenagers are incredibly frustrating. No kidding, right? yeah. They remind me every day that I take a lot of things for granted--like the fact that the people in my world think the way I do. These are, for the most part, privileged kids who idolize their parents and parrot their parents' conservative opinions as though they are their own. One of the juniors delights in watching me get riled up as he proclaims Reagan the "greatest U.S. president ever!" This from someone who was born in....1989. They all find it extremely quaint that I have "liberal" bumper stickers on my car: "No one died when Clinton lied" and "These colors don't run the world" being their most favorite.
They are extremely Christian; and, though they have classmates of other faiths (most notably Muslim), they don't understand how everyone doesn't subscribe to their version of Chrisitanity. and they insert this into their writing whenever they can. They don't have much experience in the world because, hey, they're 16, 17, 18 years old. They are both wise beyond their years and so very very young. They have given me the first real migraines of my life. They act like monkeys and I tell them so and they don't care. There is one student who I am sure will end up either in the military or the penitentiary. They also humble me every day. There is nothing to knock your self-confidence a notch or two like being in the presence of teens every day.
At first, I really really hated this. I thought I would never feel comfortable with it. But something has happened over the last week. I find that I want to help them understand how the English language works; why we have the kinds of grammar and punctuation rules we have; why Shakespeare really is interesting and funny and violent and bold and still full of white-male bullshit; why the American transcendentalist movement was so important, influential, AND ridiculous. I want them to see how biased the world is and how they have the ability to change that.
sigh, I guess I really am a teacher. Now I just have to make it official.

from one blog to another; or the truth about Katrina

2005-09-07T10:31:00.000-05:00

This really sums it up.

I just can't help wondering why all of our outrage isn't turning itself into action. Of course, what exactly can we do? Well, here are a couple of things. You can write to your mouthpieces in Congress--two senators and however many representatives--and tell them you expect action. Tell them there are some real impeachable offenses going on (of course there have been for the entire reign of the current administration but that's a whole other rant). Remind them of upcoming elections. You can do the same thing with a phone call. and, of course, vote--every chance you get. There are millions of people in the South who may not be allowed to now that all of their identification has been swept away with the receding waters.

wallpaper my big mouth shut

2005-09-04T00:01:00.000-05:00

1) I have loads of ranting about the situation in New Orleans and Mississippi. I will limit it to saying simply, I've never been more embarrassed to be an American. People (see the Arizona National Guard) were standing AT THE READY to help and our Fearless Chimpanzee Leader told them to stand down. I call bullshit.

2) There is a Walgreen's going up on nearly every vacant corner here all of a sudden and it makes me more than a little nervous.

3) William Rehnquist is dead. If you are a female American (as I am) get your rebellion ready. We are in for a world of trouble.

37: it's prime

2005-08-08T10:50:00.000-05:00

After one of the most extended birthday celebrations I can recall, I've decided that sometimes too much is just right.

Here's a little amusement courtesy of Line Monkey.

You're One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest!

by Ken Kesey

You're crazy. This has led people to attempt to confine you to a safe
place so that you don't pose a danger to yourself or others. You feel like you pose a
great danger to the man (or maybe the woman) or whatever else is keeping you down. But
most of the time, you just end up being observed. Were you crazy before you were
confined?

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

punching a hole in a comet

2005-07-14T09:59:00.000-05:00

Did anybody else read about that little experiment a few weeks ago and worry? Because I did. I'll come back and post a link later when I have some time to search for it. But, really, think about it. Do we want to be messing with something that flies on a certain trajectory? Wouldn't taking a big chunk out of its trailing debris possibly change it's specific gravity enough to change it's course and, I don't know, send it hurtling into another, possibly more dangerous, orbit? Or maybe I'm a girl with just enough science to make up some dangerous scenario in my imagination but not enough physics to do the follow-through....

45 minutes

2005-07-14T09:41:00.000-05:00

Meet The Mink. Isn't it scary? You can thank my friend Mr. Jon for that.

I haven't been nearly as diligent about writing as I once thought I would be. These things happen. In the meantime I've been:
reading the new Palahniuk, Haunted. It started out as an intriguing read but devolved rapidly into a gross-out fest. You've been warned.
working. working. working. Sometime having two food service jobs AND freelancing feels like too much. so to relax I've been...
smoking too much and watching bad tv (not cable of course; just the syndicated crap on FOX--yes, even Dharma and Greg)

My nephew aka The Rajah aka His Majesty has finally decided to try speaking. Last night he said "Hello" while we were on the phone. It was like talking to a parrot. I said, "Hello" and then he said, "Hello" and repeat ad infinitum.

One more of my really cool female buddies has been told by some guy that she's "not girlfriend material." What a crock of shit. Why don't you guys just say what you mean? "I really like hanging out with you and getting drunk and fooling around, but at the end of the day I want to be dating a 22-year-old twinkie who looks like a bobble-head doll and won't think on her own or challenge me to think. Sorry."

Ok, it's time to go shake it for money so I can pay my rent.

hiberNation

2005-06-08T11:45:00.000-05:00

wow, for one with so little to do, I'm sure not getting very much done. Our pretty little springtime has turned overnight into swealtering summer sauna and I for one am not ready. but the a/c is on--earliest yet. I caved. I couldn't take the pained looks of my elderly cats anymore. That and the Mystery Rash just demanded some relief. So here is a random list of things on my anti-social mind these days:

1) Why oh why are people talking about presidential candidates already? Did we not just do that? Aren't there at least 4 years to go before that's even necessary?
2) Religion and Michael Jackson seem to be on everybody's mind. Coincidence?
3) You really shouldn't mix recreational pharmaceuticals and personal grooming. really.
4) It is nearly impossible to go from being totally sedentary to somewhat active without hurting yourself in some way.
5) money
6) Where are all the people who like to eat out? Why aren't they patronizing the restaurant where I work?
7) Be careful what you wish for.
8) If the European Union includes members from Middle Eastern countries, is it still the European Union?
9) I should practice my guitar more and watch stupid tv less. but I really miss having cable.

Once upon a time I was proud of the fact that I lived "off the grid"--no bank, no cable, no car, no doctor, no computer, no credit cards, etc. I loved being mostly untraceable. But now, I find that those "conveniences" are what make life a tad more enjoyable. sigh, someone's getting old.

monday blah blah blahs or existential angst, Part Infinity

2005-05-02T15:13:00.000-05:00

Today I don't have to work. I have a sink full of week-old dishes. I need to vaccuum. I need a nap.
It's 3 p.m. and I've already accomplished the following:
shower
6 hours worth of proofreading
invoicing company for said proofreading
short walk
deposit paycheck

Why don't I feel better? I've been very very busy trying to make ends meet. I feel like I should be better at this sort of thing by now, but, alas, I am not. Pieces are in place for this to begin to get easier, but so far it's not happening yet. I remain calm on the outside but panicked on the inside.
I just had another in a continuing series of "why aren't I satisfied with my life" conversations with a friend who is equally as constantly unsatisfied with her life too. Neither of us can figure out the problem. We are both accomplished, intelligent single women who are tired of hanging out in bars and spending money. What do we do?

In the meantime, I'm tired. I need a nap and a big fat injection of "Hey I think you're swell!" Anybody go that, perhaps in pill form?

Mommy, my head hurts. ow.

2005-04-27T19:36:00.000-05:00

Three reason why I should not have drinks after work at 4 in the afternoon:

1) Odds are very good that I haven't had anything of substance to eat yet. Empty-ish stomach + any amount of alcohol, however small = headache.

2) First drink good, second drink better, fifth drink.....wheeeeeeee! and then it's 7 p.m. and I've spent 2/3 of the money in my wallet, no matter how much or what I've "limited" myself to spending.

3) Drunken phone call to Mother on the walk home discussing her car-buying. Do I remember any of it? Not so much.
Sorry, Mama, hope I didn't embarrass myself.

and a fourth for good measure: still haven't bought kitty litter.

right or obligation?

2005-03-22T22:25:00.000-06:00

I saw The Sea Inside over the weekend. In case you don't know, it's the movie that won Best Foreign Film at the Academy Awards this year. What's it about? I'm glad you asked. It's about a sailor, Ramon Sampedro, who suffers a traumatic spinal injury when he is 20 and how he fights, for the next 30 years, to be allowed to commit suicide. See, he's lucid. He invents things and he writes poetry. But he lives as a quadriplegic, depending on his family to do everything for him. He does not consider that a life for him. Let me say that again, he does not consider that a life for him. No, he doesn't mean that all quadriplegics should commit suicide. He simply wants the option for himself. He feels that he was inadvertantly rescued and should have drowned the day he broke his neck in the first place. Since he was "spared" death and given what he considers an undignified life, he wants the option to end it. Since he's a quadriplegic, he needs the tiniest assist, basically, someone to put the pills in his mouth. And he doesn't want them to go to jail for it. That's it. That's the movie. Did I mention that it's a true story? Yeah. true.
Brings me to thinking about Terri Shiavo, the woman in Florida who is being kept alive, even though her doctors say she is in a persistent vegetative state. One of the many salient points Ramon Sampedro made during his life was that he felt that life was a right but not an obligation. He was not interested in continuing to "live" tied to a bed and dependent on others to be sure his needs were met. Consider Mrs. Schiavo. Does anyone outside of her immediate family and immediate caregivers really know how functional she is or has been for any of the last 13 years? How can even those people know whether she is registering anything that happens to her?
Another issue raised by Sampedro's lawyers during the time he was petitioning the Spanish government was how a system that purported to be founded on reason and logic fall so obviously into religious arguments when it came to suicide. Did they charge failed suicides with attempted murder? No. Did they believe in the death penalty? yes. So why, when a lucid individul requested it, was assisted suicide disallowed?
Fast forward to today and Tom DeLay saying that "God has brought us Terri Shiavo." What business does an official of the United States government have bringing religion into this? This is not about God. This is about one man's wish to end his wife's suffering, a mother's resistance to the idea that her daughter is dead and has been dead for 13 years, and a slew of politicians wishing to re-ignite the flames of an issue that should be irrelevant to the federal government in order to mask some real issues that the American public and the rest of the world should be paying attention to.
I don't know what's going through Mr. Schiavo's head. I don't know what's going through the heads of the Schindlers either. But I do know what it's like to see someone you love being kept alive by artificial means. Believe me, there is no question that the person is gone. none. It is the worst thing I've ever been through and, for me and my family, it only lasted one week. I can't imagine what 13 years of that would do to you.
The U.S. doesn't belong in Terri Schiavo's hospital room. Neither does the state of Florida. Spain didn't belong in Ramon Sampedro's room either. I hope that Mrs. Schiavo's body is spared too much more of this. I hope her spirit really has long since dissapated into the Universe.
Namaste to her, those who love her, and everyone.

Derek

2005-03-15T22:46:00.000-06:00

A couple of weeks ago, someone from my past died, tragically, as a long-term result of his bad habits. We haven't been in touch in years, though I've thought of looking him up pretty much weekly for the last 2 years. But somehow, I just couldn't manage it. Now he's dead. He was 39--much too young to be dying from the drastic health issues brought on by alcoholism, at least in my book.
He was someone who influenced my life in big big ways. He's one of the Big Three Boyfriends, the one with whom I kept contact the longest, the one who always made me feel grounded in this world no matter where I was or what I was doing. I'm pretty sure he would be proud to see me writing, to know I finished school. He might be a little surprised to see me back in town since I was so adamant about getting the hell out of here.
He was one of the many someones who I believe never valued himself or his talents as much as he should have. He knew me better than anybody ever has. He told me once that I was too intense. For many years that really bothered me. More recently, I've decided that it was a compliment. He could be a right asshole. He broke my heart more than once, but he also loved me for who I was, as I was, and never expected anything else. For that, I will always love him.

ostrich

2005-03-15T22:37:00.000-06:00

My head is pretty far in the ground right now. I'm pretty much laying low and trying to keep the money flowing. The good new job didn't last. Still at the coffee shop. Still looking for more freelance and more permanence. Still falling into the bottomless pit of debt.
Spring is in the air, and I gotta say, it doesn't really make me happy. We didn't have much of a winter. I miss the snow and the clean and quiet it brings. So far, all I've got is shivering and a constant buzzing in my head. Survival mode seems to be the rule of the day.
The big news is the local university basektball team and their run for the Title. Yeah, woo hoo. Now the racist mascot can dance for everyone in prime time.

Ok, this all sounds hopeless and sad and really, that's not how it is. I mean, yes, I'm trucking along in survival mode, but there are amazing possibilities out there for sure. I just need to get a handle on what they are. It's hard to settle down when you still don't know what you want to be when you grow up, right?

In the meantime, His Majesty, The Rajah, is having his first birthday on St Pat's. Here's to his first year and to many many more.

How to make a me?

2005-02-15T19:21:00.000-06:00

As usual, time is flying by and I'm remiss in so many of my duties I can't even begin to recount them here. So in lieu of a detailed list of my activities of the past 30 days, here's how you make one slam and one spike:

How to make a slam

Ingredients:

5 parts intelligence

3 parts self-sufficiency

Method:
Combine in a tall glass half filled with crushed ice. Serve with a slice of lustfulness and a pinch of salt. Yum!

How to make a spike

Ingredients:

5 parts intelligence

5 parts ambition

3 parts leadership

Method:
Layer ingredientes in a shot glass. Add a little cocktail umbrella and a dash of lustfulness

Note that one is a mixed drink and one is a shot, but both include lustfulness.

Holy New Year, Batman!

2005-01-19T23:50:00.000-06:00

I can't believe I haven't posted since the beginning of December. The thing about this blogging deal is that it takes time. Time I haven't had recently. So here's an update for the three of you who might be reading.
I started a new job. I like it a lot. I hope it lasts.
I'm thinking (still) about graduate school and moving to Chicago. I miss City Living and what it does for my soul. But I'm torn between continuing to dream and wishing for some kind of stability. The Question of the Hour is, When do you decide to give up a few dreams in the name of being less flaky? And is that what it means to be a grown up? And is that a bad thing? If I stick with some sort of career-building here in C-U am I necessarily giving up opportunities that might exist elsewhere? And when is it okay to stop considering that, the "elsewhere" or "elsewhen" kinds of things, anyway?
I've had a bit of a shake up in my personal life. It's left me somewhat unsteady. Someone whom I considered a close, dear friend seems to no longer be a part of my life. This troubles me, but not enough to for me to make the move to reconcile. And that troubles me more. So, if you're reading this, Friend of Whom I Write, please know that I wish you well, I wish you happiness, and I harbor no ill will. I'm just tired of being the one to initiate. As with dating, I don't want to be in the driver's seat anymore. If you still wish to maintain our friendship, I'm open to it. Just let me know you are too.
and that leads me to the Singleness......
I've been solitary for so long now that I'm worried that I won't know how to behave if someone shows an interest. And, yes, I'm interested. But I'm tired of making the first move, which makes it difficult since I seem to only be interested in super-intellectual shy types who only speak in Academese or are just simply too shy to do anything obvious. I'm tired of trying to read signals. I am embarking, instead, on a mission of directness with at least one of them, maybe the other too. May the best me win. And here's a question related to that: can a girl who enjoys her liquor really find happiness with a guy who doesn't?

Finally, tomorrow is the horror that is Innauguration Day. I am mortified that no one has any qualms about flaunting the $40M pricetag for the festivities. Can Laura Bush be serious about her gowns and her insistance that "the country needs this party?:
Please. This country needs to know that our leader is looking out for us. So far, all I feel is that he's a smug jackass who wants to rub his opponents noses in his victory. As for honoring those who serve? Think about how much up-to-date armor 40 million dollars could supply. Tsunami relief? Yeah, whatever. That's all well and good, but frankly, I want my brother-in-law aboard the Bonhomme Richard to be protected from his smelly feet to the longest hair on his shaved head first. Then we can talk about rebuilding Sri Lanka. Perhaps one of the Bush girls can donate her Oscar de la Renta dresses to THAt cause.
Personally, I will wear all the red I have and tell everyone within the range of my voice that we are in for at least four more years of fearmongering and oppression. Suck on that, Laura Bush. You can bet I won't be celebrating the coronation of your idiot savant spouse. I didn't vote for him, and neither did half of this country's registered voters. I'll be damned if I'll participate in anythhing resembling revelry. No, I'm hunkering down for the long haul. There's damage ahead and I'm trying to prepare.

So, here's to four more years of struggling to air the truth and 12 more months of trying to find happiness and purpose. Bless the Year of the Monkey on the way out, and Welcome the Year of the Rooster to come.

random

2004-12-02T22:23:00.000-06:00

ho ho ho it's christmas. anybody else already feeling a little overwhelmed? face it, all I ever really want is a big assload of snow on the ground. so far, we got zilch.

rudolph the red-nosed reindeer was on last night. you know what? I always thought Santa was kind of an asshole in that, even as a child. I mean, come on, Santa, what have you got against the kid's nose? you aren't supposed to be exclusionary. you're supposed to love everybody. no, wait. that's Jesus. still. where's the love, Santa?

when I was little, we had an album of christmas songs sung by this children's chorus. It was called Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but it was the basis for some story about Rudolph getting a cold in his nose and somebody else having to lead Santa's sleigh. It was implied that there was a television special to back this up, but I never saw it. the kids on the record can't sing worth a damn, but to this day I still know all the songs. When I was home for turkey, my mom dug the album out, so I played it for my 10-year-old niece. she rolled her eyes at me whilst I sang:
Look who's leading Santa's sleigh, making it right through the Milky Way,
lights up the night like the middle of the day
Twinkie, the tiniest reindeer
Out in front proud as can be, shiny and bright as a Christmas tree,
the greatest sight you will ever ever see
Twinkie, the tiniest reindeer
His ears light up and his nose lights up and his two little front teeth too.
He's riding high in the midnight sky
and leading Santa through
to bring your gifts to you
like Rudolph used to do
Tinier than all the rest, facing his life's most biggest test,
the little fella we all love the best
Twinkie the tiniest reindeer

this week's South Park is about how people shouldn't be admired simply because they have money and behave badly and the symbol for that is Paris Hilton. Let me just say now that I love South Park and I have for years. god bless them, every one.

heads up!

2004-11-28T09:38:00.000-06:00

If you haven't been paying attention to what your Congress is up to lately, you might want to have a look. (the daily digest is the best place to start)

I'm watching what's going on with the elections in the Ukraine with a bit of bemusement. Here's an example of people actually making democracy work. They thought their elections were corrupt and they did something about it. And, guess what? It seems to be working. Funny. Here in America our reaction is to roll over and take it.

Here's to four more years.

What the hell?

2004-11-04T23:58:00.000-06:00

So, if, like me, you're wondering what the hell America was thinking, read this.
And then think about the following new members of Congress:

Tom Coburn, Senator, R-Oklahoma
Dr Coburn supports the death penatly for doctors who perform abortions (should abortion become illegal). He was sued for malpractice because he apparantly sterilzed a woman without her consent. He is also the person behind this fine piece of logic.

John Thune, Senator, R-South Dakota
Bonus points: defeated Tom Daschle, minority leader, a blow almost more deadly than Kerry's loss.
Thune believes we need to legally ban things like flag burning and gay people adopting children. In fact, he thinks we need Constitutional amendments to secure these things. Oh yeah, he also believes we need an amendment for school prayer.
Now, despite the obvious problems with these stances, I have a question about the flag burning amendment. If it you outlaw flag burning, how are you supposed to dispose of one? Because, you know, the only way to "retire" a flag is to burn it. Are we going to include language about "respectful" burning vs "disrespectful" burning?

David Vitter, Senator, R-Louisiana
Also wants Constitutional amendments against gay people adopting children and flag burning. He only wants to federally fund women's clinics that DON'T provide information about abortion. He wants to build more prisons instead of support rehabilitation and alternative sentencing. He wants hospitals to report any undocument immigrants (aka "illegal aliens") who receive treatment.

Timothy Johnson, Representative, R-Illinois
I can't even begin the litany of reasons why I think this man needs to be ousted from his cushy cushy seat. He is a manipulator extraordinaire who has hoodwinked his constiuents for years. He's very good at shaking hands and making eye contact. It's spooky how otherwise reasonable people can be hypnotized by his nasty little sneering mug. One of these days his brittle little cocaine-ridden bones will disintigrate into dust, right in the middle of a House session. I hope the C-SPAN cameras catch it.,,,,,ummm. ok. He sets me off the deep end a little. sorry. But he too wants a flag-burning amendment. and wants to stop funding clinics that provide abortion information. He supports a Constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. And he voted for the Partial-Birth Abortion ban. Plus, he's a bad tipper.

Anyway, welcome to Congress. Please don't take too many more of my rights away or you will force me to become an insurgent, just like all those Iraqis.

black wednesday

2004-11-03T14:00:00.000-06:00

I am beyond disappointment.
There are not words to describe the feeling of utter doom I have today. What are Americans thinking? We can say goodbye to a good portion of our rights, of many of the liberties we take for granted. Women, you can kiss safe and legal abortions goodbye, and probably easy access to contraception too. The Supreme Court is about to be decimated. How long do you think he'll wait to put some neo-con fundamentalist in Rehnquist's place? Say hello to four more years of recession and fear. You fell for it, America. All I see is GW and the Dickmeister sitting in the White House wringing their hands in glee along with Rummy and Rashcroft and bellowing, "SUCKERS!"

omen

2004-10-28T23:57:00.000-05:00

I knew it!
I had a hunch all along that a Red Sox win meant Kerry would win. Now I have validation in the internatinal press. Damn. Maybe I should open my tent at the Decatur Celebration after all.........

blah

2004-10-27T11:04:00.000-05:00

I woke up in a funk today. I have to be at work in an hour but I don't want to go. I want instead to stay home and write. If I'd gotten out of bed before 10 a.m. I might have had time to do that. But it's grey and cold and I'm exhausted from a work schedule that shifts by up to 12 hours from day to day, from being on my feet and stressed anywhere from 6 to 13 hours each day, and, dammit, I wanted to sleep today. But now I want to do Other Things and there's no time. I need to feed myself and brush my teeth and get dressed and Go To Work. ugh. Someday soon, this cafe experiment will end. There will be a Professional Job waiting for my skills, either here or in Chicago. and I will find it (they will find me) before Christmas. In the meantime, these things are on my mind.

1) a friend of mine has come out of the closet as a Bush voter. I can't stomach it. Sorry, kiddo. I know you're reading.
2) my sister and her two kids are Coming Home. I am so excited to get to be an in-person auntie and not an over-the-phone auntie to at least two of my (what is the collective word for a group of nieces and nephews anyway?) three nieceaphews that I'm going to explode. Yes, if you see me, I WILL show you pictures. because I can.
3) I am tired of having snuggle dreams about my male friends. all these tell me is that I'm lonely. thank you subconscious.
4) how long will my landlord wait for my rent, anyway?
5) there is no 5 because it's time to Go To Work.

heart

2004-10-27T10:47:00.000-05:00

You must see this movie. do it now. At the very least, you will gain respect for the actors involved. If you're lucky, you will leave not only being entertained but pondering some of the greater questions of our project as human beings.
Can I just mention how much I love Dustin Hoffman and Lily Tomlin?
"How am I not myself?" indeed.

50,000 words in 30 days---go

2004-10-27T10:33:00.000-05:00

Ok, it's NaNoWriMo time again. I've got a great idea for this year (my second) and I'm doing a little research this week. I triple dog dare all you writers who read this to try it. It's relatively painless. No, I didn't finish last year. But I started. And I discovered Snood in the process. woo hoo!

Ok, time to make the coffee.

at the altar

2004-10-17T11:47:00.000-05:00

I went to see this band last night.
The last show I saw was the giant Cure extravaganza, well worth the money I might add. But it's been much too long since I've been to a see live music in a small venue. Delightfully, last night was beyond my expectations. I love this band. The openers, Home Video, were also fantastic. But Blonde Redhead themselves were amazing. Or maybe I was just in the mood to be receptive. Regardless, it was the closest I've come to the Perfect Moment in years.
What that means to me is this: despite the group of frat boys in front of me who kept TALKING during the show; despite the girl who kept flipping her hair and hitting me in the back; despite the sprinkles of water falling from the ceiling; despite the very drunk young man who thought that "dancing" was jumping up and down vigorously until he fell into someone; yes, despite all these things I was able to transcend my surroundings and really let go and dance and feel myself float away. nothing else mattered at that moment. I was not thinking about how to desribe the music or what I would wear tomorrow or whether or not I will make enough money to pay my rent this month. No, I was simply being. there. at the High Dive.
So, Blonde Redhead, thank you.

Band Bonus: I made their espressos earlier in the day. And, since they're Italian, they knew a good one when they tasted it. They liked mine so much that they bought beans. Yay Kopi!

So today I'm doing laundry and cleaning my sty of an apartment whilst listening to.......SUPERTRAMP! boogie down.

sounds like a case of cooties to me

2004-10-12T15:09:00.000-05:00

So, this Republican thinks that lesbianism is running "rampant" in Oklahoma schools. First off, I never would've though of southeast Oklahoma as a breeding ground for lesbianism. I wonder what exactly a "mixed message" about sexuality might be, anyway. Also, that "one girl" who gets to go to the bathroom must feel awfully lucky. I wonder what all the other girls do......

Seriously, though, this is just more evidence of how much we DESPERATELY need some kind of dialogue about sexual preference in this country. Kids experiment with sex. It's a fact. But just being around gay people doesn't make someone gay. Really. I promise. Cause if it did, well, I should have "turned" a long long time ago. Get real, people. This is a smokescreen for something else. Figure out what it is, because we have much more pressing issues in this country, I guarantee it.

Get your big plastic head out of my bed!

2004-10-12T15:02:00.000-05:00

This is supposed to get me to buy a Croissandwich? No way dude! You freak my shit all the way out. "Why?" indeed!

break time

2004-10-09T13:32:00.000-05:00

A couple of days ago a missing person poster appeared at the cafe where I am (temporarily, I assure myself) currently employed. Turns out to be someone I recognize. He's one of those people whom everyone recognizes, but hardly anyone has actually spoken with. He seems sort of quiet, frequents both the cafe and the restaurant where I work in the kitchen to quell my isolation. He always dines alone, always has some fascinating book to read, seems very aware, comfortable with his solitariness but also somewhat delicate, like he shouldn't be pressed too hard, you know what I mean? Anyway, so he's missing. But the word is that he just didn't appear in class one week. and the poster is very clear that his sister is the only person to be notified, not the police The phrase "sensitive to the situation" appears a couple of times. So, I'm wondering what's up.
Is this guy emotionally fragile after all, or did he just decide to take a little existential vacation? And how intriguing does that sound? Haven't you had that fantasy? You know the one I'm talking about. "Hell, I'm just going to take off. not tell anyone where I am. just fucking go. the hell with all this bullshit for a while." and then disappear. I know I'm having it right now and I have it often. It's not at all suicidal, just a symptom of weariness with the world. So I hope that's it and not something more dastardly.
Buddy, if you're out there taking an extended break, here's to you. Stay safe.

In other news, my mom's in Phoenix visiting my brother and I'm suffering withdrawl.

drunken remorse

2004-10-05T11:54:00.000-05:00

I’ve made an overture to someone. While it’s definitely the truth about my feelings, it’s wholly inappropriate in the context of his current life. Who am I to tell him to leave someone for whom he feels no passion? I am just an old horndog drunk who doesn’t have the sense to keep her damn mouth shut. At least I didn’t kiss him. Because, well, I want to. and if he'd stayed around 30 more seconds, I would have.

feeling way angstish

2004-10-03T14:49:00.000-05:00

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

(did I mention the angst?)

notes from a reluctant barista.

2004-10-01T21:45:00.000-05:00

The recent Sunday New York Times ran a little dialog taken from some website discussing the modern habit of tipping coffeehouse counterpersons. It is a sad fact that I, having no luck in the job market, have recently returned to my old occupation as said coffeehouse counterperson. It is another fact that I could've returned, instead, to being a waitress (sorry about the antiquated terminology but sometimes those old-school words are appropriate) but I hate waiting tables more than I hate pulling coffee.
I find working for tips to be degrading. It's only just this side of prostitution. just. So in that way, I agree with the NYT reader who wrote that we should compel resterateurs to pay their employees a decent living wage and abolish tipping all together. I mean, when you look at it, the waitstaff isn't solely responsible for your restaurant-going experience. There are the dishwashers, the hosts, the bussers, the expos, and, last but oh my lord not least, the cooks of all sorts. Those back-of-the-house people, especially, don't get tips, you know? And in a lot of ways, they deserve it more than the servers. If you piss off your cook, your evening is over. o.v.e.r. Woe be ye who pisses off the cook.
That being said, if you pester me for a special coffee drink, let's say some bastardized slop full of sugar and hot soy milk and seventeen different kinds of espresso shot that you're used to receiving at Starbuck's (oh hell no, I don't work there. I work at a locally owned place, thank you!), you better damn well put some money in the tip jar, and I don't mean small change. Do you even KNOW what a real macchiato is?

Here are some other words about coffee customer etiquette:

If the sign says we open at 7, we open at 7. not 10 til. not 5 til. not 30 seconds before. no, I will not "just get you a coffee." Same goes for closing. midnight. on the nose. you have 5 minutes to chug your drinks or ask me for paper. then I'm mopping you out the door.

If you don't know what you want yet, step out of the way of the other customers who do know what they want.

If you can't tear yourself away from your phone conversatoin long enough to complete a transaction with me, I'm not going to serve you. period.

If there are more than 6 people in line, it's pretty likely I don't have time right then to fill the water pitcher. Fill your water cup in the bathroom or wait your turn. in line. like everyone else. That goes for your hot tea water and coffee in your own cup too.

if you've been sitting at a table for 4 hours studying and you haven't bought anything, you might want to look up and see if some paying customers would like to sit down. It's not the fucking library.

And, no, I will not turn down the music/turn up the lights/change the CD for you/put on the radio. if you're that sensitive, go home.

Bus your dishes, for jesusgod. that's what the bus tubs are for.

Paper stuff and dirty stir sticks go in the garbage can. please.

If you're just going to sit outside, don't take a to-go cup. It wastes paper. it's ok to take glassware to the outside tables. really. unless you're clumsy. then just don't come in at all.

I don't mind answering questions about what we serve. But please look at the menu first. We have most of the info in the book with the pretty pictures or written next to the drink. I can't tell you any more about a Miele than what you see on the chalkboard.

If you're getting a drink with alcohol in it, consider me your bartender. tip accordingly.

no, you can't get your Bailey's and Coffee to go. it's the law.

Do not let your children play on the stairs. The stairs lead to the stockroom. People come out of the stockroom with armloads of crap and no way to see children playing on the stairs. Children who play on the stairs get knocked down.

It is not my fault if your child burns himself because you let him play with the microwave. The microwave is not a toy. neither is the front door, the front of the pastry case, the vents on the floor, the art on the walls, the ice cream freezer, the chairs, the tables, the dishes.........

The microwave is self-serve. If you can't figure out how to use it, well, what century are you living in?

Don't sleep on our tables.

if you have special food needs, you probably shouldn't be eating out.

A latte is a little coffee with a lot of hot milk. A cappucino is a little coffee with a lot of hot foamy milk. You, young man, do not impress me with your four-shot latte. Milk in coffee is for old ladies. It also turns your hair white. My grampa told me so.

What to make of it?:

2004-09-24T22:59:00.000-05:00

I don't know what to make of this.
Is it sorta cool,
or just evidence of somebody with too much time?

In other news.....
Joke of the Week: Why does Snoop Dogg carry an umbrella?
for drizzle
Lit Nerd Version of the Joke of the Week, courtesy of linemonkey:
What would Snoop Dogg's post be on the Pequod?
the mizze(l)nmast

Do I really miss school that much, or do I just have too much time on my hands?

Dick Cheese

2004-09-21T21:34:00.000-05:00

There are many reasons I love this man.

Here is but another.

Please, Illinois, if you want Richard Cheese to play here, vote Bush out of office!

Something else

2004-09-15T09:47:00.000-05:00

This is a nifty little slideshow comprised of images from the Hubble Telescope, complete with soundtrack and explanations of what you're seeing. The Australians apparently appreciate our space program a little.
Provides a little perspective. And it's real pretty.

Do something

2004-09-14T16:30:00.000-05:00

Ok, here's my thing.
Shawna died over the weekend that American military casualties hit the 1000 mark. On a list somewhere, I'm certain she's a name attached to a number somewhere in the high-900s. She's also the first female Illinois National Guard casualty, and that makes her significant in some other ways. Today at her funeral, she was honored by the presence of the lieutenant governor of Illinois and some fancypants general from the Naitonal Guard, neither of whom had ever met her.

I want people to know her. And I want them to know all of the others who have died over there, and those who are still serving over there. So, if you're reading this blog, I ask you to do something.

Write a letter to your senator, your representative, Donald Rumsfeld, John Ashcroft, Colin Powell, George W Bush, your governor. Include a picture of Shawna (any one of the ones on this blog) and simply the words, "She wanted an education." Or choose someone you know who is serving in Iraq or Afghanistan or any one of the other places our soliders have been sent, especially our National Guardsmen who should never be deployed outside the U.S. anyway. Tell a story about your person. Make someone in power understand that these are people, not faceless "troops." Maybe that will help get them home safely.

I heard a lot of disgust at the media presence at the memorials and such, and I understand. I loathe our habit of thrusting a camera and a microphone into the path of anyone who is part of public grief. But in Shawna's case, I welcome it. Her death was a waste of a beautiful spirit, a beautiful life cut short. Hers isn't the only one. The world needs to know.

more news

2004-09-10T16:25:00.000-05:00

Chicago Tribune, 10 Sept 2004

shawna

2004-09-08T02:06:00.000-05:00

We drank a thousand drinks to you. But none of them bring you back. You did not deserve to die with shrapnel in your head. You were pure and sweet. You laughed a lot. You smiled, just like you smiled in this picture, no matter what happened. You were passionate about everything you did, even your military service. You were proud to fight for what you thought were our freedoms. You died for a lie. We all loved you. We miss you.

Who likes AWOL? I do. I do. Who likes AWOL? I do. I do. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, AWOL.

death

2004-09-08T02:00:00.000-05:00

It's like this. I'm finding it really difficult to have faith. There's too much death all around. Shawna. Amanda. Alison. Dad. Grampa. I've lost too many people. More than half of that list are people who are way too young to die. way. too. young.

How am I supposed to look at the rest of life seriously? How are stupid things like money supposed to matter? How do I look at pettiness and human shortcomings in the same light when a 26-year-old woman can die in the blink of an eye because some megalomaniac extremist believes that he is ordained by his god to rule the world? How can GW, how can that man, look in the face of the families of the dead and justify what he led them to? How can Dickless Cheney say that voting them out of office is un-American?

Shawna, Amanda, Alison, Dad. You did not deserve your suffering. You deserved peace. You deserved to see how fruitful your lives were. Pawpaw, you deserved to be dignified in your death. There was no need for you to lose your sense of self, your sense of place. Someone tell me that there is a plan at work here. Someone. Because my faith in the function of the universe is severely taxed. Today. Yesterday. Always. Where is the justice, the sense, in the fact of suffering and death? Please please tell me that Shawna died instantly, that there was no pain, that people who saw her die could comfort her in her last moments, that Amanda had some peace in knowing that she was taking charge of her suffering, that Alison did the same, that my beloved father passed peacefully into his death without knowing the horror his body was subjected to.
Is the Angel of Death merciful, at least to the dead? Please let it be so.

Namaste.

k.i.a.

2004-09-07T18:17:00.000-05:00

From the AP: Two Illinois National Guard soldiers were killed and 15 others were injured in a mortar attack on their Baghdad compound over the weekend, a military spokesman said Tuesday.
The Department of Defense did not immediately release the victims' names, but family members identified the dead as Sgt. Shawna Morrison of Paris and Spc. Charles Lamb of Martinsville.

Shawna and I were not exactly buddies, but I worked with her at Radio Maria. We drank together and gossiped together and agonized over our love lives together. When she found out her unit had been activated, she was terrified that she would be killed. I wish I had a picture to post because, though she did not think so, I thought she was beautiful.

On behalf of her and the 999 other Americans who've died over there and the countless dead of other nations including Iraq, I give two big fuck you's to the Cheney/Bush White House.

Into the wayback machine

2004-09-01T16:17:00.000-05:00

Lately, well, I'm having the worst kind of nostalgia for my youth. Here are a couple of things that have been taking up space in my brain of late:

Why? It's not like my childhood was blissful and troublefree. Of course, it wasn't a ride through the Tunnel of Terror either. It was your average childhood filled with moving and new schools and younger siblings and angst. What is making me so damned reminiscent already?

Everyone's a critic

2004-08-30T17:41:00.000-05:00

Is this really necessary? I don't really need commentary on my restroom habits. And I certainly don't want to know what went on before my arrival. I think the Dutch have too much time on their hands.......

Just checking in

2004-08-30T12:56:00.000-05:00

I don't have much to say today. The RNC in NYC has begun. My friend Dr. PrettyFlower is here seeking refuge in the Land of Corn and Beans as means of excape from the Conventioneers in his Metropolitan home. I don't blame him. The prospect of a gang of Republicans on my home turf would send me running for cover too. But you can be damned sure I'm going to watch it on CSPAN. Gotta keep tabs on the enemy, right?
I'm having a spate of health problems. The aformentioned depression is part of it. But there's also been a series of mysterious (and somewhat embarrassing) other things. The final straw has been this cold/flu that's come out of nowhere. I woke up three days ago feeling ok only to end the night feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. Despite numerous social plans for the weekend, I spent it lying on the couch in and out of fever-sleep unable to ingest much of anything. Made the mistake of thinking I was better about mid-day yesterday and tried to check in with the Drink-A-Lympics at the Brass Rail only to have to leave almost immediately as I was consumed with chills and sweats. pretty.
Today (Monday) I'm feeling better after a good 16 hours of drug-induced sleep. But cold medicine on top of anti-depressants never did anybody any good, you know? I'm over it. I rebuke you, demonic virus.

A note: those of you who comment, please give me a name somewhere. I get these emails that say "Anonymous" and, well, I'm not always so quick on the trigger. It takes me a day or so to figure out who you are.

This just cracks me up.

2004-08-16T15:03:00.000-05:00

http://www.stfu.se/

Thanks to Jumbo for this. I didn't even see the second part because I thought the hand gestures were so cool. What's she singing anyway, Madonna?

addiction or just guilty pleasure?

2004-08-11T10:13:00.000-05:00

Help. I think I'm hooked on Charmed. Dammit. I can't even make the argument that it's got some other, deeper meaning like, say, Buffy. No, Charmed is just another slightly-better-than-crappy escapist drama. They even recycle plots from things like Ladyhawke, and the Harry Potter books. yeesh.

snuggles

2004-08-11T10:09:00.000-05:00

There are so many things about this that disturb me. A bunch of adults rolling around on the floor in their PJs? Why say no to kissing? And if these parties are relegated to the mentally and emotionally sound only, well, I guess there will be about three people in attendance.

another year older

2004-08-05T13:31:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my birthday. It was one of the lovliest ever and I thank everyone who shared it with me.
I like to think that every experience comes along to show us something, to bring us to become that people that we are. The last couple of years have been kind of rough, but I've learned that I'm a tough chick. I've also learned that there are miraculous things that happen in the world, that nothing brings me to breathlessness faster than the majesty of the ocean or seeing my little sister with her children. I hope this year and the many to come bring much much more.

good times

2004-08-01T12:48:00.000-05:00

My favorite weekend of the year approaches.
Yes, it's Decatur Celebration.
Be sure to catch the Razzle Dazzle Goodtime Parade, either in person or on WAND-TV. There's nothing like watching a bunch of factory workers trying to wrangle gigantic Macy's-parade style balloons through the cramped streets of dowtown Decatur. And then there's the Shriner's giant bicycle. It's, well, a razzle dazzle good time.
If that's not enough to entice you, note the great entertainment. Yes, Gin Blossoms. Yes, Los Straightjackets[sic]. Yes, Presidents of the United States of America. But the one I will be sure to catch is The Black Diamond. An "unreal Neil experience" indeed. Bring your lawn chair and come early, because this guy packs em in.

and another question

2004-07-30T22:41:00.000-05:00

If we aren't supposed to listen to the bad things that people say about us, then how can we take the good things people say about us seriously?

Questions

2004-07-29T21:18:00.000-05:00

How do we know when we're grown up?
What does it mean anyway, being "grown up"?
Why is it that we're told to give people the benefit of the doubt, assume that we all change as we get older, when all empirical evidence points to the fact that nobody (myself included) progresses beyond their pre-teen selves?
Why don't girls learn mechanical skills?
Why isn't this the year to talk about election reform?
Why can't we all just get along?

Partay!

2004-07-27T23:47:00.000-05:00

Ok, I've started doing a little reading and I'm beginning to like John Kerry; I'm beginning to understand his platform a little more and I might even feel okay about voting for him.
But what's with this convention? Did anybody else notice how weird Jimmy Carter seemed during his speech last night? I mean, he was oddly giddy. Maybe it was just the look on his face, but I swear he was methed up or something. and nobody has anything to say about it. He ripped GW too, and I thought that was out of bounds, according to the Kerry camp. It was great to see, but, still, that weird grin and weird manic look. I'm worried about our peanut man.
Are you with me?

I love plants that smell like rotting meat!

2004-07-26T15:22:00.000-05:00

Check THIS out!
Kids, these plants are rare rare rare, and UW has three. The last one that bloomed? Man, you could smell the foulness far and wide across the campus. Boogie down.
The Botany department at UW-Mad rules. Shout out and mad props to professor Tim Allen who taught one of the two of the best classes I ever took. Hey, I'm not even IN botany. That's how cool this guy is.

friendship?

2004-07-25T14:22:00.000-05:00

Dear Miranda, Carrie, Charlotte, and Samantha,
I'm writing to you ladies because you are my model for adult female friendships, and I'm having some trouble with mine. I have a very good friend with whom I share a long history. In the past, we've had tough times and even a long period of years with no communication. The last couple of years we've rebuilt a friendship based a little on some shared trauma. Sometimes I feel like it's tenuous at best, especially lately.
See, until recently, we socialized often. Not daily, but you know, dinners here and there, movies, shopping trips, weekenders, just hanging out, and definitely coffee once a week. Then in the early spring she met this guy. Now, he's a great great guy. I really like him and fully expect that they will be engaged within a year and probably married within two. I couldn't be happier for her.
BUt ever since they got together, she never calls. Yes, we go to the pool together when we can, but she swims whether I go or not, and that has nothing to do with us spending time together and everything to do with her being at the pool. Recently, we went out of town, the three of us, to a holiday party at her brother's home, and she abandoned me to a houseful of strangers to sit with her beau on the porch. I feel like I've been thrown to the side because she has no use for me. I tried once to discuss this with her, but she truly thought I was attacking her relationship and insulting her beau, which I was not doing in any way.
Am I jealous? Certainly, but not in a mean or hurtful way. I simply would like to spend a little time with my friend once in a while and not feel like a tagalong. I wonder if truly she never thinks of doing something with me now, something like going to a movie or making dinner or watching our favorite cable tv show together for the commentary instead of her expecting me to tape it for her or just chatting for an evening whether or not said beau has plans for them or not.
Is this the plight of single girlfriends everywhere, to enjoy the feel of the broom on our asses as we are swept aside and replaced by lovers? To understand finally that we have been nothing but boyfriend substitutes all along? To see that our friendship means nothing in the face of love?
Please help me accept my place in this kind of world.
signed,
The Tagalong

settling

2004-07-25T14:17:00.000-05:00

So, there's this guy. He's intelligent and older and not painful to look at. He has some great ideas, about his future and mine. He says he cares about me, my friends, my family, even perfect strangers. He has a good job. He comes from money, but he's also made his own. And he's raised goo kids. He's got a good education. The problem is, well, he's not very charismatic. And I don't like a lot of his friends. And even though he says he's better, he's not so different from my current guy. I mean, I definitely don't like the current guy. I definitely want to break up. I'm just not so sure this new guy is better for me. Maybe you can help me decide. Here's some more info about him. What do you think?

The Importance of Being a Senator

2004-07-15T10:48:00.000-05:00

So neither Kerry nor Edwards thought it was important enough to return to D.C. to weigh in on the Federal Marriage Amendment. It's not even as though they were far away. I think Kerry was in Boston, for christsakes. Yeah, so it wasn't a final vote. They are running against a guy who spent more time on vacation than on the job. Wouldn't you think they'd want to at least SHOW UP for these votes? Also, speaking as someone with a Rep who regularly misleads his consituents about how he will vote, I want to see action, not read a statement. C'mon guys. You want my vote? You better put your damn money where your pretty mouths are. and soon.

something a little less serious

2004-07-14T15:25:00.000-05:00

I'm having a spate of depression. So I bought some DVDs. I never watched this when it was on television, but a friend introduced me over the 4th of July holiday. I'm so addicted. Props to the entire staff and cast. This show was written, casted, and acted so well. The soundtracks for each episode are amazing. The commentary is even fabulous. I want desperatly to meet Jason Segal and Seth Rogan. Where's a good Tiger Beat pullout when you need one?
I can't say enough, rent it, buy it, but watch it!

Also on tap, the upcoming TNT movie, Evel Knievel. sigh. I forgot how much I loved him. Almost as much as I loved him. Sometimes the nostalgia movement is wonderful.

Plying Hate on the Hill

2004-07-14T15:00:00.000-05:00

So the Senate voted on S.J. Res 40 aka the Federal Marriage Amendment. Yeah, it got shot down, but not by nearly a big enough vote. 50-48, almost exactly down party lines, despite all the talk of how Republicans feel like this is going to bite them in the ass. Way to stand up, kids. It bugs me that governmental time and money is being wasted on this. It also bugs me that it will still go to the House. Why? Does anybody really, deep down in their soul, think that this kind of bullshit discrimination needs to be added to our Constitution? It will only be repealed later, probably too much later of course, but still. Clearly we've learned nothing from history. You can't disenfranchise a group of people. You simply can't. Eventually the public won't stand for it. So our Congress is wasting time debating ridiculous extremist ideology. In the meantime, real issues are being lost.
Speaking of real issues, the two missing votes? Kerry and Edwards. Yeah, they're out looking for a promotion. hmmm.....every job I've ever had had some specific rules about using work time to look for a better job. I mean, at the very least, you'd think a vote on this particular bill might be important. It would show that they're still paying attention. It might also show that, hey, they aren't just paying campaign-lip-service to issues. As a friend just said, if you want to prove you are committed to changing America for the good, you should practice what you preach by doing it in the current
job. how can they say he's destroying the country and then not make the
effort to get a plane ticket to go back and stop him? I don't know, Democrats. I'm still not impressed.

hmmmm.......

2004-07-12T13:54:00.000-05:00

anybody else think this sounds suspicious?

Will the playground bullies understand?

2004-07-01T23:09:00.000-05:00

Jason Lee named his child Pilot Inspektor Lee, making the kid's initials, wait for it, P.I.L.
I wonder if he knows about this.
Litigation in the poor kid's future perhaps?

Seriously, what is it with celebrities and their baby names? I mean, I remember the days of the Zappa kids and then the Geldof girls (Fifi Trixibelle is one. The other is Strawberry or something like that). Really, Apple Paltrow Martin isn't so bad if you think about it. You could be Jermaine Jackson's kid, Jermajesty.

Fahrenheit 9/11

2004-07-01T10:53:00.000-05:00

Ok, I saw the movie last weekend. It's just taken me a little while to post. As I was saying to my brother-in-law, The Marine, whether you agree with Michael Moore's politics or not, it's really important to see this movie.
Yes, it's biased. All documentaries are, so don't kid yourself. Documentarians make documentaries because they have a point of view to explore. They are not supposed to be unbiased, unlike, say, the news.
There are things in this movie I did not know about, things that surprised me. These are things that should have been BLARING headlines, things like the fact that U.S Representatives formally objected to the certification of the 2000 election by Congress, and could not block it because not one U.S. Senator would sign their objection. Not one. Not the current presumptive Democratic nominee for President. Not even my hero, Russ Feingold. Moore also, finally, provides the answer to my previous query about the Saudis, and it's not a comforting answer.
If you think MM is a tired whiny liberal blowhard clown, you still should see this movie. Don't want to give him the money? Fine, download it while you can. But see it. One of the things I learned long ago in a class about writing research papers is that you should know what your opposition thinks and what their arguments are. If nothing else, folks who think Bush is a fine choice in the November election should take a look.
The most troubling thing for me about this movie is the obvious apathy of the Democratic Party. They don't exactly come off looing like a better choice. Of course, I've felt this way ever since the premature end of the Democractic primaries. Despite my fear of another four years of Bushy, I don't think that four years of His Majesty JFK the Lessor is going to be any better.
Anybody out there want to convince me?

indecency

2004-07-01T09:59:00.000-05:00

"There is no government definition of indecency. Federal law bars radio stations and over-the-air television channels from airing references to sexual and excretory functions between 6 a.m. and 10 p.m., when children may be tuning in. When a complaint is made, the FCC determines whether the incident was indecent."

There is a very real possibility that CBS will be fined upwards of $550,000 for Janet Jackson's Super Bowl Breast Escapade. So just the FLASH of her boob is deemed to be an indecent amount of sexual content, while the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show on the same network, which I think was billed as the "sexiest show on television" or something like that, was totally ignored by the FCC. hmmm.......

While we're talking about sexual content, let's read the lyrics of a song Janet sang earlier in the Super Bowl program. Little bit of sexual content? I'm thinking yes. But nobody's talking much about the indecency of that, are they? Or the fact that her boobie popped out while she and young JT were simulating a sexual assault? Nope. Nobody cares about that either. It would have been perfectly fine to subject kids to that. It's the ACTUAL NAKEDNESS that we find objectionable. nice message, American prudes.

Who is really supporting Al-Qaeda?

2004-06-18T16:20:00.000-05:00

The news is disturbing me today. Since the attack of 11 September 2001, I've wondered mightily why we continue to apply a hands off policy with regards to Saudi Arabia. The 9/11 commission has busted out the Bush/Cheney fallacy that Saddam and Osama were buddies. and B/C are backpedaling, but not too much (surprise). I mean, the majority of the highjackers were Saudis. Osama bin Laden is, yeah, Saudi. It seemed kind of obvious even then who the enemy should be. Now there are Americans who are in Saudi Arabia completely legally, under invitation of the Saudi government, being kidnapped, held hostage, and killed. (There are even more graphic pictures to accompany the story, which I will not link here. Nobody needs to see that.) So why are we so hot after every Middle Eastern country except Saudi Arabia? Could it be because of…the money?

Bloomsday schmoomsday

2004-06-16T18:22:00.000-05:00

Local Irish bar has Joycean celebration and is mentioned in a national newspaper. cool.
I haven't read Ulysses but I promise to try.
I did enjoy Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man despite the copious footnoting.
I really really really hate footnotes.

More Facets to the Tangent Universe

2004-06-15T15:33:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty excited about this. I never got to see the film on the big screen, but I do own it, both VHS and DVD versions, thank you very much. Let me just say, it is Patrick Swayze's finest role. Alas, I fear I will have to road trip to catch it. Can't be showing it locally, can we?

New Vatican Drama!

2004-06-14T16:05:00.000-05:00

Oh, THIS is what's wrong with him. I'd say if you get hit by not one, but TWO meteors, you might want to reconsider your faith. I mean, when stuff from outer space falls on you, that's pretty much coming directly from G-d, right?

sunday blahs

2004-06-13T15:52:00.000-05:00

Is there anything worse than a summer cold? I think not. I'm tired of coughing like a terminal smoker. I quit smoking, dammit. Not even the occasional barsmoke anymore. Considering the amount of cough syrup I've swigged over the last 72 hours, I think I deserve more than 3 hours of sleep without a coughing fit. But no, this is not to be. If you are my elderly and hard-of-hearing neighbor lady, I apologize. I hope your hearing deficiency is sparing you from my hacking.

Dave Eggers thinks that college students should be required to perform mandatory acts of volunteerism in order to receive their diplomas. When I read this, I wavered mightily between automatic loathing of his privilege (to which I am inordinately prone, despite the fact that his parents died tragically) and actually siding with him.
Would it be a good thing if everyone who went to university came out with a respect for public service in addition to their finely honed academic skills? Sure. But when you make things like this mandatory, you have to build in exceptions. Why? Because there are people who actually need to work to get through school, as in full-time. Those people don't have a trust fund or an inheritance to draw from. Their free time, such as it is, is spent doing things like homework, studying, laundry, eating, and, heaven forbid, sleeping a couple hours a night. They might also be interested in a few extracurriculars, like the school lit magazine. They might be taking classes like painting or creative writing that require more than the requisite two hours a week for homework. If you add mandatory volunteerism on top of that, well, they might just have a mental breakdown before they finish their first semester (rather than later, say in the middle of their final semester, just before finals and graduation). Building in exceptions necessarily means that there will be a certain population of students who will use them spuriously, and these will not be the student for whom the exceptions were intended. No, they will be the very students of privilege, be they moneyed or simply the star athletes, who might benefit most from learning to give of themselves. Those who will end up being burdened by such policies will be, as usual, the put-upon middle class students, the ones who, unlike Mr. Eggers, are forced to find jobs immediately after school because the enormous student loans are coming due, the ones who also couldn't be choosy about the jobs that put them through school in the first place.

You know, this is all ironic because what I admire Eggers for is precisely his volunteer work and his ideas about the merging of visual culture, music, and literature. His actual writing? not so much.

I've been in a month-long battle about turning on the a/c in my apartment. If it's on, there's a constant level of white noise that makes my pre-tinnitus ears ring. If it's off, my apartment gets really sticky and my candy melts. sigh. summertime. makes me miss winter.

You can't have a funeral without fun.

2004-06-11T10:17:00.000-05:00

I'm officially tired of hearing people boo-hooing about Reagan. The man was fricking 93! How old should a person live, especially with a brain-debilitating disease? He wasn't all that compassionate to people suffering when he was in office, why should I pity him now? He lived off of my tax money and got the best medical care available in this country. That's better than almost all of the people who circumambulated his rotting corpse. I guess all it takes to have a national holiday in your honor is to brainwash the entire country for eight years with a soothing voice and a mouthful of pretty teeth.

Please, I want my regular news back, please.

2004-06-10T11:23:00.000-05:00

I am so tired of all of this Reagan love. You'd think Ronald Reagan started his very own personal American religion what with all the national days of mourning and all. I'm a little creeped out that his petrified body is traveling the country-"Reagan Death Tour 2004!" Where were all of these people glorifying old Ronnie during his reign of horror? What I remember about Reagan's years are death, greed, and lies.
Apparently, that's what he remembers too.
And then there's this.

good boy

2004-06-08T14:55:00.000-05:00

This morning I sat with my mom while she euthanized her oldest dog, Murphy.
We were a cat family when I was growing up. The dog came along after I had moved to San Francisco. He didn't meet me until he was almost a year old, but he knew me, I guess because family smells like family. Throughout his life, he never forgot one of us, no matter how far away we were or how little we visited. And when a couple of us brought new people into the family, he welcomed them as if he'd always known them too.
He lived a good long life, especially for a big dog. Chow/shepherd/lab mixes shouldn't live to be 14 without major medical problems, I guess. But Mr Murph was healthy until a month ago. When Mom took him in to get his teeth checked, they found cancer all over along with a rotten tooth. They warned us that it would be sooner rather than later, and it was. She insisted that she would not make him linger or suffer simply because we didn't want to let him go. We owed him that. And last week, when he started stumbling and slipping, and stopped eating, my mother knew it was time to send him on his way. She and I sat with him, and despite his lifelong fear of the vet, he went without a struggle. The vet shaved his leg to get to a vein, and while she was telling us what would happen, while she was injecting the blue liquid into his blood, he relaxed and relaxed and relaxed. and then it was over.
So this is what I've learned about life and death these past couple of years, it is a simple as breathing. You breathe in and you breathe out. and no matter what circumstances push you toward it, the end is nothing more than not taking that next breath in.

Summertime Rawks!

2004-06-05T15:23:00.000-05:00

aaaaawww yeeeeeaaaaah!

"You have the original Judas Priest and the original Sabbath. What more could you want?"

Sharon Osbourne

Best Harry Potter Ever!

2004-06-04T12:28:00.000-05:00

Yep, HP and the Prison of Azkaban is my favorite of the 5. Yep, I went to the midnight showing of the movie along with about 500 other people. Yep, kids dressed up. Yep, I was disappointed in the theater and its presentation. Champaign is too large a town to sport not one but two googleplex cinema menageries that basically have souped up sound systems and large screen TVs. When I go to a movie, any movie but especially a special effects extravaganza, I want to be consumed. Kinda hard to do that when the screen's only 10 feet across and I can hear people wandering the halls outside. especially for $8. Shame, Champaign. I wil drive to Hoopeston to experience the sound in it's full glory.

Having said that, damn what a movie. Thank you, Alfonso, for not clinging to the book like it's scripture. Thank you for finding the important parts of the story and highlighting them. Thank you for David Thewlis. Thank you for bringing sensuality to the table. Is it a perfect movie? No. Still don't have the creatures down, do we? They look a little Harryhausen for the 21st century. We really should be able to do a more convincing half one creature/half another by now, shouldn't we? Still, I'm loving it.
Bonus feature: Wish I was young enough that a crush on a 13-year-old boy was appropriate. There's more than one crushworthy specimen here.

Basically, what he said. Except, Ron's the one who says the dementors make him feel like he's never going to be cheerful again, not Harry.

slippery slope part II

2004-06-02T09:59:00.000-05:00

This is what I'm talking about.
and this.

The Handmaid's Tale. It's coming true, for me and for you.

father's day approaches

2004-06-02T01:37:00.000-05:00

I miss my dad.
I miss having a dad.
I dread knowing that for the rest of my life there will be a point
with everyone I meet and get to know when I will have to say my father died x months or years or however long ago.
I don’t want him to be dead.
I’m tired of him being dead.
I feel like he gave up on his life and on our family and on me. Like he couldn’t wait for me to get things figured out a little more.
Yes, he got to see me graduate and that makes me so proud. I heard him say, in his own voice, how proud he was of me and of my writing too. But I wanted more. I wanted him to see more of my life.
I wanted to see more of his.
I just wanted more of my dad.

a trip to Monster Island

2004-06-02T01:27:00.000-05:00

The original Godzilla is finally being re-issued in the U.S. You can be sure I'm going somewhere to see it properly on a big screen (and not just on a big screen tv in Urbana).
I recently caught Godzilla vs. Space Godzilla on cable.
Man, those Japanese sure do some good drugs.

Dracula or 5 July 1974

2004-06-01T23:38:00.000-05:00

This is a story I've tried to write a hundred different ways, dancing around the truth. But it can't be a story, per se, because it really happened. That's the problem with real life. It keeps intruding on all the ways you want to protect yourself from it.
So here's what really happened.
The day started out like every other day. I don't even remember what the morning routine was. I was 5. My birthday was coming up. My mom was going to have a baby soon. She was probably just starting to show. I don't remember even thinking about it then. I was more interested in the upcoming birthday. It was a month off and that seemed like forever, too long to wait for a birthday. I would be 6 and that meant First Grade and I would go to school all day. I don’t remember how I felt about that either. But this would’ve been a summer day, and I would've spent it at my babysitter's house. I loved her. Marilyn.
Marilyn was a good Baptist woman who didn’t believe girls should wear pants, the kind of Baptist woman who painted underwear on all the Barbies in the house. One of the reasons I loved Marilyn was because she could peel an apple in one long connected string, a feat I am still trying to perfect. She always took us kids along on her daily errands, no matter what they were. So, at some point in the day, she packed us up. I don’t remember now how many of us there were exactly—me, Dirk Christopher Hanson for sure, maybe Bruce Sattley, but maybe not. He was just a neighborhood kid and not one of her official charges. Maybe Bart and Lonnie Baldwin from across the street. She probably had her own kids in tow too. Anyway, she piled us into her bright blue Oldsmobile station wagon. I want to say it had a white top, but it very well could have had a blue top. I know it was that metallic royal blue that those big cars were in the 70s.
(One night when my mom picked me up, Marilyn sat with Mom and me in the blue Oldsmobile station wagon and tried to convert my mom to the Baptist way. And my mom, who was all of 26 or 27 at the time, asked Marilyn why, in all those pamphlets, the Baptist Jesus had short blond hair and blue eyes. And that was the end of that. It made me think a long time about why pictures of Jesus look a certain way, something I still do. But that’s neither here nor there.)
Anyway, that day, Marilyn piled us into the Oldsmobile station wagon and we went to K-Mart and I found myself wandering through the toys. I think now that her boys, Billy and Kerry, wanted some models to work on. The aisle was stacked floor to ceiling with these boxes that showed every kind of car you could ever want. They had Trans-Ams and Mustangs like my dad’s and Mach II’s like the kid who lived across the street from my grampa. Those cars sparkled and glittered under those K-Mart lights until I was hypnotized—MEZMERIZED—by them. They were bright chartreuse and light purple and hot pink and flaming red and I could just taste the colors. I imagined myself whizzing around in them, my little 5-year-old self, with the wind buzzing past my face. I had just had my first motorcycle ride complete with Captain America helmet, so I was sure that from then on, I would always hear the wind, feel it buzzing past my face.
Pretty soon, I was alone in the aisle with all those pictures of cars. And then, there it was, the funnycar section. At first I was nervous because I knew I was lost, separated from the group. But I got sucked into the pictures on the boxes. The funnycars were the best. They had Scooby Doo and Speed Buggy and, wow, the Justice League. There were Superman and Wonder Woman and The Flash and my all-time favorite, Batman, together in the back of a dune buggy. I remember that I wanted that one most of all and thought maybe I could get my mom to bring me back to K-Mart later so I could have that model. And then I saw it. The Munsters funnycar.
I didn’t like the Munsters. I had recently had a dreamtime run-in with Frankenstein and Dracula after seeing them on The Early Show with Ed Kelly. They were chasing me and were going to bring me into their Monster fold. And I knew, because Marilyn told me, that Monsters were Evil of the worst kind. They came from Hell where God and Jesus didn't go, and I did not want to be in Hell. And now, because I'd looked them in the eye in the picture on the box with the Munsters funnycar, Dracula and Frankenstein knew where to find me. They could find me and take with them, right to Hell.
I don't know how I managed to find the rest of the group. I'm sure they were just another aisle over. My tendency to wander in department stores continues to get me into trouble to this day. Friends and family alike will not shop with me because I meander off and they lose precious minutes trying to find me. I'm certain that day I was lectured within inches of my attention span. Maybe I even spent some time in The Corner upon our return. I don’t know. But I made it back to the Oldsmobile station wagon indeed, back to Marilyn’s house, and eventually back to my home with my mom and dad. But the unease at my encounter with the Munsters funnycar stayed with me into the night and I awoke in the dark, screaming.
I think my mom came and got me that night. I have a vision of her in a t-shirt, standing in the middle of the living room, listening to my screams. But that image could’ve come later, as I’ve tried to remember this night over the years. I could just as easily have never screamed at all, and instead wandered by myself down the hall into my parents' room in my sleep, because I was prone to that in my childhood. I had vivid childdreams that made me wander. I would start in my own room, but wake up in my parents' bed. This went on until I was 9 and woke up standing in my parents' doorway, witnessing That Scene. I simply turned around and went back to my own bed and never had a wandering dream again.
But this is not that story.
What I'm sure of is that on that night, Dracula, who looked like some cross between Grampa Munster and Bela Lugosi, was after me, was coming to my house, right into the 4 Rays Trailer Park and into my pink gingham bed and he was going to suck my blood and I couldn't do anything to stop him. When I woke up, I was lying on the floor in my parents' bedroom.
---------------------
I am lying on the floor in my parents' bedroom and everything from my dad’s dresser is on the floor all around me—all of the coins from his pockets, his tie tacks, his pens, his glasses, the Abraham Lincoln cologne my nana had given him. I think that one might've hit me in the head and that's what has made me sit up. But maybe not.
My mom is sitting up too. She is looking out the window, so I look too. There is a ball of fire in the sky. Then my dad starts to get up too, and I look over at him and see that the window on his side of the bed is broken. There is glass all over where his head has just been. I wonder why he isn't cut up, why his eyes aren't poked out, because everybody knows that broken glass cuts you. That's why I am not allowed to handle the NFL glasses. "They are too thin and they break in your hands.” That's what my mom says. all the time. So there is broken glass all around my dad and I am worried that he is hurt or dead. but he isn’t. not this day anyway.
He needs his glasses to see and so does my mom so they reach to his dresser to find their glasses, and that’s when he and my mom realize I am on the floor and that all of Dad’s dresser stuff has fallen on me. One of them picks me up and carries me down the hall through the trailer, I'm not sure who. I think this is the part where we have decided to get dressed, and we are going to my room to get some clothes. Maybe by then the firemen are on the bullhorns telling us all to get the hell out, I don’t know. Everything moves very fast and there is no sound really.
I am being carried down the hall and it's dark and I think my dad has a flashlight. But it is like a tunnel, too dark. I don't like tunnels. I see the overhead light fixtures dangling out of their sockets, like snakes with giant milkglass heads. I am terrified of snakes and I would scream but I can tell that my mom and dad are scared too. This trumps my scared, so I am silent.
I finally realize that the lights will not be coming on because we get to our kitchen and the refrigerator door is hanging open but there's no light. Everybody knows that the light always comes on when the refrigerator door is open. unless the power's out. The power goes out when we have tornadoes usually. But this hasn't been a tornado, at least I don't think so. I've never seen a ball of fire during a tornado in all of my 5 years. But I know the power's out.
All of the glass shelves in the refrigerator are broken and the contents have spilled out into the kitchen. Everything from our cabinets has fallen onto the floor, including the remaining NFL glasses. I see nothing but broken treacherous glass. Whoever is holding me will not put me down because I have no shoes on and will most certainly be cut. But I want my cats. I will get them myself if they will just put me down. I can hear myself asking for them and either my mom or my dad telling me that they will have to be ok on their own because we need to get dressed and leave. The light-fixture snakes are scaring me and I want out of the kitchen fast.
We pass through the living room on the way to my bedroom that is at the opposite end of the trailer. It smells like the fishtank. I see that there is more glass in the carpet. Not only have the windows blown out in here, the fishtank has exploded. Our fish are sprayed across the room, already dead and rotting, their bodies sparkling with the broken glass in the light that begins to filter in from outside. I must be crying by now. I never did like the fish much, and never will like fish much the rest of my life, but these were once alive and sort of part of my family. And they are the first thing that I am certain has really died during whatever has happened in the night. If they can be dead, then other things can be dead too. Like my friend Danelle who lives next door. Or Mr. Smalley who took me on the motorcycle ride. Or my cats. Or even my grandparents who live across town. We don’t know yet that this is something confined to the grain refinery across the street and therefore our trailer park and the surrounding neighborhoods.
In my bedroom, I grab my favorite navy blue dress with yellow flowers and some shoes and some underwear. I am very upset that my underwear is showing, but we can't find the red bloomer pants that go with the dress and my dad is worried about gas leaking and says we have to go. “NOW!” I look back to see if I can see the gas leaking and instead see that the shelf that hangs over my bed and holds my already giant collection of books and my smiley face penny bank has fallen onto my bed. It covers the entire area where my body had been. And then I am whisked out of the house, crying for my cats.
We are evacuated (which is a word that sounds a lot like vacation and for many years I think they are the same thing) and spend that day and maybe the next at my grandparents' house across town. We try many times to get back into the trailer park, but the National Guard is there, blocking all entries because no one knows if it is safe to return yet. The air is contaminated and there are power lines down and, of course, broken glass everywhere. A couple of chemical tanker cars have bumped into each other at the ADM railyard across the street and been ignited by a cigarette that wasn't stubbed out. This is the ball of fire that my mother and I saw in the sky. The preceding blast blew out our windows and are probably the reason I can remember no sound that morning. People talk about things falling off of shelves and about their bathwater rippling as far as 30 miles away. We were right across the street.

Many years passed before I realized that I am lucky to be alive. The shelf that fell on my bed would have easily killed the 5-year-old me, or at least damaged me enough that I wouldn't be the person I am now. But Dracula saved my life that night. There have been several times over the years that I've wondered about my purpose in life, why I was spared. There have been times when I've wished that I could be unaware of myself and of my intelligence so I could stop wondering about my purpose in life and why I was spared. Because, 30 years later, I'm still waiting for the answer.

up and down the slippery slope

2004-06-01T14:26:00.000-05:00

so it begins.
Yep, late term abortions are fairly gruesome when you read the details.
You know what? Having to decide that you need one is pretty gruesome too. I mean, I've never been there, but I know a couple of ladies who have been. It's agonizing. It's not something done frivolously. It's not something doctors tend to encourage unless it's absolutely necessary. Usually, it has to do with the repercussions for the woman, as in whether or not she's going to live through the birthing process. So, I'm guessing having to contend with the legality is just one more harrowing detail in an already arduous process. Seems a little bit unnecessary to me.

Lots of people have lots of opinions about abortion, and that's lovely. That's America living up to the ideals upon which it was founded. But banning medical procedures because a percentage of the country has religious objections? Not so much. There are too many ways that women can find themselves pregnant by unwanted means. There are too many ways that pregnancies can go bad and endanger the pregnant woman. In the end, the real live woman is who's important. We can't forget that. If we do, we run the risk of creating a world where women are nothing more than incubators, where everyone who can be pregnant should be pregnant, where we are nothing but breeders. You don't think so? Here is a little piece of sci-fi that might change your mind. It's fiction now, but it doesn't take too much imagination to see how it could become reality.

I am merely the vessel

2004-05-28T14:50:00.000-05:00

thought for today

meditate and discuss

work ethic

2004-05-25T16:09:00.000-05:00

Ok, I have three jobs. Really. Three.
One of them pays me well, but it's dead boring. and it's freelance and that means I'm on my own as far as discipline goes. The problem is, it leaches over into my other jobs. If it's sucking my energy and my soul, my two other jobs suffer.
Baby, this month it's all sucking.
I took a day trip to Chicago and I forgot about the other two jobs. Really, just plain forgot.
One of them requires my actual presence in an actual place. I wasn't there. This makes me feel crap crap crappy. Other people have to pick up my slack. That means they will not like me for the cute and cool girl that I pretend to be. No they will think of me as a slacker asshole (which is what I am this week). So to them I say, I'm so sorry guys. Really. It was a stupid lapse of the internal calendar. I'm on it now. Hope your day wasn't too long for it.
The third job is writing. I love writing. Love it. I just forgot about the assignment. It's done now. yay. But it's not my usual quality and I know it. ugh.

Dilemma: I could continue to do the freelance stuff. There's a chance it won't always be this brain-sapping gargbage. But there's a real good chance it will be more of the same. Despite the money, I think I just can't keep doing and still like myself. So, it's off to the job hunt.....

I now pronounce you married.

2004-05-25T15:04:00.000-05:00

Someone please tell me what the big fucking deal is about same sex marriage.

#1) if you think it undermines straight marriage in some way, please give me some specific examples, not from the Bible. And for the record, how does allowing people who already love each other, who are committed to each other despite the ramapant homophobia in our society, bring down marriage more than, say, divorce?

#2) if it's a religious thing, would it be ok if civil unions or domestic partnerships came with all ALL of the legal rights that marriage gets, but we don't call it marriage and it doesn't happen in the church? Also, if you're arguing against it on religious grounds, don't you think that maybe the law should keep the hell out of it?

#3) why why WHY are we so offended by people loving each other? do we have any business prohibiting two people the right to care for each other, to make a life together and all that entails, to speak for each other in crisis, to stand up in public and say "this is my LOVE you assholes!" I mean, gosh, is THAT so horrible?

I just don't understand all the hooplah. We've got soliders shoving lightbulbs up some poor Iraqi's ass and kids going to school in virtual warehouses. Can we, maybe, focus on some real problems here?

obsessed

2004-05-22T15:41:00.000-05:00

I don't know what to make of this
but I can't stop playing.

Real Men of Genius

2004-05-19T13:52:00.000-05:00

Ok, I admit it. I love these Bud Light commercials. sigh. We Salute you Wing Man. that's some fucking brilliant advertising. and it doesn't cost a latte.

ed note: 5/27 I just discovered that there's a CD available. It doesn't have the Wing Man song on it. But, damn, for $4.99 it's really difficult to pass up......

Rob Thomas is the real American Idol

2004-05-19T11:11:00.000-05:00

I think I'm getting old.
I remember going to the wedding of a couple of my high school friends back in the late 80s or early 90s. While we were in high school, both he and she had spectacular musical taste. Thanks to the both of them—and a few other people—I listened to a great deal of what became known as "alternative" music, and I was saved from the horror that was 80s radioplay music. So I expected some coolass tunes at their wedding reception.
I was sorely disappointed.
Some awful thing had happened to them during their college years, and their musical taste went in the toilet. I can't remember what exactly sent me over the edge at that reception, but I do remember that I was relieved when they played Bust A Move.
relieved.
I'm thinking of this as I sit here listening to Mix 94.5 (I will have to explain why I am listening to The Mix for those of you not in the know at another time because, as always, there's work to be done and this is merely a diversion. Let's just say I'm doing homework, okay?) thinking to myself, "why, this Matchbox 20 song is pretty damn good."
Matchbox 20. sigh.
These guys are growing on me too.
someone please smack me out of this.

Songs that say "I'm sorry"

2004-05-13T10:14:00.000-05:00

The Reason (Hoobastank)
here are the lyrics.
To sum up:
I was an asshole to you but what I learned from that made me a better person
so thank you and please don't hate me.
Fuck you, Jack.

And then there's Shaggy's version of Angel of the Morning.
"She stuck with me through my incarcerations so I want to show her my appreciation"
Well damn, Shaggy, isn't that the sweetest thing?

Since when did women become so goddamned easy? Are these songs supposed to make some woman feel better? Does it make the men who wrote them feel better?
All I hear is "I said I'm sorry, bitch. What's your problem?"