My brain was stuck in a feedback loop of thinking about this, and it was stopping me sleeping. And thinking. And everything. It's too early in the morning for this, but I need to be able to get on with my day.
Obama says public tired of hearing about his former pastor
Big surprise, huh?
So Obama is taking heat for his pastor, when McCain can blithely take endorsements from Hagee?
Some people are saying the difference is that Obama was actually a member of the congregation, had known Wright for twenty years, so this man really must have had influence on him. But frankly, I have family members, whom I love and care about, and whom I have known for well over twenty years, whose political influence on me is absolutely nil. This is because I like to think I'm fairly free-thinking, and when it becomes evident to me that someone I know has a very different political position from one I have, I don't put all of my own convictions aside and let theirs write them over. A matriarch is not going to make me "not trust Arabs" just because she doesn't (I am, btw, Syrian in significant portion--from the other side of the family). An aunt is not going to make me anti-union (I am, in fact, the official union groupie for my particular favorite). An older cousin sending me anti-Obama propaganda has clearly not diminished my support for him (I spammed back the list with correct information which I assume was ignored, but at least the effort was made).
Is someone really going to tell me that, even though I'm openly and actively opposed to the things these older people in a position to be respected are in support of, that I'm secretly anti-Arab (me), anti-Union (Chris), and anti-Obama (whom I voted for and will again)?
Seriously?
I feel, somehow, that this is not a compelling argument.
So what IS different about Wright and Farrakhan, and Hagee?
Apart from the really obvious one?
Why are they dangerous radicals whose support needs to be cast off, when Hagee is a good man whose support is an honor? (Here's a fun article, by the way, chock full of actual Hagee quotes, about how gay sin caused hurricane Katrina, how Muslims are mandated to kill Christians and Jews, and how we have to seek war with Iran to cause more deaths to bring about the Rapture. I am not over-simplifying.)
I really do think most of it comes down to the image, the familiarity or lack thereof. If your audience is primarily white and Christian (which is going to be the case in a country approximately 73.9% white and 76.5% Christian--those are the real demographic numbers, honest), it's more likely that more of them will not feel as much kinship with a black man in a dashiki as with a white man in a suit; the image is more likely to be alarming, because of associations people have built up with "radical" minority groups. The churches the bulk of the audience went to will more likely have been helmed by someone like Hagee or Robertson than by Wright (and let me clarify--I don't mean that the majority of white, Christian churches are headed by people with positions like Hagee, just more than are headed by people with positions like Wright's). The image there is more familiar. Someone that reminds you of family--whether or not it's family you agree with--is generally given more leeway than someone who does not.
And frankly, I'm not surprised that they're up in arms about something that addresses their own demographic in the negative, instead of the demographic of someone else. It's a lot easier to ignore digs at Muslims and lesbians than digs at straight, white, Christian men, isn't it?
But other than that?
The most generous reason I can think of is that people commenting can construe what's happening in Wright and Farrakhan's positions as specifically racist (as opposed to some other kind of prejudice)--which makes them look like open game. Hagee may be openly bigoted, and waging his verbal assaults on minorities and others that America's in a position to do grave damage to, to the point of actually advocating violence and oppressive legislation, but since that's not directly on a black/white divide, it's left alone. The media's not allowed to comment on these merely "controversial" positions that might be held by your average American, like anything having to do with gay rights, abortion, Islam, or war. The media's allowed to (encouraged to) practice absolute moral relativism in relation to these things ("Gays: trying to raise families, or indoctrinating children? Both positions commonly held today: who's to say who's right? (We report, you decide!)"). But they are allowed to weigh in on something as closed-book as black-vs-white. Not as many people at the moment are open proponents of racial tension (they just have their Opinions, right?) so anyone commenting about race in an unfamiliar way is fair game for attack from something you can pretend is a moral high ground.
Ah, but... Giuliani didn't have to denounce Pat Buchanan. Who made this statement. I'll save you some time: the best bit is where he says African-Americans should be grateful that their ancestors were kidnapped and enslaved, because it gave them the chance to be Christianized and brought up in this great nation.
...Hm.
So maybe Wright's statements are controversial and upsetting. I'll grant that. But I really think there is something qualitatively different (and less deplorable) about the things he's said and the things Hagee says--namely, the spirit and direction of the anger. Wright's anger is directed towards a real history of oppression that has been experienced--maybe it's not helpful, maybe it's divisive, but there is at least a legitimate context--and Hagee's is directed at the repeal of the historical oppressions of others that he'd rather perpetuate.
If you're going to go ballistic about something, I'd much rather it be about Tuskegee than about a gay parade. I really believe that's a better place to come from.
But maybe I'm just betraying my bias, here.
The black men I know and have known still get harassed regularly by the cops, and I don't. People who are far more law-abiding and hard working than I am--ones who work more than part time, who've never smoked pot and don't drink (like I do)--get stopped on the street. If they've got the money to drive a decent car to work, they've been accused of having stolen it (DWB), and if they walk home, they're accused of skulking and suspicious behavior (...Walking.. While Black??). This is today. Not thirty years ago--now. It's still systemic, and not just in the deep south--this is liberal, diverse, southern California we're talking about, here.
Their parents, aunts, grandparents went to schools that were still segregated de jure, and much less often had gotten the chance to go to college afterwards, so that's the background they've had for support for school--that's going to get better every year, I know, every generation, but it's still there. My family was full of college graduates--thriving in the school system is just going to take less work with that background, because it's not having to build much farther than your parents had the opportunity to go. Even Chris went to a school that was segregated in everything but name--with almost all black students forced into remedial classes, which were literally held in a different building on the campus. And most school districts today are still de facto segregated, with the poorer schools in minority areas receiving less funding, and so not performing as well, which further decreases their funding, which makes any improvement that much more difficult, and so in, in a feedback loop. With the same credit and income, a person of color will regularly get a loan with worse terms and higher payments than a white person, so foreclosures are hitting them harder, further forcing that feedback loop.
Context.
What is happening to white, Evangelical Christians of means "at the hands of" LGBT and Muslims? Secularization of schools they're not sending their children to (as mandated by the constitution)? Having to see people they don't know treated with some modicum of respect?
I'm sorry, Hagee, I just don't buy it.
(Oh, but, btw, Rev. Wright: I was raised on rock and motown, in Los Angeles. I clap on 2 and 4, not 1 and 3.)
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
More kittens! And a question.
When you're really tired, do you ever decide to dress loudly, in an attempt to wake yourself up?
Do you sometimes then decide that that's a bad idea, because, if you're dressed particularly brightly, someone might mention it and you'll have to interact with another human being--something you're too tired for?
The kittens spent the night nesting in my hair. Or attacking one another from the narrow space between Chris and I. Or with Arthur deciding he should lie on my head and hold my nose in his paws.
It was very sweet.
I have not really slept.
In four weeks.
But I am, and I cannot stress this enough, very, very, VERY happy. (Just also cranky.)
Do you sometimes then decide that that's a bad idea, because, if you're dressed particularly brightly, someone might mention it and you'll have to interact with another human being--something you're too tired for?
The kittens spent the night nesting in my hair. Or attacking one another from the narrow space between Chris and I. Or with Arthur deciding he should lie on my head and hold my nose in his paws.
It was very sweet.
I have not really slept.
In four weeks.
But I am, and I cannot stress this enough, very, very, VERY happy. (Just also cranky.)
Kittens!!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9DwZVqOH20k
That, ladies and gentlemen, is video of my kittens, from a couple of days ago (Chris's guitar playing and my knees are included, free of charge). Please forgive my excessively gooey talk. (And "King of the Cuties" is a nickname Arthur's gotten because the box he's jumping on, there--that he always jumps on with so much authority--says "California Cuties" on it, and he is.)
And this one is from a few weeks ago, when they were littler, and had just figured out the stairs.
And now I just... become utterly useless and fawn.
My life is kittens. It's all one big ball of kittens.
(Check out Chris's blog for far better, more thorough, coverage.)
That, ladies and gentlemen, is video of my kittens, from a couple of days ago (Chris's guitar playing and my knees are included, free of charge). Please forgive my excessively gooey talk. (And "King of the Cuties" is a nickname Arthur's gotten because the box he's jumping on, there--that he always jumps on with so much authority--says "California Cuties" on it, and he is.)
And this one is from a few weeks ago, when they were littler, and had just figured out the stairs.
And now I just... become utterly useless and fawn.
My life is kittens. It's all one big ball of kittens.
(Check out Chris's blog for far better, more thorough, coverage.)
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Pardon whiplash; wrote the first part earlier, the rest just now.
(From earlier:)
I feel like I'm walking over graves.
I was just trying to clean out our database, and make sure everyone's grouped by country--which means having to find which country some of them are in. One of the people I was looking for turns out to be deceased, now.
When a few weeks ago I was researching potential donors? One of them had died, too, only a few weeks earlier.
It's strange. I don't know them, they're probably acquaintances of acquaintances at most, but there's something macabre about googling, expecting to find where they're living, and finding out that they aren't.
And then I have to email someone and tell them.
I'm not sure whether I'm disturbing things that ought not be, or whether I'm doing a good thing by them, by sharing their deaths.
(Also: just after I finished writing that, I came up with a third.)
(And now:)
...I really need to do a gratuitous kitten post. Something light.
Updates, though: Arthur had to go BACK to the vet, but I got to sit and cuddle him for at least the first chunk of it. And he's going to be fine, just a little antibiotic fun. :\ (Because, in addition to the rest, he really DID have a UTI.) The nurses were all in love with him, and apparently spoiled him appropriately while we were away, and all came to kiss or pet him good-bye when we left. :) My little pretend-fraidy-cat flirt. <3
Oh, but then, after that, we had an eviction scare, because apparently the person who used to own the complex (i.e. not the current owner at all) likes to harass the new owners, and sent out notices to all of the current tenants of every property the new owners work with about how our tenancy is being terminated, on just parts of the property--leaving us afraid that the notice for the actual apartment was coming, just late.
Isn't that nice?
It took us two days to get ahold of someone to clear it up. So we thought we had 30 days to find a new place. In this market.
But now we know. They're working on the restraining order. The kittens are healthy, happy, and insane. So everything's going to be fine. It's just been a little stressful. Kind of like the rest of the year.
But I planted basil? (The snails/slugs ate my sprouting lettuce, peas, cucumbers, and jasmine, though, so I get to start again.) I've got tomatoes to plant, and a red pepper plant. Everything else seems to be thriving. And I've hunted down most of the snails and sequestered them. We'll be taking a trip to the part to see if the ducks will finish completing the food chain, when we find a little time. (For now, they've got food and a nice dark place to hide, so they're okay.)
And the kittens are playing tag.
I feel like I'm walking over graves.
I was just trying to clean out our database, and make sure everyone's grouped by country--which means having to find which country some of them are in. One of the people I was looking for turns out to be deceased, now.
When a few weeks ago I was researching potential donors? One of them had died, too, only a few weeks earlier.
It's strange. I don't know them, they're probably acquaintances of acquaintances at most, but there's something macabre about googling, expecting to find where they're living, and finding out that they aren't.
And then I have to email someone and tell them.
I'm not sure whether I'm disturbing things that ought not be, or whether I'm doing a good thing by them, by sharing their deaths.
(Also: just after I finished writing that, I came up with a third.)
(And now:)
...I really need to do a gratuitous kitten post. Something light.
Updates, though: Arthur had to go BACK to the vet, but I got to sit and cuddle him for at least the first chunk of it. And he's going to be fine, just a little antibiotic fun. :\ (Because, in addition to the rest, he really DID have a UTI.) The nurses were all in love with him, and apparently spoiled him appropriately while we were away, and all came to kiss or pet him good-bye when we left. :) My little pretend-fraidy-cat flirt. <3
Oh, but then, after that, we had an eviction scare, because apparently the person who used to own the complex (i.e. not the current owner at all) likes to harass the new owners, and sent out notices to all of the current tenants of every property the new owners work with about how our tenancy is being terminated, on just parts of the property--leaving us afraid that the notice for the actual apartment was coming, just late.
Isn't that nice?
It took us two days to get ahold of someone to clear it up. So we thought we had 30 days to find a new place. In this market.
But now we know. They're working on the restraining order. The kittens are healthy, happy, and insane. So everything's going to be fine. It's just been a little stressful. Kind of like the rest of the year.
But I planted basil? (The snails/slugs ate my sprouting lettuce, peas, cucumbers, and jasmine, though, so I get to start again.) I've got tomatoes to plant, and a red pepper plant. Everything else seems to be thriving. And I've hunted down most of the snails and sequestered them. We'll be taking a trip to the part to see if the ducks will finish completing the food chain, when we find a little time. (For now, they've got food and a nice dark place to hide, so they're okay.)
And the kittens are playing tag.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Why?
Right now, Chris is taking Arthur to the vet on his way to school. It seems like he might have a urinary tract infection (he's been having lots of trouble with learning about the litter box, but now it seems like he's having deeper problems than that), but the vet is booked solid, and we can't just make an appointment--not today, not tomorrow, not Sunday--and they said we probably didn't want to wait 'til Monday if it's a urinary problem. So they told us to bring him in and just drop him off and leave him until they can squeeze him in and find out what's wrong.
We asked, will it be a few hours?
They didn't know.
Will it be overnight?
Didn't know. No idea. No guess.
So I'm now a complete fucking mess. I haven't been away from him for more than three and a half hours at a time (and that long only twice, when Chris was with them the entire time). They spend all day with me while Chris is at school, they sleep with us at night. He's never been alone. He's never more than twenty feet from us. And now he's going to be stuck--for an hour? Several? All day and all night?--in a cage at the vet's. And it's a really nice vet, really, the nicest I've ever been to, but it's a vet, so there are barking dogs, and there's no one to sleep on, and his brother's not there (he always sleeps on Alex, Chris, or I, or very very near us), and there's no one to play with, and it's scary and strange, and he's shy and easily frightened to begin with.
Alex is already crying and searching for him.
What if Arthur's completely upset? He cries if he gets stuck in the bathroom for a few minutes, what's a cage--without us, without attention--going to do to him? What if this is scarring? He's so, so young.. What if it's all day and all night and we can't rescue him until tomorrow? Will he trust us after this? Will he really remember us?
And what if it's a bad infection?
And then, what if it's not an infection? What's wrong?
And what if, rather than tomorrow, they call while Chris is at school today? Will I be able to get a cab over there? How much longer will he have to wait for Mama than necessary? What if they're done this evening, but it's after closing--will they call us to come get him, or just make him wait overnight?
He slept under the covers, curled up against me, last night. And purred, and purred.
Arthur is my baby. Alex is a little more Chris's, but Arthur's more a mama's boy.
Fuck.
This is a pretty useless entry, but I'm so upset I can't believe it. I'm sorry. Think good thoughts for my baby, okay? Hope this'll be really quick and easy. I'll update as soon as I know anything else. I feel so guilty and scared, right now. I hate it. I can't stand it.
We asked, will it be a few hours?
They didn't know.
Will it be overnight?
Didn't know. No idea. No guess.
So I'm now a complete fucking mess. I haven't been away from him for more than three and a half hours at a time (and that long only twice, when Chris was with them the entire time). They spend all day with me while Chris is at school, they sleep with us at night. He's never been alone. He's never more than twenty feet from us. And now he's going to be stuck--for an hour? Several? All day and all night?--in a cage at the vet's. And it's a really nice vet, really, the nicest I've ever been to, but it's a vet, so there are barking dogs, and there's no one to sleep on, and his brother's not there (he always sleeps on Alex, Chris, or I, or very very near us), and there's no one to play with, and it's scary and strange, and he's shy and easily frightened to begin with.
Alex is already crying and searching for him.
What if Arthur's completely upset? He cries if he gets stuck in the bathroom for a few minutes, what's a cage--without us, without attention--going to do to him? What if this is scarring? He's so, so young.. What if it's all day and all night and we can't rescue him until tomorrow? Will he trust us after this? Will he really remember us?
And what if it's a bad infection?
And then, what if it's not an infection? What's wrong?
And what if, rather than tomorrow, they call while Chris is at school today? Will I be able to get a cab over there? How much longer will he have to wait for Mama than necessary? What if they're done this evening, but it's after closing--will they call us to come get him, or just make him wait overnight?
He slept under the covers, curled up against me, last night. And purred, and purred.
Arthur is my baby. Alex is a little more Chris's, but Arthur's more a mama's boy.
Fuck.
This is a pretty useless entry, but I'm so upset I can't believe it. I'm sorry. Think good thoughts for my baby, okay? Hope this'll be really quick and easy. I'll update as soon as I know anything else. I feel so guilty and scared, right now. I hate it. I can't stand it.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Biblical defense of same-sex love.
Okay, I know I've done a comparative lot of this lately, but since I just basically wrote another essay in someone's journal comments, it's apparently another thing I'm worked up about. Well, truth be told, I've meant to write this up for a long time, but it came together cleaner than usual in this attempt, so I'm basically going to use it here, with some edits.
To preface this, I spent kind of a lot of time and energy in junior high and high school studying up and trying to reconcile being bisexual with being into the Bible. Eventually religion and I parted ways, anyway, but it wasn't about that, and I like to think it was a fairly amicable divorce ("Ooh, you know I was trying/ to give you the best of my-y love"). That said, I still think there's plenty of room to have faith and belief, as a GLBTQIA, if you want it.
Considering that, and alternately considering hostile parties willing to use the Bible against you regardless of whether or not you feel any affinity with it, I thought it would be useful to have the case for "alternative lifestyles" being acceptable even in the Christian Bible (especially if someone's not beholden to the "Living Bible" and its highly clunky translations).
So here goes nothing.
A case for acceptability of same-sex relationships and/or leanings with regards to the Christian Bible:
In older translations of the Bible, the only thing explicitly put on the no-no list about same-sex love is "[a man] shall not lie with mankind as with womankind" (right next to where it says not to sleep with menstruating women). The idea that the Bible says "homosexuality is a sin" there
(as purported by those handy "Living Bibles") is a modern invention, and I think oversimplifies what's actually going on there.
That passage is in the Old Testament in Leviticus, which is where all of the codes for clean, kosher living are--the rest of that book has been generally discarded by Christians as rules for the Jewish that they no longer had to follow (in part to help convert Pagans to Christianity, because adding all the extra work load to conversion was a bit of a turn-off). So even most devout Christians don't tend to avoid cutting their hair, or piercing their ears. They eat pork and have milk with meat and don't pay much heed to kosher preparation of food. And hardly anyone of any religion tries to stone people for working on Sundays, now, or considers it sinful to wear clothing that's made of a blend of fibers (cotton-poly blends, what?). And it's not even generally considered a killing offense to sleep with a woman who is on her period, these days. So choosing to retain only tiny pieces of that book seems strangely selective.
But even if someone wants to just keep that part, the only thing that's really expressly forbidden in that passage is male-male anal sex (that's the only literal, direct way I can interpret 'lying with a man as with a woman'). It doesn't address love between people of the same sex at all (and in fact there are love stories concerning male Christian martyrs and saints in pre-modern Europe), it doesn't address women together at all. It doesn't even necessarily address other forms of sex between men. So you could make an argument that even that passage allows for lesbians, bisexuals, and celibate or oral-only gay men.
And because it's in the book for living well and cleanly, I really think there's a good case to be made that the reasons for it being included at all were sanitary ones. At that point in time, with opportunities for hygiene and protection as limited as they were, mixing foods, slaughtering near other food supplies, having sex where blood was involved, and even anal sex could be dangerous for your health. It's more likely to spread disease or draw bacteria etc, if you haven't got ready access to good soap, latex, disinfectants. And so, if we've generally decided as a society that we can now do all the other things in Leviticus without it being a health hazard anymore, I don't see why even male-male sex shouldn't be on the pardoned list, too.
Another way to look at why that would be included has to do with the evolution of religions. How can a religion grow efficiently without all members actively engaged in reproduction (and, often, evangelism)? Or conquering and converting? And this, too, is no longer a problem; there is no longer a physical barrier from people of the same sex raising a child of their own blood, if they so choose.
Because there are milennia of fear and interpretation laid on all of this, mounds of cultural meaning, this all probably isn't going to cut through for most people. But I think it's a fair interpretation, and a fair way to deal with it. If someone was committed to the Book before the Church--or if they could be persuaded to consider what's written in what they consider an infallible book over what mortal men say about it--it might have some hope. Most people tend to be more committed to whatever their religious leader has said about what's in their holy book(s) than what's actually written there, though, so maybe I'm preaching to the choir.
...Haha, see, that was an humorous play on words.
End-note: this tends to be, in my head, just one section of the argument for allowing same-sex marriage, in the "that bible doesn't actually cover the 'sanctity of marriage' as one-man-one-woman" section of the treatise. I'll probably fail to contain myself and eventually post all the other parts. But we'll see if I can manage to at least not do it soon. I've got work to do, after all.
To preface this, I spent kind of a lot of time and energy in junior high and high school studying up and trying to reconcile being bisexual with being into the Bible. Eventually religion and I parted ways, anyway, but it wasn't about that, and I like to think it was a fairly amicable divorce ("Ooh, you know I was trying/ to give you the best of my-y love"). That said, I still think there's plenty of room to have faith and belief, as a GLBTQIA, if you want it.
Considering that, and alternately considering hostile parties willing to use the Bible against you regardless of whether or not you feel any affinity with it, I thought it would be useful to have the case for "alternative lifestyles" being acceptable even in the Christian Bible (especially if someone's not beholden to the "Living Bible" and its highly clunky translations).
So here goes nothing.
A case for acceptability of same-sex relationships and/or leanings with regards to the Christian Bible:
In older translations of the Bible, the only thing explicitly put on the no-no list about same-sex love is "[a man] shall not lie with mankind as with womankind" (right next to where it says not to sleep with menstruating women). The idea that the Bible says "homosexuality is a sin" there
(as purported by those handy "Living Bibles") is a modern invention, and I think oversimplifies what's actually going on there.
That passage is in the Old Testament in Leviticus, which is where all of the codes for clean, kosher living are--the rest of that book has been generally discarded by Christians as rules for the Jewish that they no longer had to follow (in part to help convert Pagans to Christianity, because adding all the extra work load to conversion was a bit of a turn-off). So even most devout Christians don't tend to avoid cutting their hair, or piercing their ears. They eat pork and have milk with meat and don't pay much heed to kosher preparation of food. And hardly anyone of any religion tries to stone people for working on Sundays, now, or considers it sinful to wear clothing that's made of a blend of fibers (cotton-poly blends, what?). And it's not even generally considered a killing offense to sleep with a woman who is on her period, these days. So choosing to retain only tiny pieces of that book seems strangely selective.
But even if someone wants to just keep that part, the only thing that's really expressly forbidden in that passage is male-male anal sex (that's the only literal, direct way I can interpret 'lying with a man as with a woman'). It doesn't address love between people of the same sex at all (and in fact there are love stories concerning male Christian martyrs and saints in pre-modern Europe), it doesn't address women together at all. It doesn't even necessarily address other forms of sex between men. So you could make an argument that even that passage allows for lesbians, bisexuals, and celibate or oral-only gay men.
And because it's in the book for living well and cleanly, I really think there's a good case to be made that the reasons for it being included at all were sanitary ones. At that point in time, with opportunities for hygiene and protection as limited as they were, mixing foods, slaughtering near other food supplies, having sex where blood was involved, and even anal sex could be dangerous for your health. It's more likely to spread disease or draw bacteria etc, if you haven't got ready access to good soap, latex, disinfectants. And so, if we've generally decided as a society that we can now do all the other things in Leviticus without it being a health hazard anymore, I don't see why even male-male sex shouldn't be on the pardoned list, too.
Another way to look at why that would be included has to do with the evolution of religions. How can a religion grow efficiently without all members actively engaged in reproduction (and, often, evangelism)? Or conquering and converting? And this, too, is no longer a problem; there is no longer a physical barrier from people of the same sex raising a child of their own blood, if they so choose.
Because there are milennia of fear and interpretation laid on all of this, mounds of cultural meaning, this all probably isn't going to cut through for most people. But I think it's a fair interpretation, and a fair way to deal with it. If someone was committed to the Book before the Church--or if they could be persuaded to consider what's written in what they consider an infallible book over what mortal men say about it--it might have some hope. Most people tend to be more committed to whatever their religious leader has said about what's in their holy book(s) than what's actually written there, though, so maybe I'm preaching to the choir.
...Haha, see, that was an humorous play on words.
End-note: this tends to be, in my head, just one section of the argument for allowing same-sex marriage, in the "that bible doesn't actually cover the 'sanctity of marriage' as one-man-one-woman" section of the treatise. I'll probably fail to contain myself and eventually post all the other parts. But we'll see if I can manage to at least not do it soon. I've got work to do, after all.
Monday, April 14, 2008
I'm no fun, anymore: Intelligent Design
(For more fun, please address Chris's journal for pictures, video, and general love about our KITTENS.)
Now I don't think that "things get sick and die" or "creature x is stupid/dysfunctional/etc" are good arguments against 'intelligent design.' Kind of like "bad things happen, so there can't be a loving God" won't really hold up.
At least, not any better than "it's too complicated to be random, so it has to have been intelligently designed."
I admit it: I do like to point out the vertebrate plight of having our esophagus and trachea cross to get to the stomach and lungs, providing an opportunity for choking we don't really need. It's not how I'd have designed it, frankly, since the tubes could be put in in straight lines, without crossing (and thus, without death by sandwich). But I suppose someone could argue the watchmaker wanted people to choke, sometimes, and get liquid 'down the wrong pipe.' If they liked. There's no disproving that, so it's not worth debating.
But there are far, far deeper flaws with this idea of Intelligent Design (which isn't actually a theory) than that.
Why isn't it a theory?
A theory has to be arrived at after taking a hypothesis as far as you can; it has to be rigorously tested-it has to be testable, or observable. And it furthermore has to have a way to be disproven--otherwise, it isn't science. That's just how the rules work.
Evolution has gained the status of theory because, over the centuries, we've watched it happen, we've bred animals (and people) in so many different combinations, and seen the changes that have occurred. We've established a fossil record, which, while it has gaps, does tend to follow well, from one thing to the next. Humans alone are a foot taller, and with shorter pinky fingers, than we were just a few hundred years ago.
All evolution really insists is that things change, over time. They breed selectively, some genes beat out other genes, some animals out-compete other animals, and so things change. New traits come up, others die out. We've seen it. We've experimented with it. It's a good theory. Like the theory of gravity. It's possible that someday something could jump up very high, and forget to fall, and then we'd have potentially partially disproven it. And it's possible that someday something could leap fully formed out of the mud, or that something could cease absolutely to change. But until then, these are our theories, and they're good theories, and they've stood up for hundreds of years to rigorous abuse.
Being "just a theory" is being pretty damn strong.
Now what about intelligent design?
Well, how can you test whether something in nature had a divine creator? How do you disprove a metaphysical intervention?
There's no proof it didn't happen. I'd never say that--there just couldn't be that proof. But that's the point: if there's no experimenting or proving it one way or another, it's not science. Metaphysics, maybe, philosophy or theology, maybe, but not science. So it doesn't belong with science.
ID has its roots way back, in philosophers in the 1700's(-ish). 'I look at a watch and I know by looking that there was a watchmaker.' The idea there was that something so complex could not just happen, and that it's simply intuitive that something greater than us made us. And while it's a nice little metaphor, I find that glass and metal being tempered in that way are the real clues to a watchmaker; observation has suggested that thinly pounded metal and gears and glass only happen when humans intervene with heat and hammers and screws. One pithy saying does not science make.
ID really runs in a circle, this way. "There are things here that are too complicated to have been made without an intelligent maker, so there must be an intelligent maker." But how can we say whether it's too complicated to make by chance? Well, by asserting that only an intelligent maker could make something so complicated as this. But you just can't prove something with itself.
But it's more than that. I think the major flaw with ID is that it disregards trial and error. By saying, "Look, how perfect! How circular! How well it fits together, and how well it is balanced!" it ignores all of the rocks in space, all of the species, all of the ecosystems, that fail and die out, that are not so perfect. Of course the planets move in roughly circular patterns, and don't crash into one another--any planet that was in a place where it would have been crashed into has been crashed into, and taken out of play. Of course our organs work (relatively) well; vertebrates whose organs didn't work as well died out. Every day, there are imperfect births, there are poorly formed fetuses that don't get born at all, there are eggs that never become implanted, and there are creatures that die, because they weren't viable, and they didn't survive.
How can something so perfect as life have just happened? Well, lightning might have struck the mud one billion times before a cell that sparked in it actually survived. Of trillions of bacteria, maybe only a few were perfect--perfect enough to live on.
The first creature in the phylum chordata--our phylum, most ancient ancestor in this run--was the lancet, and it is a sack that filters water through itself, to take little particles from it, and then it lets the waste out the same way it came in. It sticks to a rock in the ocean, and that is its life. I find it perfectly reasonable that out of a million different sacks that might have tried it out in the big ocean, most would have been too porous, not porous enough, unable to stick to the rock, unable to digest particles, etc. And if one did, then, that is not a sign of a perfect design. If a hundred seeds scatter on the ground from a tree above, and they result in six plants, that doesn't mean that the tree dropped six seeds in the six places they would survive; it means that the ones that scattered into the dark, into sand, into the paths of snails or birds, and the ones that weren't as strong to begin with, didn't ever grow for us to observe.
There is endless imperfection. There are so many systems that don't work, that can't work. But they generally don't stick around very long, for that very reason.
That doesn't mean that only perfect systems have existed, or tried to exist. That doesn't mean proof of a plan.
Now, why am I on about this?
I really have no qualms with people believing in ID--it's very appealing, it's technically possible, there's no problem with that at all--but the push into science is very troubling. Some of the institutes and think tanks that have been working on it admitted at their inception that they were going to make concerted attacks on science in general, by trying to break down what is or is not considered science. All the advances in science that have served us well--the things that have helped us build machines, study the paths of the planets for coordination, do medicine--were only possible by adhering to these rules of not accepting something as fact or theory that you couldn't potentially prove, that you couldn't experiment on. If sheer force of belief is granted the same kind of validity as something actually tested, imagine the state we would be in--that we had been in, in the past, in fact:
During the time of the plague, ghettos where Jews were segregated were generally hit much less hard, because of Levitical rules for cleanliness of living. Waste that would attract rats was not left around. Mouseholes were plugged, so rats weren't inside, so they couldn't carry the disease inside. Now, there could have been rational experiment and observation done; comparing lifestyle to prevalence of disease, seeing if Christians would get the plague less if they followed some basic hygiene principals, and then making judgments on the cause of the plague hitting someone based on that.
Instead, Jews were lynched, because they were believed to be practicing witchcraft and in league with the devil, because no one could have survived the plague in any other way. Belief trumped anything that looked like logic or real science, and contributed to the plague spreading unchecked.
Obviously ID isn't as damaging as a witch-hunt, but it needs the kind of atmosphere that allows those kinds of things.
This push for getting ID into the classroom is very similar to the political atmosphere, now; something being asserted, repeated over and over without evidence, or without being subject to proper scrutiny, is getting the same air time and the same consideration as viewpoints based in study, in logic, in picking through arguments. We're becoming dangerously relativist. If one person says, "the economic situation has further disadvantaged people who were already in an untenable position" and comes with figures to show it, and another says, "God wants them to be in that position, or they do" where is there possibly room for rational debate, there? Or even for being rational at all? Where is reality in that? God wanting or not wanting something can't enter into it; it may or may not be the case, but it isn't relevant to debate.
So it goes with ID.
Why am I on about this now?
I just saw the commercials for Ben Stein's intelligent design flick. I'd seen ads for it before, when LiveJournal decided that my being interested in science meant that the ad on my journal should be for "what big science doesn't want you to hear." And I've kind of heard enough from Stein, lately, in general. Like when he left messages on our phone at the last election about how we should vote to restrict abortion rights. (/ad hominem)
And it's frankly just starting to piss me off. :( So. There we are.
Now I don't think that "things get sick and die" or "creature x is stupid/dysfunctional/etc" are good arguments against 'intelligent design.' Kind of like "bad things happen, so there can't be a loving God" won't really hold up.
At least, not any better than "it's too complicated to be random, so it has to have been intelligently designed."
I admit it: I do like to point out the vertebrate plight of having our esophagus and trachea cross to get to the stomach and lungs, providing an opportunity for choking we don't really need. It's not how I'd have designed it, frankly, since the tubes could be put in in straight lines, without crossing (and thus, without death by sandwich). But I suppose someone could argue the watchmaker wanted people to choke, sometimes, and get liquid 'down the wrong pipe.' If they liked. There's no disproving that, so it's not worth debating.
But there are far, far deeper flaws with this idea of Intelligent Design (which isn't actually a theory) than that.
Why isn't it a theory?
A theory has to be arrived at after taking a hypothesis as far as you can; it has to be rigorously tested-it has to be testable, or observable. And it furthermore has to have a way to be disproven--otherwise, it isn't science. That's just how the rules work.
Evolution has gained the status of theory because, over the centuries, we've watched it happen, we've bred animals (and people) in so many different combinations, and seen the changes that have occurred. We've established a fossil record, which, while it has gaps, does tend to follow well, from one thing to the next. Humans alone are a foot taller, and with shorter pinky fingers, than we were just a few hundred years ago.
All evolution really insists is that things change, over time. They breed selectively, some genes beat out other genes, some animals out-compete other animals, and so things change. New traits come up, others die out. We've seen it. We've experimented with it. It's a good theory. Like the theory of gravity. It's possible that someday something could jump up very high, and forget to fall, and then we'd have potentially partially disproven it. And it's possible that someday something could leap fully formed out of the mud, or that something could cease absolutely to change. But until then, these are our theories, and they're good theories, and they've stood up for hundreds of years to rigorous abuse.
Being "just a theory" is being pretty damn strong.
Now what about intelligent design?
Well, how can you test whether something in nature had a divine creator? How do you disprove a metaphysical intervention?
There's no proof it didn't happen. I'd never say that--there just couldn't be that proof. But that's the point: if there's no experimenting or proving it one way or another, it's not science. Metaphysics, maybe, philosophy or theology, maybe, but not science. So it doesn't belong with science.
ID has its roots way back, in philosophers in the 1700's(-ish). 'I look at a watch and I know by looking that there was a watchmaker.' The idea there was that something so complex could not just happen, and that it's simply intuitive that something greater than us made us. And while it's a nice little metaphor, I find that glass and metal being tempered in that way are the real clues to a watchmaker; observation has suggested that thinly pounded metal and gears and glass only happen when humans intervene with heat and hammers and screws. One pithy saying does not science make.
ID really runs in a circle, this way. "There are things here that are too complicated to have been made without an intelligent maker, so there must be an intelligent maker." But how can we say whether it's too complicated to make by chance? Well, by asserting that only an intelligent maker could make something so complicated as this. But you just can't prove something with itself.
But it's more than that. I think the major flaw with ID is that it disregards trial and error. By saying, "Look, how perfect! How circular! How well it fits together, and how well it is balanced!" it ignores all of the rocks in space, all of the species, all of the ecosystems, that fail and die out, that are not so perfect. Of course the planets move in roughly circular patterns, and don't crash into one another--any planet that was in a place where it would have been crashed into has been crashed into, and taken out of play. Of course our organs work (relatively) well; vertebrates whose organs didn't work as well died out. Every day, there are imperfect births, there are poorly formed fetuses that don't get born at all, there are eggs that never become implanted, and there are creatures that die, because they weren't viable, and they didn't survive.
How can something so perfect as life have just happened? Well, lightning might have struck the mud one billion times before a cell that sparked in it actually survived. Of trillions of bacteria, maybe only a few were perfect--perfect enough to live on.
The first creature in the phylum chordata--our phylum, most ancient ancestor in this run--was the lancet, and it is a sack that filters water through itself, to take little particles from it, and then it lets the waste out the same way it came in. It sticks to a rock in the ocean, and that is its life. I find it perfectly reasonable that out of a million different sacks that might have tried it out in the big ocean, most would have been too porous, not porous enough, unable to stick to the rock, unable to digest particles, etc. And if one did, then, that is not a sign of a perfect design. If a hundred seeds scatter on the ground from a tree above, and they result in six plants, that doesn't mean that the tree dropped six seeds in the six places they would survive; it means that the ones that scattered into the dark, into sand, into the paths of snails or birds, and the ones that weren't as strong to begin with, didn't ever grow for us to observe.
There is endless imperfection. There are so many systems that don't work, that can't work. But they generally don't stick around very long, for that very reason.
That doesn't mean that only perfect systems have existed, or tried to exist. That doesn't mean proof of a plan.
Now, why am I on about this?
I really have no qualms with people believing in ID--it's very appealing, it's technically possible, there's no problem with that at all--but the push into science is very troubling. Some of the institutes and think tanks that have been working on it admitted at their inception that they were going to make concerted attacks on science in general, by trying to break down what is or is not considered science. All the advances in science that have served us well--the things that have helped us build machines, study the paths of the planets for coordination, do medicine--were only possible by adhering to these rules of not accepting something as fact or theory that you couldn't potentially prove, that you couldn't experiment on. If sheer force of belief is granted the same kind of validity as something actually tested, imagine the state we would be in--that we had been in, in the past, in fact:
During the time of the plague, ghettos where Jews were segregated were generally hit much less hard, because of Levitical rules for cleanliness of living. Waste that would attract rats was not left around. Mouseholes were plugged, so rats weren't inside, so they couldn't carry the disease inside. Now, there could have been rational experiment and observation done; comparing lifestyle to prevalence of disease, seeing if Christians would get the plague less if they followed some basic hygiene principals, and then making judgments on the cause of the plague hitting someone based on that.
Instead, Jews were lynched, because they were believed to be practicing witchcraft and in league with the devil, because no one could have survived the plague in any other way. Belief trumped anything that looked like logic or real science, and contributed to the plague spreading unchecked.
Obviously ID isn't as damaging as a witch-hunt, but it needs the kind of atmosphere that allows those kinds of things.
This push for getting ID into the classroom is very similar to the political atmosphere, now; something being asserted, repeated over and over without evidence, or without being subject to proper scrutiny, is getting the same air time and the same consideration as viewpoints based in study, in logic, in picking through arguments. We're becoming dangerously relativist. If one person says, "the economic situation has further disadvantaged people who were already in an untenable position" and comes with figures to show it, and another says, "God wants them to be in that position, or they do" where is there possibly room for rational debate, there? Or even for being rational at all? Where is reality in that? God wanting or not wanting something can't enter into it; it may or may not be the case, but it isn't relevant to debate.
So it goes with ID.
Why am I on about this now?
I just saw the commercials for Ben Stein's intelligent design flick. I'd seen ads for it before, when LiveJournal decided that my being interested in science meant that the ad on my journal should be for "what big science doesn't want you to hear." And I've kind of heard enough from Stein, lately, in general. Like when he left messages on our phone at the last election about how we should vote to restrict abortion rights. (/ad hominem)
And it's frankly just starting to piss me off. :( So. There we are.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Wal-Mart does not save you money.
Family gatherings have had a lot of Wal-Mart arguments lately. One of my cousins saw the documentary on them and pissed off his mom by coming home with "Wal-Mart is evil," and now it keeps coming up. And a couple of people say, "Give me one good reason not to shop at Wal-Mart." And I start, and never really get to finish, because, hey, it's my family. I usually get as far as "Well, you pay for health care, don't you?--" before things break down.
So. Rather than compulsively continuing the conversation in my head, as I always do, I figured I'd write it out. I find myself making a lot of economic arguments for what I think are good social policies, these days, because for a lot of people, something just being the right thing to do by your fellow human beings isn't enough. Maybe they don't feel like they've got enough time or care to go around, and I can understand that. Maybe they feel like the world just works that way, and there's nothing productive to be gained by worrying about it. Times are tough. But I think this stuff makes sense even from a perspective where one's own economic considerations are the only considerations at all.
We want a viable system, don't we?
We don't want to get screwed for other people's mistakes, do we?
So. Part one in what will probably be a very infrequent series of what could probably have a very pithy, divisive, fun left-right kind of name that wouldn't help matters but which for now will instead go by the more unwieldy title "Rational, economic, long-sighted arguments for things that are generally dismissed by those concerned chiefly with those criteria as only of interest to the irrational and economically restrictive or short-sighted" follows.
Wal-Mart does not save you money. (This also serves for "Why shouldn't I shop at Wal-Mart?" or "Why should Wal-Mart have to pay its employees health insurance?" or "Why should I buy local when it's cheaper to buy otherwise?")
(1) Wal-Mart employs a lot of people--a lot. They employ the vast bulk of them at about 34 hours--just under the amount at which they'd be full-time employees, and thus mandated to receive any kind of benefits or health care. Or extra pay for overtime.* This means they do have to employ more of them than they would if they actually let anyone working approximately full time be full-time in name as well as deed (which inflates all situations to be detailed ahead far beyond the "necessary" amount). Now, that makes Wal-Mart's costs even lower than they would be, a savings which they pass on to you. How does that cost you money?
If you pay taxes, you support Medicare, public hospitals, and in CA, Medical. You support "Workfare." You support public health clinics. Wal-Mart employees, being almost full time and very low paid, are eligible for all of these programs. These programs don't work very well, as far as getting preventative care is concerned, so when employees have gotten what benefits they can from these programs and still wind up in the emergency room or under hospital care they can't pay for, you pay for their medical coverage a second time.
Wal-Mart has a lot more money than you do. Wal-Mart could pay for it. And they could pay for it a lot more cheaply--decent insurance in bulk cuts medical costs vastly, with access to preventative care--a doctor's visit and some antibiotics now is a lot less expensive than treating a systemic infection from the ER, where care is more difficult and rates are inflated to cover cost.
But they don't. You do!
Edited to add: the estimate is that a single 200-employee Wal-Mart costs an excess $420,750 per year in federal taxpayer dollars, just in the government footing employee public services costs. Now multiply that by the number of Wal-Mart stores. . .
(2) Wal-Mart buys its products in the cheapest ways it can--from outsourced labor overseas. They can then pass those savings on to you, still at an egregious mark-up that makes them fabulous sums of money in profit over their overhead. You buy those products more cheaply than you would if you were buying from local production. How does that cost you money?
You pay all of the middle men who make money transporting goods across the globe. You pay for their trucks, their ships, and the oil that it costs to send them--so you're paying more for those goods than you could. They have much looser environmental regs than the rest of us, so in the more global, spiritual sense, you're paying for it with a hell of a lot more emissions, higher medical costs for people with athsma, environmental damage, higher gas costs, etc. But if you pay taxes, you also pay for unemployment, health care, prisons, etc. And anything that used to be manufactured here but is now being manufactured somewhere else at a lower wage has left a vacuum of jobs. All of the people who had been in those jobs get six months of unemployment benefits and access to poor quality (but expensive to the state!) state services. They generally were performing unskilled labor, so they cannot readily transfer to a new sector. And as all manufacturing is being shipped out, there are no other manufacturing jobs for the newly unemployed to take.
So you are paying for them, too.
Furthermore, a system wherein you import goods--that is, spend money--and do not export--that is, get money--is not viable. Not everyone can own the company whose labor and supplies are coming from outside of the system, or sell their products. So you get things like recessions. Like economic depression.
And then costs for everything else in the society goes up. You pay for all of that, too. And state services you normally enjoy are cut, so your quality of life goes down. And if you don't want that to happen, you get to pay extra to the private sector to make up the gap.
Which costs you still more money.
So. You have saved money on your day to day products. And your taxes have gone up, your costs for services have gone up, your costs for gas have gone up, your state services have been cut, and your quality of life has gone down. Your economy is tanking, unemployment is skyrocketing, and these are all problems that feed themselves.
Wal-Mart is not, by any means, the sole offender, the sole cause, of all of this. Not by a long-shot. But they're a perfect example of the behavior, and they're one of the largest and most egregious offenders. And they have the added benefit as a target of having a bad record where civil/human rights are concerned. The HRC (studying companies and their policies concerning GLBT persons) has ranked them as one of the worst in the country. Women make up disproportionately small numbers of management, and anecdotally are treated very poorly in the workplace. So are minorities.
So while I understand that when it's the difference between not being able to afford basic items you need at all and getting them from Wal-Mart (or Sam's Club, their sister company) there's no question (though I like to think I'd hit the swap-meet and go more second-hand than I do, first, myself), I think there are good, rational reasons to not feed this company. If it's not going to be regulated, and not going to be subject to the same laws of interaction that the rest of us are, then we're reduced to voting with dollars. The more their business grows, the bigger the problems they create are. The less business they get, the less they'll have to buy/employ/grow, the smaller the problems will be.
So Wal-Mart doesn't save you money. And it makes sense to not purchase from them.
I think I feel a little better, now.
*Charming true anecdote: friend who used to work there used to be locked in the building with the rest of the closing shift until as late as 3 am (when they should have been out by midnight), at the regular wage, without breaks, until management deemed their work done. They have since stopped locking the doors, at least.
EDIT: Just wanted to mention, Chris was a jewel and found some numbers for all these things, and linked them from the comments. I was lazy; he is joy.
So. Rather than compulsively continuing the conversation in my head, as I always do, I figured I'd write it out. I find myself making a lot of economic arguments for what I think are good social policies, these days, because for a lot of people, something just being the right thing to do by your fellow human beings isn't enough. Maybe they don't feel like they've got enough time or care to go around, and I can understand that. Maybe they feel like the world just works that way, and there's nothing productive to be gained by worrying about it. Times are tough. But I think this stuff makes sense even from a perspective where one's own economic considerations are the only considerations at all.
We want a viable system, don't we?
We don't want to get screwed for other people's mistakes, do we?
So. Part one in what will probably be a very infrequent series of what could probably have a very pithy, divisive, fun left-right kind of name that wouldn't help matters but which for now will instead go by the more unwieldy title "Rational, economic, long-sighted arguments for things that are generally dismissed by those concerned chiefly with those criteria as only of interest to the irrational and economically restrictive or short-sighted" follows.
Wal-Mart does not save you money. (This also serves for "Why shouldn't I shop at Wal-Mart?" or "Why should Wal-Mart have to pay its employees health insurance?" or "Why should I buy local when it's cheaper to buy otherwise?")
(1) Wal-Mart employs a lot of people--a lot. They employ the vast bulk of them at about 34 hours--just under the amount at which they'd be full-time employees, and thus mandated to receive any kind of benefits or health care. Or extra pay for overtime.* This means they do have to employ more of them than they would if they actually let anyone working approximately full time be full-time in name as well as deed (which inflates all situations to be detailed ahead far beyond the "necessary" amount). Now, that makes Wal-Mart's costs even lower than they would be, a savings which they pass on to you. How does that cost you money?
If you pay taxes, you support Medicare, public hospitals, and in CA, Medical. You support "Workfare." You support public health clinics. Wal-Mart employees, being almost full time and very low paid, are eligible for all of these programs. These programs don't work very well, as far as getting preventative care is concerned, so when employees have gotten what benefits they can from these programs and still wind up in the emergency room or under hospital care they can't pay for, you pay for their medical coverage a second time.
Wal-Mart has a lot more money than you do. Wal-Mart could pay for it. And they could pay for it a lot more cheaply--decent insurance in bulk cuts medical costs vastly, with access to preventative care--a doctor's visit and some antibiotics now is a lot less expensive than treating a systemic infection from the ER, where care is more difficult and rates are inflated to cover cost.
But they don't. You do!
Edited to add: the estimate is that a single 200-employee Wal-Mart costs an excess $420,750 per year in federal taxpayer dollars, just in the government footing employee public services costs. Now multiply that by the number of Wal-Mart stores. . .
(2) Wal-Mart buys its products in the cheapest ways it can--from outsourced labor overseas. They can then pass those savings on to you, still at an egregious mark-up that makes them fabulous sums of money in profit over their overhead. You buy those products more cheaply than you would if you were buying from local production. How does that cost you money?
You pay all of the middle men who make money transporting goods across the globe. You pay for their trucks, their ships, and the oil that it costs to send them--so you're paying more for those goods than you could. They have much looser environmental regs than the rest of us, so in the more global, spiritual sense, you're paying for it with a hell of a lot more emissions, higher medical costs for people with athsma, environmental damage, higher gas costs, etc. But if you pay taxes, you also pay for unemployment, health care, prisons, etc. And anything that used to be manufactured here but is now being manufactured somewhere else at a lower wage has left a vacuum of jobs. All of the people who had been in those jobs get six months of unemployment benefits and access to poor quality (but expensive to the state!) state services. They generally were performing unskilled labor, so they cannot readily transfer to a new sector. And as all manufacturing is being shipped out, there are no other manufacturing jobs for the newly unemployed to take.
So you are paying for them, too.
Furthermore, a system wherein you import goods--that is, spend money--and do not export--that is, get money--is not viable. Not everyone can own the company whose labor and supplies are coming from outside of the system, or sell their products. So you get things like recessions. Like economic depression.
And then costs for everything else in the society goes up. You pay for all of that, too. And state services you normally enjoy are cut, so your quality of life goes down. And if you don't want that to happen, you get to pay extra to the private sector to make up the gap.
Which costs you still more money.
So. You have saved money on your day to day products. And your taxes have gone up, your costs for services have gone up, your costs for gas have gone up, your state services have been cut, and your quality of life has gone down. Your economy is tanking, unemployment is skyrocketing, and these are all problems that feed themselves.
Wal-Mart is not, by any means, the sole offender, the sole cause, of all of this. Not by a long-shot. But they're a perfect example of the behavior, and they're one of the largest and most egregious offenders. And they have the added benefit as a target of having a bad record where civil/human rights are concerned. The HRC (studying companies and their policies concerning GLBT persons) has ranked them as one of the worst in the country. Women make up disproportionately small numbers of management, and anecdotally are treated very poorly in the workplace. So are minorities.
So while I understand that when it's the difference between not being able to afford basic items you need at all and getting them from Wal-Mart (or Sam's Club, their sister company) there's no question (though I like to think I'd hit the swap-meet and go more second-hand than I do, first, myself), I think there are good, rational reasons to not feed this company. If it's not going to be regulated, and not going to be subject to the same laws of interaction that the rest of us are, then we're reduced to voting with dollars. The more their business grows, the bigger the problems they create are. The less business they get, the less they'll have to buy/employ/grow, the smaller the problems will be.
So Wal-Mart doesn't save you money. And it makes sense to not purchase from them.
I think I feel a little better, now.
*Charming true anecdote: friend who used to work there used to be locked in the building with the rest of the closing shift until as late as 3 am (when they should have been out by midnight), at the regular wage, without breaks, until management deemed their work done. They have since stopped locking the doors, at least.
EDIT: Just wanted to mention, Chris was a jewel and found some numbers for all these things, and linked them from the comments. I was lazy; he is joy.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I somehow feel better than I did before.
Somehow, I forgot to cross-post St. Patrick's Day posts over here. Ah, well. I've decided to keep it in my heart ALL the year long, so if I do it later, it'll still be topical. Right? ...Right?
Things are going to be hectic and in-and-out for a while--family-ing, catting, dentisting, etc--so I thought I'd forewarn, for once.
But before I go:
I just finished reading a transcript of Obama's recent speech in its entirety. Here it is.
You've probably heard a lot about it, seen plenty of headlines, heard little clips. But you really should read it yourself (or watch it, there's a video link, there, too), if you haven't already. It is so, so much better than deserves to be relegated to a redux on the news (or even the Daily Show). It deserves more than a report of how good it is.
It is so much better than that. It is, really and truly, worth the time it takes to read it.
And how often can you say that about a political speech?
Please, please let this man be my president.
Things are going to be hectic and in-and-out for a while--family-ing, catting, dentisting, etc--so I thought I'd forewarn, for once.
But before I go:
I just finished reading a transcript of Obama's recent speech in its entirety. Here it is.
You've probably heard a lot about it, seen plenty of headlines, heard little clips. But you really should read it yourself (or watch it, there's a video link, there, too), if you haven't already. It is so, so much better than deserves to be relegated to a redux on the news (or even the Daily Show). It deserves more than a report of how good it is.
It is so much better than that. It is, really and truly, worth the time it takes to read it.
And how often can you say that about a political speech?
Please, please let this man be my president.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Puebla, finally.
So it's been a crazy year.
I'm sorry I keep disappearing, but it seems like one thing after another. I've got stress issues with anything online as it is, and add any particular worldly stress and I'm gone. Alas! But I've missed you.
Now, finally, a relatively brief bit about Puebla.
Gorgeous. Beautiful old buildings, very Louis XVI. Open courtyards internally. Cobbled streets. More cathedrals than you can shake a stick at (if that's your idea of a good time). The food is amazing, very French. And very cheap. So are drinks. And travel and accommodations. The building we stayed in was built originally in the 1500s--seriously. FABULOUS. People were very kind. The streets were very clean. Chris's Spanish? Actually really good. I kept blanking and stammering, but I was mostly able to get by, and everyone was very patient with my attempts (people at the conference took mercy and tried out their English on me--their English was a lot better than my Spanish, I need to get studying, again).
On food and drinks again: I tried to try things I hadn't had before. And if you're from the United States, the Mexican food you've had probably doesn't bear much resemblance to typical Poblano food. Sometimes you can still get a molé (unsweetened-chocolate based with some 28 ingredients) or a pepian sauce (AMAZING, involves pumpkin) here, but they're not the same. I tried both and was delighted. Lars (one of our fellow friendly conference goers) tried cow's brain, and was subsequently razzed about Mad Cow (and mooed once or twice, for our benefit), but said it was good. I tried a bone marrow soup (which, much to my surprise, was not just stock made from marrow bones--there were actually long, eerie ropes of marrow in it). I had kind of a lot of soup, actually. It turns out I really love soup. I tried two drinks that were new to me, too: Alfonze XIII and Media de Seda (sick stocking). I am in Love with the Media de Seda. It's pink and fluffy and full of tequila. (If you want the recipe, lemme know.) I also had the best piña colada ever. I think there was actually crushed pinapple in it, and maybe proper coconut. Amaaaazing. And a lot of Chilean red wine, and a pretty froo rooftop party while the sun was setting. (Also amazing.)
I found out I don't really like fresh papaya.
The conference was really good. Academics can be really beautiful sometimes.
There were no stray animals.
There seemed to be relatively little poverty in that part of town, but the class divide showed where it was--everyone who seemed to be homeless and begging was darker skinned. Most of the people busking and selling trinkets on the street were, too.
PSA: You cannot--I repeat, you cannot--flush toilet paper. I didn't know this, and wished someone had forewarned me, so I'm forewarning you. This is also confirmed to be the case in several other places in Mexico, most places in Chile, and in Egypt (and probably a lot of other places). It saves water, they empty the waste baskets frequently, all is well. It just... takes getting used to.
I want to go back. We're hoping the conference will be held there again, relatively soon. Or else we'll just have to go on our own. We didn't get much time to do extra exploring, or to see more of the artisan's mercado (but the pottery and onyx were also really cheap and beautiful). The mercado, by the way? was the only place you could find any "traditional" garb. It seemed to be there solely for the benefit of turistas. Ah, well. The Zocalo was very cool, too, but there was someone there each night with a truck with a wild animal caged inside of it. It was like all of a sudden it was bearsploitation time. And there was also a lot of U.S. fast food. :\ Globalization, thy name is Big Mac.
Anyway. It was gorgeous. If I figure out one of those photo sites, I'll upload some. Chris put up some on his blog, and I'll come back and link later, maybe. I may also post any of the 8 memes I've done and then just saved and put away, but maybe not. I may post some about how heavy things have been lately, but maybe not. I WILL post the St. Patrick's Day feast recipe, since I never remember to post it BEFORE St. Pat's, and it'd probably be more useful, then. Since it's a Monday, we're going to revel tonight, instead, and have a smaller, leftover version after Chris gets back from class and before I have to go to choir, on the day proper. Silliness and heavy drinking will be primarily taken care of tonight with Christina and Guerin.
...It's been a really busy month. Did I mention that? Okay, good. I'll try to update again, soon. LOVE.
I'm sorry I keep disappearing, but it seems like one thing after another. I've got stress issues with anything online as it is, and add any particular worldly stress and I'm gone. Alas! But I've missed you.
Now, finally, a relatively brief bit about Puebla.
Gorgeous. Beautiful old buildings, very Louis XVI. Open courtyards internally. Cobbled streets. More cathedrals than you can shake a stick at (if that's your idea of a good time). The food is amazing, very French. And very cheap. So are drinks. And travel and accommodations. The building we stayed in was built originally in the 1500s--seriously. FABULOUS. People were very kind. The streets were very clean. Chris's Spanish? Actually really good. I kept blanking and stammering, but I was mostly able to get by, and everyone was very patient with my attempts (people at the conference took mercy and tried out their English on me--their English was a lot better than my Spanish, I need to get studying, again).
On food and drinks again: I tried to try things I hadn't had before. And if you're from the United States, the Mexican food you've had probably doesn't bear much resemblance to typical Poblano food. Sometimes you can still get a molé (unsweetened-chocolate based with some 28 ingredients) or a pepian sauce (AMAZING, involves pumpkin) here, but they're not the same. I tried both and was delighted. Lars (one of our fellow friendly conference goers) tried cow's brain, and was subsequently razzed about Mad Cow (and mooed once or twice, for our benefit), but said it was good. I tried a bone marrow soup (which, much to my surprise, was not just stock made from marrow bones--there were actually long, eerie ropes of marrow in it). I had kind of a lot of soup, actually. It turns out I really love soup. I tried two drinks that were new to me, too: Alfonze XIII and Media de Seda (sick stocking). I am in Love with the Media de Seda. It's pink and fluffy and full of tequila. (If you want the recipe, lemme know.) I also had the best piña colada ever. I think there was actually crushed pinapple in it, and maybe proper coconut. Amaaaazing. And a lot of Chilean red wine, and a pretty froo rooftop party while the sun was setting. (Also amazing.)
I found out I don't really like fresh papaya.
The conference was really good. Academics can be really beautiful sometimes.
There were no stray animals.
There seemed to be relatively little poverty in that part of town, but the class divide showed where it was--everyone who seemed to be homeless and begging was darker skinned. Most of the people busking and selling trinkets on the street were, too.
PSA: You cannot--I repeat, you cannot--flush toilet paper. I didn't know this, and wished someone had forewarned me, so I'm forewarning you. This is also confirmed to be the case in several other places in Mexico, most places in Chile, and in Egypt (and probably a lot of other places). It saves water, they empty the waste baskets frequently, all is well. It just... takes getting used to.
I want to go back. We're hoping the conference will be held there again, relatively soon. Or else we'll just have to go on our own. We didn't get much time to do extra exploring, or to see more of the artisan's mercado (but the pottery and onyx were also really cheap and beautiful). The mercado, by the way? was the only place you could find any "traditional" garb. It seemed to be there solely for the benefit of turistas. Ah, well. The Zocalo was very cool, too, but there was someone there each night with a truck with a wild animal caged inside of it. It was like all of a sudden it was bearsploitation time. And there was also a lot of U.S. fast food. :\ Globalization, thy name is Big Mac.
Anyway. It was gorgeous. If I figure out one of those photo sites, I'll upload some. Chris put up some on his blog, and I'll come back and link later, maybe. I may also post any of the 8 memes I've done and then just saved and put away, but maybe not. I may post some about how heavy things have been lately, but maybe not. I WILL post the St. Patrick's Day feast recipe, since I never remember to post it BEFORE St. Pat's, and it'd probably be more useful, then. Since it's a Monday, we're going to revel tonight, instead, and have a smaller, leftover version after Chris gets back from class and before I have to go to choir, on the day proper. Silliness and heavy drinking will be primarily taken care of tonight with Christina and Guerin.
...It's been a really busy month. Did I mention that? Okay, good. I'll try to update again, soon. LOVE.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
¿Donde estoy?
Hi, everybody, I'll make a proper post soon, but I've been in Puebla, Mexico for the last several days and haven't had internet access. And like the inconsiderate person I am, I didn't actually manage to find time to forewarn y'all that I was going. But I'm back at my mother's, and then it's back up to Turlock, and then I'll do the proper update. Everybody's safe and sound and well fed.
Puebla, by the way?
Fabulous.
Puebla, by the way?
Fabulous.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Something different.
I don't drive, but a while back, I asked Chris if I could put the license plate cover I got from the blood bank (it says "2 gallon donor" on it, and the name of the blood bank) on Eddie Jetta. He was embarrassed and shy about it, because he's not a donor, himself, and felt bad about seeming to take credit for it, but after enough needling, I got him to put it on, for me. A little of why I wanted it up was probably just because I'm basically a crow who collects pretties, but mostly my case was that if someone saw it, who can donate and just doesn't tend to remember to, it might jog their memory and get them back out there. Maybe, you know? If it even happens once it's better than nothing.
Well. The most kind and wonderful thing happened to me, today.
We were out running errands, and leaving the supermarket, Chris noticed a little folded piece of paper on Eddie's window. When we stopped, he pulled it out and told me it was for me.
It said "Blood Donor" on the front.
Inside was this:
Our son is alive today because of people just like you. He had leukemia in 1993. He used about six quarts of blood while he was in the hospital. I've been putting little notes on cars ever since. He weighed 42 pounds then. Today he stands 6'2" and weighs 185. It is unlikely that he received any of your blood, but I'm sure that someone, somewhere is as grateful to you today as we were to those people in 1993. That person was not here today; I was. Thank you for donating blood. (Name and email appended.)
I have no filter, at the moment. Things have been kind of rough, you know? So I cried, and then I cried all the way back home. But things feel a little lighter, now. I just wanted to share.
...I needed that. What a beautiful thing to do.
Well. The most kind and wonderful thing happened to me, today.
We were out running errands, and leaving the supermarket, Chris noticed a little folded piece of paper on Eddie's window. When we stopped, he pulled it out and told me it was for me.
It said "Blood Donor" on the front.
Inside was this:
Our son is alive today because of people just like you. He had leukemia in 1993. He used about six quarts of blood while he was in the hospital. I've been putting little notes on cars ever since. He weighed 42 pounds then. Today he stands 6'2" and weighs 185. It is unlikely that he received any of your blood, but I'm sure that someone, somewhere is as grateful to you today as we were to those people in 1993. That person was not here today; I was. Thank you for donating blood. (Name and email appended.)
I have no filter, at the moment. Things have been kind of rough, you know? So I cried, and then I cried all the way back home. But things feel a little lighter, now. I just wanted to share.
...I needed that. What a beautiful thing to do.
Et tu, February?
Monday afternoon, while I was at work, Chris went and picked up our baby's ashes from the vet. It's... good, for closure. But it's hard.
Monday night, when I got to rehearsal, there was an announcement that one of the long time singers in the choirs, whom I was very fond of and have missed, because she hadn't been singing for the last two seasons owing to fighting cancer, passed away this weekend. She and her husband were wonderful to be around, kind, friendly, very sweet, and Chris and I ran into them around town fairly frequently. The last time I saw her was just before Christmas, and she really wasn't doing well. But I didn't think it would be the last time I would see her.
She will be very, very missed. I miss her a lot.
We also heard, that night, that one of our musicians in the symphony succumbed to cancer last week, too. I didn't know her personally, but most of the choir were very upset. I know she was very talented, and I know that concerts won't be the same without her.
I came home pretty bent out of shape. We stayed up late, watched some restorative silliness on TV, had a relatively calm time of it. Yesterday morning we got up and went and voted, been doing okay, considering. I went to work. I did a lot of work, it was nice, Lee kept me updated on the primaries, we had good music going, light. And when Chris picked me up, he let me know that our betta Sigfried, who hadn't eaten in almost two weeks and was very sick, died while I was away.
"Fuck." is just about all I can say.
This year is not off on the right foot, boys and girls. I've been hesitating to call it, because it can always get so, so much worse, but... I mean, really. Step it up, 2008. Spring, I'm looking at you.
Monday night, when I got to rehearsal, there was an announcement that one of the long time singers in the choirs, whom I was very fond of and have missed, because she hadn't been singing for the last two seasons owing to fighting cancer, passed away this weekend. She and her husband were wonderful to be around, kind, friendly, very sweet, and Chris and I ran into them around town fairly frequently. The last time I saw her was just before Christmas, and she really wasn't doing well. But I didn't think it would be the last time I would see her.
She will be very, very missed. I miss her a lot.
We also heard, that night, that one of our musicians in the symphony succumbed to cancer last week, too. I didn't know her personally, but most of the choir were very upset. I know she was very talented, and I know that concerts won't be the same without her.
I came home pretty bent out of shape. We stayed up late, watched some restorative silliness on TV, had a relatively calm time of it. Yesterday morning we got up and went and voted, been doing okay, considering. I went to work. I did a lot of work, it was nice, Lee kept me updated on the primaries, we had good music going, light. And when Chris picked me up, he let me know that our betta Sigfried, who hadn't eaten in almost two weeks and was very sick, died while I was away.
"Fuck." is just about all I can say.
This year is not off on the right foot, boys and girls. I've been hesitating to call it, because it can always get so, so much worse, but... I mean, really. Step it up, 2008. Spring, I'm looking at you.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Lancelot
Lancelot finally told us it was time, so we took him in this afternoon. I held him the whole time, and he just hugged me or stayed close.. He'd been having so many problems.... I'm having a really hard time with it all, right now. But I can't do any of that justice here, so I'm just... not going to try. But I thought I should let you know.
And I want you to know how wonderful a cat he was. I can't find words enough for that, either, but I have to try. There will never be anyone like Lancelot again. I only got to know him for the last three and a half years of his fifteen, but I love him very, very much. He was so deeply wonderful, and loving, and bright, and sweet. Lancelot the brave, the loyal! And for the last few days we were closer again than we'd been in a long time, since just about the beginning, and it was very special. I'm very grateful for it.
I miss him so much, already. I kind of can't believe it. I was there, but it's not... real, somehow.
He was so soft. He had wonderful red fur, and a strange tip to his tail, where one of the bones at the end was misshapen, and soft, soft paws he didn't want anyone to touch, and bright, huge eyes, and perky whiskers, and he was beautiful. And he was so sweet, when he wasn't being a total grump, and loved new people, and was friendly. He got me through the few weekends Chris had to be away, and I got him through them, too. He loved fellow redheads (lucky me!) but hated classical soprano singing ( =the source of a lot of our problems). But he didn't mind me singing "Old Deuteronomy" in my deepest voice while holding him (he didn't like being picked up, either, but that was okay).
He loved cheezits, and tried to steal them, even though they tended to make him sick.
He was pretty pukey all his life, to tell the truth. Nobody could figure out why.
He had a wonderful motorboat purr. He would trill his meows, by kind of purring through them? Like "Prrrow? Brr, brr, BrrrrAWow." Sometimes if he was trotting down the stairs, he'd make a little "Prrt, prrt, prrt" when he hit the steps. Especially if he was excited. He'd trot or stand with his tail straight up and bushy--fluffy, fluffy tail--and just trill. It is the sweetest meow you've ever heard.
He didn't like the song we wrote him, but we did.
A lot of nights, especially in the last handful of months when he hadn't been feeling as well, we'd all sleep like this: <<< Chris behind me, Lance curled up by my stomach. I never had the heart to move him if I needed to move the covers or anything. He also liked sleeping up on my hip, or up on my butt if I was on my stomach.
There's a lot more to say. I just don't know quite what all at the moment. But Lancelot had more nicknames than we could count, and I'm going to try to catalog as many of them as I can. He tended to respond--I don't think he knew them all (how could he?) but he knew us and he knew when we were talking to him. You'll see some themes--they were all said with love (even the ones you're not sure about).
Lancelot, Lance-without-pants, Lance with No Pants On, Lancelot-sans-culottes, Lance-apot, Lance-apotamus, Him, Bunky, Himapot, Bunkerpot, Bunkertot, Stinky, Stinker, Shtinker, Shtinky, Shtinkertot, Shtinkertoy, Bunkertoy, Bunkyboy, Lance-a-bunk, Lance-a-maphone, Bunk, The Bunk, The Boy, Our Bunky Boy, Our Bunky Baby, Hey My Baby, Bunker, Mr. Him, Mr. Bunk, the butt-cat, Mr. Stink, Mr. Butt, Shpoongy, Spunky, Shpunky, Spunky Winnebago, Nummy-Muffin-Cocoa-Butter, Butterscotch Pudding, Circus Peanut, the puppy-cat, My Whumpa, Whumpum, Bumpa, Stinkum, Stinkus, Wumba, motorboat, Lancey, Sir Lancelot, Sir Pukesalot, Sir Bunksalot, Punk, Punky, Punker, Binky, Monkey, Minky.
And there are some I'm forgetting. And there were some that rose and fell in moments.
But this is why his song says "and hold and love and cry out, all my names--many names" because we did.
Edit: Link to the wonderful entry about Lance that Chris wrote a couple days ago, about his younger life.
And I want you to know how wonderful a cat he was. I can't find words enough for that, either, but I have to try. There will never be anyone like Lancelot again. I only got to know him for the last three and a half years of his fifteen, but I love him very, very much. He was so deeply wonderful, and loving, and bright, and sweet. Lancelot the brave, the loyal! And for the last few days we were closer again than we'd been in a long time, since just about the beginning, and it was very special. I'm very grateful for it.
I miss him so much, already. I kind of can't believe it. I was there, but it's not... real, somehow.
He was so soft. He had wonderful red fur, and a strange tip to his tail, where one of the bones at the end was misshapen, and soft, soft paws he didn't want anyone to touch, and bright, huge eyes, and perky whiskers, and he was beautiful. And he was so sweet, when he wasn't being a total grump, and loved new people, and was friendly. He got me through the few weekends Chris had to be away, and I got him through them, too. He loved fellow redheads (lucky me!) but hated classical soprano singing ( =the source of a lot of our problems). But he didn't mind me singing "Old Deuteronomy" in my deepest voice while holding him (he didn't like being picked up, either, but that was okay).
He loved cheezits, and tried to steal them, even though they tended to make him sick.
He was pretty pukey all his life, to tell the truth. Nobody could figure out why.
He had a wonderful motorboat purr. He would trill his meows, by kind of purring through them? Like "Prrrow? Brr, brr, BrrrrAWow." Sometimes if he was trotting down the stairs, he'd make a little "Prrt, prrt, prrt" when he hit the steps. Especially if he was excited. He'd trot or stand with his tail straight up and bushy--fluffy, fluffy tail--and just trill. It is the sweetest meow you've ever heard.
He didn't like the song we wrote him, but we did.
A lot of nights, especially in the last handful of months when he hadn't been feeling as well, we'd all sleep like this: <<< Chris behind me, Lance curled up by my stomach. I never had the heart to move him if I needed to move the covers or anything. He also liked sleeping up on my hip, or up on my butt if I was on my stomach.
There's a lot more to say. I just don't know quite what all at the moment. But Lancelot had more nicknames than we could count, and I'm going to try to catalog as many of them as I can. He tended to respond--I don't think he knew them all (how could he?) but he knew us and he knew when we were talking to him. You'll see some themes--they were all said with love (even the ones you're not sure about).
Lancelot, Lance-without-pants, Lance with No Pants On, Lancelot-sans-culottes, Lance-apot, Lance-apotamus, Him, Bunky, Himapot, Bunkerpot, Bunkertot, Stinky, Stinker, Shtinker, Shtinky, Shtinkertot, Shtinkertoy, Bunkertoy, Bunkyboy, Lance-a-bunk, Lance-a-maphone, Bunk, The Bunk, The Boy, Our Bunky Boy, Our Bunky Baby, Hey My Baby, Bunker, Mr. Him, Mr. Bunk, the butt-cat, Mr. Stink, Mr. Butt, Shpoongy, Spunky, Shpunky, Spunky Winnebago, Nummy-Muffin-Cocoa-Butter, Butterscotch Pudding, Circus Peanut, the puppy-cat, My Whumpa, Whumpum, Bumpa, Stinkum, Stinkus, Wumba, motorboat, Lancey, Sir Lancelot, Sir Pukesalot, Sir Bunksalot, Punk, Punky, Punker, Binky, Monkey, Minky.
And there are some I'm forgetting. And there were some that rose and fell in moments.
But this is why his song says "and hold and love and cry out, all my names--many names" because we did.
Edit: Link to the wonderful entry about Lance that Chris wrote a couple days ago, about his younger life.
Friday, January 4, 2008
A Snapshot in Nerdery
I'm having one of Those times. You know, where everything around me is addressed via nerdishness.
Knitting
Knitting is entirely a process of making slipknots. This delights me. For about a day and a half, I was going to change the name of my journal to "A Million Little Slipknots." Needless to say, I'm a little obsessed. I've made two scarves, wristbands for Chris and I, I'm a third of the way through a very stripey purse, and I'm in the midst of two different throws. I can only go in straight lines, but I know the two most basic stitches, I can change skein and change color, and that's a good start.
Politics
Bravo, Iowa! Now New Hampshire, take the hint and behave. This is the first time, in all the presidential elections I've had a chance to participate in, that my candidate's doing well, and has actually got a good chance of still being in it by the time I get to vote in the fucking primary. (Let's hear it for the 12 state bang-up to come on Feb 5th! Fingers crossed! California may even get a say, for once!) I actually sat up and watched Caucus-coverage, and I will do it again on Tuesday. I am actually feeling Hopeful.
Weather
I'm also watching storm progress, because we're finally getting rain--and more importantly, we're getting snowpack in the upper els. Which means: We May Not Die of Drought. This is very exciting! Also, I've been out trying to scrape under a foot of water for whatever's blocking the drains in our complex, so that maybe our garages don't flood, now that the street's a river. I've braved it further to set a couple dozen houseplants out (waste not, &c).
Musicals: Reefer Madness
I have watched this probably in the neighborhood of 18 times, over the last few weeks. Certainly parts of it. I think I have most of it memorized, and I catch myself singing it pretty much incessantly. My continuing to be alive is a miracle of Chris's amazing patience. The making of and the commentary I've watched twice each, and I was about to go for a third run through when Chris got home and spared us all. It has to go back soon (so I'll just be left with my VHS copy, which has no extras); this is especially fortunate for my love, since I made him sit through the bloodfest (which I quite enjoyed) of Sweeney Todd, and I think he's probably up to the gills in musicals, and he deserves a little break.
Sci-Fi
In addition to the lovely Cats-and-Tin-Man-fan I've met, I've been giggling like a geek over the fact that I met two--TWO--other people, right there in the Tin Man fandom, who are fellow Lexx and Farscape lovers (although still no Bab5 love). And a nice thing about leching for Tin Man is that there's no shortage of Firefly love around there, either. Thank you, SciFi channel, for bringing us together. Now start running the goddamned reruns.
And have I mentioned knitting? What about Reefer Madness, and other assorted Alan Cumming obsessions? (His novel was a raging marvel of excess, by the way, and I loved it.) And my own smutty writing? (But that's a tale for another blog.)
So, that's pretty much life right now. Sick kitty, back to work on Monday, nice holidays, our favorite dinner-and-movie buddies moved in across the street--on balance, things are good. I hope all of y'all are doing well, out there. LOVE
P.S. Additional Blogspot-Only nerdery: This is my 64th post! 64 is, if I haven't told you 800 times, my very, very favorite number. (Everything I'm knitting I'm knitting from 64 or 36 stitches. Seriously.)
Knitting
Knitting is entirely a process of making slipknots. This delights me. For about a day and a half, I was going to change the name of my journal to "A Million Little Slipknots." Needless to say, I'm a little obsessed. I've made two scarves, wristbands for Chris and I, I'm a third of the way through a very stripey purse, and I'm in the midst of two different throws. I can only go in straight lines, but I know the two most basic stitches, I can change skein and change color, and that's a good start.
Politics
Bravo, Iowa! Now New Hampshire, take the hint and behave. This is the first time, in all the presidential elections I've had a chance to participate in, that my candidate's doing well, and has actually got a good chance of still being in it by the time I get to vote in the fucking primary. (Let's hear it for the 12 state bang-up to come on Feb 5th! Fingers crossed! California may even get a say, for once!) I actually sat up and watched Caucus-coverage, and I will do it again on Tuesday. I am actually feeling Hopeful.
Weather
I'm also watching storm progress, because we're finally getting rain--and more importantly, we're getting snowpack in the upper els. Which means: We May Not Die of Drought. This is very exciting! Also, I've been out trying to scrape under a foot of water for whatever's blocking the drains in our complex, so that maybe our garages don't flood, now that the street's a river. I've braved it further to set a couple dozen houseplants out (waste not, &c).
Musicals: Reefer Madness
I have watched this probably in the neighborhood of 18 times, over the last few weeks. Certainly parts of it. I think I have most of it memorized, and I catch myself singing it pretty much incessantly. My continuing to be alive is a miracle of Chris's amazing patience. The making of and the commentary I've watched twice each, and I was about to go for a third run through when Chris got home and spared us all. It has to go back soon (so I'll just be left with my VHS copy, which has no extras); this is especially fortunate for my love, since I made him sit through the bloodfest (which I quite enjoyed) of Sweeney Todd, and I think he's probably up to the gills in musicals, and he deserves a little break.
Sci-Fi
In addition to the lovely Cats-and-Tin-Man-fan I've met, I've been giggling like a geek over the fact that I met two--TWO--other people, right there in the Tin Man fandom, who are fellow Lexx and Farscape lovers (although still no Bab5 love). And a nice thing about leching for Tin Man is that there's no shortage of Firefly love around there, either. Thank you, SciFi channel, for bringing us together. Now start running the goddamned reruns.
And have I mentioned knitting? What about Reefer Madness, and other assorted Alan Cumming obsessions? (His novel was a raging marvel of excess, by the way, and I loved it.) And my own smutty writing? (But that's a tale for another blog.)
So, that's pretty much life right now. Sick kitty, back to work on Monday, nice holidays, our favorite dinner-and-movie buddies moved in across the street--on balance, things are good. I hope all of y'all are doing well, out there. LOVE
P.S. Additional Blogspot-Only nerdery: This is my 64th post! 64 is, if I haven't told you 800 times, my very, very favorite number. (Everything I'm knitting I'm knitting from 64 or 36 stitches. Seriously.)
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Friend of Dorothy, and Jelly Beans
(Usually I'd leave this fangirl stuff on the Other Journal, but...)
Why, all of a sudden, am I in love with Zooey Deschanel?
My first time through watching Tin Man (wherein she played Dorothy Gale) I could have done her bodily harm. I thought it was a weak performance, and I was completely bugged.
The second time through, I decided that in 90% of that miniseries she's actually absolutely delightful (and only just a little flaky in a couple spots), and that provided she wasn't supposed to express deep pain, I'd gladly see her in just about anything else later. And now I'm wondering if it's just a matter of weak spots in the script that she had to deal with, and (once) a different sense of what was going on than I had.
I'm craving her stuff, now. We downloaded a version of her singing "Baby, It's Cold Outside" with Leon Redbone, and now I'm googling her with vim and vigour.
Wtf?
Once upon a post-Easter clearance sale, I bought a bag of jelly beans for like a half a buck, and took them home. They were a special promotional bag, that had websites for the Naughty Naughty Pets on them, and they had not sold well, so they were in one of those carts in the back of an aisle marked %75 off, or something, and I wanted jelly beans. The first ones I had tasted funny, and I went "Eh," and even a little "bleh," but once I'd had a handful more, I found myself nibbling steadily down the bag. A few hours later, I was addicted to them, and they were Delicious. I went and checked out the websites, and sat staring at them for hours. I made an icon for my instant messenger chat out of one of the characters.
My theory, later, ran that there was some kind of addictive and slightly psychotropic substance in the jelly beans, and subliminal/hypnotic influences in the website. (It was preeeeeetty strange, people.) But I still think back on them with little delighted bounces and worries that they've done something unwholesome (and permanent) to my brain, and I watch for them eagerly at after-holiday-clearance sales.
ZOOEY IS THAT JELLY BEAN.
...That is all.
Why, all of a sudden, am I in love with Zooey Deschanel?
My first time through watching Tin Man (wherein she played Dorothy Gale) I could have done her bodily harm. I thought it was a weak performance, and I was completely bugged.
The second time through, I decided that in 90% of that miniseries she's actually absolutely delightful (and only just a little flaky in a couple spots), and that provided she wasn't supposed to express deep pain, I'd gladly see her in just about anything else later. And now I'm wondering if it's just a matter of weak spots in the script that she had to deal with, and (once) a different sense of what was going on than I had.
I'm craving her stuff, now. We downloaded a version of her singing "Baby, It's Cold Outside" with Leon Redbone, and now I'm googling her with vim and vigour.
Wtf?
Once upon a post-Easter clearance sale, I bought a bag of jelly beans for like a half a buck, and took them home. They were a special promotional bag, that had websites for the Naughty Naughty Pets on them, and they had not sold well, so they were in one of those carts in the back of an aisle marked %75 off, or something, and I wanted jelly beans. The first ones I had tasted funny, and I went "Eh," and even a little "bleh," but once I'd had a handful more, I found myself nibbling steadily down the bag. A few hours later, I was addicted to them, and they were Delicious. I went and checked out the websites, and sat staring at them for hours. I made an icon for my instant messenger chat out of one of the characters.
My theory, later, ran that there was some kind of addictive and slightly psychotropic substance in the jelly beans, and subliminal/hypnotic influences in the website. (It was preeeeeetty strange, people.) But I still think back on them with little delighted bounces and worries that they've done something unwholesome (and permanent) to my brain, and I watch for them eagerly at after-holiday-clearance sales.
ZOOEY IS THAT JELLY BEAN.
...That is all.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Year in Review meme.
Just kind of interesting! Take the first sentence from the first post of each month of 2007. That's your year in review.
(I've added the subject line, too, because generally that was more interesting. -_-)
Jan: Brief cross-post: I am alive.
Feb: Mine eyes have felt the glory of the Chloropicrin burn. . . I was going to try to make a whooooole parody off of that, but I have not the power, today.
Mar: For my love, this morning, while he's away. You in Bloom
Apr: Hear the glorious tones of the air filter. . . We're back from Arizona!
May: Well, that was fun, wasn't it? Let it hereby be known that I am a hypochondriac.
Jun: (No posts in this journal in June.)
Jul: I am wearing guitar-pick earrings. Hi, folks, just a brief update.
Aug: I'm having a very odd moment: I've just done four hours, unbroken, of fairly mind-melty work (researching contact info and sending out 8 million personalized emails), and I haven't really come down from it.
Sep: False October We had an Autumn day, yesterday.
Oct: Lee, my birthday, NESsT, Love For my birthday, Lee (my lovely boss) brought me back Goodies.
Nov: Solidarity! Take a minute and read this, if you would, for the sake of unemployed and hungry writers: a good write-up about what's actually at stake for the writers in the guild strike.
Dec: Update. I figured I should take time out of letting America's "Tin Man" and Elton John's "Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road" (theme? Yes.) eat my brains to give y'all a brief update.
The other journal differed only in this way:
Dec: I don't care if they DID take your brain out, I would still eat you. Did anybody else out there watch SciFi's Tin Man?
(I've added the subject line, too, because generally that was more interesting. -_-)
Jan: Brief cross-post: I am alive.
Feb: Mine eyes have felt the glory of the Chloropicrin burn. . . I was going to try to make a whooooole parody off of that, but I have not the power, today.
Mar: For my love, this morning, while he's away. You in Bloom
Apr: Hear the glorious tones of the air filter. . . We're back from Arizona!
May: Well, that was fun, wasn't it? Let it hereby be known that I am a hypochondriac.
Jun: (No posts in this journal in June.)
Jul: I am wearing guitar-pick earrings. Hi, folks, just a brief update.
Aug: I'm having a very odd moment: I've just done four hours, unbroken, of fairly mind-melty work (researching contact info and sending out 8 million personalized emails), and I haven't really come down from it.
Sep: False October We had an Autumn day, yesterday.
Oct: Lee, my birthday, NESsT, Love For my birthday, Lee (my lovely boss) brought me back Goodies.
Nov: Solidarity! Take a minute and read this, if you would, for the sake of unemployed and hungry writers: a good write-up about what's actually at stake for the writers in the guild strike.
Dec: Update. I figured I should take time out of letting America's "Tin Man" and Elton John's "Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road" (theme? Yes.) eat my brains to give y'all a brief update.
The other journal differed only in this way:
Dec: I don't care if they DID take your brain out, I would still eat you. Did anybody else out there watch SciFi's Tin Man?
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Update.
I figured I should take time out of letting America's "Tin Man" and Elton John's "Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road" (theme? Yes.) eat my brains to give y'all a brief update.
First: I love you.
Second: I love work.
Third: I love kitschy Christmas music.
Re: 3: The choir/symphony/ballet/random community members/etc are all getting together and putting on a Holiday Pops concert (which has been sold out for two weeks, with some tickets going for $70+! EEK!) and that means I've been getting my Holiday Season On pretty hard, preparing music. "We Need A Little Christmas" makes me cry. FYI. ("For I've grown a little leaner, grown a little colder, grown a little sadder, grown a little older and I need a little angel, sitting on my shoulder. . .") Parts of "Little Drummer Boy" do, too, but I think that's mostly because my dad used to listen to it with my brother every night, when he was little, and this was my dad's favorite time of year.
"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" makes me cry, too, since we're on the topic ("Someday soon, we all will be together, if the fates allow; until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow..."). But we're not doing that one--I just can't keep it out of my head. It really looks like some of the family are not going to be coming for Christmas, and not for any pleasant, easy-to-deal-with reasons. And, my dears, I'm not going to lie to you, I'm having a really, really hard time with it. I've been trying to keep a handle on it, on account of everyone else involved is having a really hard time of it, too, and I've got it relatively easy. But, still. I miss and love them all a lot, and it's tough. I am literally unable to do anything about it.
So, I'm trying to keep the old spirits up. Mostly, it's working. We've got the place full of warm light and draped in Mardi Gras beads, I'm throwing myself into the kitschy Christmas music, we're looking forward to having our Christina and Guerin move in across the street. I'm making green gifts, I'm writing, I'm having a good time of it.
I made Chris a recycled train, out of soda and cat food cans, and the tins that tea lights burn in. Oh, and a little used tin foil. It's.. . really, really cute, actually. I'll try to get a picture up, one of these days.
I hope y'all are well, and surviving your semesters/holidays/work crunches/etc. ::HUGS::
LOVE
First: I love you.
Second: I love work.
Third: I love kitschy Christmas music.
Re: 3: The choir/symphony/ballet/random community members/etc are all getting together and putting on a Holiday Pops concert (which has been sold out for two weeks, with some tickets going for $70+! EEK!) and that means I've been getting my Holiday Season On pretty hard, preparing music. "We Need A Little Christmas" makes me cry. FYI. ("For I've grown a little leaner, grown a little colder, grown a little sadder, grown a little older and I need a little angel, sitting on my shoulder. . .") Parts of "Little Drummer Boy" do, too, but I think that's mostly because my dad used to listen to it with my brother every night, when he was little, and this was my dad's favorite time of year.
"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" makes me cry, too, since we're on the topic ("Someday soon, we all will be together, if the fates allow; until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow..."). But we're not doing that one--I just can't keep it out of my head. It really looks like some of the family are not going to be coming for Christmas, and not for any pleasant, easy-to-deal-with reasons. And, my dears, I'm not going to lie to you, I'm having a really, really hard time with it. I've been trying to keep a handle on it, on account of everyone else involved is having a really hard time of it, too, and I've got it relatively easy. But, still. I miss and love them all a lot, and it's tough. I am literally unable to do anything about it.
So, I'm trying to keep the old spirits up. Mostly, it's working. We've got the place full of warm light and draped in Mardi Gras beads, I'm throwing myself into the kitschy Christmas music, we're looking forward to having our Christina and Guerin move in across the street. I'm making green gifts, I'm writing, I'm having a good time of it.
I made Chris a recycled train, out of soda and cat food cans, and the tins that tea lights burn in. Oh, and a little used tin foil. It's.. . really, really cute, actually. I'll try to get a picture up, one of these days.
I hope y'all are well, and surviving your semesters/holidays/work crunches/etc. ::HUGS::
LOVE
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Gurglegleh.
Hi, guys,
I know I've got a lot of email I should respond to, but I've been really sick for pushing a week now, and though I felt a ton better yesterday, I'm having a bad relapse now--just in time for us to fly out to Chicago, tonight. To go to a conference. Where it's snowing. In a city I want to see and have never been into, before. i.e., where I am probably going to go ahead and get sicker rather than better.
I feel crap.
I will email/catch up/all that once we're back and have settled in and all. I just can't muster enough brain power, right now.
LOVE
I know I've got a lot of email I should respond to, but I've been really sick for pushing a week now, and though I felt a ton better yesterday, I'm having a bad relapse now--just in time for us to fly out to Chicago, tonight. To go to a conference. Where it's snowing. In a city I want to see and have never been into, before. i.e., where I am probably going to go ahead and get sicker rather than better.
I feel crap.
I will email/catch up/all that once we're back and have settled in and all. I just can't muster enough brain power, right now.
LOVE
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Solidarity!
Take a minute and read this, if you would, for the sake of unemployed and hungry writers: a good write-up about what's actually at stake for the writers in the guild strike.
What I found most shocking in this was that the number the AMPTP has been putting around (trying to make this group out to be fat-cat greedy types) about writer's average yearly income being $200,000 dollars? is figured only from whoever in the guild happened to be employed at the time, ignoring the vast majority of the writers who are most of the time NOT able to find paid work, and are barely squeaking by on what residuals they've got, but including the few outlying multi-millionaires. Imagine how different that number would look if everyone in the guild was counted for the averaging of income of guild members--that is, if there was a useful, accurate number here at all. That number would be tempered by the vast field of $0 income-at-any-given-times, and it would plummet.
This is intellectual property, people. This is about getting to see at least a little more return from their creative work, when studios and producers are exploiting them to the fullest and getting paid for what the writers have done over and over. If you wrote something, and weren't even allowed to keep a copyright, and someone else was making buckets of money off of it while you were at it, wouldn't you want to see more than a half a percent of that?
What I found most shocking in this was that the number the AMPTP has been putting around (trying to make this group out to be fat-cat greedy types) about writer's average yearly income being $200,000 dollars? is figured only from whoever in the guild happened to be employed at the time, ignoring the vast majority of the writers who are most of the time NOT able to find paid work, and are barely squeaking by on what residuals they've got, but including the few outlying multi-millionaires. Imagine how different that number would look if everyone in the guild was counted for the averaging of income of guild members--that is, if there was a useful, accurate number here at all. That number would be tempered by the vast field of $0 income-at-any-given-times, and it would plummet.
This is intellectual property, people. This is about getting to see at least a little more return from their creative work, when studios and producers are exploiting them to the fullest and getting paid for what the writers have done over and over. If you wrote something, and weren't even allowed to keep a copyright, and someone else was making buckets of money off of it while you were at it, wouldn't you want to see more than a half a percent of that?
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
CONCERT!
We went to the Bridge School Benefit concert in Mountainview (near San Jose) with some friends, this weekend, and it was a blast.
Some notes: Neil Young (who puts the concert together every year) is probably a little crazy, so is Regina Spektor, Tegan and Sara think you shouldn't wear shorts and sandals while rocking out, My Morning Jacket were an interesting choice of last-minute replacement for Eddie Vedder and Flea, John Mayer does a great "Freefalling" cover, Tom Waits + Kronos Quartet = Big Awesome, Jerry Lee Lewis is NOT dead, and the Metallica fans present mostly seemed to have a problem with their boys going acoustic-cover-band.
I enjoyed everyone a hell of a lot, myself, and as most of them were new or nearly new to me, I've got plenty of new people to look up! It was $50 for a spot on the grass a really long way away, as the temperature dropped down into the 40's, but we got there at 5 pm and didn't leave until after midnight, and it goes to the school for disabled children and music ed and such, so I think that's well worth it. We heard 61 songs--everyone did 6 or 7 or 8 each. I took notes enough to be able to figure out what all but two songs were, afterwards, but I only knew 12 of them, to begin with. I think I officially recommend everyone I heard, though. Go to it.
Here's the playlist, as best as I could figure it (I *'d the ones I was particularly hot on, in case you're interested):
NEIL YOUNG
"Sugar Mountain"*
"Beautiful Bluebird" (as a duet with his wife, Peggy)
REGINA SPEKTOR
"That Ain't No Cover"
"On the Radio"*
"The Flowers"*
"Ghost of Corporate Future"
"One More Time With Feeling"
"Fidelity"
"Samson"*
TEGAN AND SARA
"Call it Off"
"The Con"
"Walking With a Ghost"
"Where Does the Good Go?"
"Like O, Like H"*
"Nineteen"*
"Back in Your Head"
"Living Room"*
"I've Got You"
MY MORNING JACKET
"The Way That He Sings"
"What a Wonderful Man"
"Gideon"
"Golden"*
"Bermuda Highway"*
((Can't figure out what song this was! :( Thought it had the phrase "feel so wonderful" in it, but no luck in finding it))
"Anytime"
JOHN MAYER
((Missed one due to craziness in finding bathrooms))
"Slow Dancing in a Burning Room"
"Waiting on the World to Change"*
"Gravity"
"Deeper and Deeper"((I *THINK.* This is highly questionable.))
"Free Falling" (Tom Petty cover)*
TOM WAITS and the KRONOS QUARTET
"Way Down in the Hole"*
"Cold Cold Ground"
"Little Drop of Poison"*
"The Part You Throw Away"
"God's Away on Business"
"Day After Tomorrow"*
"What Keeps Mankind Alive"
"Diamond in Your Mind"
NEIL YOUNG
"The Way"
"Winterlong"
"Spirit Road"
"Oh, Lonesome Me"
"I'm the Believer"
"No Hidden Path"*
JERRY LEE LEWIS
"Roll Over, Beethoven"*
"You Win Again" (Hank Williams cover)
"Hadacol Boogie"*
"Midnight Blues"*
"Your Cheatin' Heart"
"Before the Night is Over"*
"Great Balls of Fire"*
"Whole Lotta' Shakin' Goin' On"
METALLICA
"I Just Want to Celebrate" (Rare Earth cover)
"Please Don't Judas Me" (Nazareth cover)*
"I'm Only Happy When it Rains" (Garbage cover)*
"My Brothers in Arms" (Dire Straits cover)*
"Disposable Heroes"
"All Within My Hands"
"Turn the Page" (Bob Seger cover)
"Nothing Else Matters"
Okay, I don't want to inundate you with comments, but just a couple more things:
Barring a couple of electric basses, everyone played acoustically, and almost everyone played a social commentary/anti-war kind of song, at some point. If you don't know Tom Waits' "Day After Tomorrow," you should--I cried and cried, because that's how I am at concerts. (I heard it first when Tom was on the Daily Show, but we snagged up the album soon after--it's absolutely beautiful. It would have been more beautiful if the assholes behind us would have stopped bitching about his voice, but hélas!) Metallica were very warm and generous (hometown heroes, and all), Young spent a ton of time basically jamming and obviously having a really good time. Jerry Lee-fucking-Lewis rocked really hard, and, say what you will about serious song-writing, his was the only set where people got up and danced. He was snarky, and actually got his sexy-bastard on (the lyrics of "Before the Night is Over" are awfully raunch for a 70-ish guy), and I loved it. He and Neil Young now join the Eagles, Crosby Stills and Nash, and Richie Havens as the people I'm fucking lucky to have gotten to see, because--frankly--they could stop touring any day, now.
It was just... it was wonderful. Good company, great music, good long walks between the hotel and the concert site, good food the whole weekend and drinks. If you're ever out this way, I'd definitely suggest this, there are new people every year, it's a good cause, it's a ton of music.
Some notes: Neil Young (who puts the concert together every year) is probably a little crazy, so is Regina Spektor, Tegan and Sara think you shouldn't wear shorts and sandals while rocking out, My Morning Jacket were an interesting choice of last-minute replacement for Eddie Vedder and Flea, John Mayer does a great "Freefalling" cover, Tom Waits + Kronos Quartet = Big Awesome, Jerry Lee Lewis is NOT dead, and the Metallica fans present mostly seemed to have a problem with their boys going acoustic-cover-band.
I enjoyed everyone a hell of a lot, myself, and as most of them were new or nearly new to me, I've got plenty of new people to look up! It was $50 for a spot on the grass a really long way away, as the temperature dropped down into the 40's, but we got there at 5 pm and didn't leave until after midnight, and it goes to the school for disabled children and music ed and such, so I think that's well worth it. We heard 61 songs--everyone did 6 or 7 or 8 each. I took notes enough to be able to figure out what all but two songs were, afterwards, but I only knew 12 of them, to begin with. I think I officially recommend everyone I heard, though. Go to it.
Here's the playlist, as best as I could figure it (I *'d the ones I was particularly hot on, in case you're interested):
NEIL YOUNG
"Sugar Mountain"*
"Beautiful Bluebird" (as a duet with his wife, Peggy)
REGINA SPEKTOR
"That Ain't No Cover"
"On the Radio"*
"The Flowers"*
"Ghost of Corporate Future"
"One More Time With Feeling"
"Fidelity"
"Samson"*
TEGAN AND SARA
"Call it Off"
"The Con"
"Walking With a Ghost"
"Where Does the Good Go?"
"Like O, Like H"*
"Nineteen"*
"Back in Your Head"
"Living Room"*
"I've Got You"
MY MORNING JACKET
"The Way That He Sings"
"What a Wonderful Man"
"Gideon"
"Golden"*
"Bermuda Highway"*
((Can't figure out what song this was! :( Thought it had the phrase "feel so wonderful" in it, but no luck in finding it))
"Anytime"
JOHN MAYER
((Missed one due to craziness in finding bathrooms))
"Slow Dancing in a Burning Room"
"Waiting on the World to Change"*
"Gravity"
"Deeper and Deeper"((I *THINK.* This is highly questionable.))
"Free Falling" (Tom Petty cover)*
TOM WAITS and the KRONOS QUARTET
"Way Down in the Hole"*
"Cold Cold Ground"
"Little Drop of Poison"*
"The Part You Throw Away"
"God's Away on Business"
"Day After Tomorrow"*
"What Keeps Mankind Alive"
"Diamond in Your Mind"
NEIL YOUNG
"The Way"
"Winterlong"
"Spirit Road"
"Oh, Lonesome Me"
"I'm the Believer"
"No Hidden Path"*
JERRY LEE LEWIS
"Roll Over, Beethoven"*
"You Win Again" (Hank Williams cover)
"Hadacol Boogie"*
"Midnight Blues"*
"Your Cheatin' Heart"
"Before the Night is Over"*
"Great Balls of Fire"*
"Whole Lotta' Shakin' Goin' On"
METALLICA
"I Just Want to Celebrate" (Rare Earth cover)
"Please Don't Judas Me" (Nazareth cover)*
"I'm Only Happy When it Rains" (Garbage cover)*
"My Brothers in Arms" (Dire Straits cover)*
"Disposable Heroes"
"All Within My Hands"
"Turn the Page" (Bob Seger cover)
"Nothing Else Matters"
Okay, I don't want to inundate you with comments, but just a couple more things:
Barring a couple of electric basses, everyone played acoustically, and almost everyone played a social commentary/anti-war kind of song, at some point. If you don't know Tom Waits' "Day After Tomorrow," you should--I cried and cried, because that's how I am at concerts. (I heard it first when Tom was on the Daily Show, but we snagged up the album soon after--it's absolutely beautiful. It would have been more beautiful if the assholes behind us would have stopped bitching about his voice, but hélas!) Metallica were very warm and generous (hometown heroes, and all), Young spent a ton of time basically jamming and obviously having a really good time. Jerry Lee-fucking-Lewis rocked really hard, and, say what you will about serious song-writing, his was the only set where people got up and danced. He was snarky, and actually got his sexy-bastard on (the lyrics of "Before the Night is Over" are awfully raunch for a 70-ish guy), and I loved it. He and Neil Young now join the Eagles, Crosby Stills and Nash, and Richie Havens as the people I'm fucking lucky to have gotten to see, because--frankly--they could stop touring any day, now.
It was just... it was wonderful. Good company, great music, good long walks between the hotel and the concert site, good food the whole weekend and drinks. If you're ever out this way, I'd definitely suggest this, there are new people every year, it's a good cause, it's a ton of music.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Dumbledore/Grindelwald = Canon.
No shit, check it out. Here's the blurb from IMDB:
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix author J.K. Rowling has shocked fans of the boy-wizard series by stating that character Albus Dumbledore as gay. The writer revealed the truth of the Hogwarts school headmaster's sexuality at New York's Carnegie Hall on Friday as part of her American book tour. When asked by an audience member if Dumbledore had found "true love," she replied, "Dumbledore is gay," adding he was in love with his rival Gellert Grindelwald, who he once beat in a battle between good and bad wizards long ago. She says, "Falling in love can blind us to an extent. (Dumbledore was) horribly, terribly let down."
For a longer story, here is the article from the Guardian. I just love her more and more all the time.
Edit: Here's another good article, from AP.
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix author J.K. Rowling has shocked fans of the boy-wizard series by stating that character Albus Dumbledore as gay. The writer revealed the truth of the Hogwarts school headmaster's sexuality at New York's Carnegie Hall on Friday as part of her American book tour. When asked by an audience member if Dumbledore had found "true love," she replied, "Dumbledore is gay," adding he was in love with his rival Gellert Grindelwald, who he once beat in a battle between good and bad wizards long ago. She says, "Falling in love can blind us to an extent. (Dumbledore was) horribly, terribly let down."
For a longer story, here is the article from the Guardian. I just love her more and more all the time.
Edit: Here's another good article, from AP.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Risk factors.
I was reading a little article on judging your risk of/genetic predisposition towards breast cancer, involving how many blood relatives have had it, or have had "related" cancers, etc.
What I want to know is, can there be a genetic predisposition towards cancer? That is, not just one particular form, but towards cancer in general? And, even if not, outside of breast and ovarian cancers being related, are other forms of cancer that are related to one another? Which?
My father's sister died at 53 of pancreatic cancer. Their father died of (admittedly environmentally related) leukemia, and their mother of brain cancer. Her brother died a handful of years ago--I think that was cancer, too, but I'm not certain of it, or of which kind, if so--and their sister had tumors (non-malignant) in her breasts. So did my mother's mother. And another blood relative (either mother's father or mother's mother's father, can't remember which) died of cancer, too, on that side. Kidneys, I think, but maybe it was liver.
My father, like his sister, died when he was 53 (of everything, apparently), but sometimes, in full blown paranoid mode, I wonder if he didn't have cancer, too, and just didn't tell us. He was very proud, he didn't talk about things that were wrong. He saw plenty of doctors for all his various problems, got sicker and more beat up as time went on, and would come home sometimes with his head shaved completely bald, and have his hair grow back softer and whiter than it had been, before. Maybe he just decided to do that? And maybe it just coincidentally coincided with his follicles giving out in their melanin-producing capacity? But shaving it off would certainly cover up hair falling out from therapy, too.
But even not relying on that, there's still a pretty heavy dose coming in from his side. And that's not getting anywhere near the heart attacks and strokes, depression, alcoholism, and other potentially genetically pre-disposing trouble on either side. (In case I haven't mentioned, I'm not having children. The fact that they'd be doomed is only a small part of that, but it bears mention.)
So. What I wonder is, do all of these disparate cases of different kinds of cancer amount to a general predisposition for it? Can there be that?
Just something I think about. Y'know. Sometimes.
What I want to know is, can there be a genetic predisposition towards cancer? That is, not just one particular form, but towards cancer in general? And, even if not, outside of breast and ovarian cancers being related, are other forms of cancer that are related to one another? Which?
My father's sister died at 53 of pancreatic cancer. Their father died of (admittedly environmentally related) leukemia, and their mother of brain cancer. Her brother died a handful of years ago--I think that was cancer, too, but I'm not certain of it, or of which kind, if so--and their sister had tumors (non-malignant) in her breasts. So did my mother's mother. And another blood relative (either mother's father or mother's mother's father, can't remember which) died of cancer, too, on that side. Kidneys, I think, but maybe it was liver.
My father, like his sister, died when he was 53 (of everything, apparently), but sometimes, in full blown paranoid mode, I wonder if he didn't have cancer, too, and just didn't tell us. He was very proud, he didn't talk about things that were wrong. He saw plenty of doctors for all his various problems, got sicker and more beat up as time went on, and would come home sometimes with his head shaved completely bald, and have his hair grow back softer and whiter than it had been, before. Maybe he just decided to do that? And maybe it just coincidentally coincided with his follicles giving out in their melanin-producing capacity? But shaving it off would certainly cover up hair falling out from therapy, too.
But even not relying on that, there's still a pretty heavy dose coming in from his side. And that's not getting anywhere near the heart attacks and strokes, depression, alcoholism, and other potentially genetically pre-disposing trouble on either side. (In case I haven't mentioned, I'm not having children. The fact that they'd be doomed is only a small part of that, but it bears mention.)
So. What I wonder is, do all of these disparate cases of different kinds of cancer amount to a general predisposition for it? Can there be that?
Just something I think about. Y'know. Sometimes.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Boy-oh-boy.
So, hey, have you guys heard of Google Alert? If not, it's a way that you can keep track of who is writing about you/your company/whatever on the web, and what's being said. So, if you're signed up for it and someone writes an article about your company, Google Alert will send you an update, with the link and the article in it.
Can you see where this is going, yet?
If you guessed "Your work has Google Alert, of course, and found your journal!" you win the cupie doll. Now, try for two: Can you guess which of my two nearly identical journals came up on the alert? Here's a hint: one had the picture of me I used for my work's homepage and a cute little purple pig, and the other has an icon of three, clinging hockey boys labeled "Sordid Love Triangle." One is always pretty Safe For Work, and the other is, well, not.
Ah, well. The narrative imperative has to be obeyed, right? And there is a very bright side. (1) Lee gave my description of the company a ringing endorsement, and was very pleased (and thought the whole situation was really funny--I agreed, once the red face died down). (2) After going back through my last twenty entries of The Other Journal, I find there is actually no smut posted on that main page, right now. Oh, links, sure, and a little HP fangirling, but right now it's actually SFW. (3) He said he didn't go through the rest of the journal, anyway (though I have no idea about the other two people the link went to).
So, I linked this one from that one again, and cleared out links to that one from this one. So if anyone followed it over and is checking in, here, hello!
This one's really the same as the other one, only without the potential for embarrassment. And you're welcome to either, I suppose, but if you'd rather not run across smut (rare though it is), I'd recommend sticking with this one.
Can you see where this is going, yet?
If you guessed "Your work has Google Alert, of course, and found your journal!" you win the cupie doll. Now, try for two: Can you guess which of my two nearly identical journals came up on the alert? Here's a hint: one had the picture of me I used for my work's homepage and a cute little purple pig, and the other has an icon of three, clinging hockey boys labeled "Sordid Love Triangle." One is always pretty Safe For Work, and the other is, well, not.
Ah, well. The narrative imperative has to be obeyed, right? And there is a very bright side. (1) Lee gave my description of the company a ringing endorsement, and was very pleased (and thought the whole situation was really funny--I agreed, once the red face died down). (2) After going back through my last twenty entries of The Other Journal, I find there is actually no smut posted on that main page, right now. Oh, links, sure, and a little HP fangirling, but right now it's actually SFW. (3) He said he didn't go through the rest of the journal, anyway (though I have no idea about the other two people the link went to).
So, I linked this one from that one again, and cleared out links to that one from this one. So if anyone followed it over and is checking in, here, hello!
This one's really the same as the other one, only without the potential for embarrassment. And you're welcome to either, I suppose, but if you'd rather not run across smut (rare though it is), I'd recommend sticking with this one.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Lee, my birthday, NESsT, Love
For my birthday, Lee (my lovely boss) brought me back Goodies. I frequently get a little bit of swag (who knew the UBS was big on giving out mints?), but this was especially cool.
So this is actually a good opportunity to describe a little of what NESsT does.
Lee gave me a bottle of wine, in a cool woven bag, with a cool little notebook inside. The bag and notebook were made by one of the non-profit NGOs in Budapest that NESsT is working with.
This group employs the mentally challenged, letting them be productive and creative, and bring in an income, which would otherwise be a very, very remote prospect. They weave everything by hand, themselves, on small looms--tapestries, rugs, bags, scarves. They also hand-make the paper for the covers of the little notebooks, which are sewn together. The art on the covers is theirs. It's beautiful, it's colorful, it's doing a lot of good in their community.
Now, NESsT comes in this way: NESsT does a lot of fundraising, then, rather than just dispersing funds out for one-time gifts, the money goes into infrastructure for these community groups. NESsT does what is basically business training for these groups (business professionals donate time to help in this), and gives the groups technical assistance to keep up and running, and helps them find venues for the products they're making. NESsT helps them with the marketing, and in learning how to do all those sorts of things on their own. And when it's all together, these non-profit non-government community groups have solid infrastructure and a steady source of income that they can use to employ locals and give back to their communities in whatever way their communities need. They get to be self-sufficient (NESsT stands for Non-Profit Enterprise and Self-Sustainability Team). And all that without having to compromise themselves in whatever way private corporations or donors would require before giving them any funding, and without having the unsteadiness of highly variable incomes, or anything else most small charities have to suffer through.
It is really, intensely cool. NESsT takes (in my opinion) the best stuff from the business world and the best stuff from the philanthropy world, and helps people make really wonderful things happen.
It's the panacea, for me, too. I'm not doing much that's big or grand, I'm not working full-time or doing heavy lifting and fund-raising or donating or marketing, but I help with every little thing to keep NESsT running smoothly that I can. I'm putting numbers in spreadsheets and keeping track of business cards and doing research and mailing letters and loading software, but it means that I'm helping (if in just a remote, small little way) to keep small communities in South America and Eastern Europe from starving.
Isn't that amazing?
Maybe I'm PMSing, but I'm about to cry.
I LOVE my job.
P.S. In case you were wondering: the wine is Joe Blow Red.
So this is actually a good opportunity to describe a little of what NESsT does.
Lee gave me a bottle of wine, in a cool woven bag, with a cool little notebook inside. The bag and notebook were made by one of the non-profit NGOs in Budapest that NESsT is working with.
This group employs the mentally challenged, letting them be productive and creative, and bring in an income, which would otherwise be a very, very remote prospect. They weave everything by hand, themselves, on small looms--tapestries, rugs, bags, scarves. They also hand-make the paper for the covers of the little notebooks, which are sewn together. The art on the covers is theirs. It's beautiful, it's colorful, it's doing a lot of good in their community.
Now, NESsT comes in this way: NESsT does a lot of fundraising, then, rather than just dispersing funds out for one-time gifts, the money goes into infrastructure for these community groups. NESsT does what is basically business training for these groups (business professionals donate time to help in this), and gives the groups technical assistance to keep up and running, and helps them find venues for the products they're making. NESsT helps them with the marketing, and in learning how to do all those sorts of things on their own. And when it's all together, these non-profit non-government community groups have solid infrastructure and a steady source of income that they can use to employ locals and give back to their communities in whatever way their communities need. They get to be self-sufficient (NESsT stands for Non-Profit Enterprise and Self-Sustainability Team). And all that without having to compromise themselves in whatever way private corporations or donors would require before giving them any funding, and without having the unsteadiness of highly variable incomes, or anything else most small charities have to suffer through.
It is really, intensely cool. NESsT takes (in my opinion) the best stuff from the business world and the best stuff from the philanthropy world, and helps people make really wonderful things happen.
It's the panacea, for me, too. I'm not doing much that's big or grand, I'm not working full-time or doing heavy lifting and fund-raising or donating or marketing, but I help with every little thing to keep NESsT running smoothly that I can. I'm putting numbers in spreadsheets and keeping track of business cards and doing research and mailing letters and loading software, but it means that I'm helping (if in just a remote, small little way) to keep small communities in South America and Eastern Europe from starving.
Isn't that amazing?
Maybe I'm PMSing, but I'm about to cry.
I LOVE my job.
P.S. In case you were wondering: the wine is Joe Blow Red.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Help!
Hey, folks, I've got a link for you to follow.
Contact Governor Schwarzenegger.
I know most of you aren't residents, but As Goes California, So Goes the Nation, right?
...Please?
See, if you go to that link, and click "Have a comment," put in your name and email, and scroll down the "choose your subject" menu to "Gender-neutral marriage/AB 00043" it'll take you right to a handy page where you can send our gov an email. If on that page you click "Pro," and leave him a nice little note asking him to sign--not veto--our run for redefining marriage without gender pronouns (i.e. legalizing same-sex marriage), it would be a very awesome thing of you.
The text of the bill can be found here, and it's very, very good. It makes the argument well.
Please. As wonderful human beings, would you do this?
LOVE!
P.S. I would consider it a wonderful birthday present, if you did.
Contact Governor Schwarzenegger.
I know most of you aren't residents, but As Goes California, So Goes the Nation, right?
...Please?
See, if you go to that link, and click "Have a comment," put in your name and email, and scroll down the "choose your subject" menu to "Gender-neutral marriage/AB 00043" it'll take you right to a handy page where you can send our gov an email. If on that page you click "Pro," and leave him a nice little note asking him to sign--not veto--our run for redefining marriage without gender pronouns (i.e. legalizing same-sex marriage), it would be a very awesome thing of you.
The text of the bill can be found here, and it's very, very good. It makes the argument well.
Please. As wonderful human beings, would you do this?
LOVE!
P.S. I would consider it a wonderful birthday present, if you did.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Jury Duty? Really?
I have to start checking to see if I have to go in for jury duty. I'm scheduled to be on call this coming week.
I don't want to do it.
Now, it's not that I begrudge a civic duty. If they wanted me to, I'd direct traffic or file papers or do something like that. And it's only partly that my partner's Ex-Wife works at the courthouse. But, I mean, really. . . you want me to help decide someone's fate? I don't want to. I'd gladly sit in the court all day for a week, it's just the responsibility of it that I don't want.
Part of it is that I couldn't, in good conscience, recommend that anyone be sentenced to waste in our prison system, whether or not they're guilty of whatever crime, so I'm not going to be able to take the weigh-only-the-facts oath. I am, in fact, a budding prison abolitionist.
Do you think that if I tell them that they'll let me go? Will I have a chance to tell them that?
I'm hoping they'll just dismiss me without cause. I'm 24*, I'm very visibly a total hippie, I've got a nice fat summa cum laude degree, and I'm a secretary for a Fucking Non-Profit™. I'm signed up for newsletters from Unmarried.org, the Human Rights Campaign, the Organic Consumers Association, the Arbor Day Foundation, and the National Home Gardening Club. I've gone to protests, signed petitions, and go to union meetings for fun. This afternoon it's going to be writing-my-state-representatives-time, to try to encourage them in this whole moratorium-on-the-death-sentence thing.
One side or the other is going to consider me a liability, you know?
Here's hoping.
LOVE
EDIT: Called in, and I am off the hook! But you all knew that.
*In five days. Happy birthday to me. . .
I don't want to do it.
Now, it's not that I begrudge a civic duty. If they wanted me to, I'd direct traffic or file papers or do something like that. And it's only partly that my partner's Ex-Wife works at the courthouse. But, I mean, really. . . you want me to help decide someone's fate? I don't want to. I'd gladly sit in the court all day for a week, it's just the responsibility of it that I don't want.
Part of it is that I couldn't, in good conscience, recommend that anyone be sentenced to waste in our prison system, whether or not they're guilty of whatever crime, so I'm not going to be able to take the weigh-only-the-facts oath. I am, in fact, a budding prison abolitionist.
Do you think that if I tell them that they'll let me go? Will I have a chance to tell them that?
I'm hoping they'll just dismiss me without cause. I'm 24*, I'm very visibly a total hippie, I've got a nice fat summa cum laude degree, and I'm a secretary for a Fucking Non-Profit™. I'm signed up for newsletters from Unmarried.org, the Human Rights Campaign, the Organic Consumers Association, the Arbor Day Foundation, and the National Home Gardening Club. I've gone to protests, signed petitions, and go to union meetings for fun. This afternoon it's going to be writing-my-state-representatives-time, to try to encourage them in this whole moratorium-on-the-death-sentence thing.
One side or the other is going to consider me a liability, you know?
Here's hoping.
LOVE
EDIT: Called in, and I am off the hook! But you all knew that.
*In five days. Happy birthday to me. . .
Thursday, September 6, 2007
False October
We had an Autumn day, yesterday.
There's something I'd like to point out, about the Summer we've been having here in lovely, moderate, seasonless California. Namely, the Central Valley thereof. Namely, Turlock. That is this: Turock has had 25 days at or above 100˚F (the usual was 10-14 days of 100˚F+, until Madness set in). There was one week, late June, where the temperature was in the low nineties, but since May, that's it. It's been upper nineties and above. We have broken 4 records, this summer, and that's only the ones I'm sure of and checked, not the ones I suspected. We've had half the normal amount of rainfall, and only a quarter of the regular snowpack. So we're also headed for a drought, to complement all of our wildfires.
And the wildfires bring us here, to Autumn.
After a week and a half of no day where it was under 78˚ by midnight, or after 10 am, and where the high temperatures ranged from 101-106, it has all of a sudden not broken 90 for two days. Yesterday morning it was fucking cold, for August.
The sun was bright, the sky was hazy, it was 62˚F, the sky was hazy and the air was crisp. And smoky.
Because the valley is On Fire.
But at least I could pretend it was because it really was Autumn, and people were building fires in their fireplaces, and the joys of October were just around the corner. It was a very good day, apart from the ash in the lungs.
There's something I'd like to point out, about the Summer we've been having here in lovely, moderate, seasonless California. Namely, the Central Valley thereof. Namely, Turlock. That is this: Turock has had 25 days at or above 100˚F (the usual was 10-14 days of 100˚F+, until Madness set in). There was one week, late June, where the temperature was in the low nineties, but since May, that's it. It's been upper nineties and above. We have broken 4 records, this summer, and that's only the ones I'm sure of and checked, not the ones I suspected. We've had half the normal amount of rainfall, and only a quarter of the regular snowpack. So we're also headed for a drought, to complement all of our wildfires.
And the wildfires bring us here, to Autumn.
After a week and a half of no day where it was under 78˚ by midnight, or after 10 am, and where the high temperatures ranged from 101-106, it has all of a sudden not broken 90 for two days. Yesterday morning it was fucking cold, for August.
The sun was bright, the sky was hazy, it was 62˚F, the sky was hazy and the air was crisp. And smoky.
Because the valley is On Fire.
But at least I could pretend it was because it really was Autumn, and people were building fires in their fireplaces, and the joys of October were just around the corner. It was a very good day, apart from the ash in the lungs.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Wedded bliss! And accosting the flower arrangments.
This was supposed to be the summer for weddings, but everything exploded. One wedding was postponed 'til I'm not sure when, and the site for the other is on fire, so it got moved.
I went to the latter one this evening. It was absolutely beautiful--Liz and Doug, may all the best come to you!
I danced with anyone who stayed in the same place long enough, including two disabled children, my man, the bride, and biology students. I also got completely drunk on wine and champagne and the absence of water.
...Well, not completely. I'm typing, aren't I? (I just got home, you know.)
However, on the way home, I ate half of the rose I pilfered from the arrangements.
...So I'm probably fairly drunk.
That is all.
P.S. This was apparently my fiftieth post for this blog. Such an honor.
I went to the latter one this evening. It was absolutely beautiful--Liz and Doug, may all the best come to you!
I danced with anyone who stayed in the same place long enough, including two disabled children, my man, the bride, and biology students. I also got completely drunk on wine and champagne and the absence of water.
...Well, not completely. I'm typing, aren't I? (I just got home, you know.)
However, on the way home, I ate half of the rose I pilfered from the arrangements.
...So I'm probably fairly drunk.
That is all.
P.S. This was apparently my fiftieth post for this blog. Such an honor.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
I'm having a very odd moment:
I've just done four hours, unbroken, of fairly mind-melty work (researching contact info and sending out 8 million personalized emails), and I haven't really come down from it. That makes 10 hours, this week, which is more than usual, for me. I feel pretty productive; it's one of the big items checked off my list, and it helps with the guilt that's come of slacking off while Lee is on vacation.
It is also my very good friend Michelle's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!), which is a joyous occasion.
And in something like 3 or 4 hours, my Raechel and her beau will be here, in my house, which is equally joyous. I haven't seen her in months, and I miss her. I've gotten the place cleaned up and settled with appropriate sleeping places for guests, towels, etc, found suitable food, all of that.
I've been reading and writing a lot. I've been making goodies for a bridal shower gift for yet another loved friend. It's 103˚F outside, but it's nice in here, the cat is quietly curled up next to me, Chris is playing guitar upstairs. I'm hungry, but things are otherwise nice, and they're calm, and I'm in one of those states where my mind won't settle down to match, but rather is humming white noise at me and I can't actually think about anything or focus on anything or reflect or enjoy or anything.
My father has been dead ten years to the day. Ten years and about thirteen hours.
I feel odd.
It is also my very good friend Michelle's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!), which is a joyous occasion.
And in something like 3 or 4 hours, my Raechel and her beau will be here, in my house, which is equally joyous. I haven't seen her in months, and I miss her. I've gotten the place cleaned up and settled with appropriate sleeping places for guests, towels, etc, found suitable food, all of that.
I've been reading and writing a lot. I've been making goodies for a bridal shower gift for yet another loved friend. It's 103˚F outside, but it's nice in here, the cat is quietly curled up next to me, Chris is playing guitar upstairs. I'm hungry, but things are otherwise nice, and they're calm, and I'm in one of those states where my mind won't settle down to match, but rather is humming white noise at me and I can't actually think about anything or focus on anything or reflect or enjoy or anything.
My father has been dead ten years to the day. Ten years and about thirteen hours.
I feel odd.
Friday, July 20, 2007
So, Day Two.
As some of you may know, I am home alone this weekend, because Chris is at a conference-thing in Reno. Well, Thursday morning to Saturday night, not exactly the weekend. But this means that I am moping about without my Love. I should be potting plants and getting air and sunshine, but I'm potting around online, instead.
This also means:
(a) I cannot get to the Midnight Ball at Borders (oh, you know I would have been there).
(b) Consequently, I have to wait to get my HP 7.0 until Saturday morning when I can catch the bus or bike over there, meaning like 20 more hours of waiting.
(c) Furthermore, I'm going to have to read like hell to finish it before Chris gets home, because I'm not going to be able to put it down and I'm not going to want to put him down when I haven't seen him in three days, and this presents a conflict.
(d) I'm finally, finally reading a little Online Fiction again (if you know what I mean, wink wink, nudge nudge)
(e) I've watched more bad TV in a night than I usually do in a month.
(f) I'm not behaving like a rational human being in general. Forgetting to eat/sleep/wash/etc, keeping odd hours, and so on.
(g) And last but certainly not least, it means that (in the immortal words of M.C.A.), it's time to get nice. In my time-honored tradition of dealing relatively unhappily, unintelligently, and harmlessly with our brief separations, I am hoping to be utterly potted within the next few hours.
Now, before I check out to hide from potential unintentional spoilers online, some brief announcements:
- Food is good for you.
- Mint, in baking, can hide a variety of sins.
- My laptop's hinges are about to break. I can FEEL IT. So stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of "My Six-Year Old Overused Laptop."
- My Chris gets killed off in the last HP book.
- During his trip, however, he has not yet shot a man, just to watch him die. (Corollary: When he hears that lonesome whistle, he does not hang his head and cry.)
- One of the main offices of the group I work for is in Santiago, Chile--and I am reading a story by someone in Santiago Chile. Coincidence??!?! (Experts agree: yes.)
- I am currently, inexplicably wishing I had non-metallic, very saturated, bubble-gum pink nailpolish. Experts are baffled.
And this just in: the bed's too big without you.
This also means:
(a) I cannot get to the Midnight Ball at Borders (oh, you know I would have been there).
(b) Consequently, I have to wait to get my HP 7.0 until Saturday morning when I can catch the bus or bike over there, meaning like 20 more hours of waiting.
(c) Furthermore, I'm going to have to read like hell to finish it before Chris gets home, because I'm not going to be able to put it down and I'm not going to want to put him down when I haven't seen him in three days, and this presents a conflict.
(d) I'm finally, finally reading a little Online Fiction again (if you know what I mean, wink wink, nudge nudge)
(e) I've watched more bad TV in a night than I usually do in a month.
(f) I'm not behaving like a rational human being in general. Forgetting to eat/sleep/wash/etc, keeping odd hours, and so on.
(g) And last but certainly not least, it means that (in the immortal words of M.C.A.), it's time to get nice. In my time-honored tradition of dealing relatively unhappily, unintelligently, and harmlessly with our brief separations, I am hoping to be utterly potted within the next few hours.
Now, before I check out to hide from potential unintentional spoilers online, some brief announcements:
- Food is good for you.
- Mint, in baking, can hide a variety of sins.
- My laptop's hinges are about to break. I can FEEL IT. So stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of "My Six-Year Old Overused Laptop."
- My Chris gets killed off in the last HP book.
- During his trip, however, he has not yet shot a man, just to watch him die. (Corollary: When he hears that lonesome whistle, he does not hang his head and cry.)
- One of the main offices of the group I work for is in Santiago, Chile--and I am reading a story by someone in Santiago Chile. Coincidence??!?! (Experts agree: yes.)
- I am currently, inexplicably wishing I had non-metallic, very saturated, bubble-gum pink nailpolish. Experts are baffled.
And this just in: the bed's too big without you.
And they're still picking up the bodies.
I have officially completed my first pay period, for work. And you know what that means: I'm about to become a taxpayer.
It's very exciting.
It's very exciting.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
I am wearing guitar-pick earrings.
Hi, folks, just a brief update. Mostly because I haven't given y'all any update.
So: I am alive and well and flourishing!
Work is fantastic. I made it through my first full week, and got two months worth of finances in order and sent off in just a few days. Chris and I have been writing music like mad, and it's good. The cat is eating again, finally, and taking antibiotics at a lower rate (and still doing okay--knock on wood). I am off antibiotics again (I was on them again), and this time, the root canal* seems to actually have stopped the problem. My tomatoes and basil are finally booming, and we've gotten an FT of both. This is because it has been hot. In fact, it has been fucking hot (104˚F, today, for instance--40˚C), but we were able to borrow a lot of movies from the library to keep us busy, keep us inside in the cool, and sate my newfound Peter O'Toole obsession. We've seen, very recently: Lawrence of Arabia, The Great Escape, Lion in Winter, Some Like it Hot, Bright Young Things, How to Steal a Million, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Sweet Charity, Annie Hall, 1408, and Wilde, as well as re-watched Blood and Donuts, Peter's Friends, and a fair bit of Eddie Izzard standup, recorded Lord Jim and a lot more Eddie Izzard standup to watch soon, and still have Triplets of Belleville, Time Bandits and Awakenings awaiting. We read Orlando, and are working through How I Became a Nun (and I am reading Mansfield Park and Guards! Guards!). We had a cheesey indoor 4th of July feast, today, and tomorrow is our THREE YEAR anniversary of moving in together (the really important one, we feel). We've had lots of good sex and good food, which I seem to be digesting,** and I have been happily and thoroughly exploring the Cocktail book my mother gave me (along with the 501-Must-See-Movies book, which has been aiding in other pursuits mentioned above). We're*** getting Petr Sykora, and getting to keep Christensen and Whitney, though we wanted Hannan, as well. I feel like I'm actually getting better at playing the piano, again, on account of having the freedom to actually sit down and play one. T-minus-9 days to Order of the Phoenix, and T-minus-17 days to Deathly Hollows.
I think that is probably enough to digest all at once. I love and miss you all, and I will sit down and catch up on all of your journals soon. Very soon. I hope. I am, unusually, currently more available by email than by journal-commenting, so try it out if you wanna'. I'll try not to be too much of a flake. I hope you are all WELL.
LOVE.
*This is the third root canal. My teeth were the Communism-Domino-Theory in action, but they've now been cut the fuck off at the pass. No more horrendous aaaooowh in the teeth, TYVM.
**Not always the case. If it's a digestive fluke with an acronym, I've probably got it.
***This contraction stands for "The Penguins, of whom we are fans, are"
So: I am alive and well and flourishing!
Work is fantastic. I made it through my first full week, and got two months worth of finances in order and sent off in just a few days. Chris and I have been writing music like mad, and it's good. The cat is eating again, finally, and taking antibiotics at a lower rate (and still doing okay--knock on wood). I am off antibiotics again (I was on them again), and this time, the root canal* seems to actually have stopped the problem. My tomatoes and basil are finally booming, and we've gotten an FT of both. This is because it has been hot. In fact, it has been fucking hot (104˚F, today, for instance--40˚C), but we were able to borrow a lot of movies from the library to keep us busy, keep us inside in the cool, and sate my newfound Peter O'Toole obsession. We've seen, very recently: Lawrence of Arabia, The Great Escape, Lion in Winter, Some Like it Hot, Bright Young Things, How to Steal a Million, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Sweet Charity, Annie Hall, 1408, and Wilde, as well as re-watched Blood and Donuts, Peter's Friends, and a fair bit of Eddie Izzard standup, recorded Lord Jim and a lot more Eddie Izzard standup to watch soon, and still have Triplets of Belleville, Time Bandits and Awakenings awaiting. We read Orlando, and are working through How I Became a Nun (and I am reading Mansfield Park and Guards! Guards!). We had a cheesey indoor 4th of July feast, today, and tomorrow is our THREE YEAR anniversary of moving in together (the really important one, we feel). We've had lots of good sex and good food, which I seem to be digesting,** and I have been happily and thoroughly exploring the Cocktail book my mother gave me (along with the 501-Must-See-Movies book, which has been aiding in other pursuits mentioned above). We're*** getting Petr Sykora, and getting to keep Christensen and Whitney, though we wanted Hannan, as well. I feel like I'm actually getting better at playing the piano, again, on account of having the freedom to actually sit down and play one. T-minus-9 days to Order of the Phoenix, and T-minus-17 days to Deathly Hollows.
I think that is probably enough to digest all at once. I love and miss you all, and I will sit down and catch up on all of your journals soon. Very soon. I hope. I am, unusually, currently more available by email than by journal-commenting, so try it out if you wanna'. I'll try not to be too much of a flake. I hope you are all WELL.
LOVE.
*This is the third root canal. My teeth were the Communism-Domino-Theory in action, but they've now been cut the fuck off at the pass. No more horrendous aaaooowh in the teeth, TYVM.
**Not always the case. If it's a digestive fluke with an acronym, I've probably got it.
***This contraction stands for "The Penguins, of whom we are fans, are"
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Joy-bombs come in 3's!
1. The concerts were fabulous. Chris came on Saturday night, and Saturday night went even better than Friday night. There was plenty of teasing by the lovely choir director, and the choir director's lovely partner, Lee (MORE ON LEE IN A MOMENT), who were in the wings next to me (I was on an end), which loosened the mood a lot. I was beaming like a friggin' cartoon, after I hit (excuse me, nailed) those B's, and I had an absolute blast. We were really good. :)
2. We're inheriting a piano from our friend, Val, who won't have room for it after she moves. We get it just for the cost of having it moved, and we actually managed to work out a way to fit it into our living room (which is shocking on its own). It looks like it's not going to be too bad to move it, even, considering it's an upright, there are only a couple of entry steps involved, and it's only going about 15 miles. I'M GOING TO HAVE A REAL PIANO AGAIN! EEEE!
3. This is where Lee comes in: I HAVE A JOB.
ME. Ms. Won't-Work-for-Wages, unpaid, home-making hippie goddess.
And do you know why I have a job? Because Lee, who trusts my qualities as a fun human being to work with and a fast learner enough to make up for my inexperience, said he needed someone to help organize his life, input numbers, file, run errands, make copies, etc., for his fucking non-profit, developing-community-infrastructure-in-impoverished-areas, supporting-the-earth-friendly, supporting the human-rights-respecting, liberating-smaller-non-profit-NGO's-from-the-clutches-of-corporate-donation-begging NGO. At 8-10 flexible hours a week. For $10 an hour.
In short, the only thing I'd be willing to do, aside from sell flowers or groom dogs. (Trust me, it's a seriously privileged position.)
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIHAVEAJOBIHAVEAJOB!!!!!!!!!!!!
I go in this afternoon to hang out and get a feel for what the gal I'm replacing is doing, see what's on the table, get some training, and then (once he's back in town after mega traveling binge), I'll start properly on June 19th.
I am so. . . . so. .. . You have no idea. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!
::collapse::
LOVE
2. We're inheriting a piano from our friend, Val, who won't have room for it after she moves. We get it just for the cost of having it moved, and we actually managed to work out a way to fit it into our living room (which is shocking on its own). It looks like it's not going to be too bad to move it, even, considering it's an upright, there are only a couple of entry steps involved, and it's only going about 15 miles. I'M GOING TO HAVE A REAL PIANO AGAIN! EEEE!
3. This is where Lee comes in: I HAVE A JOB.
ME. Ms. Won't-Work-for-Wages, unpaid, home-making hippie goddess.
And do you know why I have a job? Because Lee, who trusts my qualities as a fun human being to work with and a fast learner enough to make up for my inexperience, said he needed someone to help organize his life, input numbers, file, run errands, make copies, etc., for his fucking non-profit, developing-community-infrastructure-in-impoverished-areas, supporting-the-earth-friendly, supporting the human-rights-respecting, liberating-smaller-non-profit-NGO's-from-the-clutches-of-corporate-donation-begging NGO. At 8-10 flexible hours a week. For $10 an hour.
In short, the only thing I'd be willing to do, aside from sell flowers or groom dogs. (Trust me, it's a seriously privileged position.)
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIHAVEAJOBIHAVEAJOB!!!!!!!!!!!!
I go in this afternoon to hang out and get a feel for what the gal I'm replacing is doing, see what's on the table, get some training, and then (once he's back in town after mega traveling binge), I'll start properly on June 19th.
I am so. . . . so. .. . You have no idea. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIEEEEEEEEEEE!!
::collapse::
LOVE
Sunday, May 20, 2007
The concerts are over.
Washing my face, just now?
A spiritual experience.
All the make-up (I do not wear make-up, any other day of the year) smeared on to make my general features visible from the audience, despite blinding white lights and a black house.. . all the sweat and all the tired and all the bobby pins and big, goofy, I-really-hit-those-B-flats-hard grins, the a-a-a-a-aaaaaaaa-men!s. . . gone with the cold cream.
I'm almost clean.
...I can't even quite remember what my face looks like. But I know I had a good time, and I know I did well, and I know I had a good time, afterwards. And the Moose-damned concerts are over.
I don't really know what to do with that, or what to say. Except that I'm clean, and the concerts are over, and people paid up to $50 to see us, and they gave us wine and cheese and strawberries with cream, after, and I'm tired, and there's still the smear of eyeliner (or else I'm even more beat than I thought), and there's a little Monty Python waiting for me downstairs, with my beau and maybe some more sweets. And sleep. And I think I like those people. And. . . and I'm really tired. And it was good.
Goodnight, my loves. I'll see you another day. LOVE
A spiritual experience.
All the make-up (I do not wear make-up, any other day of the year) smeared on to make my general features visible from the audience, despite blinding white lights and a black house.. . all the sweat and all the tired and all the bobby pins and big, goofy, I-really-hit-those-B-flats-hard grins, the a-a-a-a-aaaaaaaa-men!s. . . gone with the cold cream.
I'm almost clean.
...I can't even quite remember what my face looks like. But I know I had a good time, and I know I did well, and I know I had a good time, afterwards. And the Moose-damned concerts are over.
I don't really know what to do with that, or what to say. Except that I'm clean, and the concerts are over, and people paid up to $50 to see us, and they gave us wine and cheese and strawberries with cream, after, and I'm tired, and there's still the smear of eyeliner (or else I'm even more beat than I thought), and there's a little Monty Python waiting for me downstairs, with my beau and maybe some more sweets. And sleep. And I think I like those people. And. . . and I'm really tired. And it was good.
Goodnight, my loves. I'll see you another day. LOVE
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Well, that was fun, wasn't it?
Let it hereby be known that I am a hypochondriac. Or, at least, I'm paranoid, and prone to flights of fancy concerning some root cause of whatever is going on. And I'm easily psychocomatically influenced.
Basically, a hypochondriac.
But putting me on a drug that makes being out in the sun for a while a serious potential danger, which requires avoiding calcium (and several other ubiquitous minerals) in the eight hours surrounding taking the drug, and which Nearly Killed my Aunt (owing to an allergy to it), doesn't help. It represents easy danger. It is especially tantalizing to my worrying when possible side effects and signs to look out for include the plus-ubiquitous-que-calcium nausea, dizziness, drowsiness, joint pain, and irregular heartbeat.
And when potential (rare) side effects include seizures, destroyed intestines, and occasional thoughts of suicide, to name only a few, since those make it a really attractive treatment to worry about.
An hour before I took the thing, reading the warning sheets, I was drowsy as sin. And getting refluxy, because I'd misread the warnings to say I couldn't have antacids until 6 hours after taking the damn pill (it's only two--you just can't have taken one 6 hours before). But I've been getting a lot of sun, and not enough water; I haven't gotten enough sleep; I'm experiencing a certain amount of iron loss, and just gave a pint of blood a few days ago. I have every reason to be a little drowsy, and to get a little light-headed when standing suddenly and all that.
But you know I'm setting myself up for a week of this.
The cause of all this charming anticipation and excitement is the biological-warfare-level antibiotic, Ciproflaxocin, which my dentist prescribed (in his infinite wisdom), since we're trying to avoid me needing another root canal. I'm also stocked up on anti-inflammatories, to try to join with the antibiotic to knock the little bastard tooth out in a more peaceful way than drilling its inner and outer tissues away, leaving, literally, a mere shell of its former self. And nothing else has worked, to date. And I'm getting sick of the throbbing on contact with floss. So, here's hoping, hey?
And I had the first dose about 45 minutes ago, and seem to be fine. I could be drowsy, but it's hard to say. Anyway, I'm not going to push it with any heavy lifting, but I'm betting all's going to be well.
Unrelatedly, I resent blogger's forcing me to switch to its new template. What since I can't use it, with my ISP. Or with most ISPs I can get my OS to play with. Not even long enough to switch to New Blogger--that's how bad its failure to work is.
I guess I'm switching to Firefox, after all. Goddamn Blogger/Safari-1.0 feuding.
Basically, a hypochondriac.
But putting me on a drug that makes being out in the sun for a while a serious potential danger, which requires avoiding calcium (and several other ubiquitous minerals) in the eight hours surrounding taking the drug, and which Nearly Killed my Aunt (owing to an allergy to it), doesn't help. It represents easy danger. It is especially tantalizing to my worrying when possible side effects and signs to look out for include the plus-ubiquitous-que-calcium nausea, dizziness, drowsiness, joint pain, and irregular heartbeat.
And when potential (rare) side effects include seizures, destroyed intestines, and occasional thoughts of suicide, to name only a few, since those make it a really attractive treatment to worry about.
An hour before I took the thing, reading the warning sheets, I was drowsy as sin. And getting refluxy, because I'd misread the warnings to say I couldn't have antacids until 6 hours after taking the damn pill (it's only two--you just can't have taken one 6 hours before). But I've been getting a lot of sun, and not enough water; I haven't gotten enough sleep; I'm experiencing a certain amount of iron loss, and just gave a pint of blood a few days ago. I have every reason to be a little drowsy, and to get a little light-headed when standing suddenly and all that.
But you know I'm setting myself up for a week of this.
The cause of all this charming anticipation and excitement is the biological-warfare-level antibiotic, Ciproflaxocin, which my dentist prescribed (in his infinite wisdom), since we're trying to avoid me needing another root canal. I'm also stocked up on anti-inflammatories, to try to join with the antibiotic to knock the little bastard tooth out in a more peaceful way than drilling its inner and outer tissues away, leaving, literally, a mere shell of its former self. And nothing else has worked, to date. And I'm getting sick of the throbbing on contact with floss. So, here's hoping, hey?
And I had the first dose about 45 minutes ago, and seem to be fine. I could be drowsy, but it's hard to say. Anyway, I'm not going to push it with any heavy lifting, but I'm betting all's going to be well.
Unrelatedly, I resent blogger's forcing me to switch to its new template. What since I can't use it, with my ISP. Or with most ISPs I can get my OS to play with. Not even long enough to switch to New Blogger--that's how bad its failure to work is.
I guess I'm switching to Firefox, after all. Goddamn Blogger/Safari-1.0 feuding.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Hear the glorious tones of the air filter. . .
We're back from Arizona!
We first got to see Chris's sister, Pam, and her mate Chris (yes, it is) as well as their gaseous guinea pig Howard and their tortoises Tommy and Oreo, in Tempe. Then, we stayed with the lovely Rae- "It's in my eye!" -chel and her cat, Monstrosity (given name: Zitarra, common name: Cat), and temporary beta fish, Mo, in Chandler. We had a fabulous time everywhere, went to the Tempe Arts Festival, had a movie day, played more hands of the card game Phase 10 than your mother (unless your mother played a lot of Phase 10), got a nice visit from Raechel's brother and his wife, and had a go at a couple of great restaurants (the Middle-Eastern Haji Baba's and the Thai Thai Rama).
As usual (apparently), I got sick. My love drove 11 hours there and 10 hours (good time, btw) back, and you can imagine what that much car travel is good for. We had far more restaurant food than to which we are accustomed. I was around a furrier, darker cat than usual (I begin to suspect allergies). I spent more time in close contact with a furry cat than usual (that cat wrestles/kills). I breathed plenty of that fabulous Pheonix air, which has been known to give Californians respiratory failure on contact (useful information!).
So I've brought back what I can only imagine is a dandy sinus/respiratory infection (useful for choir practice tonight). But we also brought back wonderful illegal grapefruits from Pam's tree, a table and bowl that she made (because she's amazing), a few cool ceramic pieces from the Arts Festival, goopy glops of Raechel's love, a great and abiding love for her cat, and my new need to read Pride and Prejudice and Cyranno de Bergerac.
All that love and fun was well worth the little troubles of it. It was a fantastic trip. If you're reading this, my various Arizona loves, THANK YOU.
P.S. And Raechel: I've just realized, it's in my lungs. Sticking up the tubes. I thought it was pollution and dander and death, but no: it is Your Love. <3
P.P.S. For those of you who are not familiar with me and Rae's relationship, don't worry about the P.S. This is common.
We first got to see Chris's sister, Pam, and her mate Chris (yes, it is) as well as their gaseous guinea pig Howard and their tortoises Tommy and Oreo, in Tempe. Then, we stayed with the lovely Rae- "It's in my eye!" -chel and her cat, Monstrosity (given name: Zitarra, common name: Cat), and temporary beta fish, Mo, in Chandler. We had a fabulous time everywhere, went to the Tempe Arts Festival, had a movie day, played more hands of the card game Phase 10 than your mother (unless your mother played a lot of Phase 10), got a nice visit from Raechel's brother and his wife, and had a go at a couple of great restaurants (the Middle-Eastern Haji Baba's and the Thai Thai Rama).
As usual (apparently), I got sick. My love drove 11 hours there and 10 hours (good time, btw) back, and you can imagine what that much car travel is good for. We had far more restaurant food than to which we are accustomed. I was around a furrier, darker cat than usual (I begin to suspect allergies). I spent more time in close contact with a furry cat than usual (that cat wrestles/kills). I breathed plenty of that fabulous Pheonix air, which has been known to give Californians respiratory failure on contact (useful information!).
So I've brought back what I can only imagine is a dandy sinus/respiratory infection (useful for choir practice tonight). But we also brought back wonderful illegal grapefruits from Pam's tree, a table and bowl that she made (because she's amazing), a few cool ceramic pieces from the Arts Festival, goopy glops of Raechel's love, a great and abiding love for her cat, and my new need to read Pride and Prejudice and Cyranno de Bergerac.
All that love and fun was well worth the little troubles of it. It was a fantastic trip. If you're reading this, my various Arizona loves, THANK YOU.
P.S. And Raechel: I've just realized, it's in my lungs. Sticking up the tubes. I thought it was pollution and dander and death, but no: it is Your Love. <3
P.P.S. For those of you who are not familiar with me and Rae's relationship, don't worry about the P.S. This is common.
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