1) Back home safe and sound. Exhausted, but generally good.
2) I love Pittsburgh.
3) I love academics. Kind of like how I love politics. ...Pretty much just like that, actually. Further: Academic conferences follow the same general rules of behavior as online fan communities do, only with less hugging (unless I'm involved), and more--yes, more--wankery. Perhaps more on this later. They're also like Stealer's Wheel's "Stuck in the Middle With You," at least if you're prone to social anxiety and taking open bars up on their offers.
4) I got to meet Chris's oldest friend, Bob--34 years worth--and re-meet one of his best friends from grad school, Dave. And it was really, really fucking nice. I had a fantastic time. (Maybe more on this, too.) I've been facebook bingeing and blog-trawling for most of the night,* actually, since that, broken up only by fitful naps I didn't mean to take and consequent nightmares, and a compulsive playing and re-playing of an IQ-y brain game. And wine.
5) I got to meet an online Hockey Friend, and that was fantastic, too! When we saw the game with Dave, we met up with her first, and I got to get my fangirl-meets-actual-sport-interest on, which was great. It was a good game, despite the loss, and I have a face/voice to put to the blog!
6) Between the flights (San Jose -> Atlanta -> Pittsburgh and back the same route) and the conference sessions (wherein I need to run interference to keep my brain roughly on the task at hand), I knit a long, wide, ribbed scarf for an xmas present, drew two sketches of scenes in Pittsburgh (one w/ Mellon arena and conference-goer's silhouettes I'm actually quite pleased with, for what it is--may post this), scribbled on things I'm writing/plotted, and read a novel. Consequently, I felt very productive, and seem to have sustained a minor shoulder injury from the above abuse (as they were performed in very cramped quarters, and I am me). Also, speaking of Chris's college pals: the book was "Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break," by Steve Sherrill, and it filled me with this sad, diffuse warmth. It was really lovely.
Overall, I have a sense of health and thriving, despite the bone-deep tired.
So goodnight, and LOVE.
*Bob's blog turned up this quote from The Long Emergency and it'll give you a sense of the way conversation went while we were there, but it's also gorgeous, and strangely soothing in the face of collapse, so I had to repost it:
If it happens that the human race doesn't make it [through the Long Emergency], then the fact that we were here once will not be altered, that once upon a time we peopled this astonishing blue planet, and wondered intelligently at everything about it and the other things who lived here with us on it, and that we celebrated the beauty of it in music and art, architecture, literature, and dance, and that there were times when we approached something godlike in our abilities and aspirations. We emerged out of a depthless mystery, and back into mystery we returned, and in the end the mystery is all there is.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you, oo-oo-oo
To paraphrase Greenspan: As goes California, so goes the nation, bitches! Could you guess that the part he didn't say was "bitches?"
So Connecticut has joined my illustrious motherland in overturning its ban on gay marriage.
Can we get a domino effect on this, please?
(Now CA just needs to crush Prop 8--proposed constitutional amendment "hereby defining marriage in the state of California as between one man and one woman." It won't stop any other state from trying to write over their own decisions with their own ballot measures, but it'd sure be a discouraging start!)
So Connecticut has joined my illustrious motherland in overturning its ban on gay marriage.
Can we get a domino effect on this, please?
(Now CA just needs to crush Prop 8--proposed constitutional amendment "hereby defining marriage in the state of California as between one man and one woman." It won't stop any other state from trying to write over their own decisions with their own ballot measures, but it'd sure be a discouraging start!)
Thursday, October 9, 2008
A Precious Right
I'll post this back up at the beginning of November, I'm sure, but for now I'm just so happy I managed to capture it on my little iSight camera.
Brief closer to a 1950's game show, one night.
(...yes, we've been watching a lot of What's My Line?, DVRd from the Game Show Network. It's... really sweet, actually.)
Brief closer to a 1950's game show, one night.
(...yes, we've been watching a lot of What's My Line?, DVRd from the Game Show Network. It's... really sweet, actually.)
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Well, I can't stop now...
I thought this was supposed to be Economics, tonight? We have to listen to Questions From the Gallery?
...This is going to diminish the ability for a successful drinking game. However, the need will probably arise more than before. So, anyway, here's a short set.
DRINK:
Candidates
*Any time the phrase "Main Street" is used.
*If Keating Five comes up (Kudos, Obama, for finally mentioning it!)
*If Ayers or the Weathermen come up.
*Any time McCain says "Miss Congeniality" or "Maverick."
*Any time McCain actually looks at Obama.
EDIT: The audience questions are bust, they've all been vetted. Still drink for "What are you going to do for me?" But here're a few added ones:
McCain mentioning suspending his campaign.
If any candidate shakes the hand of a questioner during the course of an answer.
If a candidate asks a questioner a question.
Any outright lies.
EDIT: Oh, good, John, that's true. You HAVE voted against a lot of spending. Including spending on the veterans and troops you support so much. Things like body armor.
E2: I love Obama's "Are you fucking kidding me?" look in response to McCain's OUTRIGHT LIES ABOUT HIS TAX PLANS. McCain, I have insurance--it's better than what I could get with a $5000 tax credit if the insurance was cut. And I don't have kids. LEAVE ME ALONE.
E3: HANDSHAKE! I win!
...This is going to diminish the ability for a successful drinking game. However, the need will probably arise more than before. So, anyway, here's a short set.
DRINK:
Candidates
*Any time the phrase "Main Street" is used.
*If Keating Five comes up (Kudos, Obama, for finally mentioning it!)
*If Ayers or the Weathermen come up.
*Any time McCain says "Miss Congeniality" or "Maverick."
*Any time McCain actually looks at Obama.
EDIT: The audience questions are bust, they've all been vetted. Still drink for "What are you going to do for me?" But here're a few added ones:
McCain mentioning suspending his campaign.
If any candidate shakes the hand of a questioner during the course of an answer.
If a candidate asks a questioner a question.
Any outright lies.
EDIT: Oh, good, John, that's true. You HAVE voted against a lot of spending. Including spending on the veterans and troops you support so much. Things like body armor.
E2: I love Obama's "Are you fucking kidding me?" look in response to McCain's OUTRIGHT LIES ABOUT HIS TAX PLANS. McCain, I have insurance--it's better than what I could get with a $5000 tax credit if the insurance was cut. And I don't have kids. LEAVE ME ALONE.
E3: HANDSHAKE! I win!
Friday, October 3, 2008
I can think of a better reason.
Okay, Time author. Your description of woman-on-woman hate was pretty funny. But I could barely have managed to be more disappointed by this article. (Why Some Women Hate Sarah Palin)
I actually love that she's attractive, and confident. If I knew nothing about her politics, I'd think she was adorable. I still kind of do. Embarrassment isn't really an issue, either. A small part of me actually deeply loves Sarah Palin.
So you know what? It really is just a matter of hating on the policies.
Oh, it takes other forms out of a kind of defensiveness. There might even be a degree of repressed misogyny in the way I want to get into a dogfight-cum-grudgefuck with her. But then again, maybe it's just the way my brain, overloaded with anger and insult, is choosing to combine "she's attractive, confident, and with the potential for fragility underneath" with "that's the most appalling set of politics I've come across in a long time." Plus, me = dog.
I respect approximately two things she's ever done. I'm all in on closing loopholes on oil company tax policy, for instance.
...okay, one thing she's done.
Otherwise? She's a menace on just about every issue I hold dear. And even on ones about which I just have Views. I don't think I even have to get into that, here, do I? (Though, Times author, I was impressed with the way in which you so readily dismissed the impact of actual politics on my political views! Well done!) Now I will admit that I am insulted, too, and that that's probably ramping up the level of disdain--the choice to appoint her as running mate was a pretty weak pander. If there wasn't the buzz (hopefully overblown) about displaced Hillary supporters looking to McCain, would he have chosen her? There would have been plenty of other options for people who would have roused the Base for him. Although I suppose choosing a woman with anything that actually looks like a record of defending women's rights wouldn't have worked in McCain's favor with said Base. In the end, she's the political equivalent of a trophy wife, and that really doesn't do anything to resonate with my feminism.
And now supposing she did become leader of the nation. The executive record she suggests is so important is terrifying. It's full of grudges being played out in politics, friendships being the primary decider on who gets what post (as opposed to competence), general corruption and calculated secrecy checked against legal loopholes--in short, a good replica of the Bush White House. That's not something I'm looking forward to repeating.
And as for competence: I understand that she's having to do a lot of learning very quickly, and she's making leaps. I can forgive misspeaking, and I thought she did very well in the debate, especially compared to Everything Else She's Said So Far. But while experience isn't the be all and end all for me, having a solid grasp of the political situations around you is pretty fucking crucial. Demonstrating a capacity to think critically about them--and to not rely on (more Bush-esque ploys) appealing to "the American people's common sense" or "common values" or anything else that is a stand in in today's rhetoric for Not Actually Thinking--is pretty fucking crucial.
So, while I'm delighted at your attempt to dumb down my political feelings to that classic Petty Woman-y Getting-My-Hate-On, I think in the end that--in this case-I'm still going to want to "just elect a man" into office, "like we've always done." You know, the man with the policies I support, the most similar sense of values, the capacity to improve our country's standing in the view of the rest of the world, the ability to potentially inspire us to live up to higher standards rather than down to pettiness and populism-for-its-own-sake, the one with better record on women's issues...
On second thought, you must be right. My girly anger machine must just be getting in the way of my ability to be loyal to the sex, and look past how perfect she is to the leader underneath. I just hate her because she's pretty.
I actually love that she's attractive, and confident. If I knew nothing about her politics, I'd think she was adorable. I still kind of do. Embarrassment isn't really an issue, either. A small part of me actually deeply loves Sarah Palin.
So you know what? It really is just a matter of hating on the policies.
Oh, it takes other forms out of a kind of defensiveness. There might even be a degree of repressed misogyny in the way I want to get into a dogfight-cum-grudgefuck with her. But then again, maybe it's just the way my brain, overloaded with anger and insult, is choosing to combine "she's attractive, confident, and with the potential for fragility underneath" with "that's the most appalling set of politics I've come across in a long time." Plus, me = dog.
I respect approximately two things she's ever done. I'm all in on closing loopholes on oil company tax policy, for instance.
...okay, one thing she's done.
Otherwise? She's a menace on just about every issue I hold dear. And even on ones about which I just have Views. I don't think I even have to get into that, here, do I? (Though, Times author, I was impressed with the way in which you so readily dismissed the impact of actual politics on my political views! Well done!) Now I will admit that I am insulted, too, and that that's probably ramping up the level of disdain--the choice to appoint her as running mate was a pretty weak pander. If there wasn't the buzz (hopefully overblown) about displaced Hillary supporters looking to McCain, would he have chosen her? There would have been plenty of other options for people who would have roused the Base for him. Although I suppose choosing a woman with anything that actually looks like a record of defending women's rights wouldn't have worked in McCain's favor with said Base. In the end, she's the political equivalent of a trophy wife, and that really doesn't do anything to resonate with my feminism.
And now supposing she did become leader of the nation. The executive record she suggests is so important is terrifying. It's full of grudges being played out in politics, friendships being the primary decider on who gets what post (as opposed to competence), general corruption and calculated secrecy checked against legal loopholes--in short, a good replica of the Bush White House. That's not something I'm looking forward to repeating.
And as for competence: I understand that she's having to do a lot of learning very quickly, and she's making leaps. I can forgive misspeaking, and I thought she did very well in the debate, especially compared to Everything Else She's Said So Far. But while experience isn't the be all and end all for me, having a solid grasp of the political situations around you is pretty fucking crucial. Demonstrating a capacity to think critically about them--and to not rely on (more Bush-esque ploys) appealing to "the American people's common sense" or "common values" or anything else that is a stand in in today's rhetoric for Not Actually Thinking--is pretty fucking crucial.
So, while I'm delighted at your attempt to dumb down my political feelings to that classic Petty Woman-y Getting-My-Hate-On, I think in the end that--in this case-I'm still going to want to "just elect a man" into office, "like we've always done." You know, the man with the policies I support, the most similar sense of values, the capacity to improve our country's standing in the view of the rest of the world, the ability to potentially inspire us to live up to higher standards rather than down to pettiness and populism-for-its-own-sake, the one with better record on women's issues...
On second thought, you must be right. My girly anger machine must just be getting in the way of my ability to be loyal to the sex, and look past how perfect she is to the leader underneath. I just hate her because she's pretty.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
So there's a VP debate, tonight...
I know it's Thursday. And don't think that by my doing this I mean to suggest that the whole thing is risible--I certainly didn't mean that last time. It's really just a way of expressing frustration/snark with the rhetoric in a way that doesn't necessarily result in wallowing/hair-tearing, and provides a road to soothe said frustration at that.
That said, here's another drinking game.
See, I think the problem with the debate game for the last time was that I'd been thinking of it in terms of two separate speeches, as opposed to a debate. It's hard not to. That may be a problem with this set of rules, too, but I'm hoping I'll have gotten a little closer.
DRINK:
Any time Biden mixes a metaphor--big drink if there are at least three things that don't go together in the sentence.
Any time Palin uses job interview level stalling tactics (e.g. "In what way?" "That's a good question..." "That's a very important question." "You know, I've been thinking about that a lot..." "Excuse me, could you repeat the question?") or defers from answering a question entirely.
Any time either of them says something unequivocally, factually false.
If either of them says flat out, "That is a lie."
Any time either of them uses an insultingly cliche aphorism or a painfully folksy metaphor.
If Biden slams his fist on the podium or extends it for emphasis, or if Palin raises her arm and points very high.
If Biden says something that could be (fairly or unfairly) construed as sexist, or Palin says something that could be (fairly or unfairly) construed as racist.
If Palin uses the phrases "tax and spend" or "cut and run, or Biden uses the phrases "four more years" or "out of touch."
If Palin suggests Obama doesn't have enough experience. If Biden suggests Palin HAS enough experience (extra points if it's backhanded--e.g. refers to her history of croneyism, jingoist rhetoric, or excessive secrecy in comparison to behavior of Cheney or Bush).
Any time the following phrases are used: "What ______ doesn't seem to understand..." "Bridge to Nowhere," "pork barrel," "pet project," "your tax dollars," "irresponsible spending," "Main Street," "Corporate Welfare," "Socialized _____," "what America needs."
...Besides, when there's pineapple in the house, there needs to be an excuse for Piña Coladas.
EDIT: Wish I'd mentioned referencing the suspension of McCain's campaign, the "woman in Kansas" story, and "bringing people to the table"/"bipartisan efforts." And excessive references to Alaska--that one I'd intended to and left out. EDIT again: "Gosh darn it," "doggone it"...
And I'm actually drinking something called a Mixed Metaphor, instead of a boat drink. Chris suggested I make one up--it's vanilla vodka, pastis (like absinthe or an anisette), and lemon/lime.
EDIT 2: "referred to raping the outer coast" -- Hey, Sarah, what about your stance on how to treat rape victims?
And she didn't have her "noo-klee-ur" phonetic card.
EDIT 3: Gwen Ifill, oh my God, you actually asked a hot-button issue. I love you.
EDIT 4: Sarah Palin doesn't understand that "two state policy" means giving Palestine its own country. I think she thought that meant multinational effort. (I'm nearly certain of this.)
EDIT 5: From my mother: "She's Dolores Umbridge. She's smarmy and she's scary--she's Dolores Umbridge."
EDIT 6: I'm sorry, Palin, as far as emotional impact and pulling on heartstrings are concerned, that answer had nothing on "my wife and daughter are dead and I had to take care of my children alone." (Me = kinda' crying a little.)
That said, here's another drinking game.
See, I think the problem with the debate game for the last time was that I'd been thinking of it in terms of two separate speeches, as opposed to a debate. It's hard not to. That may be a problem with this set of rules, too, but I'm hoping I'll have gotten a little closer.
DRINK:
Any time Biden mixes a metaphor--big drink if there are at least three things that don't go together in the sentence.
Any time Palin uses job interview level stalling tactics (e.g. "In what way?" "That's a good question..." "That's a very important question." "You know, I've been thinking about that a lot..." "Excuse me, could you repeat the question?") or defers from answering a question entirely.
Any time either of them says something unequivocally, factually false.
If either of them says flat out, "That is a lie."
Any time either of them uses an insultingly cliche aphorism or a painfully folksy metaphor.
If Biden slams his fist on the podium or extends it for emphasis, or if Palin raises her arm and points very high.
If Biden says something that could be (fairly or unfairly) construed as sexist, or Palin says something that could be (fairly or unfairly) construed as racist.
If Palin uses the phrases "tax and spend" or "cut and run, or Biden uses the phrases "four more years" or "out of touch."
If Palin suggests Obama doesn't have enough experience. If Biden suggests Palin HAS enough experience (extra points if it's backhanded--e.g. refers to her history of croneyism, jingoist rhetoric, or excessive secrecy in comparison to behavior of Cheney or Bush).
Any time the following phrases are used: "What ______ doesn't seem to understand..." "Bridge to Nowhere," "pork barrel," "pet project," "your tax dollars," "irresponsible spending," "Main Street," "Corporate Welfare," "Socialized _____," "what America needs."
...Besides, when there's pineapple in the house, there needs to be an excuse for Piña Coladas.
EDIT: Wish I'd mentioned referencing the suspension of McCain's campaign, the "woman in Kansas" story, and "bringing people to the table"/"bipartisan efforts." And excessive references to Alaska--that one I'd intended to and left out. EDIT again: "Gosh darn it," "doggone it"...
And I'm actually drinking something called a Mixed Metaphor, instead of a boat drink. Chris suggested I make one up--it's vanilla vodka, pastis (like absinthe or an anisette), and lemon/lime.
EDIT 2: "referred to raping the outer coast" -- Hey, Sarah, what about your stance on how to treat rape victims?
And she didn't have her "noo-klee-ur" phonetic card.
EDIT 3: Gwen Ifill, oh my God, you actually asked a hot-button issue. I love you.
EDIT 4: Sarah Palin doesn't understand that "two state policy" means giving Palestine its own country. I think she thought that meant multinational effort. (I'm nearly certain of this.)
EDIT 5: From my mother: "She's Dolores Umbridge. She's smarmy and she's scary--she's Dolores Umbridge."
EDIT 6: I'm sorry, Palin, as far as emotional impact and pulling on heartstrings are concerned, that answer had nothing on "my wife and daughter are dead and I had to take care of my children alone." (Me = kinda' crying a little.)
McCain's support of troops and veterans.
His most unimpeachable stance, right? How could a veteran--a POW--be anything but sympathetic and supportive? Especially after this statement during the first debate:
"I know the veterans, I know them well, and I know that they know that I'll take care of them, and I have been proud of their support and their recognition of my service to the veterans, and I love them, and I'll take care of them, and they know that I'll take care of them."
..and his suggestion that if he started a spending freeze, it would cover everything *but* defense and veterans' programs.
Well, non-partisan veterans' groups are looking at this claim of support. It apparently upset a lot of troops and vets.
So someone compiled a thorough list for his voting record and statements on troops and vets issues.
Please look at that. Even if it's not your hot-button issue. Even if you just skim it. It's pretty incredible.
"I know the veterans, I know them well, and I know that they know that I'll take care of them, and I have been proud of their support and their recognition of my service to the veterans, and I love them, and I'll take care of them, and they know that I'll take care of them."
..and his suggestion that if he started a spending freeze, it would cover everything *but* defense and veterans' programs.
Well, non-partisan veterans' groups are looking at this claim of support. It apparently upset a lot of troops and vets.
So someone compiled a thorough list for his voting record and statements on troops and vets issues.
Please look at that. Even if it's not your hot-button issue. Even if you just skim it. It's pretty incredible.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Debate Drinking Game!
I had to do it. Coming in just under the wire, a Presidential Debate Drinking Game! Pretty simple, but it should hold for these debates. Let me know if you actually do it, eh? I'm pausing it on DVR so I have a little more time to get set up, here.
DRINK:
Any time McCain mentions his time as a POW.
Any time McCain uses the phrase "brave Americans" to refer to troops.
Any time Obama refers to McCain as "my esteemed ____" or "my respected_____".
Any time Obama mentions his father, or his (white) grandmother. (Take a big slug if he mentions them both in the same sentence.)
Any time Obama uses the word "dreams."
Any use of the phrase "9/11"
If McCain accuses Obama's tax plan of raising taxes "on Americans."
If Obama mentions the "Bush economy."*
If Obama brings up McCain's comments about $5 mil being rich or not remembering how many houses he owns.
If McCain brings up Obama's sex-ed bill.
Any "I met a woman in Kansas..." kind of story. Take a good slug if it involves dying of cancer or losing a house.
If Obama calls McCain "out of touch" or McCain calls Obama "elitist."
If either candidate accuses the other of "socializing" anything.* (Extra drink if he follows it with the phrase "on our backs" or "on the backs of _____ Americans.")
Any time anyone mentions Palin.*
Any time McCain contends Palin has as much (or more) relevant experience as (/than) Obama.
Any time an animal is mentioned, whether referring to a literal animal or as a metaphor.
Any incredibly folksy metaphor is used.
Drink twice if anyone uses an obscenity or loses their temper.
Any time Jim Lehrer refers to "Main Street."*
Special bonus drink for the incredible disappearing scandal: If Jim Lehrer asks about John McCain's involvement in the Keating Five scandal, finish your drink and get a new one.*
Enjoy!
*Contributed by my lovely Chris.
DRINK:
Any time McCain mentions his time as a POW.
Any time McCain uses the phrase "brave Americans" to refer to troops.
Any time Obama refers to McCain as "my esteemed ____" or "my respected_____".
Any time Obama mentions his father, or his (white) grandmother. (Take a big slug if he mentions them both in the same sentence.)
Any time Obama uses the word "dreams."
Any use of the phrase "9/11"
If McCain accuses Obama's tax plan of raising taxes "on Americans."
If Obama mentions the "Bush economy."*
If Obama brings up McCain's comments about $5 mil being rich or not remembering how many houses he owns.
If McCain brings up Obama's sex-ed bill.
Any "I met a woman in Kansas..." kind of story. Take a good slug if it involves dying of cancer or losing a house.
If Obama calls McCain "out of touch" or McCain calls Obama "elitist."
If either candidate accuses the other of "socializing" anything.* (Extra drink if he follows it with the phrase "on our backs" or "on the backs of _____ Americans.")
Any time anyone mentions Palin.*
Any time McCain contends Palin has as much (or more) relevant experience as (/than) Obama.
Any time an animal is mentioned, whether referring to a literal animal or as a metaphor.
Any incredibly folksy metaphor is used.
Drink twice if anyone uses an obscenity or loses their temper.
Any time Jim Lehrer refers to "Main Street."*
Special bonus drink for the incredible disappearing scandal: If Jim Lehrer asks about John McCain's involvement in the Keating Five scandal, finish your drink and get a new one.*
Enjoy!
*Contributed by my lovely Chris.
And now for a sillier work thing:
I have too much fun with my status messages online. I don't think anyone really gets them, other than sometimes identifying that they're song lines? But there's a theme.
So far I've used:
"Cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it..." (from Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man")
"So come on, Virginia, show me a sign,/ Send up a signal, I'll throw you the line..." (from Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young")
"She gave me some dictation,/ but my strength is in administration..." (from Belle and Sebastian's "Step Into My Office, Baby")
And now, more surreally:
You can talk to me
You can talk to me-e
You can talk to me--if you're lonely you can talk to me.
Hey! Woof! Hey, Bulldog!
(...which is the Beatles' "Hey Bulldog!")
Hey, be nice--no REM sleep, remember?
So, apart from all being parts of songs that are generally fairly naughty (okay, kind of a lot naughty), the lines themselves are all "I'm here to help," and "grab me if you need me!" Get it? Get it??
GENIUS!
Because that's basically my function, go-to girl. Cast your dancing spell my way! Send up a signal! My strength is in administration! You can talk to me! All in all, that I'm there and very, very flexible. Work-wise.
...but it's all a little obtuse, I guess. Still, I'm noticing more people with more elaborate status messages, now. It was all fuera de la oficina and not at my desk and Busy (on the phone), before. Unfortunately, my Spanish isn't good enough, especially with idiomatic things, to really understand most of the new ones. Something about a baby with a head like a coconut...? Idunno.
But, anyway, I'm way too easily amused.
So far I've used:
"Cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it..." (from Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man")
"So come on, Virginia, show me a sign,/ Send up a signal, I'll throw you the line..." (from Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young")
"She gave me some dictation,/ but my strength is in administration..." (from Belle and Sebastian's "Step Into My Office, Baby")
And now, more surreally:
You can talk to me
You can talk to me-e
You can talk to me--if you're lonely you can talk to me.
Hey! Woof! Hey, Bulldog!
(...which is the Beatles' "Hey Bulldog!")
Hey, be nice--no REM sleep, remember?
So, apart from all being parts of songs that are generally fairly naughty (okay, kind of a lot naughty), the lines themselves are all "I'm here to help," and "grab me if you need me!" Get it? Get it??
GENIUS!
Because that's basically my function, go-to girl. Cast your dancing spell my way! Send up a signal! My strength is in administration! You can talk to me! All in all, that I'm there and very, very flexible. Work-wise.
...but it's all a little obtuse, I guess. Still, I'm noticing more people with more elaborate status messages, now. It was all fuera de la oficina and not at my desk and Busy (on the phone), before. Unfortunately, my Spanish isn't good enough, especially with idiomatic things, to really understand most of the new ones. Something about a baby with a head like a coconut...? Idunno.
But, anyway, I'm way too easily amused.
My boss's bank just bought my bank.
(Bitching re: private corps as related to us specifically has been redacted, just in case. But it was there. Oh, it was there.)
Okay. So in the midst of all this shit, my wonderful little non-profit is pretty safe, I think. (...Fretting...) Luckily, work didn't wind up building anything on money that would have disappeared, now. (...Snarking...) Apparently appropriate regulation is all right, for a non-profit. (...Kvetching...)
As for Chris and I, we're thinking of going credit union when this all settles down a little. Credit Unions don't buy up every bad mortgage they can get their hands on, willy nilly, and then expect the rest of us to pay for their fuck-ups. I'm ready for non-profit banking, baby.
Until then (to the tune of "California..."), FDIC, here I come...
(I am unaccountably really amused by the whole fucking thing.)
Also edit: We're not actually going to FDIC. We are, currently, okay.
Okay. So in the midst of all this shit, my wonderful little non-profit is pretty safe, I think. (...Fretting...) Luckily, work didn't wind up building anything on money that would have disappeared, now. (...Snarking...) Apparently appropriate regulation is all right, for a non-profit. (...Kvetching...)
As for Chris and I, we're thinking of going credit union when this all settles down a little. Credit Unions don't buy up every bad mortgage they can get their hands on, willy nilly, and then expect the rest of us to pay for their fuck-ups. I'm ready for non-profit banking, baby.
Until then (to the tune of "California..."), FDIC, here I come...
(I am unaccountably really amused by the whole fucking thing.)
Also edit: We're not actually going to FDIC. We are, currently, okay.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Women's Rights in 2008?
My God, I just started a forward. Never before, in all my life.... To touch on just one tiny piece of this year's politics, I researched and wrote sent out something to a handful of people that I hope will actually be forwarded. It's specifically about Palin (and McCain) on women's rights, to touch on this idea some people have that a vote for McCain/Palin could possibly, somehow further the cause of gender equality.
I'm posting it here. If any of y'all feel like it's worth sending out? *Please* go ahead and C&P and pass it on.
_________________________
Subject: Women's Rights in 2008?
I don't usually do this, but I had to speak up--this affects us all. Please send this anyone you know who cares about women's welfare.
"In picking Palin, Republicans are lending credence to the sexist assumption that women voters are too stupid to investigate or care about the issues, and merely want to vote for someone who looks like them ... McCain has turned the idea of the first woman in the White House from a true moment of change to an empty pander." - Ann Friedman, American Prospect
Here are some things to think about, if you're on the fence about whether electing Palin to the White House will advance the cause of gender equality and safety of women:
Despite mounting evidence that (1) it does not lower the number of teen pregnancies, (2) it actually increases instances of unprotected sex, and (3) consequently increases the spread of venereal disease in teenagers, Sarah Palin is a proponent of abstinence only education. (Though her own family's behavior is considered sacrosanct, her 17 year old unwed daughter is pregnant, presumably despite copious instruction to be abstinent until marriage.)
Sarah Palin cut funding for transitional homes for teenage mothers without places to live or the ability to care for their babies--putting girls with newborns and no support on the street, without the education or resources to actually take care of those children.
Sarah Palin is anti-choice. Even in cases of rape and incest. She has said that even if her own daughter was raped, she would be against her receiving an abortion.
As Mayor of Wasilla, Sarah Palin made sure that women who were raped had to pay for their own rape kits--that is, if you are raped, you have to pay the police to collect the semen from your body and analyze it. The police are not expected to, in the course of their investigations, collect the physical evidence of the crime--it is a luxury that you have to pay for separately. (This is not the case if, for instance, your car gets stolen or your home gets broken into--police work is covered by your taxes. But your being raped nullifies your rights to a 'free' and thorough investigation.) The kits cost up to $1200.
And for just a few notes on McCain's policies, if you're fairly certain he'll make it through all four years himself, without granting any powers to Palin on the way:
John McCain is against birth control. He has never supported any legislation that would reduce the number of unintended pregnancies. He voted against health insurance--even plans that cover Viagra--having to cover birth control.
McCain also supports a the overturn of Roe v. Wade and a constitutional ban on abortion.
McCain voted against (and helped defeat) a bill that supported equal pay for women doing equal work.
And on the more personal and anecdotal side of things, when McCain's first wife was disfigured by a car accident, he began cheating on her, then divorced her, and married a younger heiress. In view of reporters, when said heiress teased him about losing his hair, he called her a trollop and a cu*t.
(If these sound a little hard to believe, here are some articles:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1024927/The-wife-John-McCain-callously-left-behind.html
http://www.rawstory.com/news/2008/McCain_temper_boiled_over_in_92_0407.html )
Please think about this for the upcoming elections, and send this on to anyone you know who might think women are PEOPLE, who deserve equal pay or equal protection under the law.
I'm posting it here. If any of y'all feel like it's worth sending out? *Please* go ahead and C&P and pass it on.
_________________________
Subject: Women's Rights in 2008?
I don't usually do this, but I had to speak up--this affects us all. Please send this anyone you know who cares about women's welfare.
"In picking Palin, Republicans are lending credence to the sexist assumption that women voters are too stupid to investigate or care about the issues, and merely want to vote for someone who looks like them ... McCain has turned the idea of the first woman in the White House from a true moment of change to an empty pander." - Ann Friedman, American Prospect
Here are some things to think about, if you're on the fence about whether electing Palin to the White House will advance the cause of gender equality and safety of women:
Despite mounting evidence that (1) it does not lower the number of teen pregnancies, (2) it actually increases instances of unprotected sex, and (3) consequently increases the spread of venereal disease in teenagers, Sarah Palin is a proponent of abstinence only education. (Though her own family's behavior is considered sacrosanct, her 17 year old unwed daughter is pregnant, presumably despite copious instruction to be abstinent until marriage.)
Sarah Palin cut funding for transitional homes for teenage mothers without places to live or the ability to care for their babies--putting girls with newborns and no support on the street, without the education or resources to actually take care of those children.
Sarah Palin is anti-choice. Even in cases of rape and incest. She has said that even if her own daughter was raped, she would be against her receiving an abortion.
As Mayor of Wasilla, Sarah Palin made sure that women who were raped had to pay for their own rape kits--that is, if you are raped, you have to pay the police to collect the semen from your body and analyze it. The police are not expected to, in the course of their investigations, collect the physical evidence of the crime--it is a luxury that you have to pay for separately. (This is not the case if, for instance, your car gets stolen or your home gets broken into--police work is covered by your taxes. But your being raped nullifies your rights to a 'free' and thorough investigation.) The kits cost up to $1200.
And for just a few notes on McCain's policies, if you're fairly certain he'll make it through all four years himself, without granting any powers to Palin on the way:
John McCain is against birth control. He has never supported any legislation that would reduce the number of unintended pregnancies. He voted against health insurance--even plans that cover Viagra--having to cover birth control.
McCain also supports a the overturn of Roe v. Wade and a constitutional ban on abortion.
McCain voted against (and helped defeat) a bill that supported equal pay for women doing equal work.
And on the more personal and anecdotal side of things, when McCain's first wife was disfigured by a car accident, he began cheating on her, then divorced her, and married a younger heiress. In view of reporters, when said heiress teased him about losing his hair, he called her a trollop and a cu*t.
(If these sound a little hard to believe, here are some articles:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1024927/The-wife-John-McCain-callously-left-behind.html
http://www.rawstory.com/news/2008/McCain_temper_boiled_over_in_92_0407.html )
Please think about this for the upcoming elections, and send this on to anyone you know who might think women are PEOPLE, who deserve equal pay or equal protection under the law.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Updates
So everything's going okay, now, pretty much. Chris had a fantastic birthday bash incl. a ten course meal he made, because he is amazing. We had a great time, and are still hungover, two days later. We're also probably coming down with something, but let's hope it's just a matter of being exhausted.
Two days before the party, not to be outdone by my Little Eye Incident, Zach (my Baby Brother) wound up in the emergency room. With horrible pain that turned out to be appendicitis. So they had to cut him open. But they did it lacroscopically (I think?) and he was able to go home the next day. He's not feeling so hot, but he's healing, and going to be fine. (We're not going to discuss just How freaked out I was when I heard my brother was about to be cut open, because he is Fine and is going to be Fine. Yes.)
What else... Turned out I hadn't actually messed up at work (yay!), so to make up for it, I missed a meeting I was supposed to join for the first time (first item on the agenda: "Welcome Lauren!") and felt pretty rotten about it, but between stress and lacking a computer, it was pretty tough to remember and no one had any grief for me (I'm so lucky, I work with just the best people). But I have got my new computer, now. Well, new to me. He's refurbished (and christ, he's a He, I'm not sure how that happened--I've never had a machine or vessel that wasn't, as is decreed by tradition and the love of a good engineer, a She, but there it is) but he looks absolutely pristine, so I'm not sure who could've dared send him back or for what.
His name is Marlowe.
Here is Marlowe's self portrait:
...because Marlowe, being one of these fancy dan new MacBooks, has a little camera in his face. He makes his own flash by turning the screen bright glowing white.
He's bottom of the Mac line, but where my Ophelia had a 400 Mhz processer, 320 MB RAM (maxed out!), and 15 GB space, Marlowe has EDIT: a 2.1 GHz processor, (the 800Mhz is his bus speed, I'm just a flake) 1 G of RAM (expandable), and 120 GB space. Also, he can burn CDs. That may not sound like much to y'all, but Ophelia predated that mess, because she was Old School (she also had a non-Intel processor, which a small stubborn part of me insists on favoring). Also, Marlowe's speakers work. And he's Recycled.
He's really beautiful, with a glossy screen and bushy tail and perky ears. He's light and small and lovely. I'm still missing what for many years had been my sole lifeline to the world, and afterwards, the repository of all my little brain could write, and I can't even bring myself to send her away, so I'm just going to have to keep her. But I'm warming to this wonderful little gleaming orphan in my lap.
So send a little love his way, if you would, because he's still feeling shy and out of place.
Well, I'm going to go have dinner, and then probably vegetate, because whoof. But LOVE to y'all.
Post script, couple things, just for posterity: I forgot to mention Carol, Pat, and Jean, more close family friends, all in my grandmother's neighborhood, who died in the earlier part of the year, and Medora (probably the coolest 90 year old you'll ever meet) who went last year from the same street. It's been a tough year for my grandma, too.
Two days before the party, not to be outdone by my Little Eye Incident, Zach (my Baby Brother) wound up in the emergency room. With horrible pain that turned out to be appendicitis. So they had to cut him open. But they did it lacroscopically (I think?) and he was able to go home the next day. He's not feeling so hot, but he's healing, and going to be fine. (We're not going to discuss just How freaked out I was when I heard my brother was about to be cut open, because he is Fine and is going to be Fine. Yes.)
What else... Turned out I hadn't actually messed up at work (yay!), so to make up for it, I missed a meeting I was supposed to join for the first time (first item on the agenda: "Welcome Lauren!") and felt pretty rotten about it, but between stress and lacking a computer, it was pretty tough to remember and no one had any grief for me (I'm so lucky, I work with just the best people). But I have got my new computer, now. Well, new to me. He's refurbished (and christ, he's a He, I'm not sure how that happened--I've never had a machine or vessel that wasn't, as is decreed by tradition and the love of a good engineer, a She, but there it is) but he looks absolutely pristine, so I'm not sure who could've dared send him back or for what.
His name is Marlowe.
Here is Marlowe's self portrait:
...because Marlowe, being one of these fancy dan new MacBooks, has a little camera in his face. He makes his own flash by turning the screen bright glowing white.
He's bottom of the Mac line, but where my Ophelia had a 400 Mhz processer, 320 MB RAM (maxed out!), and 15 GB space, Marlowe has EDIT: a 2.1 GHz processor, (the 800Mhz is his bus speed, I'm just a flake) 1 G of RAM (expandable), and 120 GB space. Also, he can burn CDs. That may not sound like much to y'all, but Ophelia predated that mess, because she was Old School (she also had a non-Intel processor, which a small stubborn part of me insists on favoring). Also, Marlowe's speakers work. And he's Recycled.
He's really beautiful, with a glossy screen and bushy tail and perky ears. He's light and small and lovely. I'm still missing what for many years had been my sole lifeline to the world, and afterwards, the repository of all my little brain could write, and I can't even bring myself to send her away, so I'm just going to have to keep her. But I'm warming to this wonderful little gleaming orphan in my lap.
So send a little love his way, if you would, because he's still feeling shy and out of place.
Well, I'm going to go have dinner, and then probably vegetate, because whoof. But LOVE to y'all.
Post script, couple things, just for posterity: I forgot to mention Carol, Pat, and Jean, more close family friends, all in my grandmother's neighborhood, who died in the earlier part of the year, and Medora (probably the coolest 90 year old you'll ever meet) who went last year from the same street. It's been a tough year for my grandma, too.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! — Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remembered.
....And this update is being posted from Chris's computer. Because about two hours ago, with a clanging hurdy-gurdy kind of noise, Ophelia stopped turning over.
The last thing I did with her was read a little excerpt from "Where the Truth Lies," in which the narrator was describing a waitress as having "eyes like a murder victim," and subsequently referring to her as Ophelia.
She slowed down, and sensing danger I went to snag the last few files I hadn't backed up the updates of, but I never was able to get email up, or even the flash drive to register. I've got almost everything, though. Just not her. So here's to the end of an era, ladies and gentlemen--if you'll excuse me, I'll go pour one out for my homegirl and mourn and see what Apple can do me in a refurbished MacBook.
O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword,
Th' expectation and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
Th' observ'd of all observers, quite, quite down!
The last thing I did with her was read a little excerpt from "Where the Truth Lies," in which the narrator was describing a waitress as having "eyes like a murder victim," and subsequently referring to her as Ophelia.
She slowed down, and sensing danger I went to snag the last few files I hadn't backed up the updates of, but I never was able to get email up, or even the flash drive to register. I've got almost everything, though. Just not her. So here's to the end of an era, ladies and gentlemen--if you'll excuse me, I'll go pour one out for my homegirl and mourn and see what Apple can do me in a refurbished MacBook.
O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword,
Th' expectation and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
Th' observ'd of all observers, quite, quite down!
Monday, August 4, 2008
One of those weeks.
Eleven years ago today, my father died. I was not quite fourteen, my brother was not quite eleven. I was due to start high school, Zach to start middle school. It was a Monday that year, too. I got called, that morning, to come to a Key Club meeting.
Suffice it to say, I didn't go.
I've been thinking a lot about the people I've lost, lately. It's probably not a healthy cycle. Every person I lose, I back myself up through time and catalogue all the others. Seven and eight saw Grandpa John and Grandma Eunie go (that left me Grandma Jane, as my great grandparents and Grandpa Bob had died before I was born). Then our close neighbor Sam, whose wife had Alzheimer's, and who kept having to be told again and again that her husband had died. My father's friend Rodney passed away, and then my father a few years after that. Some slightly more distant relatives next. My high school friend Manny, the same age as me, died of cancer when we were only nineteen. Then Uncle Bob (really my father's uncle), then my father's sister, Aunt Linda (that happened while I was leaving my ex, to move in with Chris). She was the same age as Daddy had been. Friend Nancy from the choir, right as our Lancelot was dying. (And the number of close animal friends we're not going to get into.) And now--
Well, I had my first good day in about two weeks, yesterday. My friend Christina took me out to see "Mamma Mia!" and it's basically happiness encapsulated. But I still cried at "Dancing Queen." I've been doing that, lately.
A Thursday and a half ago, I found out my great Uncle Dick, whom I loved very much, who pierced my ears when I was eleven and was my ear/nose/throat doc when I was a kid (we had such bad ears!), had died. Almost a week before. No one remembered to tell me. So I found out via an emailed obituary from a family member I haven't heard from since September. I'd already missed the funeral. I hadn't seen Uncle Dick in more than a year. They put him to sea, where my Grandpa John is. I didn't get to go to his funeral, either.
The next day, puffy-eyed and sore, I went to put eyedrops in, and put in an earwax removal drop in my left eye instead (I grabbed the wrong bottle, they look remarkably similar). The drops contain carbomide peroxide, which can cause blindness and other serious corneal damage. So I spent Friday in the ER and picking up prescriptions. My insurance didn't think I needed to see an ophthalmologist, though. Now I'm not sure if the increased blurriness in my left eye is just that my astigmatisms in that one have gotten a little worse and I'm paying more attention, now, or whether I've got some lasting damage.
That meant I had to take a couple of days off from straining my eyes at working, considering the work I had lined up, to be due in about a week, was a large stack of small print business cards whose info had to be put into an online database. Plus another PDF file of cards, plus a more urgent list of contacts. I got the list in, and had to stop. Life happened generally, and slowed me down further, although not unpleasantly.
But then I found out there'd been a mix-up (my fault, at least partially and possibly mostly) and I hadn't sent a supply to a coworker that was needed... well, the day before I heard about it, basically. That started another chain of stress. And guilt. And waiting to get the supplies, and running out of ways to send them, and not being able to get ahold of other coworkers who were busy, or deathly ill, and whom I hated having to disturb anyway. I spent six hours unable to leave, or be indisposed for more than a few minutes at a time, waiting to hear back, and never did (because busy, deathly ill). So I finished the stacks of cards, and strained my eyes, and had to stop.
That part is as fixed as I can get it, at least, now.
I'm upset I've knocked the shine off of myself, at work, though. I want to tell them everything about what had been happening, why I've been stressed, why I'm having trouble with these things, why I'm not dealing in my usual incredibly cheerful, energetic way, but how do I do that without being dramatic? Without sounding self-pitying? They've got enough to deal with, themselves. They're not calling me out. I don't think they're mad. Lee finally told me it wasn't really a big deal, and not to worry too much. I just said I'd been having a shitty week. But I want to be better than that, for them. I want them to keep thinking I could never do any wrong by them.
Ah, well. The scales have to fall some time, I guess.
Anyway. I've got the aftershocks of stress. I'm feeling very low. And my eyes still hurt.
And I think I just hallucinated the smell of my dad's aftershave. Or maybe my uncle's.
I think I'm going to go try to get a little sunshine.
EDIT: Oh, just insult to injury, but I forgot to mention: in the midst of all this--of all the computer work I've had to do?--my poor old 7.5 year old laptop was trying to die, and required backing up, wiping, reinstalling, etc. Which took another couple of days out of my time to finish that work. She's okay, now, but I'm not sure for how much longer.
Suffice it to say, I didn't go.
I've been thinking a lot about the people I've lost, lately. It's probably not a healthy cycle. Every person I lose, I back myself up through time and catalogue all the others. Seven and eight saw Grandpa John and Grandma Eunie go (that left me Grandma Jane, as my great grandparents and Grandpa Bob had died before I was born). Then our close neighbor Sam, whose wife had Alzheimer's, and who kept having to be told again and again that her husband had died. My father's friend Rodney passed away, and then my father a few years after that. Some slightly more distant relatives next. My high school friend Manny, the same age as me, died of cancer when we were only nineteen. Then Uncle Bob (really my father's uncle), then my father's sister, Aunt Linda (that happened while I was leaving my ex, to move in with Chris). She was the same age as Daddy had been. Friend Nancy from the choir, right as our Lancelot was dying. (And the number of close animal friends we're not going to get into.) And now--
Well, I had my first good day in about two weeks, yesterday. My friend Christina took me out to see "Mamma Mia!" and it's basically happiness encapsulated. But I still cried at "Dancing Queen." I've been doing that, lately.
A Thursday and a half ago, I found out my great Uncle Dick, whom I loved very much, who pierced my ears when I was eleven and was my ear/nose/throat doc when I was a kid (we had such bad ears!), had died. Almost a week before. No one remembered to tell me. So I found out via an emailed obituary from a family member I haven't heard from since September. I'd already missed the funeral. I hadn't seen Uncle Dick in more than a year. They put him to sea, where my Grandpa John is. I didn't get to go to his funeral, either.
The next day, puffy-eyed and sore, I went to put eyedrops in, and put in an earwax removal drop in my left eye instead (I grabbed the wrong bottle, they look remarkably similar). The drops contain carbomide peroxide, which can cause blindness and other serious corneal damage. So I spent Friday in the ER and picking up prescriptions. My insurance didn't think I needed to see an ophthalmologist, though. Now I'm not sure if the increased blurriness in my left eye is just that my astigmatisms in that one have gotten a little worse and I'm paying more attention, now, or whether I've got some lasting damage.
That meant I had to take a couple of days off from straining my eyes at working, considering the work I had lined up, to be due in about a week, was a large stack of small print business cards whose info had to be put into an online database. Plus another PDF file of cards, plus a more urgent list of contacts. I got the list in, and had to stop. Life happened generally, and slowed me down further, although not unpleasantly.
But then I found out there'd been a mix-up (my fault, at least partially and possibly mostly) and I hadn't sent a supply to a coworker that was needed... well, the day before I heard about it, basically. That started another chain of stress. And guilt. And waiting to get the supplies, and running out of ways to send them, and not being able to get ahold of other coworkers who were busy, or deathly ill, and whom I hated having to disturb anyway. I spent six hours unable to leave, or be indisposed for more than a few minutes at a time, waiting to hear back, and never did (because busy, deathly ill). So I finished the stacks of cards, and strained my eyes, and had to stop.
That part is as fixed as I can get it, at least, now.
I'm upset I've knocked the shine off of myself, at work, though. I want to tell them everything about what had been happening, why I've been stressed, why I'm having trouble with these things, why I'm not dealing in my usual incredibly cheerful, energetic way, but how do I do that without being dramatic? Without sounding self-pitying? They've got enough to deal with, themselves. They're not calling me out. I don't think they're mad. Lee finally told me it wasn't really a big deal, and not to worry too much. I just said I'd been having a shitty week. But I want to be better than that, for them. I want them to keep thinking I could never do any wrong by them.
Ah, well. The scales have to fall some time, I guess.
Anyway. I've got the aftershocks of stress. I'm feeling very low. And my eyes still hurt.
And I think I just hallucinated the smell of my dad's aftershave. Or maybe my uncle's.
I think I'm going to go try to get a little sunshine.
EDIT: Oh, just insult to injury, but I forgot to mention: in the midst of all this--of all the computer work I've had to do?--my poor old 7.5 year old laptop was trying to die, and required backing up, wiping, reinstalling, etc. Which took another couple of days out of my time to finish that work. She's okay, now, but I'm not sure for how much longer.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Bullet point version of all the posts I almost meant to write
Alive, not burned up in the fires or anything (just breathed way more smoke than is healthy). Carlin sadness, fruit happiness. Depressed recollections of lost family. Happy musings on the kittens ( =my babies, see, 'cause...) Building a cat tower. Had my year review--got an unexpected raise and a whole lot of praise. Had my fourth anniversary (of moving in together--the big one) with Chris, yesterday, truly fabulous. Sex, love, rock and roll.
Kept starting to write about everything here, but the actual will to do it seems to have gone out. But I'm still trying to keep up with everyone else. Love!
Kept starting to write about everything here, but the actual will to do it seems to have gone out. But I'm still trying to keep up with everyone else. Love!
Monday, June 16, 2008
I was a conscientious objector, but I couldn't beat the draft.
Chris and I are married. We have been for two years and thirteen days and an hour or so. We got in the car on June 3rd, 2006, with our witness, Christina, all of us looking trashy and muttering, and drove down to Madera to get a marriage license (Merced's office was closed, that weekend), and get hitched in a civil ceremony.
Let's back up a bit, now, to explain.
Chris and I never wanted to be married. All of my life, my perception of marriage had been that it's the excuse people in bad relationships use to stay in them. It's expensive to divorce. Everything is owned together, so everything has to be divided up. It often comes with houses and children and other things impossible to split up. So a lot of people who are bad to one another, who are unhealthy for one another, stay together in spite of it, because they're married.
I figured, I want to stay with him because we should be together, not because there was a hell of a large legal tangle there to get through to get out.
I understand that that only comes into play if one does want to leave, so I'm starting to mellow on the idea, but it just always had such a poisonous connotation for me, I wanted nothing to do with it, myself.
Chris didn't want to be married because he'd just come out of a nasty divorce, from a marriage he hadn't really wanted to enter in the first place. It wasn't something that spoke volumes of joy to him, either.
And neither of us, frankly, really liked the connotations of the "traditional" marriage and wedding; the transfer of woman as property from one male (father 'giving away') to another (the husband that 'takes' the bride), or the whole bit about obeying. Whatever proponents, "defenders" say, the tradition of marriage has been an economic one, not a romantic one.
And the so-called tradition of one-man-one-woman is recent, too; how is it that people toting the Bible as their defense of that idea don't remember Jacob's dozen simultaneous wives? Marriage to the widow of your brother? The not-quite-married but clearly deeply devoted and bonded pairs of male saints in the middle ages? What about the countries around the world that do, now, allow same-sex marriage? What about the ancient civilizations that did?
The idea that there is some sanctity of marriage, when heterosexual marriages have a 50/50 chance and things like "Who wants to marry a millionaire?" encourage strangers to gold dig and hitch up, let alone a sanctity that could be harmed by allowing devoted couples to be Official, has always been appalling to the both of us.
We didn't want to be apart of an institution so hypocritical, an institution that was being used to separate out ways of loving into legitimate and illegitimate.
We tried to get a domestic partnership, instead. Marriage Lite™, we said, Marriage! The Home Game™, is the thing for us. There's solidarity with those whose beloveds don't happen to be of a different sex than them, and there's an easy out--either person can sign a piece of paper to dissolve a DP, and it's over, so none of the staying together for the sake of avoiding a legal mess. And DPs confer insurance benefits, in California.
I desperately needed insurance. (Aye, there's the rub.)
See, my teeth were starting to give out. Half of them had cavities, and now, three root canals, plus of a dozen fillings, and three crowns later, they're in order. But you can understand, I suppose, why leaving me without insurance (after I'd been without it for 5 years already) would have been a problem. Plus, my mother chided me, what if you get hit by a bus? What if you break your arm? What if something happens?
So we looked into DPs. But we discovered a certain problem with them.
In California, DPs are only recognized between same-sexed couples, much the way marriages were only recognized between different-sexed couples. We managed to get one in Berkeley, on January 3rd, 2006, and Berkeley, Long Beach, and San Francisco will recognize it, but no one else does. So it didn't do to get me onto the insurance. If one of us had been arrested in Long Beach, we'd have had visiting rights, though. That's something.
But anyway, this further confirmed to us that we didn't want to be married.
The ONLY reason I can imagine that different-sexed couples would be barred from domestic partnerships the way same-sexed have been barred from marriage is because, whatever the anti-gay-marriage crowd says, DPs ARE a weaker institution, and same-sex couples were being ghettoized to them. "Stay over here, heterosexuals, this is the real thing. Leave the play version for Them."
But I'm not het, and I don't appreciate being muscled towards patriarchy in any case. "Separate is inherently unequal," remember that, folks? Forty years ago, we figured that out. We had rules, then, too, about which consenting adults could marry which consenting adults, it was just divided over a color line, instead of a gender one.
We Did Not Want to Be Married.
But...
But... we adore one another. We use terms like "life partner," and "lover," and "beloved" to connote one another. And a lot of sillier things, too. We don't intend to come apart, we don't intend to ever stop being together, we hardly even spend any time apart. Four years later, and we still brush our teeth together and go to bed at the same time, and eat breakfast together, and take walks together, and don't even bathe separately. We do the shopping together, and moon doe-eyed at each other, and kiss, and profess love, and hold hands when we walk. There is nothing worse in my world than the spectre of separation from my beau.
So that meant we need to be healthy, so neither of us fell apart.
So that meant I needed insurance.
So that meant that we went ahead and drove down to Madera, with our witness, who was sworn to secrecy. And the ceremony was actually very pretty--no religion (we're not religious), no "obey," no gender essentialism, no condescension, just love and respect and cherishing. It was perfect for us. Christina's cell phone went off during the vows, which felt fittingly undermining to the severity and weight of the whole thing. We laughed a lot about it. We took pictures in front of the cannon inexplicably sitting in front of the court house ("shotgunned" into marriage, see?) and signed the papers and got me protected by the state. I didn't--and won't--change my name. I told my mother. Chris told his parents.
We wanted to boycott marriage, we wanted to remain in solidarity, but we didn't have much choice, so we at least weren't going to admit to it. Not without the long explanation of why it was we weren't open about it, and a discussion of guilt and the inequality of the institution. Between those occasions and loose-lipped family, it's spread further than we'd like. But we've tried, damnit.
So. Why are we coming out now?
In the state of California, until 5 pm this afternoon, you could only be married if you were a different-sexed couple. And as we've thought more about the institution, and the fact that, once you divorce it from all that "tradition," it doesn't have to be as patriarchal and economical and stifling as it has wanted to be, the segregation of it has become the central issue in our avoidance.
And right now, at least for a few months, at least in our corner of the country, it's not an issue, anymore.
I love my state. I love my judiciary. I love San Francisco and West Hollywood and all the courthouses staying open after hours to help people who love one another get the same recognition, responsibility, and protection as everyone else has been entitled to, at the first possible moment. (I don't love Kern County, but that's not surprising, or the ballot measure set to come up in November to write "one man, one woman" into the state constitution. But otherwise.) I love New York for recognizing the new marriages. I am full of love, right now.
I love Chris. My conscientious, wonderful, beautiful love.
I'm still not sure I can call him my husband, except to quiet down confused salesmen and telemarketers, but maybe once in a while I will. My spouse, for sure. My partner for always. My love.
Let's back up a bit, now, to explain.
Chris and I never wanted to be married. All of my life, my perception of marriage had been that it's the excuse people in bad relationships use to stay in them. It's expensive to divorce. Everything is owned together, so everything has to be divided up. It often comes with houses and children and other things impossible to split up. So a lot of people who are bad to one another, who are unhealthy for one another, stay together in spite of it, because they're married.
I figured, I want to stay with him because we should be together, not because there was a hell of a large legal tangle there to get through to get out.
I understand that that only comes into play if one does want to leave, so I'm starting to mellow on the idea, but it just always had such a poisonous connotation for me, I wanted nothing to do with it, myself.
Chris didn't want to be married because he'd just come out of a nasty divorce, from a marriage he hadn't really wanted to enter in the first place. It wasn't something that spoke volumes of joy to him, either.
And neither of us, frankly, really liked the connotations of the "traditional" marriage and wedding; the transfer of woman as property from one male (father 'giving away') to another (the husband that 'takes' the bride), or the whole bit about obeying. Whatever proponents, "defenders" say, the tradition of marriage has been an economic one, not a romantic one.
And the so-called tradition of one-man-one-woman is recent, too; how is it that people toting the Bible as their defense of that idea don't remember Jacob's dozen simultaneous wives? Marriage to the widow of your brother? The not-quite-married but clearly deeply devoted and bonded pairs of male saints in the middle ages? What about the countries around the world that do, now, allow same-sex marriage? What about the ancient civilizations that did?
The idea that there is some sanctity of marriage, when heterosexual marriages have a 50/50 chance and things like "Who wants to marry a millionaire?" encourage strangers to gold dig and hitch up, let alone a sanctity that could be harmed by allowing devoted couples to be Official, has always been appalling to the both of us.
We didn't want to be apart of an institution so hypocritical, an institution that was being used to separate out ways of loving into legitimate and illegitimate.
We tried to get a domestic partnership, instead. Marriage Lite™, we said, Marriage! The Home Game™, is the thing for us. There's solidarity with those whose beloveds don't happen to be of a different sex than them, and there's an easy out--either person can sign a piece of paper to dissolve a DP, and it's over, so none of the staying together for the sake of avoiding a legal mess. And DPs confer insurance benefits, in California.
I desperately needed insurance. (Aye, there's the rub.)
See, my teeth were starting to give out. Half of them had cavities, and now, three root canals, plus of a dozen fillings, and three crowns later, they're in order. But you can understand, I suppose, why leaving me without insurance (after I'd been without it for 5 years already) would have been a problem. Plus, my mother chided me, what if you get hit by a bus? What if you break your arm? What if something happens?
So we looked into DPs. But we discovered a certain problem with them.
In California, DPs are only recognized between same-sexed couples, much the way marriages were only recognized between different-sexed couples. We managed to get one in Berkeley, on January 3rd, 2006, and Berkeley, Long Beach, and San Francisco will recognize it, but no one else does. So it didn't do to get me onto the insurance. If one of us had been arrested in Long Beach, we'd have had visiting rights, though. That's something.
But anyway, this further confirmed to us that we didn't want to be married.
The ONLY reason I can imagine that different-sexed couples would be barred from domestic partnerships the way same-sexed have been barred from marriage is because, whatever the anti-gay-marriage crowd says, DPs ARE a weaker institution, and same-sex couples were being ghettoized to them. "Stay over here, heterosexuals, this is the real thing. Leave the play version for Them."
But I'm not het, and I don't appreciate being muscled towards patriarchy in any case. "Separate is inherently unequal," remember that, folks? Forty years ago, we figured that out. We had rules, then, too, about which consenting adults could marry which consenting adults, it was just divided over a color line, instead of a gender one.
We Did Not Want to Be Married.
But...
But... we adore one another. We use terms like "life partner," and "lover," and "beloved" to connote one another. And a lot of sillier things, too. We don't intend to come apart, we don't intend to ever stop being together, we hardly even spend any time apart. Four years later, and we still brush our teeth together and go to bed at the same time, and eat breakfast together, and take walks together, and don't even bathe separately. We do the shopping together, and moon doe-eyed at each other, and kiss, and profess love, and hold hands when we walk. There is nothing worse in my world than the spectre of separation from my beau.
So that meant we need to be healthy, so neither of us fell apart.
So that meant I needed insurance.
So that meant that we went ahead and drove down to Madera, with our witness, who was sworn to secrecy. And the ceremony was actually very pretty--no religion (we're not religious), no "obey," no gender essentialism, no condescension, just love and respect and cherishing. It was perfect for us. Christina's cell phone went off during the vows, which felt fittingly undermining to the severity and weight of the whole thing. We laughed a lot about it. We took pictures in front of the cannon inexplicably sitting in front of the court house ("shotgunned" into marriage, see?) and signed the papers and got me protected by the state. I didn't--and won't--change my name. I told my mother. Chris told his parents.
We wanted to boycott marriage, we wanted to remain in solidarity, but we didn't have much choice, so we at least weren't going to admit to it. Not without the long explanation of why it was we weren't open about it, and a discussion of guilt and the inequality of the institution. Between those occasions and loose-lipped family, it's spread further than we'd like. But we've tried, damnit.
So. Why are we coming out now?
In the state of California, until 5 pm this afternoon, you could only be married if you were a different-sexed couple. And as we've thought more about the institution, and the fact that, once you divorce it from all that "tradition," it doesn't have to be as patriarchal and economical and stifling as it has wanted to be, the segregation of it has become the central issue in our avoidance.
And right now, at least for a few months, at least in our corner of the country, it's not an issue, anymore.
I love my state. I love my judiciary. I love San Francisco and West Hollywood and all the courthouses staying open after hours to help people who love one another get the same recognition, responsibility, and protection as everyone else has been entitled to, at the first possible moment. (I don't love Kern County, but that's not surprising, or the ballot measure set to come up in November to write "one man, one woman" into the state constitution. But otherwise.) I love New York for recognizing the new marriages. I am full of love, right now.
I love Chris. My conscientious, wonderful, beautiful love.
I'm still not sure I can call him my husband, except to quiet down confused salesmen and telemarketers, but maybe once in a while I will. My spouse, for sure. My partner for always. My love.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
A meme! A me-eme! BURN HER!!
I LOVE this game. I'm such a sucker.
1. Think of 10 short bits of interesting stuff about yourself. And they've gotta be true.
2. Come up with 5 false statements regarding yourself, but for fun's sake keep them in the threshold of believability.
3. Jumble them all up together and list them in any order.
4. Post them on your blog and let people guess which the five false ones are!
(Hey, if there are some you think are definitely true, go ahead and gimme those, too.)
I've also categorized these for you, just 'cause I realized there were themes. /OCD.
Body:
1) I once asked an orthodontist to take out a tooth that he told me did not exist.
2) My hair was straight until puberty.
3) I have only taken anti-depressants when also taking birth-control.
Hygiene/health:
4) I love to vacuum and do it all the time.
5) I am crazy about food hygiene--I don't lick spoons, I don't share glasses, I don't eat raw cookie dough, I never eat anything off of the floor, etc.
6) The sound of someone sniffing wetly (as in, instead of blowing their nose) or scratching upset skin loudly causes me to become a twitching, tic-ridden ball of barely contained violence.
7) I really don't care for scented candles, incense, potpourri, essential oil diffusers, etc.--gimme Febreeze and Glade air fresheners any day.
Brain and neuroses:
8) I liked driving rack-and-pinion (i.e. without power steering), in an old VW bug. I preferred it to the relative safety and comfort of power steering and anti-lock brakes.
9) I sometimes make Chris check the shower for monsters. Sometimes he has me check the closet.
10) I can say "goodbye" in eight languages, "I Love You" in nine, "thank you" in ten, and a greeting in eleven. Often in multiple ways.
11) 4, 14, 140, 1400 does it: I had a 4.0 GPA for most semesters in of all schooling, 14 units of requirements already met on entry into college (from AP and an early class), an IQ tested at 140, and 1400 on my SATs. Exactly.
Plants:
12) Most of my houseplants are poisonous to cats.
13) The type of flower I cannot stop buying is the one I'm most allergic to. Bunches at the store, five different kinds to plant in the yard, etc. It's almost always around.
14) I'm great with African violets, but total crap with Jade plants.
15) I can't take the smell of really perfume-y flowers--I find jasmine, wisteria, gardenias, magnolias, stock, and mums really cloying and avoid them.
1. Think of 10 short bits of interesting stuff about yourself. And they've gotta be true.
2. Come up with 5 false statements regarding yourself, but for fun's sake keep them in the threshold of believability.
3. Jumble them all up together and list them in any order.
4. Post them on your blog and let people guess which the five false ones are!
(Hey, if there are some you think are definitely true, go ahead and gimme those, too.)
I've also categorized these for you, just 'cause I realized there were themes. /OCD.
Body:
1) I once asked an orthodontist to take out a tooth that he told me did not exist.
2) My hair was straight until puberty.
3) I have only taken anti-depressants when also taking birth-control.
Hygiene/health:
4) I love to vacuum and do it all the time.
5) I am crazy about food hygiene--I don't lick spoons, I don't share glasses, I don't eat raw cookie dough, I never eat anything off of the floor, etc.
6) The sound of someone sniffing wetly (as in, instead of blowing their nose) or scratching upset skin loudly causes me to become a twitching, tic-ridden ball of barely contained violence.
7) I really don't care for scented candles, incense, potpourri, essential oil diffusers, etc.--gimme Febreeze and Glade air fresheners any day.
Brain and neuroses:
8) I liked driving rack-and-pinion (i.e. without power steering), in an old VW bug. I preferred it to the relative safety and comfort of power steering and anti-lock brakes.
9) I sometimes make Chris check the shower for monsters. Sometimes he has me check the closet.
10) I can say "goodbye" in eight languages, "I Love You" in nine, "thank you" in ten, and a greeting in eleven. Often in multiple ways.
11) 4, 14, 140, 1400 does it: I had a 4.0 GPA for most semesters in of all schooling, 14 units of requirements already met on entry into college (from AP and an early class), an IQ tested at 140, and 1400 on my SATs. Exactly.
Plants:
12) Most of my houseplants are poisonous to cats.
13) The type of flower I cannot stop buying is the one I'm most allergic to. Bunches at the store, five different kinds to plant in the yard, etc. It's almost always around.
14) I'm great with African violets, but total crap with Jade plants.
15) I can't take the smell of really perfume-y flowers--I find jasmine, wisteria, gardenias, magnolias, stock, and mums really cloying and avoid them.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Where Bowers of Flowers Bloom in the Spring!
California's top court overturns ban on gay marriage
And then a little of my faith in my state is restored.
Now we just have to vote down the new proposed ban (this time in the form of a constitutional amendment) in November. Or hope it doesn't get on the ballot in the first place.
(Subject line from the song, "California, Here I Come," which is, I now find, NOT our official state song. Alas!)
California, here I come--right back where I started from
Where Bowers of flowers bloom in the spring
Each morning at dawning, birdies sing an' everything
A sunkist miss said, "Don't be late"--that's why I can hardly wait
Open up that Golden Gate,
California, here I come!
And then a little of my faith in my state is restored.
Now we just have to vote down the new proposed ban (this time in the form of a constitutional amendment) in November. Or hope it doesn't get on the ballot in the first place.
(Subject line from the song, "California, Here I Come," which is, I now find, NOT our official state song. Alas!)
California, here I come--right back where I started from
Where Bowers of flowers bloom in the spring
Each morning at dawning, birdies sing an' everything
A sunkist miss said, "Don't be late"--that's why I can hardly wait
Open up that Golden Gate,
California, here I come!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Pictures of Lily.... Or, wait, not...
Okay, I can't help it:
Me with Arthur!
Various notes:
*OMG TOES! Kitten toes! LOOK!
*Best seat in the house, right? (alt:) It's good to be the King.
*Not just an empty jug of wine on the sink, but an empty bottle of vodka, too. Classy. Also, a coffee/espresso maker: we don't have a microwave, but we have an espresso maker. I guess that's just the kinda' peoples we are.
*There is a piano in the background, there, upper left of the photo, and the belly of one of Chris's guitars to the lower right (or the hip, I suppose?).
That picture makes me feel So Warm and Fuzzy. Aaaah. <3
/goo.
They get neutered Friday. Concerts went well; last choir rehearsal/meeting was Monday--next is on my birthday. :) We're going to do Poulenc's Gloria and Beethoven's 9th Symphony (Ode to Joy) in the Spring!!! And it's working-the-butt-off-time at work. But Chris's school year is almost over, work is progressing well, I'm happy as ever to get volunteered. I'm spending way too much time fussing with Facebook, and it makes me feel a little dirty. :\ But I'm about ready to let it fall back into obscurity. I've got work to do and junk to write and kittens to love--no time for that!
Me with Arthur!
Various notes:
*OMG TOES! Kitten toes! LOOK!
*Best seat in the house, right? (alt:) It's good to be the King.
*Not just an empty jug of wine on the sink, but an empty bottle of vodka, too. Classy. Also, a coffee/espresso maker: we don't have a microwave, but we have an espresso maker. I guess that's just the kinda' peoples we are.
*There is a piano in the background, there, upper left of the photo, and the belly of one of Chris's guitars to the lower right (or the hip, I suppose?).
That picture makes me feel So Warm and Fuzzy. Aaaah. <3
/goo.
They get neutered Friday. Concerts went well; last choir rehearsal/meeting was Monday--next is on my birthday. :) We're going to do Poulenc's Gloria and Beethoven's 9th Symphony (Ode to Joy) in the Spring!!! And it's working-the-butt-off-time at work. But Chris's school year is almost over, work is progressing well, I'm happy as ever to get volunteered. I'm spending way too much time fussing with Facebook, and it makes me feel a little dirty. :\ But I'm about ready to let it fall back into obscurity. I've got work to do and junk to write and kittens to love--no time for that!
Friday, May 2, 2008
Sexist green; kittens
I just saw a commercial for greening up that suggested men skip the shave, to save water. Hold off as long as you can, look manly, and then when you really need to shave, switch to a recycled plastic razor. (It really did phrase it that way--look manly!)
And then, "Girls, don't think we forgot you!"
I thought, joy! Are they actually going to acknowledge the fact that women's shaving--on account of how it covers vastly more surface area--is necessarily going to involve a greater number of razors being thrown out, vastly more water, more chemical products? Is it actually going to advocate cutting back? Only going to the knee? Not doing it or doing it less in winter? Stopping altogether, if you dare?
Nah. It suggested not washing your hair every day, and just hiding it on the days you don't with a hat or an up-do.
Really?
This is as much as we can possibly stand to even consider?
Chris and I shower--together--three times a week (when he doesn't need the water, I use it; when I don't, he does--so no waste). I only wash my hair twice a week. I don't shave at all. I did used to shave, and shower and wash my hair daily, back in The Day. I also had bad, dry, *and* spotty skin (best of both worlds, right?), mangled splitty hair, ingrown hairs, bumps, cuts, burns, and poor body image, because my body is not meant to be treated that way.
I don't really get spots, anymore. My hair--all of it--is soft, and nice, and feels good, and looks good. My skin is great. And I have obviously not had razor burns in something like five or six years.
I know that's not going to work for everyone. But christ, it's an option, isn't it? Any little bit of it is. Your body adapts. The more often you scrub? The more oil your skin and hair produce, to try to heal. If you back off, it'll tend to adjust accordingly.
Ah, well.
On a completely unrelated topic:
The kittens are so fricking cute. And Chris is really cute about them. His post on their litter boxing.
I'm so in love. With all three of them. <3
And then, "Girls, don't think we forgot you!"
I thought, joy! Are they actually going to acknowledge the fact that women's shaving--on account of how it covers vastly more surface area--is necessarily going to involve a greater number of razors being thrown out, vastly more water, more chemical products? Is it actually going to advocate cutting back? Only going to the knee? Not doing it or doing it less in winter? Stopping altogether, if you dare?
Nah. It suggested not washing your hair every day, and just hiding it on the days you don't with a hat or an up-do.
Really?
This is as much as we can possibly stand to even consider?
Chris and I shower--together--three times a week (when he doesn't need the water, I use it; when I don't, he does--so no waste). I only wash my hair twice a week. I don't shave at all. I did used to shave, and shower and wash my hair daily, back in The Day. I also had bad, dry, *and* spotty skin (best of both worlds, right?), mangled splitty hair, ingrown hairs, bumps, cuts, burns, and poor body image, because my body is not meant to be treated that way.
I don't really get spots, anymore. My hair--all of it--is soft, and nice, and feels good, and looks good. My skin is great. And I have obviously not had razor burns in something like five or six years.
I know that's not going to work for everyone. But christ, it's an option, isn't it? Any little bit of it is. Your body adapts. The more often you scrub? The more oil your skin and hair produce, to try to heal. If you back off, it'll tend to adjust accordingly.
Ah, well.
On a completely unrelated topic:
The kittens are so fricking cute. And Chris is really cute about them. His post on their litter boxing.
I'm so in love. With all three of them. <3
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