ToughBunny

Only 473 days to go

2012-02-11T23:33:00.002-05:00

Cold, boring and peaceful

2012-01-21T13:53:00.001-05:00

Well, I wish I had some great airport mishap to report or something abnormally funny that had gone wrong, but travel over the holidays was relatively uneventful. Everything went pretty smoothly. Darn. No material there.

The fam was all in good form. They are all relatively happy and healthy. Well, there are six siblings, so it isn't possible for us all to be happy and healthy, but nothing beyond the "I hate my job" or one of your basic "this is life and it kind of sucks" complaints.

The fight with my mother waited until I got back to NY. She was upset with me for not being a good enough friend. I didn't want to deal with the barbs that came my way or the fact that she daily says things that are obtusely hurtful, so I didn't. When she said something, I just didn't engage, which made things peaceful, but boring. So on the phone call, I was chastised because she doesn't have anyone to talk to about all the mistakes she felt like she made in life. The thing is, I am kind of one of the mistakes, so having to hear about them is always painful. My mother has a code that she sucks it up and puts on the best face because it isn't fair to burden other people with all her problems. I sometimes wonder if that is why she never keeps up with any of her old friends though. When I was young, my parents had all kinds of friends from college. People that got married and divorced and went different ways. You would think that with modern technology they would be in contact still. You would think they would reconnect. But my mom hasn't. My dad has, but my mom hasn't. She doesn't ever call any of her brothers and sisters either. They live so isolated.

On a funnier note, grandma tried to set me up with a guy who lives in slc through his grandma. Oh yes, she activated the grandma tree! She hasn't ever met this guy, but his i's were dotted and his t's were crossed, so she passed on his number and vital statistics. It is one of those "OOhhh- well he's single and your single, so I just thought you would have so much to talk about across 2000 miles". The guy didn't even know I was being given his number. I felt bad for him. I was told all about how he had bought and redone his house, he had his law degree, and had just gone back to school and completed a PhD in psychology. However, he was told I was an actress living in Greenwich Village (which is not exactly a lie, but still soo not close to being a student living in Washington Heights). I wonder what other minutiae of my life was not really accurately passed on, and it makes me wonder about the information that I was given. Do grandmas really believe this is how it is done? Was this how it was done for them? Really?? I don't think so. My grandpa and she met at the campus site of the Bluebird cafe in Logan. My parents met at the frat house. None of them were set up through the grandmas. The best part is that my grandmother had my cousin write me about whether I had called this guy through facebook. Somehow I think you should have to have a facebook page to pester other people through it. Getting other people to pester you via facebook should be against the rules!

2012-01-17T00:55:00.000-05:00

I have this irrational fear that if I share with people in my life my hopes or fears, they will crap all over them. I don't why I feel this way. People will say things and suck the hope right out of me. I don't think it is intentional. I think they feel like they are helping. But for some reason I feel like any hopes or desires I have are continually diminished by other people. So I hide them. I don't share them with anyone. Which means I can't get truly close to anyone. That is why when I make an emotional connection, it is rare and I prize it so much. And that is why it hurts so much when I lose it. All my eggs go in the one basket, and if the basket leaves, I am left completely bereft. This is not good. This is not what I should do. I want to connect with people. I want to be real. I want to trust.

all alone surrounded by people

2012-01-12T02:09:00.001-05:00

Isn't that the irony of places like NYC.   It is like traveling alone.   When I was young, I didn't mind. I could always start a conversation somewhere with someone.   But lately, I don't know, I just can't do the same things I used to. I try.   Maybe I am just not good enough for NYC. Maybe just not pretty enough or interesting enough.   Wow, I sound self pitying.

There is something about always going to bed alone at night that increases a person's loneliness.   I am so tired of it that I go to bed with videos and tv just to fool myself into thinking that someone else is in the room. Boy I am tired of that.   it isn't something you can cozy up to when you are sad.   Another round of self-pity.   I should get a drink named that!

I had a wonderful visit at home.   I got to see family and friends. I got to be cheered up by my sister and visit with my nieces and nephews and discuss things with my brothers.   I got to chat with my parents over meals and talk over dinner about movies, and politics, and life.   I got to skype with my missionary brother and ask if his hairline had receded. (it hasn't really) I visited with old friends over pie and jokes and good conversation.   I had some time to drive around the area and reacquaint myself in the western landscape. And despite it all- the wonderful treatment of my family and friends- I felt deeply lonely.   Each night as I went to bed in a place that wasn't my own, in a left over place, I was alone.   I was all by myself again and some more.   And some people crave that, but I have always hated it.   I have always hated sleeping in a room by myself and it looks like I will always do it. And I am so tired of that kind of loneliness.   It is a loneliness that people can't really fill.   It is a loneliness born our of being unmatched or poorly matched.   It is the loneliness for a specific person.

So there is no one to blame. No one that can help. Nothing that eases it. Not prayer. Not hope. Not family. Not friends.   What a strange kind of loneliness this really is.   When I had the man I loved, I never felt lonely, even when we were apart.   And since I lost him, I have never felt unlonely for a moment.   What a strange thing to learn.   What a strange thing to be so lonely today that you can barely care for tomorrow.   How have people done it?   How have they lived with the ache?   I almost liked being sick because it meant I would be visited.    And people would come to check on me at night.   And I was high as a kite on morphine!   What an odd combination to help make up for that ridiculousness.

And it seems that the men of NYC don't like me.   They are either extremely crude to me (and there is something extremely odd about big nosed ugly guys thinking they are so great that they can afford to be crude), or they simply aren't interested.   I think I am rejected each second online. I have tried to "be proactive" and "search men out", but I guess I am not pretty enough to even rate a hello.   Oh well. I don't even care that much about what they think- but how oh how did this happen.   How oh how did I lose him? How oh how did I mess up to such a consequence?   How oh how oh how? Why is it that when i should be having the time of my life, the time I waited for, the time I hoped for, that it is gone.   How did it happen?   What in the hell??????

Embodiment of grace

2011-12-19T19:50:00.000-05:00

So, NYC brings out the natural klutz in me. Or it just gives me extra opportunities to display my personal balletic performances of klutziness in full view of extra witnesses. Today, I did a particularly spectacular splat in front of the long Christmas shopping lines of Katz's deli. As my boot skidded out from below me, and I knew I was going down, I just had the sense that this was a little kick in the booty on my last day of the year here. Tomorrow I head out west. Was the city just reminding me that I am still at its mercy?

See, in the last month, post hospital, when I was sure that the city was killing me step by step, I have bounced back a little bit. I got a new beautiful apt. I actually got all my school work done despite being so far behind. One of my professors said they wanted to use a piece I wrote in their book, which is a big woo hoo (!!!!). I got almost all my list done. I don't know how, but I have ended the semester without ending up under water. I realized that I have met some very good people and have lots of supportive friends. I have lost many of the fears that have held me back. My friend Ben came out to visit and really lifted my spirits and probably helped me have the discipline to really catch up. And my friend Ken called to get together when he and his wife were in town. It was so nice to visit with him and hear about all his plans. I have had many amazing people in my life. I keep meeting many. I miss the ones that aren't in my life right now, but I am grateful to have known them.

So despite my lack of grace, I have had a grace period of grace. Hopefully, that isn't quite over. After all, I am headed to the airport tomorrow. Grace is always needed in extra measure there. :)

a little political...

2011-12-09T10:19:00.001-05:00

Ok- I have not written about politics in a while. First, I am sure I will be accused of going on some liberal rant, and I might. Second, I thought I needed a little break. And Third, there hasn't been much concrete to write about.

Washington is broken. No- really. It is broken. They haven't gotten anything done in months. They are at an utter standstill. And they didn't die of Potomac Fever either. It isn't the insider business and the bologna that you hear about that broke it. The lobbying industry is like most industries- when the people are honest and thinking about the greater good, they are good. When they are greedy scum-sucking bottom-dwellers, then they are bad. Are there crooks in lobbying? yes. Are there crooks in government? yes. Does that make them all crooks? No.

We like to blame the bogey man for all the ills that affect Washington. But the reason our fair District is broken, the reason that compromise is a dirty word, the reason that nothing can get done is all of you. That is right. I said it. The American People are to blame. That is where the buck actually stops. You are a bunch of distracted, vitriolic, lazy anti-citizens, and your government reflects you. You vote for the guy with the best ads, the cheap shot, and the one who appeals to the vitriolic bullish** that you listen to. And you now have a bunch of people that never learned to play well with others in kindergarten. You elected bullies to congress. You elected the big kid on the play ground who kicks the new kid, or the different kid.

Oh- I know. You are all over worked and tired and just want to relax at the end of a hard day. Is that why you turn on Rush in your cars? Or O'Reilly or Shultz when you get home? Cause it is just so relaxing to listen to someone say all the nasty, xenophobic, twisted logic bull that you wish you could think up and come up with the newest ridiculous sound bite that insures you will sound oh so clever at the water-cooler the next day when you stand around and think it is charming to vilify anyone who is different or disagrees with you?

Rick Perry just made an ad talking about how things are so wrong because gays can serve in the military but children can't pray in school. Well, I am pretty sure children can pray in school. I begged God for help before every test. Just because they can't have a teacher led, organized prayer in the classroom doesn't mean they can't genuflect or fold their hands and say a prayer. In fact, shouldn't most of our prayers be in private?? And do you want your children to have to pray the way a public servant tells them to instead of the way they were taught at home? BUT all of that is just a lot of argument we never get to and tangential to my main point. sorry- liberal rant.

The biggest problem with this ad is that it was made because Rick Perry et team were pretty sure it would appeal to a core of voters and help swing his presidential hopes out of the mires of his mental lapses. I actually think the fact he couldn't remember his sound bit is irrelevant. The fact that he wants to cut the Dept. of Energy, whose main job is overseeing nuclear power in this country- a power of such deadly force that it absolutely requires oversight, seems a bigger problem. But what do we all talk about? Didn't that texan sound like an idiot because he couldn't remember his pre-scripted lines. What a dumb conversation to be having.

I have heard republicans and democrats be idiotic repeating ads and soundbites off of the radio and television forever. Liberals call Conservatives dumb and heartless. Conservatives call Liberals weak and godless. I have known lots of both, and while I may think some of you are WRONG, I didn't used to think it is because you are dumb or godless. But now, I do. I think the American Public are dumb, godless, heartless, ridiculous, lazy, conformist sheep who have been sheared and headed to slaughter. MUTTON ANYONE?

I used to believe in America and Americans. I used to believe people were generally smart and caring. I used to believe in Obama's America- the one where we were one people- the one where we all pledged allegiance to the stars and stripes- the one where no one was godless or dumb or heartless.

People talk about how Obama has disappointed us. Well I think we have disappointed us. I think we are the problem. The buck doesn't stop there- It stops with us.

to be known...

2011-11-29T10:21:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I told my therapist something I have told very few people. In all honesty, temple marriage scares the crap out of me and I don't really want it.

A relationship with a man doesn't scare me. A wedding seems like an annoyance, but not scary. What scares me about temple marriage is that women seem to disappear in them. Even in the temple ceremony itself, women disappear. They receive but are not given to. In the temple ceremony, Eve is represented and exists UNTIL she is married to Adam, and then she is never spoken to again. She has no name. They become Adam. He does all the talking. He is the only one addressed. She is a mute, a nobody, a nothing whose face must be covered during prayer. And that scares me to death.

I don't have a good relationship with the temple. Every time I hear in church that all should be centered on the temple, I have the sinking feeling of knowing that I don't belong. I have never felt good there. All the peace and serenity that other people testify to feeling eludes me. I look at them and wonder how they aren't bothered by what is being said? I have no wish to temper anyone else's enthusiasm for their temple worship or to undercut anyone else's faith. I know so many people who prize their temple time and experiences and I would never want to sully that. But the questions plague me- what do they hear that I don't? Why do they express such happiness there that I never feel? How is it that what is said doesn't bother them? I don't know. I don't have that experience in the temple. The feeling I have there most often is "run, run as fast as you can. run, run, run." I tried overcoming that. I was a temple worker for a while, thinking that if I served there and studied it more, it would become more natural to me or those feelings of peace would be revealed to me. I memorized everything, studied it, studied the scriptures that went with it, asked questions that no one would answer, and in the end, I was just so happy to leave each Thursday evening. I was just so happy to get away.

And I have talked to others who have much more positive experiences with the temple with a different point of view, who suggested new ways of looking at some of the things that are said or go on. One suggestion was to identify with Adam and Eve as two sides of one being. That way, when Adam is addressed and Eve isn't, the woman isn't left out. She is just the feminine side. And I can see her point. I really can. Or don't look at the covered face as something that shields others from you, but that shields you from others, which sounds a little like a burka argument, but ok. And I have gone trying to keep those thoughts in mind, but as I sit there, I just feel like I am jumping through a ton of mind game hoops in order to try to feel a peace that never comes.

The worst part is that I feel guilty about it. Temple service is supposed to be a service to our past ancestors, to facilitate their receiving ordinances vicariously. People are often encouraged to think about those people as they "go through in their behalf". It should feel like you are serving, and in the process learning. So I feel bad that I am doing this in behalf of someone and having such negative feelings. Would you want someone who has that attitude to vicariously go through ritual for you?

And now I am tired. I am tired of the people in my life assuming that I want that. I am tired of people assuming I feel the way that they do about it. None of the people that attend want to hear about my problems with it. And that is fine. It is totally ok. They don't have to want to know this part of me. But I am not going to pretend I want that anymore. I just don't.

taxi cab drivers are not comfortable with emotion either

2011-11-19T17:44:00.001-05:00

Ever had a day so long and so hard that you were too tired to sleep? So, despite my condition, I decided to go forward with my performances this weekend. First, I mean, really the show must go on, mustn't it? And secondly, I decided to tape the rehearsal and process and create a film from it for class. So I headed to DC yesterday carrying thousands of dollars of camera equipment. The trick was, I had to come back to NY to return the equipment and go to class, and head back to DC for the show. I was tired before I began.

It all went exhaustingly well. After a full day, I grabbed the 8pm bus back to NY and arrived around 1am. I was dragging 5 varied sizes of bags around full of expensive equipment and headed out of port authority to find a taxi. The first guy said he was only taking passengers to Jersey. Several others refused me too. I walked to the end of the avenue block and a flafel man told me I had to walk another block. I was getting really upset, meaning unrepeatable words were flying from my frustrated gob hole and I was regretting the epithets before I uttered them but said them anyway. The flafel man and other drivers just laughed at me. I guess a tired little blond with a blue streak is funny at 1 in the morning. I walked another half a block before I could get a taxi. When I finally did, I got in, and began to cry. Sob uncontrollably actually. The taxi driver was distraught. He asked what was wrong and I said "Nah- nahcha- na- heaaa- nothing" or something akin to that. I was sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe. He said "please stop. you are upsetting me. you must stop." and then he shut the window between us. And all I could think was, "just like a man". But I was glad he closed the window. I cried all the way across town, from 34th and 8th to 2nd and C. I stopped long enough to pay him, and then I went inside and cried some more. I was too tired to sleep. I had to cry.

Poor guy. Had no idea that he was picking up someone hysterically tired at 1 in the morning. When I paid him, he turned and said "I know. This city will hurt you. But I can tell you are a good person. It will be ok". Guess you can depend on the kindness of strangers.

Give me the good stuff

2011-11-18T20:19:00.001-05:00

So, I think I could say without too much self-pity that my first couple of months in NY have been rather difficult. My mac died, making grad school work a bit of a problem. And I live with a jerk, which can be an issue. And I am kind of sad and crazy in my transition. But all of that is just stuff- right? I still have my health, right? That's the important thing, right? Ummmmmm- yeah. So last week I got to avail myself of the New York health care system. My gallbladder has decided that it hates me enough to want to leave me, or so it seems. You would think an internal organ would understand you better, but it turns out mine is literally sick and tired.

Over the past 6 weeks (most of my time in NY) I have gotten what I thought was "the flu" 3 times. This flu consisted of me not being able to hold food down for a couple of days and a minor fever/chills. I just thought that the city was kicking my patootie, to be honest, and I was beginning to wonder if the whole place wasn't just too dirty for a girl like me. During the third bought of this "flu" I finally began to suspect something was truly wrong. I was having really severe abdominal and back pain and I was continually dry-heaving. Sorry to those that find this so distasteful. I am refraining from describing what was continually finding its way out my gullet, because it stopped looking like anything I had eaten. (except for the Gatorade. That was gross to drink and to throw up) I went to student health services on a Friday afternoon to describe my symptoms and because I thought something else was going on. They told me I couldn't get into a doctor til Monday, but I should just stay hydrated and it would go away. It didn't.

On the 5th day of not being able to hold down food (which was a double whammy cause I really really love food) I went back into to Student Health Services. This time I was crying in the lobby when they opened so they took me more seriously. Turns out- ta da- my gallbladder was distended. The doc personally put me in a taxi, told the driver to take me to emergency, and called the ER to arrange for my arrival. Within 15 minutes, I was on saline and morphine, and feeling infinitely better. Imagine that?! Nothing like being on a highly addictive controlled narcotic. I have to highly recommend it.

While the morphine was great, the next drug they hit me with was better. They didn't actually tell me the name, but I definitely want to know what it was. My bet is heroin. I was higher than a kite, with noooooo pain, and having extraordinary dreams. It was one of my favorite drugs ever. When I go back, I am going to say, give me the really good hallucinatory drug that made me feel so close to happy.

As to those dreams, I dreamed that all my life was mending. The past year had not been such a complete cluster****. I also had a strange dream of my grandpa being shorter and suddenly called Willard. Actually, it wasn't my grandpa, but he had his face and his laugh. Or maybe it was. Perhaps being that high I had a visitation from the dead. Maybe those peyote dreams are not just a crazy excuse to light up.

So, they discovered that I was actually truly sick. My nurse the first night, Michele, was extremely good and sweet. The rest, not so much. Danne was actually OK. Carmela was so so. Someone needs to tell nurses to read the patient charts. They all asked me what was going on all the time. They acted like the doctors would have to tell me to tell them. If that is so, it is a fundamental glitch in the system. I loved my PCA's though. Both were Mexican, or perhaps Salvadoran. They didn't say PR, I know that much. They had silken touch! They came to draw blood and give shots that couldn't go through the IV, and I just want to say, they can have my blood anytime! No pain- no pinch- no problem. The must be the best blood-drawers on the east coast. You know what the key was? A little patience. That's right. They didn't hurry it like I was meat. I am all the sudden cognizant of this sounding like something else, but I still have to give them kudos.

Meanwhile my a-hole roommate wanted to evict me when I got home because the post office screwed up. I am a little sick and tired of him. He may have to meet an untimely misfortune. Mwahahahah. No worries though. It didn't happen. Still in the tiniest cell in alphabet city.

So, now I am out of the hospital and far behind on my studies. Far behind on my life. Far behind on everything. Crying every couple of hours just for release. But the good news is that I truly have some amazing people in my life. People from all walks of life in DC called or sent messages when I was sick. Work, church, theater, friends, etc etc. You name it, they sent love. I got flowers and teddy bears, which are very comforting when you feel so very alone, even if that does make you a total silly girl. And people from my ward brought meals, which was beyond helpful. I don't think I would have made it without them. And M- a girl in my grad school class came to visit me in the hospital, as well as my visiting teacher and my friend Janna, who is the only one I could trust to bring me undies. I had so many people loving me that I was actually amazed by the generosity of them all.

I feel so ridiculously alone most of the time, and I talked to my therapist about it. He thinks I am so used to self protecting that although I really want to be seen, I rarely let my true colors show. I pretend I have no needs because I don't think I am supposed to have needs. The crappy part about it is that even as he was saying it, I knew it was true. And yet all these people were reaching out to me in a time of real need. They were there for me. They were wonderful. My siblings were all on alert, wanting updates every few hours. I am so very grateful. I truly am.

I still want the name of that drug though.

Hanging with the rabble...

2011-11-02T18:00:00.001-04:00

So I hung out with the rabble down at the center of the revolution again. This time our grad class went with one of the guest speakers, Brian Wilson, who despite the obvious confusion, is not the former Beach Boy. He is actually a political activist that has been protesting against wars since he was a soldier in Vietnam. He was protesting the US sending weapons to El Salvador in the 80s. As part of the protests, they would stand on the train lines to force arrests and slow down the shipments. But one time the train didn't slow down. It ran over him and he lost both his legs. He is very interesting and committed, so you have to admire that. We all went down there to hang out with Reverend Billy!

Reverend Billy is a blond haired, sunshiny, professional protester, who brings a choir with him. He brings church to the people, and he was happily bringing his gospel to the masses. He was there in his white suit and his collar with an appropriately pc multi-cultured choir spreading the message of love thy neighbor. It was a pretty interesting sight. As much as I enjoyed the theatricality of it, I couldn't help wonder why they needed to be there?

Occupy Wall Street or OWS is actually an amazing phenomenon. Some call it leaderless- but it is actually leaderful. Everyone has the opportunity to lead. Everyone has a chance to speak up. Everyone's voice can matter. It is a pretty incredible idea for a movement. And it seems to be part of the strength. So why were people showing up to speak to the protesters that started this all, haven't been co-opted, and haven't allowed themselves to lose focus or change their methods. Do they need this more professional attention to survive?

The strangest part was that the cops surrounding the "occupation" always look nervous. I have to wonder why. I mean really? These people don't have weapons, they aren't rioting, and they have a well ordered means of assembly and discussion. I think they would welcome the support of the police actually and gladly include them in the movement. I realize that police prize normality, but we don't live in normal times. We live in decadent times. So, why be scared of the obviously peaceful masses. Is it that being in the police, you become so invested in the authority structure that anything that questions that structure worries you?

On a separate note, I did go out with my friend M- on Halloween. We had yummy veggie enchiladas and then the most DELICIOUS street ice cream you can imagine. She even lent me part of her costume.

Can you guess what I am?? Hint: I have a pirate hat on with a big antenna sticking out of it. You all get three guesses! Hope you all had a happy Halloween and a blessed All Saints day! :)

Yay for me and nyc!

2011-11-01T14:40:00.001-04:00

So I went out the other night with a very nice man named N-. Bravo NYC. Finally a real gentleman showed up. Funny enough, He is a Brit. He jumped the pond a few years ago to give NYC a go. And he took me out for a really nice night of conversation, which was exactly what I needed. Truly a lovely evening.

I think I am slowly making a few friends and figuring a few things out. As I do, I really understand how I have nothing left to lose. I really don't. I don't have to pretend that I am good at everything. I don't have to pretend to not be surprised by things. I don't have to pretend to believe things I don't believe. I don't have to do it anymore. I answer to no one.

I have made huge mistakes. Huge life changing sad tragic ridiculously stupid mistakes that have cost me everything that I ever wanted. And I probably have 40 more years to live with those mistakes. 40 more years where I have to be me. If I am alone, I want to be someone that I am glad to be around.

And as I have thought about this, I realize that the biggest mistake I have made is when I forget to be strong enough to be me. It is always that moment of fear that costs me everything I value. If I could reverse time, I would. I have lost opportunities I am not likely to see again. And I have no choice but to keep moving forward. So that is what I intend to do. But I am not going to judge myself from the same lens anymore. So, I am just admitting some of the things I am not good at.

I suck at photography. I truly suck at two-dimensional design. And you know- that is ok. Other people are good at it. I am a good writer. I can be a really good writer. I am good at some things and not good at some things and it is ok. I can be not good at something and my world won't cave in and people won't hate me and if they do, then oh well, who gives a shit.

I have no dreams left to pursue and no goals to reach, so I have no limits on what comes next. I have this class right now that is pushing me to figure out my next two years and I simply can't. I don't know. And I'm not going to get rushed by the system into trying to figure something out that I don't know. I don't know what my next two years hold. I don't know what my life holds. And I certainly don't know what anything else holds.

And it is ok for me to grieve what I lost. It is ok for me to feel sad, but not guilty anymore. I am not going to feel guilty anymore for all my screw-ups. It is only costing me time and energy I don't have to spend.

Coming to a place like NYC which is cold and anonymous and full of people seems like the harshest environment in the world. But with anonymity comes freedom. I only have to be me.

And the me I want to be is tired of being told that I can't state things in a certain way. So when I say I am alone because no man has ever wanted me, stop telling me I can't say it that way. There are a variety of reasons for this, but it doesn't change the basic truth of it. It is simply the truth. I am in NYC because I didn't know where else to go and on a whim I applied to this program and am now here. I didn't have a passion for it or for NYC but that is how the dice rolled and what I did with the options.

how I know I moved from sodom to gomorrah... :)

2011-10-21T15:16:00.001-04:00

So I finally found proof positive that NYC is demonstrably more decadent than DC...

That is right- your eyes do not deceive you. That is a Dunkin' Donuts COMBINED with a Baskin Robbins. You would think they would only provide one vice at a time, but noooooo- not here. Here the vice is plentiful when you know where to look.

Actually, other than being dirtier and taller, it isn't that different. Well except for the transportation and streets are a lot lot lot dirtier. Oh and the men are a lot dumber. ohhh- that probably won't help me on the dating front, but what can I say? Truth is truth. The men are equally arrogant both places, but most of the ones in DC are just slightly less ummmm, how shall we put it??? forward? ungentlemanly? dumb?

I met my share of idiots in DC. And it isn't exactly a place that attracts the humble in spirit. And the best man I ever dated in DC grew up in NYC, which probably didn't help my expectations coming here. But I don't think it is my expectations that led me to being disappointed when my date (who I met online- scary business for NY) leaned across the table about half-hour into the conversation and said "so do I get to play with your boobs later or am I just wasting my money?" ??!!!??? Not wanting to be a financial burden with my happy hour appetizer that cost $3, I slid it across the table to him stating that I didn't intend to be a waste of money and left.

What I have noticed is the men are either artists, who are too cool to like anyone, or money-grubbers, who are just greedy, but not really smart. Like I said before, I don't think this is the homegrown product. I think this is the infiltration. And if I were the hometown boys, I would kick the asses of the invaders because they are giving the town a black eye.

Men in DC are just as emotionally crippled and arrogant, but they aren't gross enough to treat a woman like a prostitute. And they tend to be better educated, more well rounded, and all around more interesting. Oh- and just as good looking. They actually have something real to offer, not just a few seconds of your attention deficit disorder company. Maybe the whole city of NY has environmental asbergers.

So please NYC!! Show me some of your good guys! Cause I really don't want to be left to the vices above. I really don't want to be a fat girl stuffing donut ice cream sandwiches down my gullet swallowing my feelings and my loneliness instead of seeing this supposedly amazing city.

flu on the bus

2011-10-13T13:27:00.001-04:00

Oh wow. I have had embarrassing moments in my life, but what is it about being sick in public that just makes you want to hide your head in shame? But there I was on the M14 bus going down D Avenue toward 14th street getting sicker and sicker. Just to make it good, I was carrying a small lighting kit (small my ass) and a large camera, as well as my overloaded with schoolwork purse. So, not exactly traveling light. That is when the wave of nausea hit me. We turned up 14th to the corner of Avenue B, and I had to step off the bus and empty my gut. Then I had to quickly jump back on so that I wouldn't lose the thousands of dollars of equipment, sweaty and gross, smelling awful, and face the stares of my fellow passengers who looked as if I was carrying the plaque. I tried to look small in my seat while I balanced between my three items. I tried not to upset anyone. But I could feel the people around retrench from me, and who can blame them?, as they looked on and my breathing had that hyperventilating rhythm and my forehead was shiny with perspiration and desperation.

I ate something. Or some bug got me. Or something... because for the last several days I have had horrible stomach cramps and the obligatory up-chucking that comes with it. The worst is, I haven't eaten much. I ate some soup with ginger thinking that it would be lovingly soothing. I was wrong. I ate saltines and gingerale. And it came back to haunt me too. I didn't even think that was possible. I mean, don't saltines and gingerale exist for the sole purpose of averting the nausea? Don't you believe it.

I hate being sick. And I hate it worse here, where I don't have any one to help me out. Yikes. Blech. This truly sucks.

Occupying Wall Street

2011-10-06T14:47:00.000-04:00

So, NYC has been abuzz with all the Occupy Wall Street protests. I myself have been down to Liberty Square several times to see the general assembly of the committees that make up the protest. It is a leaderless movement full of leaders. I wonder how much longer that can last. Eventually a group of these remarkable people will emerge to be the spokespeople.

The OWS group is being accused of not having a coherent message, but they seemed to have a very clear focus to me. As I marched with them, being the good liberal anti-corporate prior sell-out that I am, I was struck by how smart they actually were and how clear they were about what was wrong with this country. They are sick and tired of the representatives of the people not representing ALL the PEOPLE. They are tired of a system where filled campaign coffers are as much an objective of elected officials as enforcing the law. They want those on wall street that had the greedy bloody nerve to take HUGE MULTI-MILLION dollar bonuses, only possible because of loans by the non-billionaires among us, to be humbled and if necessary thrown into prison for their absolute gross crimes and mishandling of futures affecting the future of our country. They are tired of being led into corporate serfdom by the double-edged sword of student debt and congressional sell-outs. Their chants of "We are the 99%" and "Show me what democracy looks like" and the poster that espouses "Arab Spring, European Summer, American Fall" all make it pretty clear what they want. They want government "By the People, Of the People, and For ALL the People".

And despite reports, they aren't all hippies, socialists and malcontents. They are concerned citizens. There were many young people, but also mothers, fathers, and grandparents there. People in suits marched next to people in hemp. Ties stood next to t-shirts. The protest march had a stop at one point...

In case you can't read it, the building is inscribed with "The administration of justice is the firmest pillar of good government". That is what the protesters are asking for. They are asking for justice. They are asking that we invest as much in the rest of us that we invested in the top 1%.

I was for the bailouts as long as they included Wall Street succumbing to restrictions on freedoms they had already proved unworthy to possess. We had a right to regulate their behavior when we paid for it twice. But they are the worlds most spoiled despotic children, claiming they weren't the only ones behaving badly so why do they have to answer for anything they did wrong. The amount of money they have spent to stop any real consequences is disgusting. Their hubris is sinful. Their greed is un-american. That is the message.

naked in New York

2011-09-22T00:28:00.001-04:00

Ok- WARNING!!!!!!!!!! This post has stuff in it that some people may not be comfortable knowing- nothing gross- but just a wee bit more up close and personal about a woman's experience than some are comfortable with. So- if you don't want to read it- I understand!

I think I have walked more in the past month than the rest of my life combined. I like it, but it took a while for my to adjust my shoe choices. Needless to say that my feet paid the price for my vanity, until I figured out how to do both. In order to remedy my sore tootsies, I decided I would treat myself to a cheap mani/pedi at a place on 6th near the school. While I was at the manicure place, I saw that a bikini wax was only $10. Now I have been considering joining the Y on 14th street which is close to the school and my place and gives a discount to students and has a great pool. (hahahah- I get student discounts. That is hilarious to me) So, I decided to go for it! Treat myself and feel all prepped and ready for my new life. Little did I know the translation problems I was letting myself in for.

They decided to start the bikini wax AFTER the pedicure and manicure, which pretty much handicapped me. I couldn't run. I couldn't touch anything with my hands. So, I was led like a lamb to be sheared by this very lovely vietnamese woman who decided after one look that I actually didn't say bikini wax, but brazilian wax. Now- I don't know if you all can appreciate the difference, but your basic bikini wax doesn't even begin to encroach on the territory of the brazilian. The brazilian leaves you prepubescently as bare as the day you were born. (some call this the japanese, but not this salon) And so it began. Never mind that this woman was seeing more of me than anyone but my gynecologist, which was embarrassing at first, until I realized she sees this about as often as a ob-gyn would. However, she seemed a bit horrified by the situation. She kept muttering over and over "oh my ga, sooo much hai". Over and over and over again. Hot wax was going places I never imagined I could even grow hair and she seemed to have made it her mission to make sure that there was not a follicle left untamed. She kept pulling strip after strip, and between the flashing pain ripping through my brain each time she yanked at another strip, all I could hear was the muttering of "ohhhh, sooo much hai, ohhh so much" I began to feel like a yeti from the arctic. At the end, I was unnaturally bald from fore to aft, and wishing that somewhere along the line I had learned vietnamese so that if there was still that misunderstanding, I could at least request a stick to bite down on.

The one advantage of this "new look" was that I felt clean as a daisy for my annual check-up this morning, which is always such a treat. Isn't it? They provide that lovely paper vest which they always explain without irony is for your "modesty". You have to wonder who they think they are kidding. My doctor, the first woman gynecologist I have had, was very nice about explaining everything all the way through the appt. but she seemed to have left her sense of humor outside the exam room. There is something so absurd about the examination- so invasive in such a completely vulnerable way- that I of course use humor to try to leaven the situation. So when she said my uterus was nice and tight and my ovaries were symmetrical and in good shape, I said, "well it is nice that some part of my body is still symmetrical and tight". Dead silence. She looked at me as if she didn't know how to laugh, but understood that a joke had been made. And thus I had managed to make the situation even more awkward than normal.

So I guess I can safely say NY has altered me for good or bad. And my humorless doc says I am in great shape, so to speak. Woohoo.

Ich bein ein New Yorker?

2011-09-20T20:06:00.001-04:00

This is the picture out my study corral window-

So, it is official. I moved my things in over the weekend. I still have 12 boxes of books to unpack. (yes, I am currently drowning in books) But I think I have found a creative solution that will only require one bookshelf.

I think I mentioned I live in the east village, and I admit I am looking forward to winter where my uniform of jeans, boots and sweaters will let me blend with the locals more. What is astounding to me about this place, and NYC in general, is the tremendous amount of humanity that is stacked together. There is no space for decorum in a way. On my way to the subway, I walk 4 blocks. In that short space, I pass apartments, 2 parks, 6 delis, 3 drugstores, several convenience stores, 2 bakeries, 2 appliance stores, 3 banks, lotsa bars and restaurants of all kinds (including a Vietnamese place that might be the new love of my life), 2 tattoo parlors, a psychics office, a funeral home, and a fire station with seven plaques honoring their fallen on 9/11. It is my entire hometown packed into 4 blocks. As I pass by I can't help thinking about the insane amount of humanity and drama, heartbreak and hope, love and loss, despair and faith, music, magic, mayhem, ie the insane amount of life that is all around.

And it is a reflection of my entire life. Nothing in my life resembles what it was 2 months ago. I have experienced complete chaos.

And yet, isn't this what I was hoping for? Wasn't I hoping to change into something I want to be? I know exactly what I truly want, and I know I can't have it at the same time. Does this shape me?

And I have to admit, I am too old for this. Truly I am. I just learned my roommate was born the year the Berlin Wall fell. He is a baby and he is planning on running the world, and he literally never lived during the Cold War. Can I just say- OMG. If I had been a slut in highschool, I could be his mother. I feel ancient.

make no mistake about it- I am the freak

2011-09-12T14:38:00.000-04:00

So I finally found digs in NYC in the East Village on the Lower East Side. It is about a 25 minute walk from the school, or a 7 minute walk to the subway and 3 subway stops. Fairly convenient. Tons of restaurants. Tons of clubs. Tons of free entertainment. Tons of people watching opportunities.

But hold on just a second. Just when you would think I have found my own little quintessential NYC apt- small box and all- the unique quirks arise. First- I have roommates. I was kind of hoping to avoid 2 roommates and just have the one. Good thing is that both are guys that are at least 10 years junior to me. On my best cougar days there is no temptation here. And because they are men, far less drama than your average roommate situation. I met them through craigslist. They know each other from Brown University. One studied Lit and the other studied Neuroscience and they both want to be standup comedians. The lit major is a page at NBC, who says that 30 Rock is a dead on, and is a self-described member of The Tribe (no pork, only bacon). The other is a clandestine mormon boy who doesn't realize that his scripture set gave him away to a fellow member. I don't think he knows that I am a mormon either. So we make a merry little band, don't we? Not only are we two guys and a girl, but we are two mormons and a jew. I think I will try to help them write their act...

They were both out of town this weekend, so it was up to me to find my way to the meetinghouse all by my lonesome. Thank goodness for my phone gps/ transit directions. I know it isn't very NY to rely on such things, but I don't care! It has saved me from countless hours of walking in the wrong direction.
As I was on my way, all decked out in my yellow polka-dot sundress and high-heels, it became apparent that I was an anomaly, a freak-show. I thought that would be harder to do in the eclectic island of manhattan, but as I walked down Houston St toward the F train, I began to notice the stares I was getting. 5 people stopped me to talk to me about what I was wearing (3 guys, 2 women, usually complimentary). The girl with the pink dread braids in the leopard leggings and the green and white Celtics hoodie didn't get as many stares as I did.

And it hit me-

I am the freak.

Yes me. I was way too bright, way too chipper, way too... yellow for a sunday morning in NY. And to add polka dots as well?? If they had been black, it might have been ok, but no. Didn't wear a stitch of black. My NY uniform was obviously incomplete.

I am old, tired and I dress funny. What kind of gong show is this do- over?

Into the wild...

2011-09-01T00:08:00.000-04:00

I am hankering for an uninterrupted sky. I look up a lot, and am always caught in wonder at the many beauties around me, and yet, I yearn for a piece of open sky.
And yet, there are things here that simply aren't anywhere else. I was on the 4 between Grand Central and Union Square, and was treated to an poetry/rap/acrobatic act in the subway car by 3 guys who had obviously rehearsed it. Since I appreciate the dedication this kind of endeavor takes, I gave them my spare change- which wasn't a lot. And then I was sitting in the L on Avenue 1 and there was a pop singer on one end and guitar player on the other end. (The guitar player was better). And while I have been on Metros in many places in the world and am not a stranger to street performers, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of burgeoning uncontainable creativity infected this city so much that there is performance and wonder on every corner? I have yet to go a single place without some sort of music or hum of activity. Humanity and human creativity are so thick around me that I am almost overwhelmed and wonder if becoming inured to the wonder of it all is the only way to stay calm in the chaos.

I have walked and stumbled and tripped and run all around this city in the last week, searching for a burrow to call my own for the next little while and it is a wonder from top to bottom, literally.

And it makes me happy.
And it makes me sad.

The man of my dreams isn't here. And while it seems quite silly to call him that, it is literally what he is. He is gone for the most part. An infrequent word here or there still teases at my edges a bit, but when I close my eyes, even when I am so very tired, images of what were pop in and out of my dreams. Or images of what could have been? Or I am not even sure anymore. I just know that I have the strangest memories pop up, like the expression on his face when he sat most seriously with a pad and pen in hand and had his hat pulled low to his brow.   He always wore his ball cap that way. I wonder if he still does. I see him here, even though he isn't anywhere near.

As I walk through Union Park each school day, it makes me strangely happy to see the statue of Mr. Lincoln. It makes me feel at home somehow. He stands above the generals that surround the park, as if he is giving orders once more.   NYC is so full of wilderness. Some of it seems so untamed and yet, it is governed. Or maybe the wilderness governs the city after all. School seems a wilderness to me too, full of sociological phenomena. Subjects to study. Faces to search. Ideas to discuss.

In class someone asked me why I was there, and I only have one answer. I am a storyteller. That is the essence of me. My only real gift as it were. Most everything I do either feeds or is fed by my need to be and tell stories. I have been told that it is a noble thing, but I don't do it out of nobility. This blog hardly seems noble. It is almost narcissistic and self important in the way that it insists on spilling out my thoughts. I try to imagine what drives me to share all the rawest parts of myself in a public forum when it pains me to talk about it with my closest friends and family. There are people I love dearly that I can't bear to tell the things I state on this page, and I know that they read it sometimes. Why throw out my lifelines here instead in private confidences?

I hope I am doing this to embrace that wilderness too. I am trying to embrace the wilderness around me to tame the fears in my heart and mind.   I think that is why I am here. I picked the one thing that would scare me the most and decided that is what I would do.

I thought I would face it alone.   But I am less alone than I have ever been. I have been forced by need and humility to reach out to people and been caught in a web of friendship and family that have softened each blow, served each need, and calmed each frayed nerve in this overwhelming adventure. People's generosity has astounded me. And so I wonder if the wilds have always been this full of humanity and love and loss and love? Why do I fear.

Living in a hipsters paradise...

2011-08-30T15:47:00.000-04:00

"As I walk through the valley in the shadow of plaids
I know that my glasses are as outdated as dads
My clothes all match in the tackiest way
never had so many tell me I'm so old in day
The kids in the skinny jeans with the ray bans on
look so familiar, now I could be wrong
but I'm pretty sure we did the converse shoes and the grunge
These kids think its new- they act like a sponge

They been living most their lives living in a hipsters paradise..."

I'm sitting in the botanical oasis of one of my new alma mater (do you call it that for grad work?? hmmm) watching as the young play among the trees. It is very reminiscent of a discovery channel special on bonobos, all in muted colors with only flashes of red/color to lure the attentions of their interests. There is grooming, butt sniffing, unnessecary touching and looks of faux ennui, to say we are much too interesting to be interested. This courtyard perhaps more than most is full of assymetrical haircuts (both on men and women, recall flock of seagulls anyone? And I thought that one was gone for good) The difference this time is most of these men are either out of the closet or are flirting with it as a way to lure women. Ahh the great openness of youth, when young women fantasize that their gay boyfriends will want to do more than shop for them someday. They are all impossibly young, impossibly thin, impossibly underdeveloped. Do both men and women have to wear an A-cup to get in as an undergrad? Of course there is the one fabulous fat girl- or I should say voluptuus, but she isn't. She is more zaftig than shapely. But she is ready with her horn-rimmed specs an her too short skirt to hold court as a queen. I bet she sings. They always sing.

Who am I to talk of course? The middle aged (the nyc apt market has forced me to face this fact) overweight (although the other girl outdoes me by at least another small child, even if I do go to hell for saying it) blonde who is treating life as a do-over. It doesn't give me a lot of room for criticism. I am curious what these younger specimens will have to say in my next class, War Stories. Most of them were in grade school 10 years ago, but I remember images from grade school. Have some of them been deeply processing the implications of war images for years without realizing it. Or are they too busy facebooking? I am sorry- the hipsters think that is passe, even though they all do it to stay in the loop. Now they are busy using the school social network interface, while I wonder if I have it in me to create another online profile of any kind. Will there be a post-social media backlash where the youth simply refuse to engage in twitter, facebook, etc etc etc? Let's face it- Facebook's original appeal was it's exclusivity. But then those online elites realized that the real dough was in utter democracy (and I do mean utter). So now it is the purview of grandmas and baby-boomers, just like cds and bose stereos. The bald men with all the money driving their convertibles while playing the music of the "revolution" basically say stick it and take everything as their own in their quixotic quest to never turn 30.

It is almost trite to complain about these youngsters. I am not complaining really as much as noticing that it is exactly as it has always been. People complained of the shallowness of our generation as well, with our jingoistic impulses to honor Top Gun, and our own sense of entitlement as we celebrated the idea that "greed is good". Does every generation feel the next generation acts entitled? Is that because every generation is more entitled acting than the next? Did we think we deserved praise for finding the meeting at all? Will corporate America adapt to sticker rewards? I hate to say it, but I think that might work...

The end is near...

2011-08-25T21:50:00.000-04:00

I make my way through the cavernous depths, looking for the impossible, searching out the most elusive and wild beast in this asphalt jungle--- a decently affordable apartment where I can hang my hat and the 25 pairs of shoes I kept during the move. (I threw out 37 pair total, and I cried. My sacrifices on this journey have been many and varied.) I thought my demands were so lowly and simple. Little did I know the high expectations I was carrying into my endeavor.   Who wouldathunk that a clean room with sane and preferably kind roommates where I can lay my head after a treacherous day in the cold trenches of city academia would be so hard to come by?   I have looked at 6 apartments in two days. One was nice enough, but had a funny smell. After looking at the commute to the school, I thought it was nothing a nice eucalyptus candle couldn't fix so I said I would take it and haven't heard back from the landlord. (not a favorable sign) Next was a lovely little room. And by little, I mean I could touch both walls with my fingers. It had a loft bed and looked a wee bit monastic.   It was made clear my things would not be welcome in the house, soooo- well, whaddya do?    The third and fourth were nice, but had several interested parties and the proprietors said they would have to get back to me. And the last was the stuff that NYC nightmares and the scary Scorsese pics come from. It was a hole. Seriously a hole. A $900 hole that I was afraid was contaminated with several diseases from many bygone eras. I would rather sleep on my friend Janna's front stoop than there. It is cleaner and safer. I would fear for my life and whatever virtue I still possess. I almost couldn't run away fast enough. I thought that Joe Pesci was going to stuff me into the trunk of a car at any moment.

So, while I search for a place to call my own little abode for the next 22 months, impending doom looms over the city. Everyone is rattled (shaken, not stirred) (sorry- bad pun) by the earthquake last tuesday. I am a little spooked since it seemed to follow the exact route I had taken that morning. Now both cities are about to be hit by hurricane Irene. DC will get hit harder than NY. I have lived through a tropical storm in DC and while by no means life-threatening, it is intimidating, and very messy.   I only hope that Irene downgrades severely before it hits land.

Of course, maybe it will take out a few people and I can get a good apartment. Wow- that was heartless and cutthroat. The big city is getting to me already!!!

Actually, I do have to say that New Yorkers are the nicest, while being the most competitive people in the world. They are great.   And my orientation class went well. I remembered how to take notes and nod pleasantly at all the teachers, just like when I was young. It must be something in me that can't quite believe that I am as elite as they keep telling me I am.   This program was the first and one of the most innovative of its kind, which is another way of saying the best. They kept reminding us of how challenged we would be and how NYC is really our campus and we are the greatest among the great. All I could think is, "I have heard this speech before, and I am not sure I believed it the first time".   But if they don't tell you how great you are just for being there, it makes it hard for them to look you in the eye when they ask you to sign over your first born as tuition.

So far this has been a great adventure and been so much to think about. My mind should be overwhelmingly occupied. And it is. But my heart has a way of reminding me every so often of what I have lost and I still have a bit of grief to expend yet.   I suppose in a way I always will. But at least the grief has propelled me to stretch and change into something I am more proud to be instead of stunting me in a dark shrouded corner, always regretting. Maybe that is really what endurance truly is. To grieve and still move and do and try.

So I am trying NY! But please, when the universe is done creating havoc with the city, could it conspire to find me a holy respite of a home?

Earthquakes and hurricanes??

2011-08-24T21:18:00.001-04:00

An Earthquake? An honest to god earthquake? On the very day I left DC there was an honest to the almighty, not just an aftershock, earthquake?

I have to be flattered that my leaving DC actually became an earthshaking event. Presidents have left with less fuss. The earthquake happened exactly when I landed in New York. Does this bode well for my future here or badly? I am not sure.

So many things have changed so rapidly and yet so much hasn't.   I am still me. I will have to keep being me and trust that me is enough.   Maybe I should take the earthquake as a sign that I am more than enough. Maybe it is an omen that I really am so important.   Or maybe it was just two tectonic plates shifting and causing shaky ground.   Sort of like the ground I would be on by supposing it is an omen.

When I got to New York, I wasn't sure what to do. I had no one to talk to about how crazy it all felt. I called family and some friends in VA and tried to make sure the people I cared about were safe.   It felt so odd to be so far away from my dear little self appointed center of the universe, especially when it is making actual news. WOW. It made me homesick. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I went and got a slice and watched Tripoli fall to the rebels on CNN.

I miss DC. I miss you all.   Please don't wash away in the hurricane...

not very tough

2011-07-10T21:06:00.000-04:00

I need a hug. Not a perfunctory hug. I need a I will really hold you while you cry hug. I will hug you tight so that you know that you won't come apart at the seams. I will hug you so tight you will feel it in your core. I need a hug from someone who actually loves me.

The truth is

2011-07-08T23:36:00.001-04:00

The truth is that I am moving to NY because I can. I don't want to. I am not in the least excited about it. I don't think it will bring me any closer to anything I truly want. I didn't want to go to new york alone. I only wanted to go with the man I love. And the truth is this will only take me away from him. Which I guess shouldn't matter because he isn't with me and doesn't seem to want me to exist anymore. But the truth is that I just want to be with him and I just don't care about anything else. And all of this movement is just to distract myself from that truth. I'm not scared of ny. I just don't want to be there when the thing I really want is here, even if I can't have it anyway. The truth is that I am just moving in a void of total heartbreak trying desperately to bother to want anything that I can actually have. but the truth is, I don't really want it. I know precisely what I really want, and i don't have the slightest ability to actually get it. The truth is I wish I could stop existing on fumes of dried up hopes.

my dad, spiritual guru?

2011-06-21T17:48:00.001-04:00

I know that I have ranted in anger at my parents before, but I had a very interesting conversation with my Dad this Father's Day.

I am facing a series of decisions in my life and I get lots of spiritual advice on how to approach these decisions, which I find very dogmatic or didactic most of the time. They range from "do what you want most" to "what is the Lord telling you is his will for you?" and most things in between. Well, what I want most isn't on the table and these decisions are important, but will not necessarily get me closer to what I want most. And HF/the Lord has not proffered any opinions about the choices I am facing, but they are not choices of spiritual understanding, and I have never received direction on any choice or understanding that wasn't about a spiritual path. I think the lord simply doesn't care about these decisions.

So, I was telling my Dad what I was weighing in the decisions and where I was in the process and he asked me if I had prayed. I sighed and said that I had, but hadn't gotten any answer. And it was so interesting what he said. He said he didn't think I would receive an answer because there was no right or wrong answer about my schooling and career choices I am facing. But he suggested that prayer wouldn't provide answers as much as it would center me in a calm state where I could view things clearly, and then whatever choice I made would be a good choice. He also said that it was a bit like meditation. And perhaps I shouldn't pray for any particular answer or about any particular avenue, but that I use it to slow myself down a bit.

And I have to say out of all the unsolicited advice I have gotten, that has been the most helpful. I don't know what my decision is any more today than I did yesterday. But I am less stressed about it. And that is a good and wise thing. Perhaps he should always be on speed dial... ;)

Such fascinating responses!

2011-06-06T22:06:00.003-04:00

I connected my blog to my facebook, which transfers the blog to Notes, hoping that my friends would get a chance to read it. I don't know if I was expecting the amount of responses I got, but I got amazing emails and calls sharing with me the different ideas and experiences with God/Creator/the Universe/etc. and the different ideas of happiness.   They didn't publish them to the blog, so I am just going to tell some of my favorite responses with their initials.

S.C. gave me some down home common sense when he wrote that God helps them that help themselves. He said much more than that, but I think he is right. I think those that try the most are the ones to succeed and fail the most, and we tend to learn as much from failure as we do from success (or maybe more).   He also wrote eloquently about the fleeting state of happiness and how it is not an achievable permanent state. I love how he wrote so passionately. And he made the point that my friends are there to pick me up from my failures, and that is people working with God.   I love S.C.

So then I got a call from my really gold-hearted friend B.B. and he said that he thought God had me on a catch and release program, which made me laugh. He thought God had released me to make my own choices, but would intervene when it suited him.    It showed a lot of faith. I protested that I am not really a Jonah. I haven't got a directive and I am not headed to Nineveh, but he still believed God would direct me at the right moments.   I admire this faith. I don't know if I have it, but I definitely admire it and love him for it.

And B.S., not a reflection of his earnestness I assure you, just sent me warm wishes, good luck, and said I inspired his new blog for an ideal woman.   Well, not to brag or anything... :)

I guess one of the biggest problems I have with people in my church is their surety that God is so involved in the details of life.   Well, actually that isn't exactly true.   What annoys me is their surety that God is so involved in the details of MY life when I have no such surety at all.   I am not sure why they feel they have the right to intimate that I wouldn't know more about God's involvement in my life than they would. But sometimes I think the fact that I insist that God hasn't ever given me any direction on where to live, work, major in, go to school, or any of the other similar decisions of my life is difficult for them to relate to.   They all feel like they have experiences where God has directed them in some way, so some of them insist that it must be God's unique way of directing me without directing me.

In the middle of all of this, I have visited home where my parents don't agree about this subject either. Dad is more of a natural causes but God loves you kind of guy.   Mom definitely believes in angels and is sure that we have been saved on numerous occasions. Fun fun fun car trips!
------But how is this for an omen (cue spooky music that makes me doubt my sense of coincidence)- There was a copy of The Alchemist in the seat pockets in the back seat of my parents car.   A half-read copy that had been halfheartedly stuffed there by another sibling probably. And yet, it felt strangely portentous. I mean, just when I was starting to doubt my "signs", my insights, my heart, there is a book telling people to follow their omens, insights and hearts to pursue their "Personal Legend".   I picked it up looking for escape and it was like stepping into a 360 mirror, unable to escape looking at my own life and what I need to do.

dum dum dum!!! IS GOD TRYING TO TELL ME SOMETHING?? ;) And is he trying to tell me by not telling me? ;)

sounds like a song...

Is realizing one's "destiny" really a person's only obligation? Wait- that is a whole other post.

Embracing Doubt?

2011-05-26T23:14:00.001-04:00

I have had the strangest experiences lately involving faith and doubt. Things I have always doubted, I am having cause to believe. And in things I have always believed, I am experiencing doubts.

I have often thought that God doesn't care if we are happy, only if we are good. (And I don't believe they are synonymous. Wickedness never was happiness does not mean goodness is.) Which is odd since I believe God loves sinners and saints alike. It does seem weird that I would have that paradox in my thinking. Perhaps it is because I have always equated God caring if we are happy with him having a plan for us, and I don't believe that he has a plan. I mean, not an individual plan for each of us. In fact, the more I hear that, the less I believe it. Even typing it, it seems silly to me. But I have had some of the most severe disappointments of my life recently and odd small triumphs at the same time. And I have felt that there is most definitely a God who is working diligently to try to get me what I need to be happy. I am not sure it is all within his power. Or purview, perhaps is a better word. Or maybe not. I am not sure.

Meanwhile, I have been having some very real doubts about his need for me. I feel disposable in a way. Like a movie extra that will end on the cutting room floor.

And yet, I have had some experiences that have told me that I needed to take center stage in my own life. I have relegated myself to a supporting character in my own life for so long, I have forgotten that I have to be the lead.

This is so odd, isn't it? To think God is working on your behalf, but has no real need of you. Or maybe it was always hubris to think God had a need for me. Very strange. I feel a distance from the spirit in some ways, and yet a closer communication with God than most of my life. That can't be possible, can it? I mean, that is truly unbelievable. But that is sort of what I am experiencing.

So strange...

losing and winning?

2011-05-22T16:04:00.002-04:00

Well, I have to report that I actually have lost some weight. I am down 12 lbs. (I don't know how much of that is water weight and I don't care. I am counting it.)   The important part is that I now pass the naked test.   You know the test where you can see yourself in the mirror naked without thinking WTF????   I have gone from rumply pink rubenesqe to creamy renaissance round. Leonardo would definitely paint me naked now. Wait... Leonardo isn't famous for his female nudes, is he? Well, then Raphael or Boticelli. Course, that is not the modern standard of beauty is it?

No, I came to realize that I would never meet a "modern" standard of beauty, no matter how much I lost. There are things about my body that won't change. I will always be hippy and busty- extra busty- always always always.   Generations of men have decided this for me. There are no non- extra curvy women in my family tree. NONE. The men in my family are boob men. On both sides of the family. They like their women a bit meaty. The smallest bust in the current generation is my aunt who is a c+ and my grandmother used to tease her about being small. (My grandmothers are not milk and cookie types, if you haven't guessed). There is a story about one of my great-great -great-great-grandmothers crossing the plains.   She was 4'11" with a 48" bust.   My great-great-great-great-grandfather asked her to marry him 2 days after meeting her and before the competition in the Salt Lake Valley.   Three guesses what prompted that. And yes, this is a story my family shares down the generations.

I will give this to the men in my family.   They are into boobs, but not into porn. My dad always think it is weird to be looking at faked up pics when you can see plenty of good looking real women on the street.   He used to tell my brothers that springtime on campus was the best time because it was sundress season and you could sit on the quad and girl watch.    His reasoning was that the real thing was better than any pictures you could buy.

I have to say my brothers have continued the tradition. My sisters-in-law don't seem to have much in common physically except that they are all busty broads.

So even though I am 1/4 of the way towards my goal, I am going to have to keep it in perspective and just realize that some things, even the shape of my own body, are out of my control, and just keep in mind that I only have to pass my own naked test.

release...

2011-04-18T12:00:00.001-04:00

I have had the strangest sense of freedom lately. And I think there are two reasons.

First- I no longer feel responsible for my siblings lives. I have always felt responsible for them, as long as I can remember. I felt like it was up to me to make sure they were happy and successful. I have made a number of sacrifices over the years to make sure my life was flexible enough to support my siblings in everything. But now that my youngest sibling is on a mission across the pond, I finally feel like they are all grown up and I am no longer responsible for what they do. I am not responsible to make sure they have jobs and lives. I am not responsible for their health and well being. I am not responsible for taking care of every crisis. It is strange in a way, but it is freeing.

And second- I no longer have any hopes or fears. I can't lose anything more, so I can't be afraid. And I have lost every dream I ever had, so I no longer have any hopes. I don't care about my job. I lost the man I always hoped for with my own fears and stupidity. I have dealt with my parents mortality, and while I would be extraordinarily sad to lose them and miss them, I don't have any fears about it anymore. I don't have any hopes about the future and I only have 1 regret about the past. I don't care about doing theater anymore. I love my friends, but they have their own lives to lead and I always wish for their happiness, but my hopes aren't wrapped up in it. I don't care about how I do in school. I don't care what I achieve. I just don't care anymore.

I would like not to be fat and bored, so I am making changes to make myself less fat and boring. But I can't honestly say I think it will lead to anything extraordinary in my life. And I can't care about living an ordinary life. If I ever wanted an ordinary life, I wouldn't have made any choices I have made.

I am still involved in politics, but I don't have any hopes wrapped up in it, at least none for myself.

It is very freeing in a way. I have released everything I haven't lost. I have grieved it all and when I am done with that, I will just be able to be blank. That sounds really nice.

I must mean what I said...

2011-04-15T11:11:00.003-04:00

I passed up on bacon three days in a row...

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

2011-04-11T15:14:00.001-04:00

I need to make some changes. Some real ones just for me.

So- I started with the obvious and cut my hair short the way I like it. That is a pretty girly change.

Change number 2- I am changing how I eat. Not just "eating healthier". This may seem obvious too, but I have to make some decisions about things soon and I need to be in good health to do it. So- the plan is the same as Mark Bitten's: Eat real food, mostly plants.

The hard part is this requires a change in attitude too.

You see, I LOVE FOOD. I don't mean I like to eat. I mean I love food and the pleasures that it gives. I never needed to eat a lot, though you can't tell by looking at me, but I really don't like the idea of limiting my diet to certain foods, because, well, I love all food.   I mean, there are things I don't prefer- like cantaloupe- but to be honest, I still eat them. I even choose to eat them. And I don't change the way things are on menus in restaurants because I figure that the chef had a reason to put them together that way to hit all 5 taste buds, and I like the experience of that.   I like the lusciousness of food. And I like the surprise of it.   If I had more money, I would be a big obnoxious foodie.   My brothers say I am a food snob because I don't do fast food anymore, but mostly I just want more yum for the calories.

But actually in all my professed love of food, I think in many ways I have been limiting myself. I think I have short changed veggies. And while I have tried tofu and seitan, and I have to say, I can always tell they aren't meat, but they are OK. And I have to wonder how much chicken one person should really eat in a lifetime. I mean, chicken is sort of the go-to meat for everyone. Even the picky eaters like chicken. But it is often snoozeville filling food.

Also, a part of me feels guilty because I think there is overwhelming evidence that we Americans eat too much cow, pig, and chicken.   I love a good steak or hamburger as much as the next person, but somewhere along the line, as the consumer, we have to start taking responsibility for the lives of these animals and eat more responsibly.   I have read up, and Dan Barber makes a good case for eating sustainably wherever we live. If we have to pay a little more for it, maybe we will waste a little less, and eat a little less. And not be so bloody greedy.

So the goal is for plants to make up 80% of my diet, dairy- 10%, sustainable fish- 8%, and then maybe 2% of something else- like a really good steak when I am feeling anemic. (I could explain why this is a healthier option than iron pills, but it is too distasteful to put in a post about eating food)

Today I am doing good.   I had steal cut oatmeal with peanuts, brown sugar, and almond milk for breakfast, which was surprisingly tasty and satisfying.   And for lunch I had a veggie bbq sandwich (black beans, mushrooms, peppers, and onions in a tangy good sauce) with a bottle of water and slaw.   I plan to eat spinach/carmelized onion/ feta and sundried tomatoes on wheat crust pizza for dinner.

This has to be easier than kicking my caffeine habit, right?

post script

2011-03-30T13:45:00.001-04:00

God has a way of making me eat my own words sometimes...

reasons to believe

2011-03-23T21:24:00.000-04:00

“It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and persevering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created for years or even generations- Kahlil Gibran

Faith is passionate intuition- W. Wordsworth

I feel like I have been told that I shouldn't lose hope in a future with ********. Even though part of me thinks it is impossible. Even though part of me has to move on. Even though a part of me wishes I was dead. I have had answers and reasons to keep faith that it will happen. It makes things harder and easier. I can't help but wonder about what he does every day. I can't help but hope beyond hope. I have told myself the odds. I have told myself it isn't going to happen. I have kept it close to my vest and not divulged any of it to my friends or family. I have prayed and prayed. I have even prayed what to pray. I have been angry and sad and resigned and hopeful and usually all within a matter of minutes.

I have no reason. I have no evidence. Actually, to the contrary. And it is probably foolish and ridiculous.

But I feel it. I feel like God told me that in the beginning and has confirmed it for me other times too. I lose sight of those things. I lose sight of everything.

But if I don't display faith, then what can I do. I believe this. I believe it to be right. And if what is right cannot happen, then I am doomed anyway.

I have nothing left to hope or fear.... Silly quote. But actually true. Since I don't actually care about the rest of my life, I really have nothing left to fear.

I am a dreamer...

2011-03-15T23:15:00.000-04:00

I try to deny it all the time. People don't respect dreamers and for some reason I crave respect and approval... and love... and need.   I never really know why. People respect those that can make their dreams come true, but they don't respect failed dreamers. And I am a failed dreamer. I fail at every dream I have and when I try, try again, I fail again. I am starting to wonder if it is a good thing to get back up on the horse or not.

But really, the problem I have isn't that I fail. It is that I have a hard time sharing my dreams with my friends. I don't trust very easily or very well. I even struggle to trust god. I don't trust god in a lot of ways, and I am always told to trust god and he will direct my paths, but he never seems to and on the few instances I feel like he has, the results don't inspire trust.   Mostly they make me wish he would butt out if he isn't going to help. It is like life is neapolitan ice cream, and god lets you get a taste of the chocolate, but then withdraws it, and leaves you with the choice of shitty vanilla and/or shitty strawberry when all you want is the chocolate in the first place. And then everyone says well, you have a choice! You can choose between shitty vanilla and shitty strawberry, and you can choose to believe that they aren't shitty. oh yay. But I still can't choose chocolate, when it is all I really want. I basically put up with strawberry and vanilla so I can have the chocolate. Oh well, that was a huge digression.

I was talking about my friends, and how I should probably trust them more. But I have to say that they aren't really known for their soft touch, and my dreams are fragile. They are broken and rebuilt and thus riddled with scars and weaknesses and require a gentle touch. Which funnily enough is true of my heart as well. It is broken, smashed, and barely functioning. It is susceptible to all kinds of hurts and seems to be continually pummeled.   My friends aren't malicious or stupid. Just not very intuitive about what will hurt. Of course, maybe I am not intuitive to their hurts either. Maybe we are all emotional clods stepping on each others toes and hurting each other stupidly without any intent to do so.

I did an exercise in therapy (oh yeah, I am going to therapy to work through some things- shocker, huh?) and it was this collage that was supposed to be about me. It was kind of funny. At my center, right at the core was a dream catcher (which I actually think are quite cheesy) and it was surrounded and burdened and choking under my guardian angels and heritage (not my family interesting enough. They were there, but they weren't a burden.) It is funny, I didn't do that on purpose. I noticed it AFTER I make the collage. I hid it behind those things and I choked it with those things too.

So, I have to be open about my dreams if i am ever to get close to anyone, but I have to know that if I am, I will expose them to judgment and hurt. I am still reeling from the last time I did that.

20110311Houshu.mov

2011-03-11T11:56:00.001-05:00

Latest T-shirt idea

2011-01-07T12:12:00.002-05:00

I don't intend to rain on your parade, but please don't blow sunshine up my ass.

Saw True Grit

2011-01-02T20:40:00.001-05:00

And it is definitely one of the prettiest movies I have seen this year. I know that is a funny thing to say about a movie called "True Grit" which isn't really about pretty people. But as I watched the film, it just struck me that every scene was like a painting, which isn't unusual for a Cohen Brothers movie. They seem to have a gift for memorable moments and shots. This movie in particular is a bit like a series of paintings capturing perfect images of life in the wild west. From the shots of the marked coffins and final shot of a woman in silhouette in a more tamed landscape, each shot feels like a picture telling a whole story. And each scene seems to start during a still part of the action and end there, as opposed to lots of being thrown into things mid-action. I love the Cohen brothers movies. I love the stories they choose to tell and how they choose to tell them. And I love that they don't shy away from the beautiful even in something that could seem as ugly as True Grit.

The bad guys were always german

2010-12-30T17:36:00.001-05:00

My father read us bedtime stories. Actually that isn't exactly right. My father performed bedtime stories. Yes, that is more accurate. Every character had a voice, including the narrator. My dad's irish eyes and scandinavian mustache would twinkle and twitch conjuring sweet heroines with fluttering eyelashes, brave heroes with noble hearts, and shrews, goofs, knaves, plotters, and of course villains. The villains were always german.

I wonder if it is because he is a baby boomer, but then wouldn't the Russians be the bad guys? At the movies, were the bad guys Nazis or Commies? He loved the Indiana Jones movies because, as he put it, "Nazi's always make the best bad guys". Or maybe it is just the harshness of the accent that he liked. Often when he was joshing us like we were in trouble he would lick his lips and squintingly say "vee haaf vayz to make you tok!"

Whatever it was, all the villains in every story were german. The big bad wolf was a Nazi, and his german accent was a dead giveaway if Red Riding Hood paid attention. Cinderella's father had married a horrible german woman and had horrible german sisters. And I don't know what Disney was thinking, but Sher Khan was german, not british. The brits were snobs, but not evil and didn't hunt little boys.

What is funny is that my father's daily coffee buddy, Werner, was a german. He was an ex-soccer player that escaped communist East Germany, married a dutch woman, and ended up raising 3 kids in Idaho Falls, Idaho. Whodathunk? I am really not sure what my dad had in common with Werner. But then, my dad always seemed to have something in common with everyone we met. He openly joked and laughed with almost anyone, no matter how stiff and boring they seemed. And I have to say that compared to my loud, lively, passionate, funny father, most of the people I knew were stiff and boring. Actually, they still are, but I am a little better at hiding it now. Werner was stiff, but actually not boring. He was interesting to talk to, and I think my father found someone that appreciated his big sense of humor and his earthier nature. My dad really liked his german friend and I sometimes wonder if the two of them didn't find a camaraderie in their outside status in our community.

But it is a little stuck in my head whenever I hear a german accent, that maybe, just maybe evil lurks nearby. And sometimes I wish that you could recognize the bad guys as easily as when I was a kid, like all bad people should have a clipped harshness to their voice. But then, nothing is as easy as it once was. Hardly anyone is all good or bad. Not bad guys. Not good guys. And not fathers. And that is probably a good thing to know, since I am not going to be all good or all bad either. I am sure I have made others angry with me. I am a very harsh sister-in-law until I am not. I have been very tough on some of my friends. I all too aware of the part of me that speaks with a clip, so maybe I need to let go of the anger that I feel toward that part in others.

127 Hours... holy shit.

2010-12-29T17:57:00.001-05:00

I just saw 127 hours and it is probably too fresh for me to write about with real intelligence. The film isn't really an intellectual exercise anyway. It takes you through a visceral vicarious experience of facing your own mortality and what happens when you have nothing but time and your your own mind to keep you company, and what one man's surreal need to survive drove him to learn. You would think the story fit a classic man vs. nature arc, but it turns out that nature is both his torturer and his ballast as he faces the actual villain- himself. He is both the hero and the culprit, and the film through a near perfect mix of music, overwhelming visuals, surprising gallows humor, and great tenderness takes you through the experience like a series of rasas, each step taking you to a new level of pure emotion. At the end, I sat through all the credits and cried and felt exhausted and exhilarated. I have seen a lot of good movies this holiday- the black swan, the king's speech, the fighter... (all begin with the... things that make you go hmmm...) but none have had the punch (pardon the pun) this one had. It was one of those where someone says "what do you think" and in one of my less ladylike moments all I could respond was "holy shit".

Can you give an award to someone for playing themself?

2010-12-29T11:58:00.001-05:00

I am a character actress. Well actually, I am a leading lady in a character actresses body with a character actresses voice and gifts. (In my opinion all good actresses are character actresses. Some just have leading lady faces. But I digress...)

I mention this because when I go to movies, I am often more fascinated by what the character actors do than what the leads do. I saw The Fighter (an excellent true story movie) and was fascinated by a couple of people who were just amazing. Yes- Bale is AMAZING and should probably win the Academy Award. And Melissa Leo is frighteningly good, as is Jack McGee. Amy Adams and Mark Wallberg were very good too. But I was fascinated by one performance that felt so natural, so easy, so authentic- It was the guy that played Mickey O'Keefe. And then I found out- the real Mickey O'Keefe played Mickey O'Keefe. Now, how hard is it to play yourself? I mean really? He lived it and then he showed it. But I actually think it is very hard to play yourself authentically in front of a camera. With the lights in your face, and having to relive the events and make your mark and such for the right camera angles and shots is actually quite a challenge. But maybe it is not the same challenge an actor typically faces.

Anyway, he is very good playing himself. Sometimes I wonder if any of us would be as good playing ourselves?

I love my theater friends...

2010-12-15T14:51:00.001-05:00

But I really hate musical theater auditions, because usually I hate musical theater acting. It is BAD. Very BAD. Not all of them are bad, but boy, a lot of them are...

This won't be my most charitable or cleanly worded post.

2010-11-24T11:54:00.001-05:00

My dad is a great guy. He truly is. He is a favorite of my sisters-in-law. He is playful and fun. And he can keep a confidence better than anyone I know.
For years, I was protective of my dad. There was a strange sense that he was physically dangerous. He is rowdy at ballgames, and the culture I grew up in is very staid and unused to the display of passions. It led to a lot of misunderstandings. Sometimes I thought it was so bizarre that my parents insisted on participating in a culture that they were on the outside of. But whatever the reason, it made me extremely protective of them. I figured people just didn't understand them.
But I think the only person my dad was truly dangerous to was me, because over the years he has perfected making me feel lower than shit.
I remember my dad loving me. I know he loves me. He just isn't really interested in my life. He is only interested in his life. If my life is in any way an inconvenience in his life, well, then it starts. He makes sure I know that I am not worth his time, his sacrifice, his care, his attention, or his consideration. I am not worth anything, particularly if I am not meeting his expectations.
When I was a kid, I wished I was a boy because boys got to do things people cared about. Our lives revolved around the sporting events of my brothers. Mike's baseball, or football, or basketball. Sean's baseball or football or basketball. I was an addendum. A babysitter. Someone to take care of things while my mom kept my dad's score book. And after every game, we had to go through a play by play post game analysis. This was fine. This was life.
But when I came home with a report card of all A's and one A-, his only reaction was "what did you need to do to bring that one up to an A?" That was typical. That was my life.
On my mid-summer birthday, my brothers usually had a championship game. But not on my 18th birthday. It was a Thursday, and the All-star baseball tournament was the next week. I planned a dinner with the family. Something fun and simple. Not pizza with a 15 twelve year old's and their parents who are celebrating a championship game, and happen to find out it is my birthday, like most other years. I was very excited because I was leaving home the next month for college. It would be nice to be all together for that. But my dad decided to schedule a practice game for that day. I was upset when I found out, but he promised it would end early. Then he and the other coach got so involved in it that they went into extra innings so all the kids could play a lot. After 5 extra innings, at 11 o'clock at night, in the dark and cold, miserable and starving, we ended up searching for a place to eat and barely found a pizza place that was open for another 15 minutes, where we quickly wolfed down a pizza as the workers put up chairs around us, glaring at us to get out of there so they could close up. I wasn't as important as his 12 year old all-star team's practice game. Not even on my birthday.
Of course that is just one of the more dramatic examples. My things- plays, concerts, whatever- were a bother too. And they were a bother in college. And I was a bother in college. And I was a bother in my twenties. My broken hearts were a bother. My life choices were a bother. Uninteresting and if they took any attention from what mattered to him, unimportant.
In my church, people are supposed to be able to turn to their fathers for blessings, but I could never turn to my dad. The only time I asked, he made a big deal of how it was too hard for him and I shouldn't need it anyway.
I went to Logan a couple of weekends ago. My parents came down for the Saturday. I got them tickets to the football game. My dad didn't even sit by me. He sat in front of me so he could better see the game. He didn't ask about my life in any way. He didn't care to know. When I needed a ride 20 minutes out of his way- 20 minutes to spend with me- he acted as if I were a horrible person putting him out. My mother threw a temper tantrum. Both of them were selfish brats with our time together.
I love my father, but I am really angry with him. And this post was about some of the things I am angry about. It isn't about the good things. It is about the bad things. I could write a post about the bad things about my mother too.
I am done feeling lower than shit. I am done feeling worthless and disappointing. I am done with all of that.

he ended it on a sunny saturday afternoon

2010-11-15T09:00:00.001-05:00

first you breath in, then you breath out, right?...

is it possible to live a one buttock life?...

2010-11-12T10:21:00.001-05:00

blank...

2010-11-10T11:25:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I wonder if I have what it takes to be a writer at all. I take classes and I write and I blither on this thing occasionally, and for some reason, I find the well dry. I simply don't have much to say. I mean, not that I would think anyone wanted to hear.

I could talk about the bloodbath last Tuesday and how some incredibly good congressman will be seeking new employment because of a rage I can barely fathom. I have realized that the same things do not anger me that are enraging all these people. Does the economy suck and is it scary? Well, yeah. But it seems like people are blaming the clean up crew for the mess. There are a million pundits writing about all of this and they are not making the case clearer. Why would my silly blog help, and do I have the energy to even care? Parts of me are sick to death of it.

I haven't been in a show since this summer, and I can feel my soul atrophying. I can feel the confidence and hope ebb out of me. And the problem is that I don't seem to have the strength to want to audition for anything. I remember moments in my life when I felt so accomplished, I seemed to own the street I was walking on. Right now, I feel so foolish and low. I try keeping busy, but it isn't stemming this feeling.
Work isn't going badly, but it isn't going well either. It is in this blank nether-land with most of my life. And school is fine I guess, but I feel so blank inside that everything I write feels either forced and precious, or dull and uninspired. I have a man in my life that I adore, and yet I feel like my own insecurities are beginning to torpedo that too and it frightens me to death. I went home for an alumni assn meeting at my alma mater and spent some time with my family. I love my family, but there seems to be so much anger and sadness and hopelessness with many of them that I force myself to be positive to float and come away feeling sapped of everything. My parents exhaust me. I think I live so far away just to survive, but then I have the guilt of living so far away. ( on a side note, my episcopalian friend described her church as "all of the ceremony, none of the guilt" which made me think my own religion is more like "none of the ceremony, all of the guilt".) My mother introduced me in church this summer as the daughter who only comes home twice a year. Part of me thinks she meant that differently than it came out, but part of me realizes that she wanted me to have clipped wings. I was supposed to have big dreams, but not ones that would ever take me away from her, so she taught me to dream and love adventure, but made sure I would know people don't really like me. I almost envy Icharus. His downfall was his own, but at least he believed he deserved to fly towards the sun. Between my father's self-indulgent moodiness and my mother's paranoia and emotional damage, home is not a respite from other pressures, it is where they intensify. And recently our little Bear-bear died. He was our dog, and while it seems a bit crazy, I think he was the only thing my empty-nester parents shared peaceably. Now when I go home, there will be no-one waiting at the door without judgement.

This is all so very self-pitying that it is very bad writing. If I saw a character give this monologue, I would go "boo-hoo, do you serve cheese with that whine".

And yet, it is the reason I feel so blank. Instead of feeling empowered to do anything about any of this, I just ate my weight in general tso last night.

I'm besnookered

2010-10-04T14:26:00.001-04:00

I know it isn't a word, but it is how I feel... totally ... besnookered. Sort of silly and ensorcelled and amused all at the same time. I am not much good at it. It is a much happier state than I am used to. We went to the movies the other night and he held my hand. And I didn't start it. And my brain was split into the two people that I am. One was giddy inside and the other one was wondering who the hell was this person who was holding this guy's hand? This completely fantastic, goofy, smart, funny, ambitious, good guy's hand? I am used to being happy despite it all. Learning to be happy because of it all has me, well... besnookered.

They were so beautiful...

2010-07-28T14:35:00.001-04:00

The three of them sitting shirtless in the mediterranean sunlight. I couldn't help staring. I kept looking away, feeling rude and slightly guilty for my flirtation with voyeurism. Their floppy haircuts blew back and forth with the gusts, and their retro sunglasses fooled the eye into thinking that this was something that happened a long time ago. I wondered if they were aware of the sight they were, impossibly young, impossibly new, impossibly immortal, lounging, chatting, laughing on the ship's pool deck. Did they have a sense of the power they had? They were young, too young, for any fantasies. Their bodies were at the in between stage where they are not little boys but they hadn't thickened into men either. As I kept peeking over at them behind my book, they seemed completely unaware that they were visible to anyone else, and I wondered if they truly felt invisible or if it was something they put on completely aware of how central a place they had occupied. One of them cockily smoked a cigarette, being european after all, as only a youth can do, with a carelessness and daring. I kept thinking about how they seemed to have a tiger by the tail. What would happen once they left the boat, entered the reality of the world, and could no longer sun themselves on the windy day. Would this be their last year of school? Would they marry? Would they become wild or safe? Were they still innocent? Were they ever innocent?

And I began to see that I was really asking those questions about myself. Where was I? Had I started my own life. Why wasn't I allowing my hair to be whipped in the wind, looking over the water and feeling the coolness of the waves? Had I outgrown feeling that alive? And I felt old, but not. Some part of me felt those fresh remnants of having your life in front of you and not behind you. But some part of me must have lost part of it, because I sat wrapped up, my hair tied back, watching the future instead of being it.

To Kill a Mockingbird again

2010-07-26T16:31:00.001-04:00

So, I read To Kill a Mockingbird on my trip to Greece which I will have to cover in another entry. I was surprised at how moved I was again by the book. I found myself crying at different portions of the book and being amazed at how true the voice of Scout stayed and how it grows older through the book. And I love how things are inferred and not spelled out, so it keeps the childlike innocence of observation while dealing with truly adult and heartbreaking subjects.

And I fell in love with Atticus Finch once more. And Jem. And Calpurnia and Miss Maudie. And Dill. What astonishing people for a little girl to have in her life. When I read about Harper Lee, it is obvious that the people in the book are taken from the people in her life. Dill is her best friend Truman Capote. Atticus Finch is her father Amasa Coleman Lee. Her mother's name was Frances Cunningham Finch Lee, all names she borrowed for the book.

Of all the characters I grow fonder and fonder of Jem, perhaps because I feel so close to my brother Mike. Jem is so protective of little Jean Louise and is such a brave boy that I find him adorable. He gets so angry at the conviction of Tom Robinson, so righteously disgusted with what is so obviously an injustice, you can see all his childhood innocence being crushed. And like all of us facing the hypocrisies of our neighbors, Jem is learning to love the good in them and try to see past their weaknesses. Atticus is beyond wonderful, but the one thing about Jem is that he is a character who is growing and that makes him exciting. Of course that is exactly why Atticus is so great. He is the moral center without being overly pious. He doesn't waver in his convictions, and remembers to admire people for their strengths. If I were to have a boy, I would want to name him Michael Atticus or Michael Abraham after my father and either Atticus Finch or Abraham Lincoln. I like the idea of naming children after someone they can admire, and I couldn't imagine anyone not admiring Atticus.

And I have to say, it was good to reread an old favorite. I don't reread many books, but it did feel like all the good things about a visit home.

Rock stars are just sexier

2010-07-12T10:25:00.001-04:00

Oh my lady gaga- Sting is one of the sexiest men alive. I know I am not the first to say this, but it bears repeating because... well, because Sting is one of the sexiest men alive.

Marni asked me to go the Sting concert with her last night, and WOW! We had awesome seats and I just have to say, ummmm, WOW, Sting is one of the sexiest men alive. He brought the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra on tour with him. Yes- his band ANNNNDD an entire orchestra. And they rocked! They seriously rocked! And they played so many great songs. There was a number called Reds which brought back the Cold War (you know- the good old days) and all of it was great. But he definitely saved his old favorites for the end and the encores ROCKED THE HOUSE!!!

And the whole night confirmed to me that rock stars are simply sexier than everyone else. I don't think it just the singing, or the guitar (although that helps a lot). I have met some famous people- actors and athletes included- but the only ones that get me stupified are rock stars. My tongue forgets to work. I begin to blather. And it is because they are simply sexier than other people. They just are.

To Kill a Mockingbird

2010-05-28T13:28:00.001-04:00

It is the 50th anniversary of To Kill a Mockingbird and although it is hackneyed at this point, I have to say- I love To Kill a Mockingbird.

A million points of view have been shared about this book. As with all good books, it has layers that allow it to touch on topics we still grapple with- racism, rape, poverty, sexism, dignity, work, treatment of the mentally ill, integrity, childlike wonder, fear, hatred, loneliness and love.

But to me, it is mostly a book about a little girl and her heroes. As Scout (what better name for a character that is learning about the world?) tells the story about what she remembers, she tells about her heroes. Her brother Jem, her stand-in mother Calpurnia, her surprising neighbor Boo Radley, the man on trial Tom Robinson, and most especially her father Atticus Finch. What a marvelously perfect and well-named character. Atticus is a name of philosophers and statesmen. In ancient Rome, Atticus was Cicero's best friend, and Cicero dedicated his treatise on friendship to him. If Harper Lee had searched forever, she couldn't have found a more apt name for her greatest hero. A hero to inspire heroism.

Sometimes, I think that is the most important thing a story can do. How many books can you say have truly inspired you? I can think of so many books that have made me laugh or cry, rejoice or despair, touched my heart and made me think. But To Kill a Mockingbird made me want to do. I think maybe this is a good year for a re-read. Maybe it can inspire me again.

Design geek moment

2010-05-06T13:28:00.005-04:00

Ok- I am not a designer. Architectural Digest isn't knocking down my door. Anyone who has ever visited my apt knows that. But I just love clever design!

I just walked down to the Chop't on 7th NW to get a salad for lunch and there was quite a long line, but it was a nice day to wait, so I did. I was looking around at the design of the place, and I noticed how sleek and efficient it was set up. I also thought the exposed ventilation was cool and appropriate to the bare bones idea of a salad place and the downtown area. But the coolest thing was the lighting. I don't know if you can tell from the pic above, but the white light fixture you see is actually many boards cut in the shape of the choppers and then put over ordinary fluorescent lighting. It is really cool looking! It makes it look like specialized lighting for the store, and in a way, I guess it is. The small details like that really change the feel of the place though. I love it when someone pays attention to those small details that take an ordinary shop and make it kind of cool.

cops and immigration

2010-05-06T10:09:00.005-04:00

As someone who usually lauds public service, I always find myself in a bit of a predicament when a police officer is around. I don't have problems with presidents, councils, boards, firemen, teachers, or even principals (although I don't love principals) but I don't like cops. I think it is weird in a way, because I tend to believe that people who choose to serve and protect are honorable. I respect the Secret Service and FBI agents. So why is it that I have a problem with cops? Because I think they have god complexes. They don't seem to see the difference between their role as enforcer of the laws and the law itself, and that bothers me endlessly.

A case in point? Well besides my own "experiences" with police officers, my cousin shared a story that made my blood boil. This cousin, well call him Ed, is a cop in Logan, UT. Logan is a town of about 48,000 (about 20,000 of those are college students). It is a college town and Ed is a townie. Logan has all it takes to be a lovely town. It is in a gorgeous location in the mountains with a beautiful college campus that supplies a lot of the towns work and industry. It is blessed with a beautiful seasonal climate, lots of arts, and a great college basketball team. It could be idyllic. There is also a significant latino population, mostly from Mexico, who work in the farming communities that surround the town. While I lived there I noticed that these people were hard working, family oriented, and great neighbors. I also noticed they were often a scapegoat for the rest of the populations problems which had no bearing in reality, but I digress. Now Ed with some of his police officer friends went to a soccer tournament in Logan, and at the soccer tournament both the US and Mexican national anthems were played. (This took place last May, so I think it was part of a Cinqo de Mayo celebration. Also, it was soccer! I mean, what do you expect at a soccer game anyway?) Well, Ed and his police officer friends felt that people attending (mostly latinos) were more attentive during the Mexican national anthem than they were during the American national anthem and they were offended, which is certainly their prerogative. I have a soft spot for The Star Spangled Banner myself. Because they were offended, they decided to ticket every car in the parking lot even though not one of the cars was illegally parked. Ed told the whole family this with great pride at the last reunion. I was sickened. If he was offended by the way people acted, he could leave, speak out against it himself, avail himself of a hundred legal outlets, but did he do any of those things? No. He used his power as a police officer to harass these people illegally, unethically, and immorally. Now, like I said, Ed is my first cousin. I know him and his kids and he is basically a good guy with a decent heart. He is also a veteran who I respected before this story. And I have to add that if he'd had any sort of remorse for the action at all, I probably would have chalked it up to a hot headed foolish action by a guy whose judgments are usually sounder than that, but he was bragging about it. He was proud he had that power and had used it thus.

And that is the crux of my problem with cops. It feels like they all act like this. Like they have a god-given right to determine who deserves their protection and to harass those that they don't like.

And I have to say that is part of the problem I have with Arizona's new immigration laws. The methods of enforcement are geared to encourage the abuses like the one above. I applaud the officers that are suing the state because of their own problems with the law. It restores a little bit of my faith in the idea that police officers are out to serve the public good and not just their own egos. But my experiences give me pause that any law written the way Arizona's is can lead to justice of any kind.

Matchless

2010-03-23T12:02:00.003-04:00

There are no matches for you.

It is almost ironic when you are paid to be told that you are basically un-datable. It is one of those situations where you don't know whether to laugh or...

Around the new year, in a fit of optimism, I signed up for chemistry.com. I had tried eharmony a little and, it was basically a bust. I took the new personality tests and found out that I need a man with a certain amount of ambition and creative energy. They matched me to a few people. I guess I didn't appeal to most of them after I sent my "relationship essentials" which is like some computer cooked up checklist for the ideal mate and how you match up. One of them contacted me, and besides there being no spark, he seemed more comfortable chatting online than in person, didn't ask me much about myself although I found out A LOT about him and his family, and seemed to lack the one thing that the tests told me I really wanted in a partner. For the last 6 weeks, it has literally told me that there are no matches for me. At 30 bucks a month, that means I spent $45 for a computer system to daily confirm all my worst fears. It was like a scene from Better Off Dead or Office Space. Girl logs into computer, hoping against hope, and you can almost hear HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey saying " Sorry dear, there are no matches for you in the system. You will be alone for the rest of your life. Have a nice day."

Now, I loved Bridget Jones. It made me laugh out loud. But I am not a fan of the supposed "chick-lit" genre it spawned, where a series of neurotic, mostly self-absorbed, silly women, all seem to find a dreamboat, in a plot stolen directly from Jane Austen, but of course modified to our modern independence. They all promote a weirdly independent co-dependence. I mention it because I am starting to feel as if my life is being recorded as one of those books, only there is no Knightly or Mr. Darcy, or whichever hero du jour you like. There is just the silly girl going forth bravely and emptily into the world dealing with the everyday humdrum of mediocrity that she has allowed her life to become. She is a living a life that is a "tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." And she is tragically aware of the hollowness, and is somehow buying into the idea promoted by these books that "someday her prince will come" and all the mundanity of life will melt into a suburban fairytale where the cute problems are missed carpools and kids who don't seem to hear but actually do listen to their hip folks. You can almost hear Colbie Caillat in the soundtrack.

So, after getting sick of the daily reminder, I went to Plentyoffish.com and put up my pic. It is free. I got a lot of responses in a very short time. Not all of them are fit to print (yikes!) but some seemed like genuinely nice guys. I met up with one of them, and he was a genuinely nice and cute guy. But no spark. In fact I got the distinct feeling that he took one look at me and decided that it was a no go, which I understand, even if it smarts a little. He texted me a thanks but no thanks this morning. No hard feelings.

This is the thing that sucks about it. I realize that I am not going to meet prince charming at all, or mr. right right away. But I really hate dating. I really do. I mean, it is a slog. And internet dating is AWFUL. I want to go have some fun with someone that likes me, but this meet after texting and scouting on the net is brutal. It is the opposite of I like your body but not your personality. A guy meets you after thinking you are basically fun, and decides- ummm- nope, you aren't cute enough. Why is that a good thing? I would rather a guy just know he wasn't attracted before he talked to me. Maybe I am shallow, but hell, I want someone cute too, so I totally understand. And this meeting someone to "chat" is a bore. I mean, if we were doing something fun like learning something new, or even doing service to the homeless, that would be fine. But one more mid-priced, bland sandwich bar, chat over a coke, get to know you date, and I will want to scream my bloody head off!

Of course, with no head, I would be right back to where I am now...

Matchless.

2009-12-10T14:26:00.002-05:00

I wonder if it is a Y thing. Is it really so important to have uniformity in studying the gospel? Does being around people in "like" circumstances really bolster you, or does it give a place to confirm that your circumstances are the most trying, the most terrible, the most... whatever? Does it focus you or limit you? Almost everyone I met who thinks positively of that kind of uniformity went to the Y. They seem to crave it and some feel entitled to it. Hmmmm... with all thy getting...

2009-11-09T14:27:00.003-05:00

The Sacred
by Stephen Dunn

After the teacher asked if anyone had
a sacred place
and the students fidgeted and shrank

in their chairs, the most serious of them all
said it was his car,
being in it alone, his tape deck playing

things he'd chosen, and others knew the truth
had been spoken
and began speaking about their rooms,

their hiding places, but the car kept coming up,
the car in motion,
music filling it, and sometimes one other person

who understood the bright altar of the dashboard
and how far away
a car could take him from the need

to speak, or to answer, the key
in having a key
and putting it in, and going.

"The Sacred" by Stephen Dunn, from Between Angels. © W.W. Norton & Company, 1989. Reprinted with permission

A day so perfect I wish I could can it...

2009-10-28T13:13:00.002-04:00

Sunday was a perfect day. I went for a morning walk and the sky was azure with wisps of white clouds that seemed painted there just to show off the intensity of the blue sky. As I took my morning walk, my ipod in hand, I just couldn't get over how good the sunshine made me feel. I came upon an oak tree that was as golden yellow as any spring daffodil, its crown radiating and standing so tall above the townhouses it stood next too. It commanded me to stop, so I layed down on a sunny spot of lawn to stare at it and soak in the crisp air and the bright sun and the feeling of happiness a sunny day can bring. I wished I could bottle it tight, saving it to take sips from each gloomy night.

And then that night, I went to a friends and made fresh apple pie, from freshly gathered apples. And it was warm and inviting and sugary and spicy, both the pie and the conversation.

Ahhhhhhh.

20 again

2009-10-02T11:56:00.003-04:00

Bono is the coolest man on the planet.

Oh yes, I went to the rock concert that U2 played at Fed-Ex Field. And that is what it was. It was a ROCK Concert. It was everything a good rock concert should be, and definitively, it rocked.

I was tired. It was a crazy day of grown-up busy work and the director of my play called me 4 times about nothing. I set down the phone, worked, and picked it up periodically to see if she was still talking. But it was a good day too, cause I was going with my friend, Miss M., to see one of the greatest rock bands of all time. And they did not disappoint. They played a great mix of new and old stuff, they sounded wonderful, and each band member brought their own unique energy that somehow blends so perfectly. The intensity of the Clayton with his punk white hair, the ferocity of Mullen who pulled out these amazing african rhythms on a drum he danced around with, and The Edge who has that relaxed, just got done in the garage so I guess I will put on a guitar and rock the house thing going on. As Miss M. noted "he has paint on his pants". And of course there was Bono.

I met Bono once when I was working at the capital. I met quite a few famous people, but Bono is the only one that had me star struck. He wasn't very tall, and his irish mug wasn't shaved. He was wearing those squarrish glasses and walking toward the House of Representatives with the Speaker of the House. And I was giving a tour. I looked up, and just on impulse I screamed "Oh my g- it's Bono!"

And I have to say that feeling has never really gone away. When I saw him walking on the stage, inside I was screaming, Oh my g- it's Bono! He has been my favorite for so long, since I first decided what I liked. I even defended the disco album (which was not their greatest moment). And it seems like he has only gotten better and I like him more.

But the best part of the concert was that I danced for 2 hours and didn't even feel tired. I felt great! I felt young! I felt like the days when I didn't work all day doing things that seemed ridiculous and listening to self-important people blab on indefinitely. It was like being 20 again. Now who doesn't love that feeling?

blog blues

2009-09-13T00:48:00.003-04:00

I haven't written in a while.

Well, I haven't written in my blog for a while. I have stopped writing altogether.

When I started this blog, I meant for it to be a little repository of my thoughts about life. A chronicle of my ponderings, so to speak. I didn't want it to be a chronicle of my life or a journal of that kind. I try not to keep a journal of my who, what, whens, and wheres, although they creep in. But I do try to keep a blog of my whys, what ifs and wonder whethers.

And I have come to realize that is a bit pretentious. That in fact people would rather read about who, what, when, or why. I don't blame them one bit. Truthfully, the blathering of a persons thoughts are really most interesting to the person writing them. Only once in a while do you set on a gem of a phrase that interests more people.

I came to realize this a while ago, but it has crystallized when I saw a movie about a blogger, and what was engaging about the blog is that it chronicled a specific journey, which is what most interesting personal blogs do. And they tend to be a specific journey, not a general this is my life journey.

So, I have a very important decision to make about this blog. Will it continue to be a sporadic smattering of my inner ramblings that for some bizarre reason I feel the need to spout into the world. Does the world really need another armchair philosopher?
Or will it be something more directed? hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

This is what I am talking about. WOW!!!!!!

2009-06-17T15:18:00.001-04:00

Washington Taps Into a Potent New Force in Diplomacy - NYTimes.com: "The BBC’s Persian-language television channel said that for a time on Tuesday, it was receiving about five videos a minute from amateurs, even though the channel is largely blocked within Iran. One showed pro-government militia members firing weapons at a rally.
“We’ve been struck by the amount of video and eyewitness testimony,” said Jon Williams, the BBC world news editor. “The days when regimes can control the flow of information are over.”"

It makes me wish I tweeted too

2009-06-17T13:56:00.004-04:00

I have been dismissive of social networking mediums before. And I have often gotten texts that I wanted to do a spell check on and send back. The "shorthand" of texting grates on me.
However, learning about how twitter, facebook, youtube and texting have enabled the Iranian groups to organize into marches and protests makes me love them.

There are plenty of things on twitter I think are silly. I have no idea why anyone would want to be notified about what Ashton Kutcher is doing at any particular moment. And I am tired of CNN reporting about the email and tweets they get back. Is that really news? Evidently it can be.

Twitter, youtube and facebook seem to be the main communication devices to inform us about what is really happening over in Iran as these events unfold. And one great part is that we seem to be getting information on these events from the people of Iran, which doesn't mean it is a bigger view, but it is a view we haven't gotten as much as before. It is really cool!

I always appreciated and loved how the internet was an opportunity to empower people as much as it is a tool to spread useless propoganda or porn. But this is truly remarkable. Can you imagine how Tienanmen Square would play out now. WOW.

Men who make you want to be good and the boys that make you wanna be bad

2009-06-15T23:57:00.003-04:00

Went to a delightful production at the Folger of Tom Stoppard's Arcadia this weekend, and I have to say, one of the lead actors had me pretty hot. He was totally my type- dark, brooding, poet type. Of course, that was the character more than the actor, but oh well. The thing is, he was the kind of boy that makes me want to be bad.

Then the next day I went to church. And there are some very attractive men there and they actually make me want to be good. They are good men doing good things, trying to be good themselves.

But of course, I dreamed about the bad boy.

I know the bad boy will disappoint me. I know that he will be cruel to me. I know that he will cheat on me, lie to me, and leave me badly. But I have a hard time not finding them so alluring, because I don't have to be any better to deserve the bad boy. I can be who I am now, and the bad boy will have very little problem with that until he is bored and looking for someone else to be bad with.

But the good man is a different deal altogether. If I want the good man, I have to be oh so much better than I am. And that seems very hard to be.

Of course the ideal is the good man that has a bad boy in him. If you are to believe Jane Austen and Bridget Jones and almost every romantic novelist in the world, that guy exists. "Good boys do kiss that way"... And I guess that I will have to take their word for it cause I have never experienced that. Bad boys definitely kiss that way, but I have never had a great kiss with a good man.

All of this is reflective of my flaws. I know it is silly to like the bad boy, and I have learned that they do not change. I am not a complete idiot.

But is there a Good man that is partly bad boy? And if there is, am I interesting enough for the boy and good enough for the man?

In Good Company

2009-05-21T15:28:00.001-04:00

"Because of things I have done on behalf of justice to the workingman, I have often been called a Socialist. Usually I have not taken the trouble to notice the epithet. I am not afraid of names and I am not one of those who fears to do what is right because someone will confound me by partisans with whose principles I am not in accord.

Moreover, I know that many American Socialists as high minded and honorable citizens, who in reality are truly radical social reformers. They are oppressed by the brutalities and industrial injustices which we see everywhere about us.

When I recall how often I have seen Socialists and ardent non-Socialists working side-by-side for some specific measure of industrial or social reform, and how I have found opposed to them on the side of privilege many shrill reactionaries who insist on calling all reformers "Socialists", I refuse to be panic-stricken by having the title mistakenly applied to me."

~ Theodore Roosevelt "An Autobiography" 1913 pp. 498 (MacMillan, NY)

Totally inappropriate for minors

2009-05-20T20:02:00.003-04:00

I think the democrats in the US Senate have jello cojones.

to witness

2009-04-07T14:07:00.004-04:00

Not long ago, I picked up a dear friend of mine from the airport. On the short ride home, she said something to me that I have been thinking about the past couple of weeks. She said that there were people that she clicked with, kindred souls and such, that she considered good friends, but that there was something special to our friendship because it had lasted so long. It takes a while to really build a friendship like ours. I felt the same way, and I have been pondering why. There are probably lots of reasons we feel this way. When you know someone a long time, you can't help but see what they really are. This friend has seen me very excited about opportunities, and completely lose it after a car accident, and everything in between. I have shared things with her that I wouldn't imagine sharing with too many people because they are the sacred and sometimes cheesy wishes of my heart, the things you protect against the world for fear they might be ridiculed or broken.

As I have been thinking about this, I remembered a good line from a mediocre movie called "Shall We Dance". It is about a man who begins to secretively take ballroom dance lessons, and when his wife suspects there may be more to the secret, she hires a PI. When she learns what he has been doing, she is pretty ashamed of herself for being suspicious, and as she talks to the PI, who wonders aloud why people get and stay married she says "we want someone to witness our lives". I think there is something to that. There is a closeness from witnessing people's lives that you can't build any other way, both for the witness and for witnessee (as it were).

When someone witnesses your life, I mean, when they know you have a weakness for cadbury eggs, an addiction to diet coke, that you have watched Flash Gordon more than once, that you stay up and rise too late, that you often forget to run the dishwasher, and when they have heard you call them at 6:30 am to tell them you are having nightmares about your paint color, or when you know that they are compulsively clean and that cleaning actually relaxes them, that they cook a mean roast chicken with oranges and lemons, that they love bright colored walls, men who have quirky senses of humor and a sense of adventure, and have traveled many long distances to see Sting in concert, there is a bond created. Add to that the times that you shared your broken hearts, family secrets, personal tragedies, and whispers about less obvious shortcomings, fears, failures, successes and celebrations, and there comes the unspoken understanding. You get the "You don't have to say it cause I know exactly where you are coming from" elusive phenomenon.

I have a few friends that fit this bill, but only a few. And I have realized as I have thought about this that this is one of the reasons that Christ asks us to stand as a witness for him. Does it test us? Yes, just as the many stupidities and human flaws might test a friendship. But it both draws you closer in love to him and him to you. Charity is required in our friendships. We learn to overlook things that might have bothered us because of the richness the friendship brings to our lives. And charity is the pure love of Christ. It is both the love that we have from the Savior and for him. Witnessing leads to that kind of charity. It brings understanding beyond what studying can. I witness my friends lives and my eyes are opened to who they really are and why they are so amazing. I can witness and tell them how important they are and what great gifts they have. And similar things happen when I witness for my Savior. My eyes are even more open to all he has done.

When friends can teach you all these things, just from a conversation in a car, I have to thank Heaven for their witness.

too big to fail

2009-03-11T02:10:00.003-04:00

How do you get too big to fail?

You keep laying bet after bad bet and growing too big and interwoven for society to allow you to fail. Right? You think I am talking about the banks, don't you?

But I am actually talking about the octuplet cuckoo-mom, Nadya Suleman. You know, the single mother on food stamps that managed to continue having IVF until she had 14 kids. First she had them one at a time. The market seemed to adjust okay. Shareholders (her mom) were patient and kept her afloat. Once she did the twins thing. And as a grand finale (we think) she had the octuplets. It is enough to make you think she was desperate for a series on TLC.

The thing is, despite the lack of responsibility, the continued behavior of stressing other peoples resources without the reserves to shore up her interests, and degrading the well being of her dependents, we have to help her to not fail. It is in our interest to keep the family healthy and whole. Cause there are 14 children to consider. 14 innocent people that are in this world and deserve all the love that is available to them. She made a family too desperate for help, and simply too big to fail. And she wonders why people are upset with her?

It is odd that at the exact moment that our financial system is so stressed from lack of regulation and lack of honesty and wisdom, we have a very human representation of such similar excess.

Nadia Suleman is the Merrill Lynch of moms. Paying for things that she didn't need (sperm, IVF) to get her too much of something she couldn't really handle. Gives a whole new meaning to conspicuous consumption, doesn't it?

And all the coverage? Well, isn't that just a bonus?

It is enough to tick you off.

Mormon messages

2009-02-20T19:23:00.007-05:00

Sometimes I don't want to tell people I am a mormon. Sometimes, I think it is so obvious that it doesn't need to be said. And sometimes, I need to be braver. These are not easy times, and I won't lie and say that being mormon isn't part of controversy or misunderstood. Whether or not I agree with the church's involvement in Prop 8, I think people should know that people at church don't bash gays or even discuss homosexuality very much. Members of the church are like most others, touched by all the good and bad in this world. We don't live sequestered. We don't live perfectly. But when I go to church, I see people striving to do better. I see people widely aware of their imperfections and trying so hard to be better. And I see people dealing with doubt and pain and faith and joy. When people ask me why I am a mormon, I say because the core of it is the truest truths I know. I just watched Mormon messages, which is a you tube channel for the church. And as I watched the latest message, I thought, if only the world could see this, then maybe they would see what is at the core of being mormon.

Wouldn't you like to be a pepper too

2009-01-28T21:16:00.003-05:00

I must pay homage to the wonders of having a Dr. Pepper after having a root canal.

When half your mouth is numb, including your chin, and half your tongue, the fizzy wonder of Dr. Pepper takes on new meaning. Barely being able to find your mouth with the straw, and then not being able to feel how your mouth can suck up the sweetness through that straw, lends a feeling of accomplishment to the whole experience. And fizziness is somehow more intensified when you can only really feel it in half your mouth.

Anyway, having the Dr. Pepper was the best part of the whole day. Course, having a root canal set the bar pretty low for the day, but still, it is good to be grateful for the small things. Right?

Of course, this entire post could be the result of being high on post-root canal meds.

Charity bondeth all things

2009-01-25T03:31:00.006-05:00

This is an incomplete thought, but I am putting it down before it escapes me.

I have been thinking about the idea of being bound as described in the scriptures. We are told that the Truth will make us free. And it speaks of humans being bound by sin. But it also says that we should be "prisoners in Christ". It says the Lord is bound when we do what he says, and that Satan is also bound when we do what the Lord asks. So the same process makes us free and prisoners and binds the Lord to his promises and binds Satan's influence in our lives. And why? What power binds us? The power of "Charity, which is the pure love of Christ".

Whenever I read about it being the pure love of Christ, I realize that could mean either the pure love from Christ or the pure love for Christ. In action, it is the same thing. We are told, if we love him, keep his commandments. We are told that if we love him, we will serve "the least of our bretheren" for if what we do unto them, we do unto him. And we are told that if we are found with charity, it will be well with us in the last day.

Charity is the holy spirit of promise. Charity feeds hope, faith, and endurance in the gospel truths. Charity bondeth all things.

so let us mark this day in rememberance of who we are

2009-01-22T21:46:00.004-05:00

Words don't seem enough. I was there. That is all I can think to say. I was there when band played. I was there when the guns sounded. I was there when the hand was raised and the words were said. I was there when he was introduced to the nation as our new leader. I was there. And the words don't seem enough.

The only words that seem enough, appropriately, are his words. His words of hope. His words of strength. His words of direction.

So to that I add the only thing I can think of as a citizen. I add my witness and my pledge.

I arrived downtown at 6:30 in the morning, and already the National Mall was teeming with people. You could smell the anticipation wafting through the air like a Chinook, insulating the area from the frigid temperatures. I got to my ticket gate and began talking to the people. They had come from Ohio, Illinois, upstate New York, and Oregon, to name a few. They had campaigned, canvassed, designed websites, put up posters, and passed the message along to friends and family. This was their day too. This was a realization of all their hard work. We waited in line for hours, and then when we finally trickled through the gates, we waited some more, filling the lawns. Looking ahead of us was a giant crowd and the West Front Balcony of the Capitol. I had walked on that balcony many times, and it was odd to think that this hallowed event was happening where I had been and worked. Behind us was a sea of people that stretched across our national monuments. What was typically green and barely dotted with a few tourists, a couple joggers, and frisbee thrower or two, was drenched with people.

At 11:30 the band started playing and the procession began. First, the majority leaders and minority leaders, wives of the outgoing administration, Speaker of the House, the outgoing president, Darth Vader wheeled out, then our soon to be First Lady, and finally, Mr. President Elect. The sun had come out and was glinting off the glass set around the balcony. The sky was blue, with picture perfect clouds dotting the sky. It seemed a blessed day.

And then Mr. Biden took the oath of office and I began to cry. And then Aretha sang, crowned like a queen. And then it was time. And Mr. Obama stood opposite the Chief Justice and took the oath of office outlined in our precious Constitution. And tears were rolling down my eyes. And tears were rolling down everyone else's eyes.

And it was more than just witnessing history. It was more than just witnessing the dream fulfilled. It was more than just that what seemed like a long national nightmare was done and new day where America stood strong on its principles was drawing breath anew. It was something divine. I witnessed the mantle of leadership rest squarely on our newly inducted leader, and I wept. For joy. And with gratitude. For I live in a nation that was established on principles of truth. For as talented as President Obama is, what will make him great is his recognition that he is a servant to those principles and not their master. And as I listened to his speech, his admonition to the nation to answer to the better angels of our nature and our history, I felt responsible to serve those principles. I felt responsible to answer the call to give my all to the difficult tasks ahead. To put away childish things. To be honest, hardworking, fair, curious and blatantly patriotic.

So I pledge to not think of the opposing party as the enemy anymore, but the loyal opposition.
I pledge to find a way to outstretch my hand to anyone who has their hand out in friendship.
I pledge to give up my fears and let my own gifts truly serve in the capacity to help perfect the union. I pledge allegiance to America as I hope it will be, and know it can be.

I love my country. The only things I love more are my family and my God. And they are all asking the same things of me now. That is blessed. Funny, how that is the name of our President. Barack means Blessed. May it be true for him and for our nation and for all those I love.

We will need the blessing on our efforts to reinforce our resolve and shore up our courage. And I know that if we give what we are asked it will be more than enough.

denied participation in that creation

2009-01-03T03:30:00.006-05:00

Over Christmas, my mother gave me a book about being single in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I hate books like this and she knows it, but I tried being a good sport and started reading some of it. And it was stupid. At least for me.

See the problem I have with being single isn't the being single part. I like being an individual and being a couple has never appealed to me. It is nice to have a date to certain things, but I find most people's probing questions about my escorts annoying and people have an insatiable curiosity for things that are truly none of their business, such as, whether I am dating someone. I get that question a lot and my answer is usually no, even when I have been, cause it isn't any of their business. I am not that kind of girl. I don't like to kiss and tell.

The problem I have with being single is that I wanted to have children. I don't mean I wanted to raise children, although I did. I mean I wanted to give birth, suckle and participate in creation. That is a big motivator for me in many things. I act to create characters. I write to create stories or create discussions or just to create something new. I paint my house, participate in arts, participate in life to create. And I wanted to participate in creating a child. Even if it made me sick, or whatever it did to the body or blah blah blah complaints I hear about pregnancy. Even if I can adopt. Even if I can influence a child as an aunt (which I think is kind of bogus. An aunt is not like a mother unless there is no mother). I am pissed that my status prevented me from participating in this part of creation.

I know biologically that I could have had children, but my faith, and my sense of fairness to a child is to not plan to bring one into the world who won't have a father there. It doesn't seem right. So I get caught between my desires and the limitations that my marital status puts on that.

I feel kind of jipped by the idea that someone else has to value you to be able to be blessed with that opportunity. It really kind of sucks. But I don't feel jipped that I am single.

And hence the problem with the book. It is for women struggling with that primarily. It is for women who struggle to find value in their lives without marriage. I don't struggle with that. I AM single and I am WHOLE. I have no romantic notions about marriage. I think it can be great or terrible and at times will probably be both, but I don't feel diminished by the fact that I am single. I feel like my womb is crumbling inside me and I bleed each month for no reason. It isn't the same thing. I don't know why people don't get that. For example, the book was written by a woman who got married at 53 to an apostle. I wouldn't even accept a date at 53, particularly with an apostle. Dating is hard enough now when I am still possibly fertile and not all hope is gone. But dating after menopause seems like an incredible waste of time to me. I mean, I date to find someone to mate with. If there won't be any mating, it seems like the one great thing is the relief of not dating.

I understand that my mom was trying to help. I just wish she had bothered to read the book herself before deciding that it held wisdom that somehow I needed but she didn't want to bother to read herself first. Maybe the problem with single isn't really a singles problem. Maybe before married people dispense with the advice they should really understand what the heartbreak is. Not all single people, in or out of the church, have the same feelings about it. I have a desire to marry so I can participate in the creation of children with someone I love and value, not so I have a soul mate. Some of my friends are the exact opposite. They are searching for a soul mate and having children is secondary. Others it is a combination. And I am sure there are ranges of hopes and dreams about finding someone to marry that I haven't begun to fathom or understand. We are as different about why we want to marry as others are about why they did marry, are married, or don't want to be married. Lumping all single women in the church in a category of lonely hearts that haven't gotten on with their lives is a bit diminishing to the diversity.

And as for the advice in the book, I have lived my life, bought my china and "real dishes", and not waited around for my life to start. I decorate my homes, learn new things, stay active with my talents and progress in the gospel. And when one of the later chapters is advice on how to be attractive to the opposite sex- I get it- StairMaster. Thanks.

One if by land, two if by sea

2008-12-10T14:15:00.004-05:00

The British are coming, the British are...here actually. And they are everywhere. And you may not even know it, but they are probably in your living room at least once a night.

I love British actors. In fact, I think that British actors are usually better trained and also given far greater opportunity than most American actors. Of course being a cute Brit is different than being a cute American in many ways, isn't it? Would we have ever found Hugh Grant so adorable without the accent and wry sense of humor? And being cute is an absolute necessity for the acting world unless you are amazingly good and don't ever want to play the lead. But I digress...

We are all used to British actors in films, particularly British films or films with British characters. The idea of an American playing James Bond is laughable, isn't it? But we aren't so used to having Brits play Americans, with the brouhaha over Vivien Leigh playing Scarlett O'Hara being the notable exception. And we are not used to them on our TVs. Until now.

Everyone now knows that the genius jerk Dr. House is played by Hugh Laurie, a brilliant British comedian, but it is still jarring to hear him at the Emmy's sounding ever proper every year as he accepts the award. But there are so many Brits on our American airwaves these days that I wonder if people are aware of it. I was thinking about it after an NPR story about it which talked about Damien Lewis in Life. I already knew Damien Lewis was a Brit because I had been a fan since he played Lt. Winters in Band of Brothers.

But besides Laurie and Lewis (which sounds like a comedy team now it is mentioned) there is also Rufus Sewell in 11th Hour, Simon Baker in The Mentalist, Jason O'Mara in Life on Mars, Marianne Jean Baptiste in Without a Trace, Kevin McKidd on Grey's Anatomy, Rachel Griffiths and Matthew Rhys on Brothers and Sisters, Yvonne Strahorski on Chuck, Anna Friel on Pushing Daisies, Ashley Jensen on Ugly Betty, Gina Bellman on Leverage, and half the casts of Lost and Heroes. I am sure I am missing more than a few, but even with the ones names, that means there is not a night of television where British actors are not on screen in America.

Could this be the second British Invasion?

And quid pro quo- we should start invading there. I want to go to England and be on the BBC. I can be the girl that they can't believe is an american because her accent is so spot-on without a hint of american in it that they can hardly believe that I am from across the pond. :)

And obviously, I watch entirely too much television.

kifed from Dr. Kent Keith but a good reminder

2008-12-05T15:11:00.000-05:00

1. People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.Love them anyway.
2. If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.Do good anyway.
3. If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies.Succeed anyway.
4. The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.Do good anyway.
5. Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.Be honest and frank anyway.
6. The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.Think big anyway.
7. People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.Fight for a few underdogs anyway.
8. What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.Build anyway.
9. People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.Help people anyway.
10. Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.Give the world the best you have anyway.

Taking the cue from Benja's B-Log

2008-12-04T12:10:00.009-05:00

There were no chestnuts roasting over an open fire in my house. First of all, we never got the chimney cleaned, so if we did attempt to start a fire in the wood burning stove, it would smoke up the whole house, and perhaps lead to Christmas catastrophe and chaos instead of to Christmas joy. Like most modern families, we huddled around a light source that fueled imagination, togetherness, and a few moments of rest in our bustling family life- the tv. We would plug a flick into our vcr (remember the dinosaur technology back in them old days?), stir our cocoa with peppermint sticks, and settle down for time that we all actually enjoyed together. So what were the Morrissey family favorites?

10. A Christmas Carol with Alistair Sims.
Isn't it almost requisite to watch A Christmas Carol? And we found that this one was particularly joyous at the end, and Marley looks particularly scary.

9. The Bishop's Wife
I love this movie where Cary Grant plays an angel with just enough devil in him to drive home what is really important. Nothing like making the husband jealous enough to set his priorities straight!

8. The Lemon Drop Kid
This farce where Bob Hope plays a con-artist running a Santa scam is funny and smart. And it is the movie that introduced "Silver Bells".

7. Holiday Inn
This is the original "White Christmas". A movie where Bing sings and Fred dances has to be a classic!

6. One Magic Christmas
This story makes me believe in miracles, Santa Claus, and the power of a generous heart. The story of how the angel Gideon is sent to repair a family and help a girl keep her faith is what Christmas is all about. And everyone in it is so good!

5. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
This is Dad's favorite. And the scene to light the lights is one of my favorite scenes in all Christmas. Besides, would Christmas be complete without some family disfunction?

4. Miracle on 34th Street
Santa Claus on trial. Can you think of a more apt metaphor for the idea that something in us is dying when we give up on childlike faith completely? And besides, I love the scene where the judge is told that if he finds Kris Kringle insane, he can kiss his judgeship goodbye. I mean, who votes for a scrooge that declares Santa Claus insane?

3. A Christmas Story
This movie is a permanent part of the family lexicon. From "Fra-gee-lay" to "you'll shoot your eye out", references to bunny pajamas and tasty soap, this movie is more a part of our language than any other. In fact, I don't think you would be able to follow most Christmas conversation in our house if you haven't seen this movie. It has us singing "fa-ra-ra-ra-ra" into the night.

2. A Muppet Christmas Carol
This is my new personal favorite. In fact, I am rather upset because I think my family stole my copy and I will have to find a new one in the next week or so. I love that this ghost story about redemption got a fresh face. When Gonzo says "He was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner", the poetry is even more electric! And who knew rats could be so funny?

1. It's a Wonderful Life
Okay- I know that I will get crap for this. After all, it has gotten rather ubiquitous and an angel that reads Tom Sawyer isn't as charming as it once was. But I can't help it. It doesn't feel like the Christmas season until I have seen this movie. I need Burt the cop and Ernie the cab driver to drive George to the old mansion to meet his bride, Mary. I need him to want to lasso the moon for her. I need to see someone who always does the right thing, even when he doesn't want to, and even when it seems like the world is against him. I love George Bailey. I love his imperfections as much as his good points. And so does everyone around him. And Clarence is right- No man is a failure who has friends.

Pirates too?

2008-11-20T16:22:00.006-05:00

Okay- The Dow has sunk, the jobless rate is atrocious, we have two wars that we are still fighting, the earth is heating up, students can't afford college, health-care is all about making money, California is on fire again, floods, famines, dogs and cats living together, total chaos, and now ....we have pirates too?? Really?

There are pirates attacking ships on the high seas and holding their loot for ransom?

It is official. We are in a disaster movie. Are we going to find the heroes we need? And not to be too cheesy, but are we going to be them?

And just for fun, cause we need to lighten up...

Angry Follow-up

2008-11-20T16:20:00.005-05:00

I am not so angry anymore. Something about writing that all down and then looking into my own heart really helped. Funny how that can happen, isn't it? Anyway, as frustrating as my family is, I will always love them more than enough. Thanks to those that commented though! It was very very helpful.

A new day

2008-11-10T13:50:00.003-05:00

A lot of people have been talking about it. How this is a new day in America because we elected Barack Obama as president.

Some think it is because he is black. Some think it is because he is young and energetic. Some think he is a repudiation of all the things that have led us down this path. I think all of that is true.

But mostly I think it is a new day because there is something about this election that makes us feel empowered to do more. I was listening to NPR the night before the election, and BBC was on, and one of the reporters for BBC was talking about amazing moments he had had while covering the election, and he stated that one of his favorite moments was that he happened to witness Malia and Sasha Obama get out of the car with Michelle at the Democratic Convention soon before her speech. He said it was joyful and hopeful to see young children. And he also noted that Americans tend to see a reflection of themselves in the First Family. I thought about that and think it is true of all people. People see a reflection of themselves in their leaders and national figures, and it is how other peoples witness us too.

And that is what I think gives us hope and think it is a new day. It isn't that he is black, although to see that barrier broken is beautiful. It isn't that he is young, although youth is energizing. It is that he is idealistic without being an idealogue. We look into his face and believe in ourselves and our abilities. We see what is possible, not just because the skinny, mixed race mutt of a child from a broken home could become President of the United States, but because this amazing man looks at us and tells us we can with such earnest enthusiasm and ardent belief in the miracles that hard work produces that we can't refute it. And that is what it means when we chant, Yes, WE CAN.

So how do we go about it? I believe we have to lead from our strengths. It is easy to focus on what is weakest about us and say, we have to shore that up, but we won't have the abilities to do it if we don't lead from our strengths.

I was thinking about this all weekend. My mother had called me and told me that my brother had informed her that she had totally failed as a mother because she had raised us to believe that what we learned was more important than how we were graded. If we got a B, so be it. But what did we learn? A B where we had learned a lot was a lot more valuable than an easy A, in my mother's way of thinking. And that is what she impressed upon us as a value. But my brother feels like this didn't set us up for success. He thinks, why not get the A and give them what they want to do it. And he has a compelling argument in a way. Afterall, it isn't always a matter of learning more and getting the lesser grade. It is more than possible to do both, so why not emphasize that. My mom was feeling bad about this and even worse that her son felt like she was a failure.

But the thing is, I don't think my mother is a failure. She has raised 6 children and she led with her strengths, a belief in the individuality of the soul and respect for others thoughts and abilities, a respect for knowledge and true learning, a sincere desire and love for hard work, and a sense of humor. So far, the ones old enough have graduated from college, gone on to post college degrees. The son who complains has an MBA and a JD to his name, as well as a successful marriage and 6 children with a 7th on the way. We have all gone to college on our own means, and there was never any question that we would one day have college degrees and use them to do both good and well in this world. My brothers of appropriate age are all married in our church and happy in their relationships. We have blessed to cherish learning, words, literature, scripture, the arts, craftsmanship, scientific and analytic reasoning, and the sacrifice of others to bring forth knowledge and understanding. Was she perfect? Of course not, but she kind of was. I can't imagine having a mother that was more perfect for me. I would have chafed under a parent that emphasized discipline over creativity and conformity over individuality. She seemed to balance these things effortlessly, emphasizing that it wasn't ever okay to be less than all you could be. Phoning it in wasn't really an option. And I would have died under a mother who thought grades were truly important instead of thought. Even when she got the "honor student" bumper stickers in the mail, she didn't put them on the car.

So, in our call from our leader, how do we fulfill it and be our best selves and do what we know we can. We lead from our strengths. And maybe we won't be perfect, but we kind of will. At least we will be more perfect. I think.

Angry

2008-10-17T12:51:00.003-04:00

Since no one really reads this blog anyway, I am going to just spew my thoughts out here.

I think I am an angry person. I don't mean to be. I like being happy go-lucky. I like sunshine and taking deep breaths on the beach and smiling and talking to strangers in line. I like being a happy person. I used to be a happy person who could let things go or at least realize they weren't important. But lately, it seems like so many little things bother me. And a few big ones.

Because I am a nerd, and I thought if I am going to vent this, I started googling a few things on anger. I have scriptures which tell me to forgive and I believe that is the best advice. But sometimes I don't know how to forgive. Are there steps or do you just keep saying, I forgive it and remind yourself every time it comes back that you forgave it? Does it just happen with practice? I know in my head and in my heart that the atonement can heal and make you whole. But what is it about holding on to anger that makes you feel strong sometimes? Even as it weakens you, it makes you feel resilient. I think to myself, "you have to let go of this anger. It has to be okay." But part of me doesn't feel okay. In my googling, I found this book excerpt from the book "You Can Choose to be Happy" by Tom G. Stevens PhD, and it said that anger is an emotion that centers on getting control. Now I don't really know who Tom G. Stevens is or what he actually got his PhD in. For all I know he could have gotten in outdoor recreation or the breeding of farm animals. However, this statement about anger being an emotion that centers on getting control sounds kind of right. When I think about the things I am angry about, it usually has to do with something that is important to me but that I have no control over whatsoever.

One of the big things I am angry about is that my brother married this girl who is the opposite of all of my values. And I am having a hard time forgiving him for bringing someone who is so hard for me to be around into the family. Everyone I talk to about this seems to think I am over-reacting, and maybe I am. I don't know quite why it makes me so angry. If my brother wants to marry a teenage, passive-aggressive, drama queen, high school dropout, hair dresser, it probably shouldn't matter to me. The fact that my parents are so fine with it and act so happy about it probably shouldn't bother me. I probably don't need to like my brother's wife at all. And I think, sure, I mean, how often do I really have to deal with her? Only every holiday I go to my parents house for. Only every time I go home at all. They are always there when I see my family, and my family is very very important to me. Somehow I feel betrayed by my brother, like he took what was very important to me and ruined it for me. Time with my family has always been time when I could just be myself, but now there is this person there I don't like or trust. I think she is manipulative and stupid. I hate being around her. I hate the stupid things she says. I hate that my brother was such a horny bastard he wanted to get into a teenage girls pants. I feel so betrayed by him that when ever I even have to hear about him, I can feel the clouds of anger in my soul. This isn't good. This is bad. Very bad. It is hurting my relationship with him, with my family, with myself. I am so angry about it that I want to hit them so they feel how hurt I am. I want to hit them very hard.

But I don't. I hold it in. I let it fester into cynicism robbing me of the joy of even being with my family whom I love. And I don't have anyone else that really lets me be me. I am a total mess.

Well, that isn't exactly true. I mean, I am a total mess, but I do have a few friends that let me be me. And they understand it, and they tell me things to help, and it does. A bit. But late at night, when I think about going home for the holidays and all the happiness that I used have in doing that and I remember that they will be there, I get so angry. And I can't control the situation. They will be there. And if I say anything about it, I, of course, am the bad guy. And the thing is, I am the bad guy. I am the one who can't forgive. I am the one who is sinning.

So, I have to let go of this before it makes me sick. I have to let go of it before it changes my relationship with my family forever.

I have to, but I am really not sure how.

The devil in the details

2008-10-07T13:02:00.003-04:00

I have heard the phrases "the devil is in the details" and "G-d is in the details" throughout my life, and I am not sure which one is true. One conclusion that I have reached is that whether it is God or the devil you find there, I am not really detail oriented to begin with, so I am not likely to notice.

I hate having to delve into the details. There is something about the miniscule business of the everyday that is absolutely requisite for order and success in making a business or a home run well that bores me to tears. It is sooooo tedious.

I hate paying bills. But it isn't the money that I hate to pay. I hate the tediousness of having to remember and do the task monthly. I realize that there is a reward in such diligence, but it isn't an intellectual, emotional, or spiritual reward, so it just doesn't last long enough to make it seem important.

This is a problem with work. I need to get into a line of work that engages the best part of me and somehow motivates me to deal with the mundane more cheerfully. I have a couple of ideas on what that is, but they require a great deal of courage to pursue. So... do I have the courage? Or has the devil got me by the ... details?

Liahona or Iron Rod?

2008-10-01T15:22:00.003-04:00

hmmmmm- Sort of an interesting question...

Are there two kinds of members of the church? Are there Liahona's and Iron Rod's or are there those of us just insisting there is room for doubt amoungst faith?

http://www.zionsbest.com/people.html

And some more interesting thoughts I have tumbled around (not my own)

http://hypermetrics.com/personal/frd.html

my thoughts on the republican veep choice

2008-09-08T16:02:00.003-04:00

I think it is very important to not create a culture of hate around Gov. Palin. I think it inflates her importance. The choice of having a woman on the Republican ticket just highlights that the Republican party is 24 years behind the Democratic party in their ideas of women as equals. Besides, I don't personally know the woman, so I don't hate her. I simply disagree with every public stance regarding any and all policies, domestic and foreign, she has espoused.

Her drill first and a lot stance is irresponsible both environmentally and as an energy policy because anything that encourages us to continue to suck on the teat of oil and fossil fuels has no vision, nor any true practicality, just a cunning cynicism about American ingenuity and our ability to do the hard right thing. Oil prices are a hardship on American families, but preparing for the future is both the right thing to do and the hard thing to do and we will reap greater rewards from it in the long run. If elections are about tomorrow, then it can't be about just January 22. It has to be about January 22 2040. That requires vision that Palin obviously lacks, or that her speech lacked. I believe that the American people still have the spirit of the Greatest Generation alive in them as well as the generation that marched with Martin Luther King. I believe we have the capacity to do the right thing, even though it is hard. But it requires leaders that guide us, build us up, challenge us to reach new heights. They don't just say, "I have found an easier out and we can leave the problem for someone else to solve."

I also vehemently disagree with her worldview. The world is much smaller and closer than it has ever been. The events that happen on the other side do affect the every day lives of every day Americans. In that way, the world is a community, desperately in need of a hopeful and skillful organizer. Calm, cool, educated, effective diplomacy, encouraging different factions to work together and build on their common ground, is the way to bring peace and order and give industry and success a chance to flourish everywhere in the world. The fact that she would denigrate the qualities in a leader that bring people together, empower the powerless, and serve our communities is disgusting to me. She may be a pit bull in lipstick, ready to take aim and fire, perfectly willing to declare war as a godly means. However, anyone familiar with war and the effect it has on the world knows that war can be an agent of justice and last resort, but will never be an agent of peace. Fighting fire with fire always sounds good, but it is the cooling effect of water that restores and rebuilds. I am very wary of anyone who would manipulate our hearts by wrapping the flag around the cross, declaring themselves an agent of god on earth. I would be a foolish, willfully blind person to ignore her obvious shortcomings simply because we both have a uterus. But even worse, I would be ignorantly and unabashedly irresponsible to trust her with the future of our children, our country, and our world.

And lastly, is this the best the GOP has to offer the American public? Really? This is one of your finest minds, greatest organizers, best leaders that you have produced? How unfortunate that you would put forward someone with so little reason, honor, common sense, and honesty. There isn't a line of her speech that was pure and honest, except maybe that she wears lipstick. It was the most disgusting quasi-intellectual, gut wrenchingly obvious and dishonest speech anyone gave. Imagine topping that list. 8 days of political speeches and the one great achievement is that her speech was more full of distasteful lies than any other. How accomplished indeed.

Part of my thoughts expressed so beautifully by someone else

2008-09-08T15:56:00.002-04:00

"I had thought that McCain was, for a politician, an honourable man. Certainly honour is one of his top selling points. But who can think so now? In choosing a woman he doesn’t know or understand, purely for electoral advantage, he reveals a dishonourable lust for office, a disrespect for women generally and a dishonourable indifference to the future of his country. After all, if this known unknown woman does become president, it will almost certainly be because he himself is dead - quite possible given his age and health - and past caring."
Minette Marin ( http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/minette_marrin/article4692133.ece )

This election is getting to me

2008-09-08T12:34:00.004-04:00

I woke up at 3:45 this morning.

I woke up and stared at my ceiling and I was scared.

It sounds stupid, I know. I have so many things to worry about without thinking about the bigger world, but I can't help feeling that my problems and the problems of America are connected. I don't mean that I should personally take on the world's problems. I can't take on every problem. And there are things I need to do with my life that don't center on the world's problems all the time.

But I woke up in the dark of the night and all I could think about was "what will we do if this country elects McCain to be president" and I was scared. I got up and did my dishes, sorted my laundry, dusted my shelves, and tried to do all the non-loud cleaning I could. I felt this need to put things right. To make sure things were good and clean. And I still had the nagging feeling that things might not be all right.

I have to admit that I sometimes feel like a cassandra, even though that is a bit melodramatic. I knew that W. would not be a good president, although, who could imagine he would be this bad? And I know that McCain will be just as big a disaster. The problem isn't just these two men personally. It is the whole conservative idea of governing that is the problem. They sound great in campaigns, but they are bad at governing. All of them have been and will be. So I am just praying that Obama and Biden win. I am praying that we will get people in that will have vision and strength to do the hard things to make this country work again. Then maybe I won't wake up in the middle of the night thinking the world is a mess and try to clean things at 3:45 in the morning.

Carlin on baseball vs. football

2008-07-08T12:13:00.001-04:00

I started to post this on June 3, but only had time to make a copy. Now it seems even more poignant.

I know I am about 2 weeks too late to mourn with the rest of the Carlin mourners. Carlin was one of my family's favorites because he told the truth, however graphic, however silly, however unbelievable. He told us the truth about ourselves and what we were becoming. In the last special I saw of his, he was talking about how we were destroying the earth until we would make ourselves extinct and in true Carlin fashion he celebrated it because it was so poetically righteous for us to kill ourselves off through our own hedonism and perversity. What could be funnier?

As my own little rememberance, I am going to post one of my favorites that isn't the 7 Words. And to top it off, it is about something I love...

Carlin and Baseball vs. Football

Baseball is different from any other sport, very different.
For instance, in most sports you score points or goals; in baseball you score runs.
In most sports the ball, or object, is put in play by the offensive team; in baseball the defensive team puts the ball in play, and only the defense is allowed to touch the ball. In fact, in baseball if an offensive player touches the ball intentionally, he's out; sometimes unintentionally, he's out.
Also: in football,basketball, soccer, volleyball, and all sports played with a ball, you score with the ball and in baseball the ball prevents you from scoring.
In most sports the team is run by a coach; in baseball the team is run by a manager. And only in baseball does the manager or coach wear the same clothing the players do. If you'd ever seen John Madden in his Oakland Raiders uniform,you'd know the reason for this custom.

Now, I've mentioned football.
Baseball & football are the two most popular spectator sports in this country. And as such, it seems they ought to be able to tell us something about ourselves and our values.
I enjoy comparing baseball and football:
Baseball is a nineteenth-century pastoral game. Football is a twentieth-century technological struggle.
Baseball is played on a diamond, in a park. The baseball park! Football is played on a gridiron, in a stadium, sometimes called Soldier Field or War Memorial Stadium.
Baseball begins in the spring, the season of new life. Football begins in the fall, when everything's dying.
In football you wear a helmet. In baseball you wear a cap.
Football is concerned with downs - what down is it? Baseball is concerned with ups - who's up?
In football you receive a penalty. In baseball you make an error.
In football the specialist comes in to kick. In baseball the specialist comes in to relieve somebody. Football has hitting, clipping, spearing, piling on, personal fouls, late hitting and unnecessary roughness. Baseball has the sacrifice.
Football is played in any kind of weather: rain, snow, sleet, hail, fog...In baseball, if it rains, we don't go out to play.
Baseball has the seventh inning stretch. Football has the two minute warning.
Baseball has no time limit: we don't know when it's gonna end - might have extra innings. Football is rigidly timed, and it will end even if we've got to go to sudden death.
In baseball, during the game, in the stands, there's kind of a picnic feeling; emotions may run high or low, but there's not too much unpleasantness. In football, during the game in the stands, you can be sure that at least twenty-seven times you're capable of taking the life of a fellow human being.
And finally, the objectives of the two games are completely different:
In football the object is for the quarterback, also known as the field general, to be on target with his aerial assault, riddling the defense by hitting his receivers with deadly accuracy in spite of the blitz, even if he has to use shotgun. With short bullet passes and long bombs, he marches his troops into enemy territory, balancing this aerial assault with a sustained ground attack that punches holes in the forward wall of the enemy's defensive line.
In baseball the object is to go home! And to be safe! - I hope I'll be safe at home!

True Believers, pundits, etc.

2008-06-11T16:11:00.003-04:00

I want to work for Obama. The thing is, I am a registered lobbyist. I became a lobbyist after I worked on Capitol Hill. I worked on Capitol Hill after interning for a Senator. I interned for a Senator because I believe in the idea of public service, government or otherwise, I am interested in politics and I love America. I don't think I am alone.

Have you ever noticed how well Obama did in the "Potomac primaries"? You ever wonder where all those people in Washington work? They live around the Potomac, dur. And they voted for Obama cause they want to believe. They love this country and they want to believe it can be better. At one time, they even wanted to make it so.

Some cynical people might believe otherwise, but the truth is that no one wants to believe in the visions of a better America more than those who came out to Washington, even the ones that are jaded.

So I am going to unregister as a lobbyist. And hopefully I can put enough time in for Obama to make a difference.

man for all seasons

2008-06-03T12:27:00.003-04:00

I have been thinking about "A Man For All Seasons" lately. It seems more than ever that we need the rule of law. Making so many exceptions can only weaken us. The Supreme Court ruling may make us seem like we are weak and unwilling to fight fire with fire. But after all, isn't the most effective way to fight fire with water? If we stay true to who we are, aren't we helping ourselves in the end? And if we allow ourselves to make more exceptions to the rule than applications of the rule, we destroy it, and a piece of ourselves as well.

When I was about 15, there was a serial killer in my neighborhood. He killed people I had met in places we went almost everyday. It was frightening. He hid in the back of a car and waited for them to get in before he would attack. My family never locked our car before that. I always lock my car now, and I always check the back seat before I get in. Am I being smart? Yes. But I am also less free than I was before because I am more aware of evil. However, do I think it should be a law that we check our cars and lock them? No! We don't need more laws because the law was broken. And while I almost think it would be okay for someone, anyone to have just taken this guy out, it wouldn't have helped our community. We needed the trial. We needed the law. Not more law. Just to defend the laws we have the way we always have. If we don't we face a greater peril.

More: There is no law against that.
Roper: There is! God's law!
More: Then God can arrest him.
Roper: Sophistication upon sophistication.
More: No, sheer simplicity. The law, Roper, the law. I know what's legal not what's right. And I'll stick to what's legal.
Roper: Then you set man's law above God's!
More: No, far below; but let me draw your attention to a fact - I'm not God. The currents and eddies of right and wrong, which you find such plain sailing, I can't navigate. I'm no voyager. But in the thickets of the law, oh, there I'm a forrester. I doubt if there's a man alive who could follow me there, thank God....
Alice: While you talk, he's gone!
More: And go he should, if he was the Devil himself, until he broke the law!
Roper: So now you'd give the Devil benefit of law!
More: Yes. What would you do? Cut a great road through the law to get after the Devil?
Roper: I'd cut down every law in England to do that!
More: Oh? And when the last law was down, and the Devil turned round on you - where would you hide, Roper, the laws all being flat? This country's planted thick with laws from coast to coast - man's laws, not God's - and if you cut them down - and you're just the man to do it - d'you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then? Yes, I'd give the Devil benefit of law, for my own safety's sake.

obama's address

2008-06-03T12:26:00.003-04:00

On behalf of the great state of Illinois, crossroads of a nation, land of Lincoln, let me express my deep gratitude for the privilege of addressing this convention. Tonight is a particular honor for me because, let’s face it, my presence on this stage is pretty unlikely. My father was a foreign student, born and raised in a small village in Kenya. He grew up herding goats, went to school in a tin-roof shack. His father, my grandfather, was a cook, a domestic servant.
But my grandfather had larger dreams for his son. Through hard work and perseverance my father got a scholarship to study in a magical place; America which stood as a beacon of freedom and opportunity to so many who had come before. While studying here, my father met my mother. She was born in a town on the other side of the world, in Kansas. Her father worked on oil rigs and farms through most of the Depression. The day after Pearl Harbor he signed up for duty, joined Patton’s army and marched across Europe. Back home, my grandmother raised their baby and went to work on a bomber assembly line. After the war, they studied on the GI Bill, bought a house through FHA, and moved west in search of opportunity.
And they, too, had big dreams for their daughter, a common dream, born of two continents. My parents shared not only an improbable love; they shared an abiding faith in the possibilities of this nation. They would give me an African name, Barack, or “blessed,” believing that in a tolerant America your name is no barrier to success. They imagined me going to the best schools in the land, even though they weren’t rich, because in a generous America you don’t have to be rich to achieve your potential. They are both passed away now. Yet, I know that, on this night, they look down on me with pride.
I stand here today, grateful for the diversity of my heritage, aware that my parents’ dreams live on in my precious daughters. I stand here knowing that my story is part of the larger American story, that I owe a debt to all of those who came before me, and that, in no other country on earth, is my story even possible. Tonight, we gather to affirm the greatness of our nation, not because of the height of our skyscrapers, or the power of our military, or the size of our economy. Our pride is based on a very simple premise, summed up in a declaration made over two hundred years ago, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights. That among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”
That is the true genius of America, a faith in the simple dreams of its people, the insistence on small miracles. That we can tuck in our children at night and know they are fed and clothed and safe from harm. That we can say what we think, write what we think, without hearing a sudden knock on the door. That we can have an idea and start our own business without paying a bribe or hiring somebody’s son. That we can participate in the political process without fear of retribution, and that our votes will be counted—or at least, most of the time.
This year, in this election, we are called to reaffirm our values and commitments, to hold them against a hard reality and see how we are measuring up, to the legacy of our forbearers, and the promise of future generations. And fellow Americans—Democrats, Republicans, Independents—I say to you tonight: we have more work to do. More to do for the workers I met in Galesburg, Illinois, who are losing their union jobs at the Maytag plant that’s moving to Mexico, and now are having to compete with their own children for jobs that pay seven bucks an hour. More to do for the father I met who was losing his job and choking back tears, wondering how he would pay $4,500 a month for the drugs his son needs without the health benefits he counted on. More to do for the young woman in East St. Louis, and thousands more like her, who has the grades, has the drive, has the will, but doesn’t have the money to go to college.
Don’t get me wrong. The people I meet in small towns and big cities, in diners and office parks, they don’t expect government to solve all their problems. They know they have to work hard to get ahead and they want to. Go into the collar counties around Chicago, and people will tell you they don’t want their tax money wasted by a welfare agency or the Pentagon. Go into any inner city neighborhood, and folks will tell you that government alone can’t teach kids to learn. They know that parents have to parent, that children can’t achieve unless we raise their expectations and turn off the television sets and eradicate the slander that says a black youth with a book is acting white. No, people don’t expect government to solve all their problems. But they sense, deep in their bones, that with just a change in priorities, we can make sure that every child in America has a decent shot at life, and that the doors of opportunity remain open to all. They know we can do better. And they want that choice.
In this election, we offer that choice. Our party has chosen a man to lead us who embodies the best this country has to offer. That man is John Kerry. John Kerry understands the ideals of community, faith, and sacrifice, because they’ve defined his life. From his heroic service in Vietnam to his years as prosecutor and lieutenant governor, through two decades in the United States Senate, he has devoted himself to this country. Again and again, we’ve seen him make tough choices when easier ones were available. His values and his record affirm what is best in us.
John Kerry believes in an America where hard work is rewarded. So instead of offering tax breaks to companies shipping jobs overseas, he’ll offer them to companies creating jobs here at home. John Kerry believes in an America where all Americans can afford the same health coverage our politicians in Washington have for themselves. John Kerry believes in energy independence, so we aren’t held hostage to the profits of oil companies or the sabotage of foreign oil fields. John Kerry believes in the constitutional freedoms that have made our country the envy of the world, and he will never sacrifice our basic liberties nor use faith as a wedge to divide us. And John Kerry believes that in a dangerous world, war must be an option, but it should never be the first option.
A while back, I met a young man named Seamus at the VFW Hall in East Moline, Illinois. He was a good-looking kid, six-two or six-three, clear eyed, with an easy smile. He told me he’d joined the Marines and was heading to Iraq the following week. As I listened to him explain why he’d enlisted, his absolute faith in our country and its leaders, his devotion to duty and service, I thought this young man was all any of us might hope for in a child. But then I asked myself: Are we serving Seamus as well as he was serving us? I thought of more than 900 service men and women, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, friends and neighbors, who will not be returning to their hometowns. I thought of families I had met who were struggling to get by without a loved one’s full income, or whose loved ones had returned with a limb missing or with nerves shattered, but who still lacked long-term health benefits because they were reservists. When we send our young men and women into harm’s way, we have a solemn obligation not to fudge the numbers or shade the truth about why they’re going, to care for their families while they’re gone, to tend to the soldiers upon their return, and to never ever go to war without enough troops to win the war, secure the peace, and earn the respect of the world.
Now let me be clear. We have real enemies in the world. These enemies must be found. They must be pursued and they must be defeated. John Kerry knows this. And just as Lieutenant Kerry did not hesitate to risk his life to protect the men who served with him in Vietnam, President Kerry will not hesitate one moment to use our military might to keep America safe and secure. John Kerry believes in America. And he knows it’s not enough for just some of us to prosper. For alongside our famous individualism, there’s another ingredient in the American saga.
A belief that we are connected as one people. If there’s a child on the south side of Chicago who can’t read, that matters to me, even if it’s not my child. If there’s a senior citizen somewhere who can’t pay for her prescription and has to choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer, even if it’s not my grandmother. If there’s an Arab American family being rounded up without benefit of an attorney or due process, that threatens my civil liberties. It’s that fundamental belief—I am my brother’s keeper, I am my sisters’ keeper—that makes this country work. It’s what allows us to pursue our individual dreams, yet still come together as a single American family. “E pluribus unum.” Out of many, one.
Yet even as we speak, there are those who are preparing to divide us, the spin masters and negative ad peddlers who embrace the politics of anything goes. Well, I say to them tonight, there’s not a liberal America and a conservative America—there’s the United States of America. There’s not a black America and white America and Latino America and Asian America; there’s the United States of America. The pundits like to slice-and-dice our country into Red States and Blue States; Red States for Republicans, Blue States for Democrats. But I’ve got news for them, too. We worship an awesome God in the Blue States, and we don’t like federal agents poking around our libraries in the Red States. We coach Little League in the Blue States and have gay friends in the Red States. There are patriots who opposed the war in Iraq and patriots who supported it. We are one people, all of us pledging allegiance to the stars and stripes, all of us defending the United States of America.
In the end, that’s what this election is about. Do we participate in a politics of cynicism or a politics of hope? John Kerry calls on us to hope. John Edwards calls on us to hope. I’m not talking about blind optimism here—the almost willful ignorance that thinks unemployment will go away if we just don’t talk about it, or the health care crisis will solve itself if we just ignore it. No, I’m talking about something more substantial. It’s the hope of slaves sitting around a fire singing freedom songs; the hope of immigrants setting out for distant shores; the hope of a young naval lieutenant bravely patrolling the Mekong Delta; the hope of a millworker’s son who dares to defy the odds; the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who believes that America has a place for him, too. The audacity of hope!
In the end, that is God’s greatest gift to us, the bedrock of this nation; the belief in things not seen; the belief that there are better days ahead. I believe we can give our middle class relief and provide working families with a road to opportunity. I believe we can provide jobs to the jobless, homes to the homeless, and reclaim young people in cities across America from violence and despair. I believe that as we stand on the crossroads of history, we can make the right choices, and meet the challenges that face us. America!
Tonight, if you feel the same energy I do, the same urgency I do, the same passion I do, the same hopefulness I do—if we do what we must do, then I have no doubt that all across the country, from Florida to Oregon, from Washington to Maine, the people will rise up in November, and John Kerry will be sworn in as president, and John Edwards will be sworn in as vice president, and this country will reclaim its promise, and out of this long political darkness a brighter day will come. Thank you and God bless you.

civil war

2008-06-03T12:06:00.003-04:00

Being the Billy-yank that I am, I think that delaying the war benefited the country, but I guess I should say it benefited the Union. I also would argue that it benefited women's rights, immigrants, quasi-intellectuals such as me, and most importantly, the Constitution.

Some argue that in 1830 people viewed the United States as a conglomerate of cooperative but separate entities. While that has some validity, I don't think it is entirely true. This was a nation that had been through 2 wars together to establish its independence. The concept of manifest destiny, which was very popular during this period, was about building a continental nation, not about building a lot of little entities that cooperated with the Union. I think with that in mind, President Washington very carefully went about the business of forging a national identity for the US. He toured through every state during his presidency trying to tie the separate entities together. When people referred to him as the Father of our Country, which happened during his lifetime, they were not referring to Virginia. There is plenty of evidence that he succeeded. A Virginian in New York might not have considered it home, but he also did not think of it as foreign soil. The election of Andrew Jackson would also suggest that there was a national identity. Jackson did not run as a Tennessean, but as a national war hero for his leadership in the Battle of New Orleans.

While a national identity had been forged, the years between 1830 and 1860 were needed to fortify it. During this period, the ideological battle of the Civil War was hammered out in the Senate by the Great Triumvirate. While Clay monitored the debate between the Pro- Union Webster and the Pro-State Calhoun, he found a way to bring them all to the table in a series of compromises. I don't think any of them would have come to the table if they didn't care about preserving the United States. Secession was definitely a threatening and ever darkening cloud, but these men, despite their disagreements, seemed to search for any way to keep the nation waterproof. In an ironic twist, their arguments probably weakened the floodgates, but their interaction suggests that the Union was more precious to them (particularly Calhoun) then they may have admitted on the floor. Also, during this period, we fought the Mexican-American war, bringing us closer to the vision of manifest destiny. The men who led the fight were from different places, but most were trained at West Point and they all swore the same oath, to protect the Constitution from all enemies, foreign and domestic. It became even more evident during the Civil War that these men shared more commonalities than differences and had seen themselves as fighting for the same nation.

My point with all this is that despite growing regional differences, the nation saw itself as one America, at least to some extent. This proved vital to the Union cause during the war and I am not sure that without those 30 years the Union would have been considered precious enough to spill blood for it.

The delay definitely benefited the Union militarily because it was during these 30 years that it gained its advantages of industry and sheer numbers. These were the elements that eventually won the war. I think that it is doubtful in 1830, when the two areas were more economically similar, that the North would have been able to muster the resources or drive necessary to beat the South.

As for women's rights- The suffrage movement first gained ground with the abolitionist movement. The conference in Seneca Falls happened in 1848 which declared that the rights extended to men should be extended to women. If the war had been fought and the South had won, slavery would not have ended then, or might never have ended. Abolition would have been considered even more of a fringe movement than it was. Women might have gained ground with women, similar to how the movement grew after the Civil War, but they would not have had the time to get grounded with men. Also, the hypocrisy would not have been as blatant. They might have fought a war without the result of emancipation and it would be more accepted that some people just don't have the same rights as others. This is all just conjecture, but it is true that the delay gave time for the women's rights movement to get grounded with the same crusaders that took up abolition.

And immigrants? My thoughts on this have not gelled. It is more of a gut reaction to argue that the delay benefited immigrants than a well thought out argument. First, immigrants came to America, not New York or Virginia (despite what those states may currently argue) to seek opportunities for a better life than what they had. A great wave came in the 1840's due to European depressions, revolutions, and famines. This wave obviously fortified the Union, but it seems that it was beneficial to the immigrants as well. Would a war torn America, or an America that was fractured into 2, 3 or 17 separate entities have afforded the same kind of opportunity? What would have happened to the federally owned properties? Would they have remained in the Union? What kind of border conflicts would ensue? Did the sheer size of the nation add to the economic opportunities? I think it might have, but it is far from concrete. I will have to chew on it some more to decide.

As for quasi-intellectuals, the myriad of questions to ponder and opine over is endless. Who would have won the conflict if it had been in 1830? If it had been the South, would we have split across the continent? Would the west be a separate nation? Would the United States be an ever-changing confederacy of states? Would we have become the world power we are today? What would the 20th century look like? What would our contribution to the world wars have been? What would the world look like? It is an endless sea of meaningless, but highly entertaining, what ifs.

I think the greatest beneficiary is the Constitution of the United States. It has become the strongest, most enduring, and most important political document ever penned. If the South had won, it would have been gutted and declawed. The power to tax, raise an army, and protect the rights of the nation's citizens would have been entirely compromised and it would have carried the weight of an average trade agreement. The entire 20th century of constitutional law would be different. I doubt that the 13th, 14th, 15th, 19th, and 24th amendments would exist. Without the 14th amendment the bill of rights would have been unenforceable in state law. Our concept of national law would look more to precedent much like British law. I am not saying that it would be a lawless society without justice. In fact I think that is unlikely considering the ideological heritage. But we would enjoy less stability and assuredness that there is a source to look toward. I think it is beneficial to us to be able to look at the roots and decide whether the experiment is working.

P.S. I haven't included a religious note, but the 30 year delay gave Joseph Smith time to establish the church, send missionaries, and gather the saints. The church had time to move away from the conflict and be spared the loss of men to the war. Maybe the Church was the greatest beneficiary.

-----Original Message-----From: Bennion, Jeff [mailto:JBennion@bindview.com] Sent: Tuesday, January 08, 2002 10:14 PMTo: Rachel Morrisey (rmorrissey@atlantech.net)Subject: Question of the day

Question of the day is: Near 1830, most people believed a civil was was immediately imminent. War did not break out for another generation, 30 years later. Was the delay ultimately good or bad? For whom?

Top Ten List

2008-06-02T14:13:00.005-04:00

We are a country of list makers. We eat them up, whatever they are. Top 10 movies, rock songs, hair taboos, hockey goals, Olympic moments or things to do on a Saturday afternoon. It seems like we just can't get enough of them. We make lists to organize our lives, goals, thoughts, concerns, and groceries. Even as I am making a point about this, I realize I am making lists to prove my point.

Lists make sense out of chaos. We figure- you know, this seems random, but I bet we could make a list and make sense out of it. Why did the Roman Empire fall? There's a list. Why did Rockerfeller make millions? There's a list (and he wrote it). Why did Carrie Bradshaw cheat on Aidan? There are many many many lists, although it still makes no sense.
Lists are how we lay out our arguments and explain our tastes and preferences. They are how we decide our priorities and outline our goals. List makers make history. So, I thought it would be fun to name the top ten lists of all time. Feel free to disagree!

10. VHI's Top 100 Countdown!
VHI's Top 100 capture the very spirit of list making and our obsession of cataloguing our pop culture. Why do we do it? Is Satisfaction really a better song than Stairway to Heaven? (yes, in my personal opinion) Or are the Beatles or Rolling Stone's or Nirvana or U2 the greatest bands ever?? The beauty of these lists is that they don't matter at all and they give us something entertaining to talk about. It is fun to consider the merits of "Like a Rolling Stone" vs. "Teen Spirit", and no decision about it is going to hurt anyone. Unless they're high...

9. The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People
In our pervasively self-help culture, no secular book has better or more concisely listed what we are supposed to do to succeed and be happy, according to Stephen R. Covey. I am not a fan of the self help genre, however, the lingo of self awareness and life examination has bled into every single element of our lives. Our movies, TV and pop lingo are awash in it. Our churches have pulled elements of it and teach it over the pulpit. Our presidents talk about it. President Clinton spoke about how Seven Habits was one of the best books he had ever read, and it helped guide his campaign. Don't know what to tell you about how it affected ALL his decisions, but when a book gets that kind of attention, you know it is changing the world, for good or bad.

8. Dave Letterman's Top Ten
They have been the topic of conversation for 25 years. Sometimes it is brilliant, and sometimes it is a downright groaner. In the end though, it doesn't matter. The Top Ten encapsulates the idea of listing the absurd and the funny to show that there is truly something to laugh about on nearly every day. Whether it is politics, absurd news, or pop culture nonsense, Letterman has given us 10 different reasons to laugh at it.

7. The 12 Steps of AA
and all its sister programs. The idea of curing a disease, not through chemical or surgical correction, but by submitting yourself to a series of steps achieved through sheer will and submission to a higher authority has changed how we think about all kinds of recovery. It has opened the doors to how mental and physical illnesses are connected. And I think the 12 step programs can be credited with opening western medicine and psychology to more eastern philosophical thinking and religious devotion as a normal and healthy choice. Besides, how many references and jokes are there about 12 step programs? And everyone gets them, don't they?

6. The New York Times Best Seller list
OK- book lovers everywhere may not back me on this. After all, there are lists of books that win awards, and lists of great books. However, The New York Times Best Seller list tells us what we are reading. And that tells us a lot about what we are thinking and thinking about (or not as the case may be.) A book can be the best book in the world, but if no one reads it...
This list always seems to me to strike a good balance. After all, it separates the lists by genres and it tells how long the book has been there. Any book on the NYT Bestseller list for several weeks or months (or even years in some rare cases) is being read by America in general. It is being read in living rooms, parks, doctor's offices, the DMV and becoming fixtures on bedside tables. And that means this list catalogues what we want to read and think and talk about, whether it is by John Grisham, Bill O'Reilly, or (gulp) Danielle Steele.

5. The Declaration of Independence
Never has a list been more daring than the Declaration of Independence. It is the most eloquent and polite "By the way your majesty, you suck and so does your parliament, and this is why" that has ever been penned. The difference between a revolution and a rebellion is often a matter of opinion. But what looked like a mere rebellion was given a real voice because the Continental Congress drafted a list of whys. It was given consideration, debate and weighty deliberation. It was no longer a matter of whims or passions. And once the members of the Continental Congress signed it, they committed themselves and their countrymen irrefutably and irreversibly to a cause. This list left no retreat. And besides listing our grievances it listed the values that define The United States even today- Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

4. The Seven Wonders of the World
This list gets updated as the world gets more wondrous (and as the wonders disappear.) Of the ancient 7 Wonders, only 1 still exists; The Great Pyramids. Alas, the hanging gardens of Babylon and Temple of Artemis are gone. Now the list includes The Chunnel and the Golden Gate Bridge; a modern list of wonders for modern wanderers. And that is what is so wonderful about this list. It encapsulates all the wonder and marvelous things that are out there in the world to go and see and experience. Whether it is seeing unbelievably tall buildings, amazing bridges or conquered terrain beneath the sea, it is a list about our ingenuity, our hope, and our sense of adventure. It also shows us that list making is not a new thing at all. The ancients did it too.

3. Martin Luther's 95 Theses
Few lists have changed the world more than the list by a monk who nailed his to the church's door- 95 reasons that we are off course and what we have to do to fix it. That is a pretty extensive list. And since it started the protestant reformation, changed the ideas of worship and having a relationship with divinity, affected the corridors of power, altered the governments of Northern Europe, and helped lead to the establishment of America as we know it, it pretty much changed the world and set it spinning faster.

2. U.S. Constitution's Bill of Rights
OF all the lists, this one is the most cherished and abused by its own people. The precious first 10 Amendments to our Constitution were an apex of the listing of the rights of citizens and the reward and idea that have kept us as one nation. E pluribus Unum is possible because we know we can't just tread all over each other and when these rights are respected and used with wisdom, they lead us closer and closer to our ideal. This isn't the first document to list the rights of citizens, but it is one that was meant to be applied to all citizens and not just the wealthy. Although it has taken further amendments (oh like the 13th, 14th, 15th, and 19th for example) to apply these rights across the board to all peoples in this nation, the ideals of protecting the citizenry from itself and the abuse of the majority has helped us avoid many injustices. That is why every story of a breach of these rights seems like an injustice in itself.

1. The Ten Commandments
Judeo-christian or not, the Ten commandments has had an effect on your life. It is the ultimate do and don'ts list and has been an influence on Western culture and laws since they were given, and hence on most of the world. The fascinating part is that it wasn't the original. According to the story, Moses destroyed the original tablets that held the laws of God because the Israelites were too wicked to keep them. The ten we have in Exodus are the "dumbed down version". And if you believe in the Judeo-christian God, then it goes to show that he has always understood just how much we need and like lists.

So, any to add or detract??

another list

2008-06-02T13:27:00.004-04:00

IF you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,'

Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

I learned this poem in highschool. Recently it popped in my head, and I was thinking about what a poor job I was doing of living up to it. I remember once discussing it with a friend of mine, and he hated the poem because he thought it presented an absolutely unreachable standard. It kind of does. I mean, it certainly isn't all that accepting of personal weakness. However, what of worth is truly accepting of personal weakness? I mean, the Savior is, but the gospel, as forgiving as it is, is all about ridding yourself of human folly.

As I look at the poem today, I have more questions than conclusions. I mean, how do you dream and not make dreams your master? And if you really gambled away all you owned, is that a virtue? And who could honestly gamble it all away without reflecting about it and telling about it? At least as a story of adventure? And I sometimes wonder about how virtuous I am in a crowd. Am I strong? Am I really willing to stand alone?

Questions, questions, questions! No wonder Nephi said "Oh wretched man that I am." Who wouldn't with so many things to think about?

Family disfunction

2008-05-28T13:00:00.005-04:00

If there is one thing that bothers me most about my family, it is their absolute refusal to plan or commit to any future events. It makes it nearly impossible to plan anything that isn't an absolute must, and instead of our lives and times filling with memorable moments or experiences, it becomes filled with prattle and television advertisements. It is disheartening to me.

My mother told me in February that she wanted to send my brother and sister out here and that she wanted to come out here too. Knowing how expensive airfare is lately, I told her to set up a fare watcher on travelocity or expedia or some site like that so if a good fare came up, she would hear about it. I also set one up, and when a good fare came up, I immediately sent it to her and called her about it. Of course she did nothing about it.

Why, you may ask? Because she doesn't really intend to come out here. It is something to fantasize about while she goes about other business and busy-ness. She has work, which was a temp job that was supposed to end in May, but won't. She has my brother Tim's baseball games. She has church stuff, and friend stuff, and other stuff, all of which are the priority. I think that is fine, but why say you plan to come out here then?

It is my fault though. I really should have taken it with a grain of salt. I should have just said "yeah, mom, that would be great" and not pushed or taken steps to try to make it happen. Cause it won't ever happen. Nothing that I don't plan myself ever happens. And even when I plan it, my family doesn't want to do it. I ask for their opinion and desires and try to make it nice, but it is like herding cats.

And it is the same when I go out there. My mom has all kinds of grand ambitions about things we could do and they always get sucked up in the day to day stuff of life at home. Doing dishes, waiting for people, grocery shopping, all the little stuff always takes precedence. She can't ever tell someone no, she is busy, because she won't plan, so she can't say there is something definite going on. So none of the grand ideas ever bear fruit. All of the small things crowd out the big things.

book sad

2008-05-22T17:10:00.003-04:00

They closed my little book store in Shirlington. It was a small little bookstore and it was kind of perfect for that charming Sat morning brunch where I could run and get a book and eat brunch out on the porches at Shirlington restaurants. They sold the paper too. I am very sad that they closed it. It didn't do bad business, but the lease ran out and the development wouldn't renew it. They are looking for bigger fish. Bigger is often not better.

I hate going to Barnes and Noble stores. They are big, generic, impersonal. I knew all the people that worked at my little bookstore. It made it a neighborhood instead of a glorified stip mall.

I am sad. :(

Costumes from the Wiz

2008-05-21T16:52:00.005-04:00

I hardly ever do this, because I fear pictures soooo much, but I helped out on costumes for The Wiz and wanted to preserve some pics of my handywork...

I love it when people make me think about this kind of thing

2008-05-21T12:54:00.003-04:00

http://wwwebb.blogspot.com/2007/08/ahem-hem.html

The Silent Treatment

2008-05-20T11:24:00.002-04:00

Girls do it all the time. Men sometimes do it too. They perform this little act of emotional abuse so they can manipulate and get their own way. They call it the silent treatment.

The silent treatment is designed to make the other person feel lower than dust because they aren't worth the words you could utter to them. They are beyond recognition. Persona non grata. Countries do it too as a manipulation of diplomacy. "I don't like what you are doing so you are now beneath my notice. I don't like you any more". It is sort of George W. Bush's policy with Iran. "You don't play how we want you to, so we won't talk to you. NYAH NYAH NYAH." I wonder how many people employing the silent treatment would like knowing that they are behaving exactly like one of the worst presidents in the history of the United States. Knowing them, they would probably act like you were being really smart and an intellectual elitist and not like an ordinary american, whatever that is.

I am not a fan of the silent treatment. I think it is passive aggressive and nasty and doesn't really solve anything. I don't like passive aggressiveness. I deal with it all the time and it always bugs the crap out of me. And the worst is the silent treatment because the only defense is to act like you don't care. And how dishonest is that? The ST is dishonest because it is designed to simply gain power in a relationship over the other person. It is completely a manipulation. But having to respond like it doesn't hurt or doesn't matter deadens you too. It means you have to act like a person you considered a friend, that you have given and received emotional support from, no longer has a place in your life. Having that forced on you is crappy. Really really really crappy.

Addicted

2008-04-29T11:31:00.005-04:00

I am addicted.

I don't really understand the high I get from buying a pair of shoes, but I find them absolutely irresistable. I feel all heady and adventurous just choosing a sweet little pair, like I am putting on a new persona or the streets will seem new. And I act differently in different shoes. Maybe it is because I walk differently in them. You know how when you act confident, you become more confident? Well, new shoes have that affect on me. I kind of take on a piece of the character of the shoes. They are transformative. Maybe "walking a mile in someone else's shoes" has something to do with the shoes themselves? Not only do we experience the experience, but the actual look and feel of someone else's shoes can teach us about them. I was listening to an actor once, and he said the whole costume was important, particularly the shoes. It was how the character was grounded. It was interesting to think about. Of course, all of this might just be a major rationalization so I can buy as many pretty and completely unpractical shoes as I want. But hey- you know what they say- rationalization is more important than sex.

Anyway, this latest high came from a sweet little pair of fire-engine red patent leather three inch stacked heels with a rounded toe and a little white trim. Dorothy's ruby slippers have nothing on these babies! As for politics, and all the other important salon topics I have roaming through my head right now, I can't write about them. They are too depressing. If I do, I will have to spend a lot more money on shoes.

Eve love life

2008-04-13T16:23:00.003-04:00

mil

Evie obviously enjoyed the easter egg hunt and also decided that the basket made a good necklace. She is a happy little thing.

Easter pics of my sweet nieces

2008-04-13T16:15:00.001-04:00

This is Janie, Gracie and Evie in their Easter dresses. They are growing up so fast, I can't keep up...

OMG- It's gorgeous!

2008-04-11T10:00:00.001-04:00

Wow, is it a beautiful day outside! It makes me want to ignore work completely, drink arnold palmers, and shop!! I don't know why, but good weather makes me want to travel, look pretty and spend money. I got my hair cut in anticipation of spring. Cut off 10 inches!!!! It in in a very extreme A line bob, but my hair is naturally curly, so it is kind of doing something different every day. I also got it colored. Platinum and red. :) It makes me happy!

Why bother?

2008-04-09T11:37:00.002-04:00

This is a question to all the men. Please forward it to all your men friends too!

If you are a guy with plenty of girls on your arm, girls begging to be with you, girls aplenty abound, why do you bother with the girl that isn't really in that scene? I mean, why lie to her, try to get her, blah blah blah and then just dump her cold? I just have to ask. Why do some of you guys (I don't think this is what all men do, nor am I pointing a finger) even bother? Why take the trouble? Anyone know?

hmmmmmmmmmm

2008-04-09T11:36:00.005-04:00

Is it possible to live the overexamined life?