Maura's Bliss Adventures

no one blogs about depression- it's so depressing.

2012-01-24T13:35:00.000-08:00

I'm recognizing the signs that i might need a meds adjustment. I wish I could just not be on meds, but after life-long battles with depression and anxiety, after Fia was born the PPD put me over the edge and I needed to get on them. Now i don't know if it is the chicken or the egg - is my brain genuinely wonky or am i so dependent on the meds that my brain chemistry has changed? I don't talk about it incessantly, but it is interesting, and I'm a fan of Cognitive approaches, believing that while remedies can be chemical, an over-stimulated and un-fulfilling world may be what is causing a good chunk of the misery. So much candy, toys and fluff-- hell, it is depressing. And I hate my job which doesn't help. I also have compulsive behaviors- pretty, huh?- from spending to food, and that's flared up since i've come back to work and faced some degrading and mean behavior. Blah. I think i could cope generally with all this, but lately and especially today I have been feeling euphoric and then quite hopeless. Maybe it's the day. Doing anything medical is a pain in the ass because i have to make an appointment with the resident who has probably left, and then ask her to diagnose me for something mental when she's a generalist. She might then ask me to see a psychologist that i can't afford and i was in a loop last year that included a psychiatrist who thought i was the perfect example of a suicide candidate. Gee. I then became too busy to deal with it, and chose to withdraw a bit from "all that" but had to pay bills. Mental health stuff is expensive, and so is physical- even for those insured. So, no. I'm going to try to write it out, use DBT techniques and just consider a meds adjustment. And hope it subsides.
Last night I got really bummed thinking about what assholes people are. There was a Mister Rogers themed ad on PBS and he mentioned how much we should love children and let them know they're loved. I do. I tell Fia all the time and I hug her and try and try but she's going to grow up into the same world I live in full of assholes. My love won't mean much when she's alone and dealing with the attention hogs, the elitists, the sarcastic judges, the mean people. From bullies to bosses, she's going to have to wear love like teflon and that's not why it exists. Humanity has succumbed to evil. We can feed everyone and don't. We can cure people and don't. We can love people and don't. My beautiful child will be thrown to the wolves, essentially, and that makes me sad.
So today i'm dealing with that, and my nerves and feeling like i just don't belong. I have wasted so much of my life and I feel like i'm running and chasing up to people, to illusions of happiness and want.. like chasing a bus to paradise and it doesn't stop for me. I'm unhealthy, insecure, and wasting time and talent in exchange for this chase. But since it is familiar and routine, I keep doing it. I yearn for the medicating effects of salt and sugar; i take on too many tasks and roles in order to beg for love and appreciation and the golden arch of acceptance, bending too far and dropping everything when i feel i can't compete, win, or sustain. I know what i do and do it anyway. I feel trapped, whiny, strange, unwelcome, fake, and the paradox of conspicuous but invisible. I have all these books i'm not reading- aspirations that have sun-faded. And i can't afford the luxury of falling apart.
I don't want it to be tragedy that kicks me in the ass. I don't want to wait on a great-awakening. I simply want to see the demon at the heart of all this, learn its face and shelve it where it belongs. NOW. For EVER. For all the running and shame and despair and aches to CEASE.
So if i am quiet or withdrawn, it is not for lack of trust or disinterest. There is always a storm or a chorus in my head and heart, and I probably can't hear you or need to make it to the next lull. I must save myself over and over like humanity for a god.

doing what needs to be done

2012-01-23T07:45:00.000-08:00

It's a grey day in the city, a Monday in January. I'm delighted to not see snow and still feeling a mischievousness glee about getting away with the mild winter. This coming Sunday I celebrate the birth of my daughter and have been reflecting the way I do on it with guilt and worry. She is a beautiful child, a shining light in the world. I went through so much turmoil after she was born - feeling abandoned, terrified, depressed, suicidal, and then shame for not fulfilling the romantic notions of motherhood or the granola expectations of what a proper one is. I am still not confident, but it got better. And each year i reflect a little less and let go of more bitterness and focus on the challenging gift and responsibility we have to raise a capable and caring child. I honestly never thought i'd be a mom, but here I am and i enjoy it more than you'd think. I focus less on me and my breast-beating and more on her and her consciousness, experience. She understands the world more and more and is making connections.

This morning she awoke with "cotton ball head". She inherited my hair, and it not just tangles but the fine strands ball up in what is also known as a "rat's nest". The girl is volcanic about some issues, so most of the time we've used a mild soft brush that doesn't go to the scalp. But these wads laugh at the brush, the spray-on conditioner, the 2-in-1 shampoo, and just weave tighter fried knots like a careless hipster's dreds. She is a gorgeous girl, and this is a challenge. She also went to class this morning (pre-breakfast cattle call) and some child named "Bear" (not sure if that is his christened name) hit her for no reason. I didn't see it. I heard the teacher yell his name, and walked by again to see her anguished face and comfort from her frenemy in her class. I let the professionals handle it, and will check her thoroughly this evening and ask her about this child. But what also is revealed to me is the multiple ways that parenthood has changed. I don't have to change diapers anymore (thank god)- i don't have to mix formula, count hours, fret about her not walking, wonder if she's going to eat a lego... but now it is wondering if she's learning how to be bullied, developing the right amount of self-esteem, understanding she can trust us, growing into a confident and loving person.

Childhood gets less fun the more you grow into it. People expect you to play by rules once you learn them, and the chemistry of growing, learning, and socializing is beautiful and painful. My job is to still hold her hand, and create a home; to teach and love, and surrender my ego a little more. Who the fuck cares about the past- here she is and she needs me to play and love and completely surrender my heart, time, attention, as well. She's not helpless and completely dependent anymore, but needs me still that 110%. I know i'm going to hurt and not know who i am when she needs me less, if ever. But hey, when have i ever known the future? Nothing to flinch at.

Now I plan a party at Billy Bob's. Oy. All she wants is a 'blue cake' so at least i'm not trying to find expensive shoes or anything. I am no good with parties. I'm not popular or even very social. I'm awkward, shy, disorganized and not wealthy. It's not about me though- so, we buy blue plates, send out invites and see what happens. Something tells me she'll be delighted no matter what because she is awesome. You're welcome, world.

Ain't I a writer?

2012-01-18T08:20:00.000-08:00

Dig, if you will, the picture*.... a girl who is full of conditions.. cute but chubby, funny but shy, this but that, and seeing the sun but obscured by clouds**. You'll notice i'm quoting already; it worked for T.S. Eliot. Anyway, this kid found shelter in words and the mixture of taking the odd girl out and turning her into something positive along with unpolished talent created a writer-to-be. After my dad died when I was 10 I fancied myself a poet and focused on the writer persona to get me through the broken or incomplete feelings. I've always been sensitive and out of step, anonymous but somehow marked. So the bad poetry and unfinished stories started around then (though i found a hilariously maudlin card i wrote for my mom when i was 5) and continued through the elementary years. I was encouraged by the teachers who were well meaning but frustrated by how little discipline I have/had. I don't edit myself because I'm lazy. I am a slow reader so I rely on assumptions from bright perceptions. I like to think that I personally made my 7th grade English teacher go grey and can remember her holding me in her gaze saying i could be a "writer" - with all the gravity of Maya Angelo in her voice - if I would apply myself (or somesuch- i lost interest after "writer"). But there were teacher/cheerleaders along the way and I just adopted that persona. I was not only the first Goth at West Junior High but *the* writer of my class. The writer who never wrote much more than bad poetry and listened to the Cure.

In high school I had more teachers who tried to encourage me but no one could really extinguish the discouragement I had inside. I have an evil ninny inside. If i pick up a pen, I think of the quality i could produce and put it down. I know i'm not a wealthy sweater writer like Eggers; using the patented "Appalachian" voice feels inauthentic; i can't stand fan-fic. So what is my voice if it can't be sold? I am a coward, but it is for the integrity of literature. I am quiet to prevent discord and noise. You're welcome.

When I meditate, I give gratitude and reflect on my life, and as a gift sometimes a message comes to me. Most recently it said "let your soul speak". For all my gifts I am grateful, but I am doing a disservice in silence. I keep wisdom to myself even though I have said perfect things and know I have power in my ability to conjure and steer language. Silence is misused when it holds back something beautiful or meaningful. Instead of collecting masks, I let them fall and see a writer. But once the word is articulated, I am vulnerable. I know Writers (with a capital W) will exclude and ignore me. People fighting for my face as a mask will try to trivialize my talents and dismiss me. The genre-driven culture won't know what box or shelf to place me. And then my learning curve of unskilled decades is daunting. And the market. And the bitter, evil and deceptive inner voices that keep me locked away. So now I pray for focus. With my tattered and absent beliefs I desperately pray for clarity and an unobstructed portal for my soul to sing.

It is not all I have, but it is the purest independent evidence I have. After the dust settles, the isolation and peace is found, I have to figure out what stories I want to tell and love it them like children. Quiet the voices of spite and hurt and be. Legacy is not under my control; but expression is both my vocation and birthright. Even if the words disappear once uttered, at least I might be able to die thinking I did something.

* Prince "When Doves Cry"
** Name of a David Gilmour album

Take that, Chick-Fil-A!

2011-07-12T18:36:00.000-07:00

Ever since i was smitten by Chick-Fil-A's nuggets, I've been irked by their pious business hours (no Sundays!) and when the Tea Baggers started their misguided outrage tours our local franchise offered some kind of discount for supporting it. Then, there were connections with bigoted and anti-gay religious groups and finally supporting the ridiculous straight marriage amendment drives. Hey, I remember sipping Zimas at Stonewall talking about how evil Dominos pizza and Wendy's were because they "supported Pat Robertson" but boycotting them was easy because i didn't like their food. But with Chick-Fil-A, i could eat the nuggets every blessed day and their fries, my god. That and the overly-polite squeaky friendly staff in an industry of "take your shit and go" made it hard to go with my self-righteous conscience.

Then someone whispered about the pickle juice.

I bought 3 large "organic, grass fed" chicken breasts of birds who had committed suicide at the Perdue Plant (sad how often that happens) and it came to $5.00 i think. That, with the juice, the flour, spices, would all come to maybe $10 generously, which is equal or less than the cost of 3 orders from the restaurant. Last evening I cubed the meat and put it in an 8x8 glass baking dish covered in Vlasic little gerkin pickle juice (it is strong on garlic, so beware). Covered and let sit 24 hours.

Now the fun! You'll need: A large mixing bowl, a high-side skillet, corn oil (can try peanut), 1tb salted butter, 1-2c Kentucky Kernel (or a seasoned flour mix), pinches of garlic powder, onion powder, Lowrey's Seasoning Salt, paprika, and Old Bay, extra flour on hand.

Strain chicken and let drain well (i let it sit in strainer while prepping the rest). Mix all the dry ingredients together and eyeball to see if there is enough to cover the nuggets. add flour as needed. Mix very well!

Turn in chicken and cover with dry mix until it is all absorbed and dry chunks. it's okay to have an excess of mix.

Let sit while you put oil and butter in skillet and heat to high. Just cover the bottom thickly- this is not a deep fryer, ya know. Test oil with a speck of mixture and when it pops, lower heat to medium high and put chicken in slowly. Baste chicken in the skillet.with the oil and let it turn tan with the oil mixture.

When covered in oil, reduce heat to medium and cover for 10-15 minutes, stirring every few minutes to make sure all sides brown. After that time, take lid off and turn heat up slightly so it can further brown and dry. Test one nugget to see if there is any pink. Fry to desired color and consistency.

Let cool and serve with Ranch because it's West Virginia. If child likes it, you win.

And hey, big girls with stolen forks like it too! huzzah!

Bone-a-petite!

A raw revitalization

2010-07-31T17:30:00.000-07:00

Greetings- this blog has been down a while. To tell the truth, i got stuck in a rut and conceptually this ran dry, blurring the lines between a free-form blog and livejournal. I understand a distinction in my head, and didn't see the use for another outlet for a while. But now i do have some things to chronicle.

For starters, at least for the next year, my job will change from being part time instructor and department secretary to being a full time instructor and hopefully on hiatus from that other stable job while i tap on the glass and see if there are any other windows. This will mean teaching a LOT of classes which i seem to be good at, and looking into higher education opportunities within commuting distance (small range there). I don't have a clear vision of that either, but as I muddle through i'll probably chronicle a bit here.

A huge thing though is that beginning officially tomorrow, I am going to have a significant portion of my diet be "raw". Now, I do not pledge allegiance to vegetarianism- i will have fish once in a while if offered, for instance- but I calculate about 80% of my diet will be of the "raw" variety, which is fruits, veggies, nuts, and the like that undergo no preparation processes that make them lose their nutritional potential. This is significant because i have always had a very liberal palet and preferred processed foods, which is why I am heavy though healthy. But, becoming more conscious of my choices, and finding little energy left to chase my toddler, I knew something had to change and I like the idea of simply choosing fresh things and eating them.
It comes down to a diet of this:

B'fast: Fresh fruit and a muslix of oats*, flax, raw honey and almond milk
Lunch: probably a salad or slced peppers and some nuts or carefully prepared chickpea salad
Dinner: green leafy salads with nuts
Snacks: dried fruit and nuts
Vitamins: multivit, flax seed oil, omega 3 complex, B-complex, calcium, C, potassium, D3
1 cup of coffee daily, maybe tea and mostly water.

Concerns

Relapse if i have a cookie. Seriously- i'm battling a sugar addiction and i'm terrified of this. I have to take a flexible approach
Produce in the winter time. I like to be as local as possible, but the fact is that I can't be after September.
My desire to bake and make copius amounts of breads when it gets cooler. I think there are flour options, and need to find that out i guess.
Money- holy crap this choice is expensive.

Alterations

Oats. These of course are steel cut and processed, but they're very close to wholesome and i am not bothered by using them within the 20% flexibility
Natural peanut butter is also processed and roasted, but i think i can at least find organic.

My friend Donna in the department is also doing with this me and has a lot of experience with it along with a metric ton of links and book to share. Friends on LJ have also come forward with their own supportive links and resources. My great friend Gabi is cutting out sugars so I will have someone to share a support network with. And, if i ever need inspiration, I can remember how crappy i feel when i am at my worst and under the thumb of a food addiction; i can remember not being able to play with Fia because i'm too worn out from carrying my weight and clogged by sugar and dairy, and I can watch Food Inc. :)

Cheers to all. I am trying to avoid being pretentious and just very straight forward, informed, inclusive and open to discussion.

I has some bliss and I be writin' about it and shit.

Musical

2010-03-26T06:51:00.000-07:00

From Ned

The Album Project

So, I have been soliciting friends for their lists of their twenty five favorite albums. I would like to start posting these lists (or links to the lists) here with the tag of "The Album Project".

Music is a lot more personal than books or films and I am curious about what my friends (and strangers) like and what I am forgetting.

As many know, music is very much a part of my life. I credit it for saving my life, actually, and for inspiring my identity. I tend to forget things, but this is the best list i can think of at present. #1 never changes.

My list:

Echo and the Bunnymen "Ocean Rain"
Portishead "Live at Roseland"
White Stripes "White Blood Cells" *thanks ned :)
Cure "Pornography"
Dead Can Dance "Toward the Within"
Radiohead "Ok Computer"
Siouxsie "Peepshow"
Nine inch Nails "With Teeth"
White Stripes "Elephant"
Gnarles Barkley "St. Elsewhere"
Afghan Whigs "Gentlemen"
Radiohead "Amnesiac"
Queens of Fado
Nine inch Nails "The Fragile"
Siouxsie "Haeyna"
Creatures "Boomerang"
Heavenly Voices Comp Vol 5
Faith and the Muse "Branwen"
Changelings "The Changelings"
Siouxsie "Through the Looking Glass"
Cure "Disintegration"
Cure "Bloodflowers/The Top"
Dead Can Dance "The Serpents Egg"
Hall and Oates greatest hits
tba

Race to the Finish

2009-12-15T14:52:00.000-08:00

Grrr Hellga icon.

I don't know what truck hit me- didn't get the tags- but in the middle of the night/morning on Sat/Sun I got very ill and was pretty much unconscious Sunday. I thought i had the flu for a while, but i was recovered about 70% Monday and that doesn't happen with the flu. And so far *knock wood* J nor Fia have gotten exactly what I have. J's been unwell for other reasons and Fia is getting a molar and doesn't want to nap no' mo'. She was a PITA this weekend because of that, but has gone back to sleeping and has been sweet this week. Meanwhile, I came in to work yesterday but had to leave b/c i was feeling weak and couldn't shake the symptoms and then last evening a cold came upon me to complicate things. Today I have no voice. And the people rejoiced. I'm only here really to sort out a project and wait until bloody 6:30 to give my bloody final to that bloody class. I'll miss like 2 of those bastards out of 32. I am hoping for stupid questions and late, plagiarized material and i don't have to say a word because i have no voice.

Lesson learned: next semester, I have brought on way too much as usual, but will simplify it by issuing fewer papers, more exams, and more learning outcomes measurements. I felt like i was shooting into the dark regularly, and the poor results on the exams proved that unless i offer more of an incentive but a grade, they won't read nor try to comprehend, or just not question what they don't understand. I have 2 sections of intro (one online) for one college and then my fun class, Soc of Appalachia, here. I'm going to work the hell out of them - muahaha. It has a field work component that includes going to the ASA meeting in March and i don't know how i am going to manage that yet. It's at a state park and during my birthday so hopefully the family can set up in a cottage and i'll attend a few sessions but mostly relax. I'm pushing all planning until after grades are in this week.

The holidays are indeed coming and i'm finished with my cub and hub and neice and nephew. Now the gazillion others after payday. Stupid holiday depression keeps slapping over me in waves. During the weekend's illness I wasn't able to take my crazy pills so it was a little worse yesterday. It's all unexplainable- i mostly miss the past, even if i'm very happy now. I ache for forgotten children, and hurt children, and unloved.. it's just like i force myself to think about them and absorb their misery. Meanwhile there's cheerful Fia giggling and having a ball. Oh, but she can be grouchy- especially in the morning, when i am glared at with mature and sophisticated expressions a 10 month old shouldn't even know. lol. And she can kind of say "cat" and kind of stand, and kind of give her own bottle. If she feels like it. I bought her a beautiful dress for the holidays and a thick coat finally.

Let's see- haven't been political much have I, lately. Well, it's a sad time for liberals and progressives. I can say with a clean record that I was not coming into the Obama era with rose-colored glasses on, but I'm disappointed by the compromises in the health care reform, his awful perverse statement at the Nobel acceptance, and recent failures for marriage equality. I know if sounds cliche, but i'm really afraid of what the world will be for Fia- some huge challenges ahead. I want her to know she's loved, and valuable, and brilliant, and her life has meaning- for her esteem and to weather the terrible forces out there that market to our weaknesses and want to tear us down. I want her to be free to love anyone, achieve anything, and be who she wants to be in this short life. So often I feel stuck and it's love that pulls me through. I have a wonderful husband, supportive family though distant, and fantastic friends whose authenticity and richness of personality i'm blessed to have found.

Let me stress the J part. Saturday was our anniversary, as I wrote. Well, we both fell ill. He got better and i got worse and he took care of me and let me sleep while attending to a fussy tot that he adores. I'm so humbled by that. I usually live like I don't have a backup because in most cases I don't. I didn't have a proper maternity leave because no one could or would do my job- i take my responsibilities seriously. But i had a backup when i needed it and i'm so happy about that. It's weird what stands out.

Anyway- still need to shop, need to figure out holiday cards, pray for good weather, and start on syllabi, but in between I just want to listen to the music in nature and feel the calm energy of life, smiling. I am genuinely happy.

new notebooks

2009-09-01T18:48:00.000-07:00

Teaching for me isn't necessarily a 'bliss'. I see myself, in my adjunct role, as more of a mercenary. I have the knowledge and ability to communicate and will do that for hire. It doesn't pay much, but it does add nicely to my embarrassing salary. This semester i'm teaching Introduction to Sociology, which is the basics, as you can imagine. History of, concepts, institutions, and research methods. Most of this I can do in my sleep but i try to keep it interesting and get people excited about it as I was when I had intro- enough to become a major and go on to grad school for it. Mostly the happy feelings come from this time of year, though. A wheel has no beginning or end, but can have an entrance point, much like the start of school.

I think of Dead Poets Society, one of my favorite movies (hey, i'm a depressive) and remember how the cinematography of New England autumn ignited a nostalgic affection for those beginnings, and helped frame the coming years of high school and college for possibilities. This year, i'll be organized, use my planner, etc. I'll take lofty classes with thick literature books and find a community to belong to. This is my year! - every year, until the quick quarter turn dumps me into winter malaise. I, along with most folks on the planet, have "seasonal affective disorder" and this is a wonderful series of weeks until the smell of apple butter is bittersweet and days are shorter.

Listening for Bliss

2009-08-14T12:06:00.000-07:00

You can't force life to happen- it forces you to react. I'm not trying to be deep or issue Dharma (or Greg) but to reflect a bit on the wise way I've lived, which i had mistaken for waste. I drifted through eras like Forrest Gump and I feel, as we all do, that mine has been the strangest adventure. But, I never planned on getting married- i wasn't one of those girls who planned out her wedding in pink ink on notebook paper. I really never thought i'd have a daughter, and I kinda just jumped from one lilly-pad to the other for pragmatic reasons, not really considering the long view. As a result, I can regret not constructing my life for more or loftier opportunities, but I didn't make many illusions. As deflated as I can become by failed expectations, I didn't set myself up for a joke- rather, I let life happen and am pretty happy for that. I made tons and tons of mistakes but owned up to them, learned from them and grew out of them. I took steps when i felt the nudge of being ready instead of forcing someone else's rules on me, and it looks like carefully crafted evolution.

Sometimes I'll really want something, and feel the anxiety of declaring how much I want it as if i think being more vocal or wishing really hard will make it so, and those are usually the times I don't get it. Recently there was a sweet job opportunity for more money (but possibly more stress and problems) and i fretted and wished and muttered acts of contrition in order for the gods to gimme the job. Alas, it wasn't meant to be and I had to deal with that, eventhough rejection is one of the worst things I experience. I experience it way too often because I take way too many risks and gamble. Funny that you'd never find me gambling money and i loathe betting, but I have little neurotic and mischievious games I play that really resemble it. Anyway, I tried to command the forces of nature, again, and found the cliche but oft' unheeded line best sung by Love n Rockets: you cannot go against nature, because when you do; to go against nature is part of nature too. So bloody stop and smell the roses, be grateful, be curious, listen, love, and learn.

Why is this so hard? Because we're afraid, I think, and distracted. When music is a commodity, we're lost souls.

But there's the sun...

Yep

2009-07-16T07:05:00.000-07:00

Carry on!

From fandom

What's all this then?

2009-07-15T06:15:00.000-07:00

I admit that my life is good right now and that gives me the immense privilege of watching others and learning and lending myself without a deficit. The great thing about learning is that the lessons don't have to be missing pieces - they can be just new and enriching reinforcements to our own knowledge- emotional, intellectual, or otherwise.

Last Sunday I took the tot and headed off to the UU in Charleston for a program on eating well and local. Much different than the homilies of my childhood, this church shares seemingly secular topics and connects them with our spiritual, pan-religious paths. It was enlightening, but not so much as what happened afterward. I was lucky enough to share the experience with a great friend Tulip (not her name- aliases will have flower names). Tulip and I connect on a weird familiar level that I hold up to ancient scattered tribes. But anyway, she was hurting and wounded by the weapons of dishonesty and betrayal. Not broken, but in need of repair. After the service we decided to go out for a bite at a place I like to visit in the big city.

Sophia was bringing drama of her own, and I didn't realize until a day later that it might have been because she was ill. She's at the point where she's teething, she needs naps desperately or is ballistic, and is also in a daycare crawling with germs. I was embarrassed because she wouldn't relax and for some reason it was triggering me into a panic to have a child be so inconsolable in public- not sure why. But Tulip was very kind and patient and even though burdened with her world under attack, she helped me remain calm and was much more maternal than I. But this wasn't the lesson. She greeted some folks at the next table and gave the impression that it was a friend she'd known casually and was being polite. Later I learned that the folks she hailed were involved the mess that was hurting her- one directly involved. Now, I'm pretty much an outsider to all of this- I am Tulip's friend and have her back, but I cannot judge anyone else, just the behaviors I am made privvy to. But given the gravity of the situation, I am in complete awe of Tulip's class and compassion.

The situation is a complete mess; a lot of people got hurt, and we are all fallible creatures who deserve redemption. But when you have a dagger in your back, touching your heart, you are not likely to remember your connection to humanity, and she did. I'm just baffled by that as a person who is led too often by impulse and an open mouth, ready to fire venom at the smallest of injuries. It was an incredible moment to absorb and learn from, when I thought I was there to just learn at church and comfort a friend with wit and sympathy. I normally consider nature to be my classroom, and this surprised me. I need to be more open to growth and practice the grace I witnessed.

Well done, Tulip!

Now someone remind me that I should not have had eggs on very hot days. That Blue Grass Huevo made me ill.

Your turn, O mighty Reader

2009-07-09T06:34:00.000-07:00

Salvete Lectori!

This blog is different from the Live Journal that i've kept for bloody ever because it contains more in-depth and hopefully more carefully constructed thoughts about life experiences, attitudes, and self-analysis. I have noticed that folks do read but not comment for whatever reason. There isn't an obligation, though it is suggested with the 'comment option' and too often we use volume of comments as a statement of quality and readership.

I thought I'd turn the mic over to you though- the reader, the traveler, the voyeur. Completely stealing the idea from Heidi at Daisybones:

1) If you are already actually on this website, AWESOME, and if you are reading this is in a feedreader, click on this entry's title and come on over. We'll wait, because you're cool.

2) Answer the following three questions in the comments section:
a) What is your website url?
b) Where are you from in real life?
c) What Draws you here?
d) What is something I should see?

I'll leave you with five things that make me happy:

sitting on the couch reading with Josh and a blissfully sleeping cub
fresh dill from the garden
sunshine on my forehead
singing perfect harmonies with songs, adding complexity
making Sophia laugh

And discovering my inner fangirl... see, I've developed the attitude that fandom is silly and you'd rather should want the artist to take you seriously and as a peer rather than a peasant. But that's because I take everything way to damned seriously. Come on- eat the eye candy.

Getting it

2009-07-07T11:12:00.000-07:00

I don't know a blessed thing about programming languages. When I was in high school, 1990-92, computer skills were still segregated into vocational/technical education and devalued by those of us who were so goddamned intellectual that we made our brains ache. I did everything I felt I was supposed to do to take the world by storm as a writer- i wrote, i was in a band, i took Latin and simply adored poetry. I celebrated my depression and exploited the fact that i liked darker-themed music and tones. Computers were cute and all, but the Humanities- *swoon, flail*. And now i'm a secretary waving my stupid social science degrees around to the unimpressed masses. But, I kick ass at Jeopardy with my very attractive husband.

But both deal in logic and the application of layers for interpretation. If this, then this, but not if that or that, with the conditions of a,b, and c. Socrates and the soft-spoken guy hunched over the keyboard both go through mazes or set them down for others to discover something. The end product is the establishment of a destination.

Why am I rambling? Hell, I don't know. When we think of ourselves in snapshots, I think of two things- either a girl inside of some dwelling (school, house, etc) looking outside at a gorgeous day with people frolicking; or, I think of myself as the seeker- a woman in a cloak with a staff and lantern, looking for something. Both are solitary creatures, to be sure, and these may be faces of my true self I feel so alienated from as I try so desperately to join a clan. Just yesterday I posed the question of why I feel so excluded from everything, and someone had courage to, with tact, tell me what I've suspected all along- i'm hideously insecure and that's unappealing. In my attempts to make friends or find love, I've compromised myself to the point of losing identity in exchange for acceptance. I'm fluent in so many things to impress others that I don't really know what I sincerely enjoy and what I'm adopting as part of the persona I wish to create. For all of my appreciation for authenticity, I seem to lack it, and can't deny that anymore if I want to be someone worthy of Sophia's respect and genuine friendship from people I admire. (win friends and influence people, cha cha)

So I went back and did something I never do- i read my own blog, particularly this entry. And I noticed a pattern emerging- I've trained myself to hush genuine interests out of past rejection, hurt, or conspicuous participation. I've never been the cool girl but I've always wanted approval from everyone. Bloody everyone. Maura, friend to all. But it doesn't work that way- we are guided to people because of interests and who we are, who they are, and not because they're harmless and benign. It's like trying to become water to appease all who love their wine and soda- how can that make sense.

I see myself as computer language- like that song? That song would be unaccepted by group A and thus brand you unattractive to group A, should they ever be taking applications for membership. So, I'll not like the song, and maybe mock the song- hey, look how cool I am, group A! Group A sees someone waving, flailing, and nervously trying to be like them. Group A goes off to a new, undisclosed location.

This blog is called Follow My Bliss and I don't have much inkling of what my bliss is. I have images- snapshots, all for show and how great life is with magical adjustments. Living out loud but not deliberately.

Christ, I'm 35 and still trapped in the legacy of high school. I need a retreat and exercises to remember who I am and see if I can ever be happy with that. It drives me bloody insane to be by myself for extended periods and I never follow through with projects and ideas on my own steam- rather, am moved by others. A pisces pushed by the currents. I cannot swim, and it seems that's ironic. How clever. How neurotic.

Me, otherness, humor and a pussy.

2009-07-02T08:03:00.001-07:00

..it's not a bad word, guys.

I found out Mollie Sugden died yesterday and two thoughts came to me: first, I didn't know she was still alive, and second, that is probably more important to me personally than Michael Jackson. Now, that might come off as a whiff of pretentiousness, but it's honest and I don't belittle the impact of MJ on people's personal lives. Everyone has their own narrative, and Mrs. Slocombe had a place in mine.

The reason I thought she was already deceased is because Wendy Richards died rather young in comparison (age 66) and I just assumed the graying Mrs. Slocombe had passed before. I think of them in terms of their character on "Are You Being Served" because as an American kid, I didn't know much more about their celebrity or personal lives (not that that matters) unless it came through their work as actors. I can remember being as young as 11, waking up on Saturday morning, grabbing Rice crispies and watching the britcoms on PBS. For some reason, the image of me straddling the floor furnace and letting it blow up my gown until it began to burn and then racing to the recliner to feel the warmth on a chilly winter morning comes to mind when i think of AYBS in the background. I pretended to be Miss Brahms (who had an ironic name, since Brahms was known for lullabies and her voice was a cockney cackle) and thought it would be fun to work in retail with such colorful people. At the time it didn't seem odd to me that most kids were watching cartoons while I was laughing at sexual double-entendres, and it doesn't strike me odd now, really. I was always a weird kid.

...and not in a "cool" way. I don't want to dwell too much on the past because I like where I am now, but I was a bit depressive, and certain elements of my life made me seek out "otherness" and be different. I'd reject the norms and be unique and then huff and feel isolated because i didn't fit in- a theme in my life. When i began to develop my personality, one of my deliberate severances was kidsplay. I liked being around adults more, and adult things like the dry humor of Britcoms rather than, say, He-man. Sure, this means that I might have missed out or had an incomplete development (i dispute that) but I don't regret tuning into To the Manor Born (my favorite) or Yes, Minister, or AYBS. Zaniness, silliness, class- questioning, crass manners, and melodramatic endings- those appealed to me and my sense of humor, wonder, and escape. The British Ilse programming (brought to you by Parkersburg Distributing Company, distributing Bass Ales and fine Ales to northern and central West Virginia!) was exotic to me, as amusing as that might sound. I was from a small, boring, college town in the third world of Appalachia, so my lifelines were Seventeen Magazine, MTV and Britcoms which were filmed at least a decade before.

I carried with me the appreciation for the comedy genre and eventually all things British and continue to tune into Fresh Fields, As Time Goes By, The Vicar of Dibly, and yes, AYBS is still on. It opened up the world of Monty Python for me, and I notoriously like the British Office more than the American. Though now i know it's not "exotic" and everyplace is a Huntington in its own way, I appreciate Britcoms and their players for being friends to me when i needed them- for entertaining me when i was depressed, for being buffoons when I took life too seriously, and for being a bright spot in my week. I never owned Thriller but I do swear that my hair will never be gray in homage to Mrs. Slocombe.

It's closing time, my dear. I know your pussy misses you.

I like to Singa

2009-06-17T10:44:00.000-07:00

I get lost in the ether a lot. Sometimes it is charming, and sometimes it feels like a clinical attention deficit issue, but I am prone to day dreaming (twas always thus) and even framing my reality to fiction, going beyond a sociological analysis of dramaturgy and more into paranoia and self-centered plot-creation. I do steer myself back to reality in time, usually, and to keep from disappearing entirely into some other world, I remind myself of who I am.

I decided to write some children's stories for Sophia and whoever else wants to read. They're based on her alter-ego, Bonita Wigglesworth (credit J for the name!) and basically about a girl who is happy to be herself and talks about what she likes or doesn't like. In the future, she'll have adventures and moral dilemmas as well. The first one is basically her asserting who she is as she comes into a sense of self. I realize now how fragile that can be, and this exercise is beneficial to me too. No question stumps me more than 'what do you want to do?'. I never know. I sometimes can't even remember what i like to do. In terms of the blog title, i too easily stray from my blissful path due to distraction (one being the internet, home of hollow attention).

If I would just sit down and meditate, this process would be so much easier. But no, I forget, I'm distracted, and I think "am i doing this right?". Sigh, ah, Maura...

So, I remembered one thing I used to like doing, and it's a little strange. We had this book press when I was a kid. It weighed a ton, and there was one like it in Gone with the Wind i recall..

Not sure where it came from but it was left behind in a move because it weighed so much. I remember so many details about it though. The feel of its contour and the texture of the wheel and base. I would have any excuse to use it, or just spin it up and down, up and down. I seem to remember as a tiny tot also using the wheel as a car steering wheel and pretend i'm driving. I pressed flowers in it once incorrectly and they made a mess. I even remember cleaning it with either windex or pledge, a high honor from me! I tripped over it probably a hundred times (clumsy kid). But I loved it like a plushie toy, and am still not sure why. You never know what produces fun for a child.

And then I realized something else that had drifted away and yet was with me the entire time. I like to sing. I am also reasonably good at it- as much as an untrained mezzo-soprano can be. I even received a music scholarship (which i declined because i didn't want to major in it- dumb!). I was in show choir (where i didn't belong) and chamber choir (the chubby girl chorus) in high school, and did have a band... but was denied in the Uni chamber choir because I couldn't sight-read choral music. I do it all the time, alone mostly, and with J, and will take the harmony in songs and impress him a little. What is remarkable is that I think I should paint and then don't do it because i think it's crap and i'm not trained, and i think of discouraging things for most creative endeavors, but here I am making up melodies all the time and singing because i enjoy it but it flows so naturally I don't recognize it. But I do like to sing. And maybe I should do it more. Sophia likes my voice, too, and she "sings" back sometimes.. maybe this will be her bliss too?

More Owl Jolson here

Potential

2009-06-08T17:31:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I'll feel like writing and just let a word surface. Tonight it was "potential" and really that represents the existential conversation with myself today. Hey, it gets lonely during summer term. I spoke with a therapist once about the harsh demands on myself and yet the concessions I give that enable me to underachieve. She suggested I used "should" too much and she was probably right- I beat myself up and am harsh. But I never feel that i'm living up to my potential. And, what is that, anyway.

We are but dust, or clay, and not equal, yet all have potential. I believe it is fundamental to give equal opportunities and less power to privilege in the world- remove the commodification of success and happiness, which would mean disowning it and elevating a more communal style of society. But we all have different talents, different drives, different journeys. Would the concept of potential label the quality of our choices to refine and wield these or the amount of laurels we hold when and if we arrive at some sort of satisfactory space? She was a witty writer, and made some laugh, some examine themselves, but she never sold a tome. She was a brilliant and best-selling author/scholar but she never felt she could articulate the truths that haunted her. Which is an underachiever, and to whom- others or themself?

Instead of creating marketable products, I ponder and aimlessly philosophize, unskilled and undisciplined like some B-grade student at a public university. Because that's what I was. Am I realizing the full potential of that archetype in doing so? Where was that declaration or mission statement? Why didn't I or don't I try harder? I can't help but wonder if I sell myself short or if this is what I'm destined to become.

And yet, this is just where I am. I need to scan the landscape, ask, breathe, and try. The judgment of how well we have used our time comes at the end, and the dissection of our accomplishments, the lessons of our triumphs and failures, are all retrospection. I do believe this 'potential' nonsense should be replaced with an image representing the limitless sky.

So there.

It's so your thing

2009-06-04T07:01:00.000-07:00

I am quick to reject things. There is a positive correlation between the level of hype something receives, or the enthusiasm of friends who discover it, and my urge to criticize and reject it. It's not that i think i'm "too cool" or anything, but I'm just highly suspicious and look for the man behind the curtain. Perhaps because too often my own expectations are shot down, I want others to join me or to avoid disappointment, or I just want to shame the mechanisms behind hype. Not sure. But throughout my life, I've heard that something would totally be interesting to me, and I run from it, sometimes to re-discover it a decade later, when the glitter is off and find that to be true.

Take Dead Can Dance. I was introduced to them when I socialized with a gamer-crowd here in H-town. I was in a "loner" phase, for some reason either estranged or isolated from my circle of friends and was seeking another crowd, or at least some company. I liked the idea of LARPing, but didn't really care for the structure. I like free play and not within rigid rules, as gaming tends to be. But I found some folks who, like me, enjoyed the macabre and in the pre-Hot Topic world, it was neat to find folks willing to incorporate romanticism in their tastes and identity. They weren't unfriendly, but I didn't fit in. In fact, I felt excluded when I didn't really bond with anyone and was never invited into their merriment. I did want to be a part of the crowd, but it was obvious that I wouldn't be. So, I picked apart certain things out of bitterness- Tori Amos (who I genuinely don't like), Sandman comics, and Dead Can Dance were among them. Hey, if they didn't want to adore me, I'd just reveal how stupid they are. I was above and beyond that stuff anyway- only I understood me, etc etc.

When the smoke cleared, however, and the gamers either graduated from college, went corporate or converted to Islam, I, still my own island of invisibility and social melancholy, decided to give some of these things a try and discovered that Neil Gaiman was indeed a genius and that structured play challenged creativity rather than completely suppressed it. By this time, no one was impressed by my choices or interests, which was fine since I was pretty used to solitary interests (despite the compulsive need to want to establish new groups, failing each time, another topic for another day.) Anyway, somewhat later I heard a Dead Can Dance song and realized that I had been missing out on music that I understood- it communicated to me, stirred me, inspired me and opened up doors within me. My fascination with the ancient, the etherial and the timeless was in harmony with the celtic and world melodies.. I was missing out, and thankful I opened myself to that music.

For all my appreciation of Buddhism, I use it mostly to remind me of balance and find that it contradicts who I typically am. I allow myself to be preoccupied by clutter- for instance, wasting hours on the internet waiting for attention or useless information- and I close myself off from people, experiences, and opportunities. Perhaps it was some discouragement from youth or a rejection that caused my hard wiring to from then on to shut windows and entrances- to post a troll at the bridge or a speak-easy doorman to ask for pass words. I shut people out as much as I believe they do me, and that is not right or justice, but bitterness and only hurting myself and my own journey. Rejecting Joss Whedon productions, though folks say 'oh, Maura, it would be right up your alley' is my way of taking my toys and leaving for perceived wounds from a crowd that didn't embrace me. How immature and sad upon analysis. I can be thankful for now and hope that I can be more receptive, but I do regret the bitterness and self-isolation.

I have never seen Buffy or Angel- partly because I don't have cable (nor want it, save VH1 Classics) but also because I attributed that show to those people who didn't want me and who laughingly thought they were better than I was. There is a root there somewhere- either an arrogance that anyone who doesn't immediately love me is a fool, or confirmation that there is something strange and unreasonably misfit about me. The Waterhouse vibe, SCA, RenFaires, Fae- all are a part of what those people do and celebrate but exclude me, so I appreciate and pine from the outside, secretly hoping for invitation but seeing the mailbox bare, reject and rationalize that they're all silly people, silly things, etc. But yet, what am I engaging in that gives me bliss? Nothing, if not very little.

Thank god for music, and the power of now.

My good friend G, with whom I feel a strange kindred, invited me to a UU picnic a few weekends back and it was a fantastic experience. It requires travel, but I felt that the people were warm and excepting, open-minded and agreed with my own philosophies of social justice and united spirituality. As is typical in my life, belonging is just out of reach, but I find myself manic to try and join in, yet afraid of feeling excluded again. A good visual for these expeditions is a Charlie Brown and the football- he keeps running and kicking, and Lucy keeps snatching it away. He's a fool, and it's quite profound. But that poetic, epic, perfect kick on a crisp Autumn day is somehow worth the foolish attempt.

I want to stop rejecting, to open my heart and mind, but I still acknowledge that I want compensation and some guarantee that I won't be hurt. I know intellectually that I need to stifle the latter to accomplish the first, but to commit and demonstrate takes time and a lag- like the decade between knowing of the music and finally living the music. It is the journey and not the destination. And even if I never find my tribe, nearly each traveler and passenger on the way has a lesson to share or something to enrich my life. Beyond that is a game of attachment that leads to misery.

Queen Cnute

2009-05-29T07:23:00.000-07:00

And David points out that the King's intentions had been misinterpreted when taught to me. Great. I could rewrite this, but i don't feel like it. - Ed.

The history of the British Isles is rich with historical record and fantastic legends. There most likely was a "King Arthur" but probably not a Camelot; there was certainly a King Cnute, but we'll never know if he actually thought he was powerful enough to command the seas. The latter is one of my favorite legends and I didn't really analyze why, but the more I contemplate, the more I see the significance of the tale. It's referenced in one of my favorite music videos too, I believe: Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence". But, i might be reading too much into the video, as I often do...

Anyway, he wanted to demonstrate his power by controling nature, and it's a universal folly I think humans have. Just because we have reason, we become arrogant enough to think we're the most superior of beings, in a linear heirarchy where reason is a qualifying factor for greatness. And yet, time is there laughing at us, as is space (despite the noble efforts of physics). We're not Q's nor Timelords, and while charlatans will claim to bend metal with their mind, we have limits, and if we learn to live within the limits rather than manipulate them, we can seek happiness. Otherwise, there is always a nagging blemish to nature.

I see myself doing this with time. I don't want some folks in my life to age, but sometimes want Sophia to be a toddler. I'm impatient and regretful just as I am vain and resist aging myself. What I fail to accept in all of this is the power of "now", just as the King fails to recognize the power of being with the ocean, rather than commanding it. Another favorite song of mine is "Riders on the Storm" in the Louis Aragon approach (rather than the hitchiker-killer),

Into this house were born
Into this world were thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan

and another is "The Passenger" as recorded by Siouxsie and the Banshees and interpreted by moi.

And everything was made for you and me
All of it was made for you and me
cause it just belongs to you and me
So lets take a ride and see whats mine

Both communicate both the solitary state of our existence, but also the companionship and belonging as beings in a show not of our creation. We are participants. There is also a lesson to learn here about attachments, a pillar of learning Buddhist philosophy and also something to conquer when striving for a better life (for me at least). We don't control time and can only control circumstances within our grasp, but detaching frees us to find which is which and what efforts are best spent, what time and energy.

And now, I, Queen Cnute, will go listen to Pink Floyd's "Time" and gaze at Salvador Dali's "The Persistence of Time" and remind myself that these aren't new ideas, just new realizations.

Outside

2009-05-26T06:47:00.000-07:00

I remember being somewhat embarrassed to admit among my peers that I liked to sleep at night and liked the sun in the day. How radical, i know, but my square peg fit slightly in the hole of those who thrived on insomnia and stimulants, and sang odes to the rain, connecting both with the romantic mysticism of shades. And true, I like cellos, I like horrors and great riddles beyond the physical, but I adore the morning, and I am a sunflower.

I follow the Celtic wheel of the year with two seasons- dark and light, retreat and celebration. While with "seasonal depression disorder" late fall through winter makes me melancholy, I find value in the forced time away from frolic. I'll admit some do frolic in the cold and snows, but they're freaks; not I. I stare out the window and pine for the first buds of spring, for the first day above 40 degrees, for clear streets, thunder with rainbows, and the baring of flesh. In Appalachia the best time is a small window, however, between heavy rains and the smothering air of late summer and crisp autumns. We have to grab the days of delight. And as we mature with more responsibilities stacking up and more clutter taking away our energy and time, we may forget the purity of sun through the leaves and the simple bliss of warmth kissing our forehead.

But Sophia is helping me remember. As a child, I would be outside from morning until my mom would call repeatedly in the evening. I would ride a big wheel, play kickball, play tennis against a wall alone, walk, ride my bike, climb the flood wall, or even sweep the end of the street to stay outside. We didn't have Atari or the distractions that some kids thought of as play. I did have cable, and spent a regrettable amount of time in front of the TV in retrospect, but I enjoyed most being outside, barefoot, being silly, with friends or alone. But without realizing it, that behavior declined after dad died. A lot of things changed that I didn't realize being 10 years old, but mostly I myself changed, and with it a step from the light to the dark. I remember my mom tried really hard to keep me happy, and I even had my room decorated with rainbows. But kids get depressed, and without the maturity or sophistication to articulate it, the changes can be gradual and manifest in other ways. Mine was a retreat inside.

Each year I'd ride my bike less and less, and trade long days with sleeping in and being alone, framing my own sense of what normal was (which when you have depression can be a bad thing). I took pieces of darker things in music, literature, culture and became a little obsessed with the macabre, being different, reinforcing my assumption that i was alone in the world. Life experiences brought me from group to group, never really fitting in and never really feeling complete on my own- something I still deal with. But among the losses and gains that grew out of the pivotal time and the legacies of gloom, I missed most my connection with being outside. I missed the intimate relationship with the sun and the spring. Looking back, my best friends were those who released me from my cell and invited me out. Rebeca, Leslie, Keri- everyone figuratively grabbed my hand and took me into the sunlight. For whatever reason, though, I wouldn't stay, and sometimes rejected them in preference for my own wallowing.

Josh helped reconnect me with it somewhat, which is one of the things over which we bonded. He was an Eagle Scout, liked camping, and knew how to make the most of a nice day. So, gradually I stepped back into the light like a hermit emerging from the cave. I still let gorgeous days go to waste, but with my best friend I sat on the patio talking about trivia or the meaning of life among narrow patches of yard, big rocks and a wonderous thicket of trees, or now in our backyard or porch, both of which are lovely sanctuaries with the sun and sky accompanying.

It also clicks that the loss of my father is related to the loss of my relationship with our father, the sun/sky. But I won't ponder that much right now. I hope I do return to it.

Anyway, Sophia and I have been going outside in the nice days and she'll lay on a blanket much like laying on her play pad and look up into the trees as she does the dangling toys. Her amazement at nature and interest in the birds is remarkable. In fact, when she's inconsolable, a stroll outside calms her down. So much to see and do- so much is new and changing, and interesting! I see the world through her new eyes and realize this is why i was so at home, and the nagging void within me was the loss of wonder. Some things such as our senses are natural and physiological, but our sense of wonder is beyond pure science- it is a magnet pull for stimulation and processing, a hunger for celebration, knowledge of all forms, wisdom. My little goddess of Wisdom is natural in her roll as she smiles at chattering robins, and is fascinated by flowers. She is awakening in me the girl that was obscured, and I'm looking forward to seeing her experience the new world as well as seeing my own in new ways.

It's yet another way she is a blessing and I find I need her as much as she needs me. We are sunflowers.

Oil Painting by Judy Virostek

Empathy

2009-05-13T11:36:00.000-07:00

It's struck me as odd that throughout my life I've been cold and self-centered toward most people and yet have had an overabundance of what I've felt is empathy for other things and people, usually strangers. I couldn't enjoy Christmas without thinking of every child that didn't get what they want, were neglected, hurt, poor- and their holidays were big let downs or just another day of reminders. I'd be thinking this at a young age and it's only subsided in recent years. I've also had an abnormal fear of people being left out or left behind. I'm working all these manifestations out, but a recurring theme has been empathy for bad things, based on my own experience but also the fear of that reality. Even the most tense Christmas in my history was pleasant and fun - why do I feel so guilty for having them and want to take away all the pain in the world, almost feeling it- almost seeing their faces.

Now I do see a face. Someone linked to an article about war and it showed a toddler bandaged and crying, dirty. And I saw Sophia and cried. I have to censor myself more from stories about the beaten, exploited, and hurting children because I see her face and want to scream. I'm a "sensitive" person, I know, but I feel terrible for being so desensitized most of my life not to join the Peace Corp or some mission to help them. I have one mission now and I want to do so much more because every innocent head deserves an umbrella.

Oddly, it's also made me more pro-life. Hear me out- i'm not selling out. I still firmly believe in a woman's right to choose, and the law should not trump choice. But I've always leaned toward cultural appreciation for all aspects of life- from conception to childhood to adulthood and to the end. This includes keeping a child when pregnant, fighting for the best child care options and public education possible, minimizing the social divisions that make life miserable and unfulfilling for most, and ending capital punishment- among other stands. But being with Sophia has made me squirm more about the topic of abortion. The light in her eyes when she's learning, the calm when she's sleeping, and the feeling of a hug- her face is what I see when I think of the possibilities.

I know someone may roll their eyes at all this- I would at some points in my life. But this is honest. And it's not biology- you don't have to give birth to be touched by humanity. We're all interconnected as one life and spirit. I just feel fortified and more a part of the process and entity, and I can feel the joy and hurt both a little more.

...And here's a Sophia pic...

Gods, 1994.

2009-05-05T12:07:00.001-07:00

the wheel of the week goes round and round

2009-04-20T11:02:00.000-07:00

Ah, Monday again. My boss is in Sweden and i'm kind of bored. I miss my tot, and have a dilemma- next Monday-Thursday our sitter will be in Colorado, and i'll need to either call in a sub who is nearing the 6 month of pregnancy herself and watching her 3 year old and a 2 year old at that time, or save the money and take more of my vacation/sick leave for 4 days. But, it's "dead week" here, which is the week before finals, and I might be needed for something. I might try to bring her in and pray she naps, but it's risky. J can take off this Friday but next week is my game.

The weekend was great. Saturday i took my class to Bowen Cemetery and it was a gorgeous day. The student who rode with me is doing some great research on protestant sects/denominations i'd never heard of and I found out that one of my good students is a starting football player. Neat! I found my great grandparents' graves (like the one mentioned earlier) but my grandmother doesn't have a headstone and the erosion from 3 years has caused her grave to appear empty. I cried. The last i'd known was that her brother was going to take care of the headstone since i took care of her burial (and more, and much less than I'd like to have in retrospect, but i won't get into that now). But, since it's not there, I'm going to see if I can get a marker. J knows how to install them, and we'll just get it done- she deserves it. When Sophia is old enough, I'll take her out there- on a nice day it's a great experience. On a very windy February day, its no place to have a funeral.

It should also be noted that Saturday marked the 25th Anniversary of my dad's death. I mis-remembered and thought it was the 11th (i confuse things) and I neglected to call my mom or let anyone know i remembered. I didn't hear anything either- *sigh*.

I am lecturing on "Appalachian Diaspora" this evening, but basically it's just about migration trends. I wanted to show scenes from the Dollmaker but for complicated silly reasons i can't- and youtube fail.

This week is kind of eventful. Tomorrow and Wednesday I have lunch plans- the prior more fun because it's with Mary at the pasta bar and the latter grueling because it's the college patting our heads for Administrative Professionals (read SECRETARY) day. I always miss the Psychology department on that day because they surprised me with gorgeous flowers one year.

Here? I won't get a mention- watch. Oh well, on one level i don't bloody care, but on another, it would be nice. Then I have a doctor's appointment on Wednesday as well- with a GP. I guess i should shave my legs.

I bought some learning toys from www.tinylove.com and Sophia is responding so well it makes me feel guilty for not purchasing them sooner. Her synapses are firing and she's becoming more vocal. She'll be 3 months (12 weeks) this week and I love her more than ever. I want to make her a baby bracelet, so i'll be going to AC Moore (where i hear they're giving away pine trees?) and she needs a sun hat and a swing, but we can't find a good one - do they make them hand-cranked anymore?

Anyway- that's where I am today. Life is going pretty well despite being broke- that's the exchange sometimes. I really enjoyed mom's visit and miss her, as does Sophia. If all goes well, we'll go down there for Labor day- she'll be 6 months old and it might be old enough to handle 8 hours in a car- or am I as naive as thinking she'll last 4 hours at work?

Now, go look at the baby!

Grey Skies over Huntington

2009-04-03T07:37:00.000-07:00

I am the envy of many a tenured professor for I have a window. I'm on the 7th floor and face the city and the river, so I can see the morning shadows, feel the evening sun, and know when it's raining. This morning, there is a slow moving grey cloud over us and its raining and windy. I think it has to do with a tragedy from yesterday in which two bright, beautiful teenage girls and one her mother died in an awful car accident locally. Fatalities around here happen daily- a lot of irresponsible and stupid ATV accidents, speeders, victims of poor conditions or roads, but this one seems so wrong and unfair. The way the media and the public have recoiled shows the sense this is a true tragedy. I think god is crying.

In Sickness and health

2009-03-30T08:35:00.001-07:00

I have been sick for over 3 weeks in some capacity or another.
- got a nasty cold, the same one that Sophia caught
- re-caught it or something else around last weekend
- food-related illness this weekend
- lingering cocktail of all three

People don't like to hear about you being sick, and all you can do really is whine or cry out "i don't feel good". I can't keep food down, I can't hear very well, I don't want to eat anything and being ill in the night keeps me from sleeping. I'm extremely dehydrated because drinking water will make me ill too. I crave comfort, understanding, or at least sympathy. I desperately want to stop coughing, stop shivering and have my appetite back. And to feel like people aren't bored or annoyed by my ill health. It's like depression- no one wants to be around a depressed person because they're a bummer, and that isolation makes them worse.

So, if i'm not tap-dancing, that's why. I've taken off too much work to just stay home and rest it off and have to teach class tonight. I'm doing the best I can, believe it or not, which runs separately from other's expectations. I'm trying not to vomit, not to pass out, not to cry, and not to feel really depressed that I can't be happier. It's all i can muster.

Glam and unglam

2009-03-26T06:19:00.000-07:00

I have a dirty secret.
This bold, progressive thinking feminist intellectual adores Elle Magazine. I subscribed in high school and like to check it out when I can. I'm a frumpy, relatively style-less girl of humble means and it doesn't make me feel bad about myself that I can't be the ghostly models in obscenely priced clothes- rather it's like reading fantasy novels, and sometimes it's inspiring. A few months ago I filled out a survey and am receiving free issues for a while, and the love affair continues. But I have to remain critical- purses now are hideous, and some designers seem to have run out of ideas. I can understand why- times are uncertain. In the 80's, we felt the thumb of fear and oppression and the lines reflected that- in the 90's, the optimism and then cynicism found their way into the wacky and then the naturalistic (to baptize ourselves, return to primitivism). But now, we have the end of the Dubya era, and should be skippy- yet, everyone around us is slipping into the economy's freefall. Will they design for decadence to spite the fear and champion the resilience of beauty? Or will they offer a mirror, mismatched DYI skirts and recycled looks of happier times?

It's interesting- and rarely trickles down to how we actually adorn ourselves. Hell, around here, it's 1986 for some folks. And they're just fabrics- we present the face and body sometimes purposely and well-crafted, and sometimes as an afterthought with more pressing issues to deal with. I raise my hand to the latter. I was a contrast to the pages of Elle in high school because thankfully I lived in a time that celebrated the style i was most comfortable with- grunge. I'm not a neat person, not detail oriented, cheap, and mostly interested in hiding my girth and blending into the scenery- even then, and especially now. I have had pretty much the same boring style for twenty years, borne of necessity and maintained via scarce means and lack of interest.

But now as I feel my identity co-opted by motherhood, I feel the need to redress my appearance. My clothes are too big for me, my hair is a grown out shapeless mass, and I have the same makeup routine i've had for ages, if i even have time to throw some on. I need a makeover and I want a re-invention. What is my style really? The closest word is "boho" but I feel there's another mold to cast. It won't be featured on the cover of Elle, but maybe an insert for the fat sisters of its target audience. The key is tapping into who I am and who I want to broadcast. I've been hiding a long time, and I'm tired of it. I am cautious and conservative because as with the social world, I don't want to be rejected or mocked or set up for failure. But I don't live a quality and authentic life denying who I am inside. Now that I have a certain role and no patience for drama, maybe I can be more translucent and appear a thing of beauty as we all are, in nature. Perhaps I'll feel more connected living outloud.

So, I'll color my hair this weekend because the grey has got to go. I still feel 24 and it's causing cognitive dissonance. And I'm okay going without cable, but i'd love to get into Project Runway again.

round the way girl

2009-03-13T11:39:00.000-07:00

I haven't gone anywhere. I've just been journaling on LiveJournal primarily where i've had an account since (jesus) 2001 and a close support network. It's hard for me to compose anything here lately because i've been on maternity leave.

For an update, I finish said leave today and blissfully go back to the grind Monday. I am not callous. I love and adore Sophia, who gets more beautiful and sweet every day. But, I am not a good caretaker of infants. I don't know what to really do with her, and i don't have a good temperment to deal with someone who can't tell me what's wrong- and I need an identity. Sure, it's not an important job- in fact, it's humble and underfunded. But, I know what i'm doing, people depend on me and I'm competent. And no one's crying and setting off my anxiety alarms. I'll be nervous and emotional and miss her and worry, but she is going to capable trained hands that are helping her develop- that is the purpose in the end. I'd be selfish to deny her the assistance, I think, more than I'm being selfish by "pawning her off". I have thought a lot about it, but in the end this is what I havr to do.

Otherwise, i'm turning 35 next week, i've lost all my pregnancy weight and then some to the point where nothing fits, and i'm struggling to teach my Soc of Appalachia class- but have secured a teaching gig in the fall which will help with bills. I need a 4-door car but can't afford it right now, and haven't filed taxes. I don't feel like continuing with the Humanities degree right now, and am resisting bidding on another job due to loyalty. I am on Zoloft due to PPD and it's tweeking me out so that i can't sleep at night and have to balance it out with melatonin or ask for a sleep aid (really- maybe PPD w/o meds isn't that bad?) . I'm looking forward to Spring, I am loving the TV show "Mad Men" and just letting life open up for me as it will because i only have vague shadows of what to expect.

And i have a cold.

Keep the Change

2009-02-24T06:14:00.000-08:00

This has nothing to do with politics or Obama. Glad he won, of course, but this is about me and not the jingos of 08.

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm getting older, too
(Landslide by Fleetwood Mac)

It's okay to change. I've been engaging in a lot of internal dialog since Sophia was born. I couldn't really prepare for the impact it would have on my life, and though J and I kept musing that this would be the "last" time going somewhere as just a couple, I don't think we could understand the profound truth in that. We are now three. In my own dialog, I've been hearing statements about what has ended- my life, my identity, freedom, etc. And I'll beat myself up for not having achieved more while I could, wasted time, etc. My god, what a bad little Buddhist I be. Change is yelling in my face and I'm fighting it. Why? Because I was happy- and the unknown is not. In fact it is nothing, and we invest in that either our confidence or fear- warmth or cold predictions.

These have been some of the hardest weeks of my life. It is hard enough physically to not sleep, have to decode a screaming primate and recover from surgery- along with finding that a vital part of you in this relationship doesn't work. But to add the dialog amplifies it so- and the volume and distortion not only takes you off balance but it jerks you into outlier territory. This is a complicated role to take on, but to simplify, you have to be in the moment, in control, present, and balanced- not running from the echoes of demons or demanding the presence of unicorns.

I am not who I was and that is true whether I say it's okay or not. But making it okay frees up the energy wasted on lament and grief, resistance. Making it okay means trying to swim back to the center and onward. Finding love is the motivation and most pressing priority, and love itself is not some mythical sentiment but it is action, unselfish, and complete engagement.

Nothing endures but change. - Heraclitus.

And...
Changes
David Bowie

I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can't trace time

I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence and
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're going through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't tell t hem to grow up and out of it
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Where's your shame
You've left us up to our necks in it
Time may change me
But you can't trace time

Strange fascination, fascinating me
Changes are taking the pace I'm going through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Pretty soon you're gonna get a little older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't trace time

Soul Mates

2009-02-20T07:42:00.000-08:00

Motherhood has really messed with my mind, and a good deal of garbage has floated to the surface, but also the "deep dark truthful mirror" that Elvis Costello spoke of has also emerged. I am a self-centered person, and for nearly 35 years this was fine. Now I have to be a mother, and I don't really understand how to surrender and welcome the inclusion of a new dependent.

Let's look back a bit. I married an independent person- yes, he's a part of me and my heart, but he we're equals and preserve ourselves, energized and challenged by each other, but one not lost for the other. I also chose friends who were independent and strong, complementing me instead of draining me as some people do. We exist as planets in a solar system, in our orbits, dancing, and relating. As a result, I've been able to be mostly self-absorbed because I didn't have to really take care of anyone else that intruded on that priority, and if there was company, I knew I didn't have to deny myself. Maybe i'm being too critical, but I do see this trend. I even had fur-children, cats, who lived by their own rules, letting me cuddle and care for them, but being self-sufficient when I wasn't present.

And now- we're totally in charge of a defenseless sponge of a child. I'm affected by the blues or PPD but also sleep deprived and what's emerging is a big case of feeling sorry for myself because I can't be absorbed anymore. It doesn't matter that my wrist hurts, or I'm lonely and missing my old life- big hairy deal. But that's what causes the crying and I feel resentment for the intrusion of this helpless infant needing me to put down my mirrors and attend to her basic needs. No one's ever needed me this much, and I think I was happy that way because I'm incredibly self-centered.

Tough titty princess. Once I'm able to let that subside and try to find some joy in attending to her needs and in her companionship, I calm down. But it's basically forcing myself to change and open up - a kind of intimidation in that- pressure, bullying, and I have no choice. All my life it's been me, and now it's her. I think grieving is natural. It just has to pass.

No pleasure cruise...

2009-02-16T13:26:00.000-08:00

I saw a great BBC documentary last night on Prog Rock. I hadn't been exposed to it until I chose to dive deeper into the moody blues in high school (it was 1992, btw) - and they were, according to the documentary, only marginal players. It was awesome to see the origins, influences, approaches and then way of decline as an art and a product. I would have definitly been into it, I think. But who knows- not very much eye candy in that genre. C'mon- real women admit looking for the "cute one" in their music.

My bought with PPD is still on-going, and I'm glad I didn't believe any romanticized notions of caring for a newborn- it's not pretty. Sleep deprivation is just a part of it, but it's a sneaky and significant part. There are also hormones, already-present emotional and psychological issues and now a responsibility you can't prepare for along with physiological responses of instinct. I plan on making a graphic story of this first 6 weeks (ideally before she goes into daycare) to bust the myths. It won't sell, and Oprah will have me banned, but the story needs to be told that sometimes you don't want to get out of bed, like forever again. You feel incompetent and sorry for inflicting your existence on this poor child and your significant other.

But thank god for J, family, friends and the internet. I was really surprised by who has supported me after this significant life change and disappointed by who has not- its eyeopening. The department even got me/her a card and gc to Target- wow! My friend Laura is coming by tomorrow which will be my first non-family visitor since Sophia came home. And mom is coming back in town, weather permitting, in a few weeks! I still wish i had a nanny lined up- not just for the respite now (i have to sneak in a shower when J gets home) but to keep from having to put her in a daycare with strangers in a month. I both am looking forward to that time and dreading it- i like working and would love to have the day feeling competent in my job (eventhough the pay is embarrassing) but i'll be constantly worried about my little buddy. Right now we're looking at the daycare up the street, who i'll call this week- we're on their list. But if I could find more personalized care i'd be happy. Well, i think i would be. I'll be happy when she can tell me what's wrong.

So we begin week 3.

Oh and I had a baby

2009-02-08T18:03:00.000-08:00

I haven't had the time, energy or desire to update this blog, because in my mind it's more for complete exploration of topics rather than just personal updates. I use LiveJournal for that, but i can copy that to here.

Those who care already know and have sent their love and support, but for the more strange eyes peering, I am the proud mother to a gorgeous and genius little girl now, Sophia Isobel, born January 29th. She's seen the Steelers win and her mother go to the complete edge of fatigue and frustration, but we're now blissfully home and awaiting Spring. J is a fantastic father and handles Sophia better than I do. It seems my job is to be the worrying, micro-managing tyrant and he's the sweet calming guy with a tickley beard. Could be worse- i could have the beard.

But anyway, I had a C-section, and that was something I never want to experience again. She'll be an only child and I pray I don't have any other cause to be hospitalized in my charmed life.

I'm terrified, inadequate, guilt-ridden and overall sad, which is normal, hooray, but I'm also facing the fact that one reason I avoided kids is because i didn't want to give my heart away like this, and it's gone. I'll hurt when she does and can't bear to think of much of anything without bursting into tears over the fragile innocence in her and the sadness and cruelty of the world.

I need to reflect more this week when I am not clamoring for sleep or changing her, and try to gain my balance.

Want pics?

Pancakes for One

2009-01-19T08:14:00.000-08:00

You can't make pancakes for one person because it requires a whole egg and if you use that while reducing the bisquick and milk, it's more crepey or an omelet. I'd been craving them for a while and J is repulsed by them, so since i have the day off I decided to make a batch, which doesn't keep in the fridge either, batter or made. I ended up making five, which is decadent but tasty. I am not very good at making them, but at least i got it out of my system.

Eventhough I don't like being by myself much, or probably related to this, I tend to face challenges as if I'm called upon to be the lone warrior, ala Xena. It took some time after getting pregnant to stop thinking of it as "my problem"- don't judge me on either word, please. I have typical dreams of someone, usually J because he's significant, betraying me or putting me in an awful situation where I'm alone and I have to deal with it. I think even if have a very supportive network, they're out of the equation when it comes to my challenges. I rarely ask for help or really open up, and in retrospect, sometimes that's for the best because I can also trust the wrong people and regret being too open or dependent.

But anyway, this past month has been a pleasant jostling out of that thinking. Not being much of a material girl, I hadn't thought about "showers" until our family friend S decided to host one. Then over Thanksgiving J's family had an impromptu one for me that was humbling. S's shower was last week and family and friends took time to come in for it. It was overwhelming because of course I don't feel I deserve anything for simply performing a biological function, and at heart I know i'm not a deserving person, but the feeling that I will essentially be shut in a room alone with the baby and left to my inadequate parenting and lost identity was shattered by the presence and affection of a network that I didn't see. People do care and I know that, but sometimes the most obvious thing becomes evident.

This past weekend, my friend Laura hosted yet another shower bringing in the 21st century of women I knew online but hadn't met. One attendee I actually knew way back in the day at Pizza Hut but life in the meantime made us into delightfully different people. Another has been a supportive voice on my blog for a long while and helped put perspective in place of fears. And yet another has been such a positive and fun voice online. And i think too often we think of folks online as existing online in text, but i'm grateful to know that isn't true. These new friends braved the cold and roads for a fabulous time related to me- it was again that humbling feeling, but my heart was touched as well. Why don't I see my worth like this? Not in gifts, but in effort and presence, comfort, company. And cupcakes!

I need to add that it wasn't fabulous because it was "all about me". I hope we can have more meetups and on-going friendships for all occasions from celebrations to mundane chatter. I was just further touched because i was not only included, but a cause.

Someone who knows this weirdness about me is Rebeca, who has been like a sister to me since High School, navigating through distance and eras that could estrange most people. I remember her frustration when I wouldn't open up, or her puzzled reaction when I didn't expect her to want to around. I'd love for her to be able to be here for toasts and celebrations, but I know it's not possible and that she wants the best for me.

I guess what all of this means is that I get wrapped up in myself, out of defenses and fear, or stubborn deafness and I have been given a gift among the wrapping to put my head up and realize that i'm not alone after all. I want to be an equal presence back in their lives as well, since it's easy to deny people when a part of you won't see them. Too often I see false images and illusions and waste my time with them rather than the beauty of reality.

Thank you to all who took time to make me see this. It might not have seemed like much effort, but it has been profound.

I owe my soul to the company sto'

2009-01-15T10:50:00.000-08:00

So..

Over the past year I haven't taken any vacation or sick leave time because in part i was saving up for vacation with J and didn't get sick, and then after the pregnancy came into it, I wanted to avoid unpaid FMLA leave and still haven't gotten sick enough to miss work (knock knock). I have eight weeks worth of time, and I plan on using it once I go into labor. I even made up a nice maternity leave plan and gave it to my boss.

who then took it to the Dean, who has problems.

Anyway, to be on the safe side, I have to inform HR that this is my plan, and inquire if working a few hours while on "vacation" is a no-no (though it shouldn't be, rather it's just recorded on my time sheet) and he wants me to have a proxy. Now, I am a semi-control freak out of necessity- I know how to do what I do, and as long as I alone do it, it'll be done right and keep job security. Our University lost 20% of its investments in the stock market recently and I though I have a modest, low paying job, it's all i have and am chained to debt repayment. *fret* okay okay.. anyway... a proxy means I have to essentially bug other secretaries until someone agrees to be my backup in case something happens that I can't foresee.

A good part of my problem is that yes, I am being optimistic and pretending I can control the variables before they happen. And i wouldn have gotten away with it too if it weren't for my meddling boss. ;) But still.. now i have to approach overworked staff and ask that they consider being a backup for me if i can't do work while on vacation that I have sacrificed to amass.

I am not pleased and don't know how to approach the topic even. As usual, i was arrogant enough just to think that i could dictate the terms of my decisions, but am bound by bureaucracy.

Maybe i could just write the great American Novel and be set for life.

Auto-pilot

2009-01-13T06:24:00.000-08:00

I am a person who likes to be in control of things. A glaring sign of this is that we say we'll do something because we know we'll do it right. I wouldn't say I'm a control freak, and I'll freely admit that when I am in control of something sometimes it freaks me out and I flake, bitter that I hold so much responsibility. One of the greatest lessons I've learned, though, is how to go on auto-pilot. Even an atheist must have faith in time, and that it passes- Dali's melting clocks decorate the apartments of people who spend the currency of days whether they cling to youth or bravely grow. While I want to trouble shoot, be prepared, have a plan, know the itinerary, and play devil's advocate like some people play world of warcraft, sometimes going on auto-pilot allows me to react better, conversing with the unknown directly. Not foolishly, mind you, and beign married to an Eagle Scout keeps me from cow-eyed ambling but so often the scenario's I've solved in my neurotic planning have been projections of fear, paranoia, guilt, and big old wads of wasted time.

Time again. I think of my adult life and I can't believe how much i've wasted paddling about. And here I am being called upon to direct someone else's life when mine is a piecemeal of plans and accidents, both bearing no resemblance to who I thought I'd be because I didn't. I never planned on having a child, as everyone knows, I have never had a significant health occurance, and so I'm basically looking at the calendar nervously knitting details and plans but knowing that at some point, I'll just need to surrender to auto-pilot. I'm conflicted though, because it's not about triumph, but about walking the balance between controlling and letting be that will promote "success", its own fluid definition. Beyond the terrifying test of my abilities, it's also a test of how I express love, an area I'm not confident in and pretty lousy.

I am making my mantra for the remaining part of my pregnancy that I will do "the best I can" and remember that best doesn't mean successfully avoiding all mistakes- it means minimizing regrets and giving myself a break from management to driver. On a snowy winter's day...

We make choices

2009-01-08T13:04:00.000-08:00

I wasn't impressed enough with the work of Ayn Rand to really subscribe or deny her man-pleasing objectivism, but I do know that some fans of her's use "choice" to explain away the misery and predicaments of others. That is a tool of privilege and keeps a distance from critical analysis of inherent social obstacles that vary in visibility- among other things. But we can't dismiss the role choice plays in our lives- it is valid. Yesterday I was reminded of folks I'd known over the years who did not acknowledge their personal investment and choices in bad decisions and paths and shrugged saying it was 'society' whether out of their ignorance or denial. I have compassion for them, and wish I were qualified as a counselor to point out in a positive way how this isn't completely true, but moreso I wish we weren't a 'society' blaming 'society' as much as we blame luck and our other god, the economy.

Recently a local hospital had to lay off 40 middle management workers blaming above all "the economy" and what is humorous is that the mechanisms within this were their short-sighted over-expansion (wonder if the genius who demanded they grow beyond their means is out of a job- not likely), and the cost of healthcare in their benefits packages, which J instantly pointing out is their own doing as part of the industry. They invested in the market and the market tanked- should the investment have been such a significant portion of operating costs that its absence led to this? Talk about spending beyond your means.

Anyway, that's an organization, but it's a manifestation of the personal mirror-dodging I and others engage in. Today I was furious because our University President has received an obscene pay raise despite the "poor economy" and the fact that student retention is down 10% again in 2 years. Someone mentioned he was "worth" the raise because presidents of peer institutions made more. We, like the hospital, are overexpanding and going toward support of the most profitable vocations. However, faculty does NOT make what their peers do and absolutely under no circumstances does staff, my category. In fact, we have a handy "schedule" of what we're supposed to be paid and it's not fully funded because, garsh, the state doesn't have the money. But the president has his membership to the local country club paid for- i'm not kidding. That is where the priorities are, and "worth" seems to influence the choice to improve or fulfill the promise of staff pay or the appearances and reputation of one. Choice.

This makes me angry, but I'm also forced to look at my own choices in life. I am happy where I am having been humbled by really terrible choices, but I am here making an embarrassing salary with my useless Master's Degree not because society is against me or the economy is bad (though the latter is arguable since there is no job market for a Sociologist sans PhD) but because I didn't recognize any choices early on. I walked a safe path in social work and then settled for administrative and low-paying jobs thinking the work was rewarding enough. When I scream about the audacity of giving the top rung raises while we chase after scraps, I'm partly screaming at myself for being among the peasants, which reveals to me that I buy into their class system as well- they're labeling the work of staff, but damnit they're labeling *my* worth too and that didn't factor as much into the choice as I'd considered. The moral of this is that the masses are a collective of individuals who are given choices whether they're conscious of it or not, and are then rewarded or "punished" due to the outcomes of the choice's legacy. That lens gives a face to all the people in the crowd who experienced different things at different levels of privilege and advantage and through their own motivations stepped through life. I think if we operate on that level of empathetic awareness, we're more likely to be compassionate, sure, but also more enlightened about our own decision making, and inspired to counsel others on the choices they might not see or the ramifications they can't fathom.

When I found out I was pregnant, we discussed choices as well. It was an agonizing period of time that I don't care to revisit. I sit here at week 36 not capable of knowing the challenges ahead. I just know that this is a chain reaction of choices ahead, and I want to make the best ones or learn the most from the bad ones. I want Sophia to know how powerful she is in her decisions. While born to a working class family in a region with little opportunity, she can choose to be the best she can be without regrets. I feel blessed to have that insight now and will instill that at every chance I can, opening up as many doors of opportunity I can by hand.

A good day

2009-01-03T19:59:00.000-08:00

I'm tired of blogging about silliness so i'll do the mundane. I have no illusions of who I am and have a clear vision of what i want from myself and others. The rest is static.

Today was a good day. The weather was clear and about 45 (not bad for VWa winter) and we got up really late. J made steak and eggs (score) and we went to the antique district in town known as "Central City". I am a West End girl and am pretty proud of the 3-block stretch that is this city within a city because it went from really scary dilapidated housing and bars to well-manicured junk shops and a only a few bars- and a mural of Jackie DeShannon leaning against a shed. My mom was a librarian at the older musty branch there and then the brand new one created in the Renaissance, and the worst loss was a community theatre from the 20's that burned in a bad fire. There is also a restaurant called Central City Cafe which has national cred and we love, so we went there for lunch. Reubens and soup- nom nom.

But the goal was to find a Chifforobe, which i can't say without thinking of To Kill a Mockingbird. We have built our home with eclectic finds that usually we just come across with nothing in mind, casually, but with this nursery, I wanted that specific form of furniture. At the top of the district there was a place called Fitzpatrick furniture which had high quality used stuff and was run by people who reminded me of my dad- I sensed they might be Knights of Columbus but i have no idea. Anyway, sadly, they no longer own the place and it's now a holding spot for auctions and run by nice guys as well, but they didn't have what i wanted. We went to another place that held our interest for a good hour but came up with nothing. Then, we went errand running to Home Depot which failed us and Dollar General who had colorful clientele.

But anyway- they do have that chifforobe on target.com, but having worked customer service and hearing many complaints about target.com furniture, I don't want to gamble. Nothing like it is at Big Lots furniture and as I mentioned, Value City furniture wants $600 bucks for something like it (um, no). So, I might have to trek up to Walmart, which is agin' my religion, but i'm pretty determined. And i need to get a crib at some point since sprogs only use a cradle for 4 months.

We came home and did some things around the house, watching Arizona beat Atlanta and eating chili. The time went pretty fast, and I noticed how awesome it is just to hang out and be hopeful and happy. It won't last forever, but I appreciate it and I wish it for everyone at some point in their life.

I've been pretty silly this past week with what i think is nervous energy with nowhere to go, and hopefully i'm coming out of it- i hate to seem silly. I keep waiting for Graham Chapman to bust in.

Peyton Manning MVP? WTF?

the heart of the matter

2009-01-02T14:59:00.000-08:00

I am not an anthropologist, but I'd dare say that celebrations have the latent effect of providing a springboard for nervous energy and focal point for neurotic thinking during a significant event. My wonderful Fairy Godmother is throwing me a baby shower, and today alone my mind was flooded with thinking it is a litmus test for my own worth and my bitterness kept bathing in the ideas of people not coming, ignoring the invite, etc. My mind likes to become absorbed with such reinforcements of negativity and finally on the drive home I had to look between the thoughts, listen for the obscured voice and get to the matter. It's driving meditation, if you will.

How much of what angers, scares or hurts me is an illusion or fiction? Probably 90% and I don't exaggerate. I think though I developed just fine physically and intellectually, mentally I didn't learn to process disappointment and contradictions to expectations. Maturity evens a lot of that out, as does repeated rejection, but still, the chatter of "omg what if" is a familiar voice that still affects me. I journaled about this as it was raw, and the frets are more illusions of stress that i've put upon myself- friends feeling like getting me something is a precondition to attend (which is absolutely not true), my mom and sister not being able to come due to ice (which i can't control) and maybe i'll be ignored by a few people (not my problem they're rude) or pushed aside for some other priority. These aren't reflections of me! Everyone knows I'm not materialistic, and I try to be sincere- opening myself to a celebration of this huge life change does call upon my vulnerability, but it makes no demands of anyone else. What has happened is that this 2 hour event is the dumping ground for my tests of self-worth, confirmation of flawed existence and affirmation of my worst fear- being unloved.

That's absurd- J loves me more than I can comprehend, my family does, etc. But there is a lost girl scared to death she'll be abandoned, unwanted or unloved, who never left me, and I have no idea why she even exists. So many things become a distortion of her thought processes over my adult, rational, and stable mind. I think the "heart" of the matter is my heart itself. So often i'd throw a party and no one would come, which when you're a big, awkward girl can make you feel like a pariah when in fact it's just that you've invited assholes. This time I didn't expect someone to throw one for me, and I'm shuddering and assuming based on history and hurt. But the truth is, even if everyone completely flakes on me, S wanted this for me, and that is suprisingly fantastic. It's not a test- it's a get-together. These thoughts are not literal, but the babel that thrives on my interpretation.

So, upon driving meditation, I understand these things, recognizing the beast, if you will. And I don't want Sophia to process like I do so it's a blessing to catch this in time before I push people away to prove my internal reputation of being undesireable. It's the ball of energy that we turn from lead into gold (oh she do love her metaphor) - take the party for what it is, which is underserved but awesome, and blow out the negativity in long calming breaths, focusing on the celebration of a new life event that needs every ion of energy I own. Be not afraid- use the force ;)

Oh god forbid i pimp this album.

Why I like Jedi Mythology

2008-12-30T12:01:00.000-08:00

I'm neurotic, so i'll start off with a few concessions:
1) The previous post was for an event happening in 2 days, so i should technically tuck this behind it, but I won't because i'm famously non-linear.
2) I have only seen 4.25 of the 6 Star Wars films and never read a novel nor care to. I base my knowledge on the superficial knowledge of fictional characters, which is probably more than many know of their deities.

Over the weekend, we decided to watch the 3 original Star Wars serials, or in revisionist terms, Chapters 4,5, and 6. They're fun and well told in the Joseph Campbell "hero's journey" and fantasy archetype traditions. And hey, compared to the crap out now, they can be high cinema. What I appreciate most is the Jedi lore, which I take selfishly and adapt to Buddhist Monkery (my word) and suspect nature-oriented pan-deist Monkery. The Jedi gains his/her strength by acknowledging the Force in all things, and mastering it. What are those pixie particles inherent in all things? Well, what is the essense of all things- the energy, the air, that which we sense but only name in shades. For me, that is God.

I know, I know, this is a hot topic and how dare I, but recently I've found myself listening to discussions of who is to blame for suffering, who is stupid and who is righteous for what they're doing politically and I keep seeing the particles in between. My main problem with "religion" personally has been the translation of God, the application and the overconfidence of reason in interpreting it. I'm against very little and accepting of nothing entirely because I don't think the point is to be right so much as to be within right. As with Jedi's, you can stand on your head and levitate at the circus just as you can quote me Romans 3:6, but do you know and work within the unpious and pure good in all things. Do you recognize the yang?

Like listening to the silence between musical notes, I tend to think of God as neglected in the pauses, in the present but overlooked suffering beneath the trumpets of war, in the personal battles of people who become just faces at best, in the unusable, unhip and unmarketable parts of nature. It is obscured by our ego, our consumption and materialism, our ignorance and blindness, and yet is omnipresent. Sometimes the simplest things like meditation, rejecting violence, or calling a friend are covered in the goo of a "darkside"- fear, powerlessness, anger, self-absorption. The battle becomes less of one against an entity, but for access and oneness with the unifying entity.

Maybe I read too much into a silly movie with a Wookie- I tend to read way too much into way too many things due to my own anxiety and misguided inquisition. But if I ever feel right about something, it's that my path is best taken between the billboard-lined highways, listening between beats for those lost and in need. It's not for my reward or immortality, but because I find peace there, connection, and open arms. I hope I can find it and find fellow Jedi's on the way.

And I soooo want a Jedi funeral.

the dying of the light

2008-12-29T15:43:00.000-08:00

It's hard to say "goodbye" to a good year after having a few pretty bad ones. Good fortune can't last forever, and ours was tightly wrapped in the 12-month span, getting a house, working closer to home, and then, after the dust of uncertainly settled, preparing for Sophia. I'm closer to paying off debts, about to teach an exciting class, and feel good to be where I am. So how do I invite the new year, the big mysterious box, which will march through despite my best defenses?

I remember back to last year. Virgil died at the very end of December, which was more painful than I care to revisit here. We weren't sure where we were going, but we knew we needed to move away from the townhouse where conditions and neighbors were equally depressing and frustrating. It felt "wrong" to be there, but we're practical people and didn't know where to leap. I was unhealthy and didn't care about myself much- eating, as is my crutch, was the opiate for a lot of stress. Gas prices were going up and highway asshattery was continuing, making my commute to a job I loved with people I loved more expensive and dangerous. Things had to give and change had to come, but at New Years we didn't know what form, what time, and how grand. We just surrendered a bit, had faith in each other and persisted. It's that image of New Year's Day, feeling as though I'd been knocked down by the fates and walking blindly, that keeps me from too much despair for seeing 2008 go- we simply do not know what we're going to face, and it's terrifying, exciting, and inevitable. I pray for the sketches of things to come that I am aware of- a somewhat easy delivery, a healthy child, a sustained excellent marriage, good relationships with family and friends, more debt reduction, more adventures, more positive challenges and opportunities. But the rest doesn't even have foreshadowing.

I don't know of magical nights, tears of miscommunication, near-misses, sickness, surprising generocity, or worse or better. I don't know the faces of people who will change my life, my outlook, my faith. And i don't know if i'll even be here tomorrow if you want to get technical. So, when we think of each day "as a gift", I like to think of it as a Pandora's box, with less cynicism. It's not chaos that is being unleashed, but simply events that are beyond and within our control. The new year, whatever metaphor, is neither good nor bad because it is time in our language and grasp. But hope and perspective make all the difference. Open hearts, minds, and shedding dread.

Indeedly, Happy New Year to you!

Winter says "Hello"

2008-12-22T08:52:00.001-08:00

I have a kitty on my chest who is not as small as the kitty on my chest a few months ago. It's still sweet. Today is my first day off and sadly, i'm going to swing by the office to process some mail. They looked like letters of recommendation and if i don't, they won't go out until the 2nd, and then the kids might not get into grad school- the horror.

I hope that the Solstice and Hannukah celebrators are having a happy time. Last night we didn't have snow but it did get down to 5 degrees, I believe. Poor J had to bundle up and go into work this morning and I wish he had my dad's "Russian hat". My dad had this black hat that he'd crack out when it got bitterly cold, and I always thought it was stylish. He also had black slip-ons to go over his shoes when it rained.. they were "rubbers" before the eighties took the word. I have to say our house rocks- the wind was awful and we never lost power.

One thing that unites us seems to be the candle and light in the darkness. I think i blogged about that last year, too- I don't want to belittle anyone's convictions, but despite the fundamental differences, there is also the element of hope/light in the bleak darkness. I might not have faith in much, but i can dig that certainly.

I had a long night without trying. I went to bed earlyish but kept thinking of what i'd do if someone broke in and the violent and graphic scenes that would result. Then i slipped into sleep and kept having obsessive thought-dreams about the upcoming shower and different social situations that were just bizarre, dark and creepy, separated by having to pee every two hours. Yay. Meh.

And then there's my back- can we talk? If on schedule, I have 7 more weeks to go and right now I'm dealing with backaches from my center-to-low-back dealing with the firm and growing mass in the front. If i lay too long, sit too long, or do anything too long it starts up. So i take my tylenol and wiggle. Oh, it's adorable- not.

It's usually this time of year that I start thinking about the long view. I have been known to make "resolutions" but I think this past year is a good example of how absurd those can be. And if you read any of my blather, about 80% of it is making daily and weekly resolutions for self-criticism at worst, and self-reform at best. Lately i've been thinking about letting go. I put a lot of pressure on myself as I aspire to big things for their size rather than quality and then either quit or fail, and i forget i can just let go.

this goes with relationships too- i cling to ideas of friendship that fail me or disappoint, or feel one-sided in nurturing, and i just have to let go even if it makes me feel semi-isolated.

One challenging and cathartic act of letting go will be leaving forums. Since ye old days of usenet I have joined them, been obnoxious, gotten mad, made my points and engaged in drama. But lately, I can't seem to get over the discord from pretension, outright stupidity, and the energy it takes from me. I've recognized this before, with the countless times i've thrown up my hands to the "internet" and been reminded it's what neighborhoods you go to. But I don't have to deal with it- i don't have to try to correct anyone, call out their errors in attitude and position... sure, i can say that i have bigger fish now with Sophia, but this needs to be done anyway. I already feel under-accomplished and under-utilize my time. I don't want to be like the woman from one forum recently who basically said "i don't care what the facts are, this is my 'pinion"- that thinking ranks up there with the images of who I'm afraid of becoming- a surrendering, passive waste in the dark. Life is light and color and I want to dance while i can.

Contrition

2008-12-17T12:17:00.000-08:00

Bless me blogspot, for I have sinned. It has been a good week since i've posted and that was just cat pictures.

The pace of my life has eased a bit lately as the end of the semester meant turning in final grades (not a simple process when you're non-linear and forgetful, nor when you have a flaming cheater in the bunch) and saying goodbye for now to the experience. I also have to go into retirement for transcribing because technology worked against me, as well as time and interest. While I do have to prep for my pet class, Soc. of Appalachia, that I get to teach on Mondays next semester, for the most part I am able to work and come home to projects that have less pressure and fewer low-points. I did receive great reviews from the students, and that's cool. I just don't know if I want to teach there again based on the distance and policies. The next class will be a complete 180- discussion! Papers! Field Trips! Online class!

And then there's the pregnancy. That's the most important element of my life right now, but it's so present that it's not the forefront of my attention. We went to a birthing class last Saturday and it's a very frightening process that I have to go through. I've never had so much as a broken bone so most of my fear is of the unknown, but also of worst case scenarios. The shower that my Fairy Godmother is throwing will be January 10th and I'm preparing to take leave from work as soon as I need to- that's scary too. I have been lucky to not have been ill or taken vacation in ages so I have enough vacation to keep me from unpaid leave for a long time. *whew*

And then there's the holidays. I'm feeling better about them but I have less to spend than i thought I had, and just feel reluctant, which isn't right. *sigh* i dunno. Hopefully I'll see some friends and just have a lot of fun time with J and the cats. Norman Rockwell is a fantasy, and our reality can be just as beautiful. i have to go shopping tonight and I hate shopping. Tomorrow I get to put it all in a box and ship it out. I have about $200 total to spend total on everyone. Time to get creative. Buddha help me.

I'm home this afternoon because my work place has a problem with ensuring air quality

Cats and Holidays- why not?

2008-12-09T18:45:00.000-08:00

Why do i keep from blogging?

2008-12-08T06:24:00.000-08:00

Everyone goes through phases and mine range from retreating hermit to bloggity blog. This is a really good time in my life and technically I could write and sing its praises, but it doesn't motivate me. I have a wonderful, loving husband and now 2 adorable and fun kitties and an ever-growing alien in my body that will come out in about 2 months. J's family keeps tabs on me, even, which makes me feel less isolated. My job is even tolerable. So why don't I feel like singing? I'm not creating anything and it's an effort for me to even switch from gazing into space to a book. Unresolveable pain of expectations surfaces the longer I'm dormant, punching me farther into a ditch of unproductive existance. It's not as bad as all that- don't cue "In my Room" or anything. I just feel like my voice is on hiatus. Better this than chattering on about absolutely nothing, but at least that's offering one-side of a dialog. I have only myself to blame for silence. I have only myslf to blame for lots of things, really.

Obligatory Thanksgiving Special

2008-11-28T12:05:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and after detaching sentiment and expectations, it was really enjoyable. We went to J's grandma's and socialized with his family, enjoying a good portion of the day in the sunshine, and ate a really good meal together. I actually over-indulged, of which i feel a little guilty, but nothing went to waste. I appreciate the fact that they take me in and like me even if i'm kind of odd. J is happy with them and this is one of his favorite holidays so seeing him happy makes me even more so. It's also a day to remember genocide on our own soil, so take your perky pilgrims elsewhere, k?

And essentially, it's a fabulous to count our blessings and I need to do it more. I am thankful for so much and so many. For J, my family, my friends, my home, my job, my health, and the hope of Sophia. I don't like to itemize or have superlatives because i'm neurotic and always afraid of hurting someone's feelings and leaving them out. So i'll be broad, as the images are in my mind, but not in the least bit vague.

Generosity makes me uncomfortable, but i'm humbly appreciative of the mini-shower yesterday by J's family. It was a complete surprise but they bought me a boat load of 0-3 mo clothes and a bouncer. I had no idea- it was just really sweet. I had to edit my target.com registry to omit clothing and now it's just mostly diapers and stuff. I mostly just want presence of family and friends, and i truly mean that. Materialism and I don't get along well.

Which leads me to today. I don't care if you approach the day engaged in the Black Friday insanity, but I am a Buy Nothing Day gal. People think we're pretentious, which is laughable. What we do is probably the easiest thing in the world- abstain. For one day, we detatch from the culture of crass-consumerism, ignore the warnings and bullying of "buy now or die", and just go about the day with hobbies and a mundane assortment of activities. What's really funny is how threatening this is to some people, to the point where they loudly rationalize their own behavior - insecure much?- and then challenge me for being a deviant. Well, here's why I'm out:
1) I don't like shopping
2) I don't like "people". Sure, people are grand, but "people" suck. A few encounters between my heel and a car-shaped stroller have confirmed this.
3) I don't like mob mentality, or those who are seduced by commercialism. If you value gadgetry over necessity or a bloated luxury over living within means and sharing wealth, then chances are we don't get along so I don't want to be in the mall with you.
4) I don't have money. Well, i guess i do, but I have to spend without credit, which is a blessing more than curse, and there's no reason for me to go anywhere for any thing because i don't know what single item i'm getting my inner circle yet.

See, it's just logical. So if i'm not impressed by your bounty or bravery, it's nothing personal, really- shopping is just not a laudable accomplishment. Nor is opting out, though I do feel a wee bit superior with my rocking blood pressure :) I'm mostly amused by "progressives" that revel in it and don't connect the dots.

A complete aside- As a tot I had a humble white wardrobe/drawer combo in my room that would be perfect for sorting out Sophia's clothes, but i don't know where to look. Everything's either wrong or nearly wrong and overpriced. It had a little closet with a door and then 3 or four drawers. I wonder if i'll ever find it.

Fresca

2008-11-21T11:40:00.000-08:00

Funny story. Up until the age of 15, I didn't know about Fresca. I was all about interesting beverages, turning away from the Cola Wars to drinks like New York Seltzer, Quibell, and Big Red, and actually had the nickname "pepper" in junior high because someone always saw me drink it. But that's me- I liked to seek out the uncommon in my humble little sad way. But then, I guess I was in 9th grade, I went through a phase where I read Woody Allen monologues, including "Death Knocks", which contains the following line:

DEATH: Don't give me a sales talk. Get the cards and give me a Fresca and put out something. For God's sake, a stranger drops in, you don't have potato chips or pretzels.

So what was this elixir? Part of my escape from small town Appalachian hell had been to read about and revel in the life and humor of cosmopolitan New Yorkers, including the harsh wit of Fran Leibowitz and the neurotics of Woody Allen. Where I lived, we had Coke, Pepsi, RC and knockoffs. My family, the strange Catholic one, was uppity because we liked iced tea. Not kidding, and no not sweet tea- bleh. I physically couldn't join into the koolaid craze because for some reason it gave me bladder irritation, so I was a born el strango. But I digress... I had to try this "Fresca" substance, which had to be better than Tab, also learned from the genre but quickly rejected because it tasted decidedly un-fun. So, the hunt was on.

This was 1989 and there had yet to be a revival. In fact, after the failure of New Coke and the fading newness of Seltzer in mid-America, things were quite boring and aligned with the major brands experimenting with flavors like Cherry. Ooh! Aaah. So it took a while, and a lot of searching in off-beat markets to find Fresca and I was excited to try it. My introduction turned out abusive- the damned pop burned my throat! But, as love is with cruel masters, I was sold. It was... dare I say... crisp. Grapefruit had been one of my favorite fruits for my entire life and here it was shoved into bubbling glory. And it was sugar-free, which didn't matter much to me, but hey, a plus compared to 'Squirt' which was the sugar equivalent and not as tasty. I learned that Cocal Cola actually distributed Fresca, but the demand was low. That would change throughout the 90's as people became a little more jovial and experimental, but for a small time, Fresca was my thing and my little treasure. It's an odd attachment, I suppose, but it ranks up there with the "darkwave" music, wearing black and aunks- these were catching on in synchronicity but for many of us, it was at once new and personal, something to appreciate that wasn't the norm, and we genuinely, authentically, craved it.

And Sophia shall be weened on it, by the Gods!

This has nothing to do with the Fresca I love, but it was too funny not to share. Haw Haw.

Holy Crap!

2008-11-18T13:39:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is NEXT WEEK people!

Breast Beating to Deck the Halls

2008-11-14T07:56:00.000-08:00

I gave a rather depressing assignment to my Intro class but it was necessary. In the past few weeks, we've had around 1000 layoffs in our region and it's the season to manipulate our emotions into thinking that buying stuff equals love. So, I wanted them to think about that clash sociologically and will be very interested if they can resist reverting back to "jesus is the reason..." and look at the harsh reality: people are suffering and the media wants us to dance. At the heart of this is the "economy" which needs us as we need it, and the call to participate is necessary but the inability to do so is a reality. It's a pretty heavy discussion for these guys, but I felt it was appropriate. I'm not sure if it comes from some Catholic Liberation Theology programming or what, but I have this nasty "Debbie Downer" habit of harshing the buzz by reminding folks of people suffering- some call it "breast beating" but i call it unleashing my inner guilt for having my relative privileges. I dunno- it's interesting to me how it manifests. If i think about the individuals and families affected by the local economic perils- the bright faces dimmed on Christmas, the parents who are in pain because they're limited, some escaping through drink, the stress and tension becoming violent or at the very least robbing them of joy- my proxy empathy kicks in and I become paralyzed by depression. This is why for a long time I genuinely hated the holidays.

An author friend expressed an outlook on the upcoming season that is similar to mine. We get it- this is an ancient tradition of huddling close in the dark season and expressing love and joy that will serve as its own light until the sun returns. But capitalism (boo hiss) and our own insecurities and greed make it out to be much more- ridiculous expectations, hollow exchanges, and commercialism at its most obscene. Memories of moments we can't return to, of change, and guilt that we're not doing enough to show how we feel- it's not the Normal Rockwell dinner table, and thus it's wrong, we're sad.. we're lost. Why can't it just be simple?
Well, it can, and that's the only way I've managed to survive it. Absorbing the misery of circumstances like layoffs is kind of a masochistic and selfish way to distort their struggle and is vain. It's based on assumptions and the fears I personally hold for that level of uncertainty and crisis, but is not "their" reality. What the promotion of the holidays does is hold up an ideal and we infer that achieving less is inferior. But we each cope and survive as we can- sometimes it does get cold and ugly, but crying for them in our own dark rooms will not help. Simple actions like adopting an angel from the Salvation Army tree are opportunities to take intentions from prayer and wallow to tangible tokens of support.

To keep me personally from being swallowed into the descent, I have put value in the traditions J and I have. We spend Thanksgiving with his family, and in the beginning of our marriage a part of me always got depressed that I couldn't celebrate with my own, but his family is like a second one to me, and I look forward to baking pies the night before, enduring celebrity chatter, playing with the kids and eating too much too late there. We celebrate solstice and Christmas both by making fantastic meals and watching silly movies, which are simple and happy. Christmas Eve is our time for partying with a cheese ball and seeing Christmas lights, and the day of is the time we enjoy the quiet and find cheesy local programs. Last year we ventured to see both families the day after which was hectic and painful due to the loss of my fur son Virgil; this year I can't travel due to my "condition" and I don't know if it would be wise to lug Sophia around next time... but this isn't my point. My point here is that traditions are statements, and we have them. As long as I focus on these, my anxiety and depression is unable to push me down. Yes, i still cry when I think of lonely people, animals, etc. around now, but I can't save everyone; I can try to make lives better, light by light, teaspoon by teaspoon.

And with the power of conviction, there is no sacrifice

2008-11-11T08:42:00.000-08:00

Yeah.. i used to be a huge Pat Benatar fan. Before diving head-long into the abyss of Curedom, I ate what MTV fed me, which is why I can quote obscure pop songs and know more trivia than edifying information. But yeah, I technically was Pat Benatar for Halloween one year even though i looked like an ugly prostitute, and I loved her stuff. Or did i? Looking back, I tended to, much like now, pick a "winner" to get into sometimes without full sincerity but merely to align. It's an extension of striving to belong, but also seeking externals for identity and in some places laying down chips for the gamble. I loathe gambling, but do it so often.

Anyway- now what, guys? Obama won. It's been a week since the election was held, and I've seen such glee and relief mixed in with the 'what the hell''s of Prop. 8's passing. We have to face the reality that an administration can only do so much and we have to fight on, in some cases more fierce than ever because they're mad and want power back. We have to know who we are and what we believe in and like the Legend of Billy Jean take stands- okay, I've never seen the film, it looks awful. And who am I preaching to, really? Well, myself for one. While most people close to me know my convictions, I tend to keep them for ranting, blogging, and snarking. I was able to vote with them as my guide, but I do not have the money to support any and though I do enjoy social and political organizing, I do not have the charisma to lead nor the patience to deal with insane people and apathy, ego, etc. In the end, I am not anyone remarkable, but powerful nonetheless and want to wield it effectively.

A fine line I must draw with Sprogette will be to be attached but detached as a philosophical Buddhist. I subscribe to so much of Buddhism because it is the antidote and ration I need for my anxiety and fury, but it's not an easy path to follow and I can't even say I'm a student. While I don't find excessive value in gadgets, toys, and other clutter, I am still someone who is attached in that I want to own friendships, am jealous, critical, judgmental and go beyond my will to try and change others- but I am most harsh with myself. All ready, I'm declaring my unborn daughter to go to a top 10 school, be progressive and be satisfied with what she has and not the latest trend like a Wii or something. I'm approaching her as clay because in one way she is- she needs to survive and grow in my reflection and be set on the best journey i can provide, but it is her journey and I have to let her be her own guide. I think I'm going to seek out books and blogs on the matter and try to find the peace I need to stop trying to play King Knute and calm the oceans. One lesson will be to teach her: Be Who You Are. If I say it often enough both of us might listen.
I say "both" because I think J will be awesome in this department. He's never tried to control me and has been so encouraging and interested in what I bring to our relationship that I have a feeling he's going to be fascinated by who Sprogette becomes. Sure, we'll be tested and frustrated, buttons pushed and nerves stomped on. But my mom did something right by allowing me to become my own person and I owe it to the alien inside me to try to find that balance. I've caused too much pain and drama trying with my attachment- this is an opportunity to learn and teach for the best celebration of the self, life, beauty, and the Buddha in all things.

Fun with Faramir, who i like to call "Lars"

2008-11-07T19:43:00.001-08:00

J gets complete credit for this one... :)

x-posting - Rhymes with Dote.

2008-11-04T16:32:00.000-08:00

It dawned on me while in the waiting room today that once again i've become far too interested in what others think, what they interpret, how they feel, etc about my thoughts and feelings, and once again I have to fling that burden free and just let myself be myself even if by myself (thank you, pantera). I put my foot in my mouth and think some crazy-arsed things, but I will not invite stifling. So, here I am. I am in a good mood. I began missing my mother out of the blue and am getting way too attached to our house guest.

oh.. and I VOTED. Nooo Dookie. Like this loudmouth Irish chick isn't going to put the eraser to the screen, baby! I vote vote voted, and if you're able i hope you do. I'm not going to say that i don't care who for because I do. I want you to agree with me and vote the way I do. Just being honest. i understand that we all have different points of view, but I find the Republican view offensive in its multi-issued platform and really the burden of convincing here is on the deviant. I am an Independent because the Democrats are too conservative for my tastes. But there are two at the forefront, and pragmatically, there is one: Obama. The other one sucks and his VP is a joke.

So there. We got up around 6ish and stumbled out the door a few minutes after 7. The line was incredibly small, they found our names easily in the book and we had to play musical chairs in a sitting line (I kid you not) - me hopping up and down from chair to chair 25 times. The blog worthy part was the guy sitting next to us. He quipped about wanting Whiskey not coffee about 5 times, I found out that his wife was from the Phillipines, and he made a very vulger joke with Italian slurs. He showed me his t-shirt and i didn't get it, but assumed it was an Obama slur- something about Husker and Kenya? i dunno.. and he mentioned a completely stupid local news story about a misquote from Obama about coal. I was polite and pleasant, and J should be proud that I didn't start no trouble ;) Funny thing- camera phones were banned.

And then I voted- I like my right to privacy, but I'm pretty transparent about this:

Yes to Obama,
No to Manchin (gov) - i wrote in a former candidate who he sabotaged years ago in his lust for power,
No to Rockefeller - i wrote in someone else, and looking back, that was a little petty, but he's not in any threat to lose
Yes to levies that fund public schools and libraries.
All others democratic, except for the crackwhore.

I voted for:

Those without the privilege of voice in our nation. The children in poverty, the people broken by circumstances and the cogs in generational wheels of stagnation.
Non-profits and government-guided programs that level the playing field for everyone but whose budgets get cut everytime a yacht is threatened to be sold and are in horrid disrepair due to neglect.
Anyone considered a second-class citizen, so that they can have opportunities to grasp and the hope of living a happy life.
Mother Earth and my concept of God
A culture of life from conception until death.
Fair wealth distribution, promoting competition and preventing consolidation and socializing of wealth. (not my area- i'm an idealist)
Peace.

So, YAY! Wave my flag! Get out my Pom-pom! GOBAMA! And thank you Starbucks for a tastey coffee.

But ya know what? If he wins, and dear god please let that be so, the world will not change suddenly- nay, maybe not even significantly in his administration. We have morning show assholes still making Clinton jokes because they resented his presidency so much that they smeared him from day 1. That is what we can expect. Limbaugh lives because Clinton won, and what CHUD will emerge when Obama does, rallying the ignorant and afraid together in their bigotry and hate? Palin might remain a star, or worse. Obama might be attacked physically. And honey, Gay Marriage, Global Warming, Health Care- these will be in the periphery making baby steps to progress.

May we win this battle and accept the patience needed to walk the path ahead, happy in its direction more than pace.

And if not.. hide the knives.

House Guests

2008-11-03T07:03:00.000-08:00

"This will end in tears" I said as I bent down to give the small white kitten a bit of food. She'd been wandering around our yard when I came home Friday and was clearly lost- too vulnerable to have been let out by choice. She was dirty, thin, needy, and had no ID. So, we've fed her and let her in from the cold and even gave her a name - Arwen (since she looks like an elf). Her owners may surface any time now, and Splenda might just put a hit out on her, so I'm trying not to get very attached, but I like animals more than people and she's just so very cuddly and sweet.

Right now she's still a "house guest" which seem to be more rare than a clever Leno joke. We have a pretty awesome house and are interesting, great people, but it's mostly for just we three, soon to be four and kitten would be five- yikes. While I'm happy it's not "grande central", it does cause me to pause. I send out so many social invitations that just get blank stares, ignored, or fed poor excuses and do take them personally, but don't really let them affect me anymore. For some reason, I lack a "cool" gene (perhaps in my authenticity) and am just unpopular or uncharismatic. That saves me drama, but it also prevents our home from being visited by the varying energies that people and beings bring with them- the love. There is an abundance of it among the few inhabitants, but as Arwen showed, we have a capacity to hold much more. I doubt I'll ever change and can only hope that Sprogette isn't left with a void.

This might be a dramatic week. While early voting was the hip thing to do, we're going tomorrow morning before i have a Sprogette appointment. Then I have several assignments to turn in for my taking class and an exam prep to prepare for my teaching one. It's a new year to us wheel followers, and I feel like i've entered a warm beautiful and obscure lake, starting to panic a bit because i can't swim.

And i'm doing NaNo. Last year, people got weird about it to the point where if I was proud that I won they bitterly made me feel like I was bragging. So, i'm keeping a little more quiet this time and having it as a private game. Gee, these seem like themes.

What Halloween Means to Me

2008-10-31T12:15:00.000-07:00

Halloween is my most favoritest holiday. People get to dress weird and get candy and talk about ghosts. Werewolves and vampires and mummies and zombies. Spiders are okay today too, but I would not want one to bite me.

Halloween is better than Christamas because you do not have to buy anything. Someone will always have extra candy. There isn't wrapping paper to throw away and I can wear black, lots of makeup and just explain who I am. I like cemeteries too. I do not like candy corn.

I wish Halloween were not just one day a year. I wish that stores waited until after Halloween to set out Chrisamas trees. It is a good day and it is fun to be scared. It helps us deal with death.

-Maura, age 34

freedom and structure

2008-10-27T07:20:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a very Maura day. I took J to lunch (a very unimpressive Fazoli's experience.) and then to the Museum. We both love the museum and are quite fortunate to have such a fantastic one in our humble city. Highlights of the trip included seeing the African Art exhibit and the botanical garden. As for the prior, ever since I went to the Smithsonian Museum of African Art in about 1994 I have been fascinated by the Cameroon region as a vital breeding ground for artistic culture. In my World Music class we discussed that some groups in that region have the most ancient form of music, and if you experience the masks and artifacts from there, the careful figures and craftsmanship, I think you'll agree with me. Anyway, it was a fantastic trip and we don't go often enough. I have to give a shout-out to Heiner's Bakery, of all people. Due to their sponsorship of art education, Sprogette can go to the museum once a week when she's five to attend free art classes. free. Huh- back in my day, they weren't free, dammit.

One of the exhibits was Darryl Holbrook's Recent Work. Beside his sketches and sculptures, he paints with acrylic on printed fabric and then varnish and most of the themes were the reckless mechanization of the natural world. He had a token 9/11 painting, which I say flippantly, but in fact it is a significant event and the artist is best expressing a reaction through her work. I was stumped by one painting, which represented the recklessness of modernity, but I don't feel I completely grasped the meaning- I feel the ghost structure in it was a manor home, but the windows suggested reverence- a grand church, though, would have clashed with the heartland landscape. So, *shrug* that's going to perplex me for a while. Macht Nix.

Beyond the beauty and education of the experience, I was visited by a long-dormant ghost in my brain- the one reminding me of freedom versus structure. I have an artistic sensibility, yet I am not formally trained and convinced myself long ago that i could not do certain things, like draw correctly. I also discouraged myself from the arts because I didn't feel like i could produce anything marketable, as if that is the main point. In a nutshell, I either conjured or clung to structures that prevented my freedom to express. While I could point to some scenes involving artistic stifling in my life, I need to look at myself and what I promote and invent to perpetuate the suppression.

This is true in music: I can sing, I was in a band for a while and had a great time creating, but I'm intimidated by the process, think it would be silly, unmarketable, and i'd probably never finish anything because i'm lazy. How much of that is warped. What i see in that statement that is so tragic for me is that i don't know how to just enjoy making music.
This is true with painting: I have a great eye for color and composition, but I rarely paint and complete ideas, nor do I learn the skills to best express my ideas. I'm certain I just won't get it and rather than sit down and try, I procrastinate online.
This is true most of all for writing: I have been groomed as a writer since I was at least 10 years old, my verbal skills being badass and cynically, i was a big girl who wasn't good at math, so hey, they had to give me some hope. But anyway, I do write. Hell, I blog constantly with essays and introspection, out-right whining and pith. But there is no discipline in my hand. I use my energy for casual writing that occasionally does hit a nerve with someone, but for the most part is just added into the clutter of the internet landscape. I waste my talent- and why? Well, I'm afraid, I think, that if i take it seriously, I'd fail and I don't want someone to confirm what I already think about myself. That's one theory. Another is that i fancy distraction too much to commit to anything meaningful as a whole- part of an internet addiction, instant publishing gratification, etc. Another is that my standards for myself are so high that I don't want to produce something that isn't automatically brilliant, and so i'll discourage the raw and untidy drafts unless I can at once perform genius. Yes, i'm a nut, but mostly just harming myself.

Who would want to see/read/hear this anyway? I don't fit in anywhere- who am i trying to impress? Why bother?

Part of me worries that i'll pass this down to sprogette. My outrageous standards are held to myself mostly, but also more to women than men, which is why I despise much of my gender. I don't want her to feel like she can't have fun and learn on her own. Luckily, J understands how to enjoy himself and can trump me when i'm being fascist. But, for the last 12 years he's tried to get me out of my own cocoon of self-discouragement and learn to be free of the structures I both seek and build, and I don't know if I've budged a bit. But I want to.

I want to, but how?

And I notice that I will isolate myself, not communicating, replying, or asking for company or help but then whine that no one's begging for my attention and saving me from myself. Weird. I don't know why I retreat like that.

Boo!

2008-10-23T17:11:00.000-07:00

Disney's Skeleton Dance

and here are my lists:

Top 5 Horror Movies are....

Night of the Living Dead
Carnival of Souls
Horror Rises from the Tomb
Serpent and the Rainbow
Martin
.....alternate is Dawn of the Dead (70's) and Horror Hotel

Five Songs:

Siouxsie and the Banshees "The Execution"
The Specials "Ghost Town"
Throbbing Gristle "Hamburger Lady"
DeFaxx "Narrow House"
Bach's Fugue - the Transylvania number

People:

Rasputin
Mortiis
The Duggars

Odd

2008-10-21T10:21:00.000-07:00

there were a couple in the quiz where my preference was based on the examples rather than the movement. I always fancied myself a surrealist.

hmmm

Your result for What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test...

Balanced, Secure, and Realistic.

13 Impressionist, 12 Islamic, 2 Ukiyo-e, -15 Cubist, -16 Abstract and 3 Renaissance!

Impressionism is a movement in French painting, sometimes called optical realism because of its almost scientific interest in the actual visual experience and effect of light and movement on appearance of objects. Impressionist paintings are balanced, use colored shadows, use pure color, broken brushstrokes, thick paint, and scenes from everyday life or nature.

People that like Impressionist paintings may not alway be what is deemed socially acceptable. They tend to move on their own path without always worrying that it may be offensive to others. They value friendships but because they also value honesty tend to have a few really good friends. They do not, however, like people that are rude and do not appreciate the ideas of others. They are secure enough in themselves that they can listen to the ideas of other people without it affecting their own final decisions. The world for them is not black and white but more in shades of grey and muted colors. They like things to be aestically pleasing, not stark and sharp. There are many ways to view things, and the impresssionist personality views the world from many different aspects. They enjoy life and try to keep a realistic viewpoint of things, but are not very open to new experiences. If they are content in their live they will be more than likely pleased to keep things just the way they are.

Take What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test at HelloQuizzy

poetry and not

2008-10-18T21:17:00.000-07:00

So.... BET in their infinite wisdom apparently named 'Lil Wayne "lyricist of the year". Now, i am not a current follower of pop or the crap out there now, but i looked up some poetry of this guy and wow, it's terrible. So, i thought i'd present probably the best example off the top of my head of hip-hop done right, though there are so many others.

Television, The Drug of the Nation
By Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy

One Nation under God
has turned into
One Nation under the influence
of one drug

Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation

T.V., it satellite links
our United States of unconciousness
Apathetic therapeutic and extremely addictive
the methadone metronome pumping out
a 150 channels 24 hours a day
you can flip through all of them
and still there's nothing worth watching

T.V. is the reason why less than ten percent of our
Nation reads books daily
Why most people think Central America
means Kansas
Socialism means unamerican
and Apartheid is a new headache remedy

absorbed in it's world it's so hard to find us
It shapes our minds the most
maybe the mother of our Nation
should remind us
that we're sitting to close to. . .

Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation

T.V. is
the stomping ground for political candidates
Where bears in the woods
are chased by Grecian Formula'd
bald eagles

T.V. is mechanized politic's
remote control over the masses
co-sponsered by environmentally safe gases
watch for the PBS special

It's the perpetuation of the two party system
where image takes precedence over wisdom
Where sound bite politics are served to
the fastfood culture

Where straight teeth in your mouth
are more important than the words
that come out of it
Race baiting is the way to get selected
Willie Horton or
Will he not get elected on . . .

Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation

T.V. is it the reflector or the director?
Does it imitate us or do we imitate it
Because a child watches 1500 murders before he's
twelve years old and we wonder how we've created
a Jason generation that learns to laugh
rather than abhor the horror

T.V. is the place where
armchair generals and quarterbacks can
experience first hand
the excitement of video warfare
as the theme song is sung in the background

Sugar sweet sitcoms
that leave us with a bad actor taste while
pop stars metamorphosize into soda pop stars
You saw the video
You heard the soundtrack
Well now go buy the soft drink
Well, the only cola that I support
would be a union C.O.L.A. (Cost of Living Allowance)
On Television.

Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation

Back again, "New and Improved",
we return to our irregularly programmed schedule
hidden cleverly between heavy breasted
beer and car commericals

CNN ESPN ABC TNT but mostly B.S.
Where oxymoronic language like
"virtually spotless" "fresh frozen"
"light yet filling" and "military intelligence"
have become standard

T.V. is the place where phrases are redefined
like "recession" to "necessary downturn"
"crude oil" on a beach to "mousse"
"Civilian death" to "collateral damages"
and being killed by your own Army
is now called "friendly fire"

T.V. is the place where the pursuit
of happiness has become the pursuit of trivia
Where toothpaste and cars have become sex objects
Where imagination is sucked out of children
by a cathode ray nipple
T.V. is the only wet nurse
that would create a cripple

Television, the drug of the Nation
Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation
On Television . . .

the Happy

2008-10-17T11:41:00.000-07:00

What songs make you happy instantly?

Well, 90% of my music is not happy-dappy toe-tapping music. Really, it's for depressives and people who take themselves far too seriously. But on occasion, a tune floats by that zaps any clouds away. I thought i'd give balance to yesterday's list with this small one. And i'll probably add to it. The thing is, I don't want to over think it- don't force it- what comes to the top of your head only?

Roam by the B-52's - Actually, for a long time, Cosmic Thing was a favorite album of mine to bring the happy. It was the ying to the overwhelming yang of Cure, Pigface, etc that i was obsessed with. But, VH-1 ruined "love shack" for me and the rest lost their relevance. Roam, however, still makes me feel a little free and optimistic. I love to travel and never have the opportunity to, so thematically, it also reminds me that there are more ways than 1 to go outside of yourself, but mostly it reminds me how vast and open life is for possibilities!

Fell in Love with a Girl by White Stripes - it's silly garage rock mayhem from a brilliant band. So up-tempo and positive that there is just no way i can listen passively.

The Unicorn Song by Irish Rovers - this dates back to my childhood. It was on a Reader's Digest collection of 50's and 60's songs that i loved, and it's quite a sing-along happy song, for being about the tragic reason that unicorns aren't around. God is a jerk.

Harper Valley PTA by Jeannie C. Riley - This is a declaration against people like Sarah Palin, really- the PTA bitches, the Homeowner Association people- telling you your business while their own corrupt little lives don't stink. It's awesome, and so is the movie. AND it's a fantastic karaoke favorite.

Crystal Days by Echo and the Bunnymen - Even Ian McCullough gets wistful. This is off one of my favorite albums of all time, Ocean Rain, and while that title track is about being awashed and brought down, this song is the prelude- the "how we were" days. And it captures a nostalgic freedom rather well. Just happy.

You Maka My Dreams Come True by Hall and Oates - I love H&O and i'm not ashamed. These guys write songs and can play music and Daryl Hall's voice is fanrastic. They do cool, and i love them most when they're bouncy. Try having a bad day when this song comes on- it's just a simple statement that he loves this chick!

City Morning Song by Sarah Shannon - This is a newer one for me, but has to be mentioned. I wasn't a fan of velocity girl, it coming into th elight in the mid-90's when i'd already chosen my pet bands and genres. But she's the former vocalist, and i might have been missing out. This song evokes a false memory of stepping out, like Mary Tyler Moore into an urban setting sometime in the just-waning part of the 20th C, feeling pretty, alive, and hopeful. Its great to go there.

And for reference, the videos are here!

Sad Songs they Say

2008-10-16T09:07:00.001-07:00

What are some sad songs that still get to you?

I try to come off as a cool kitty, but I AM A SAP!
A few of Mine are:

Everybody Hurts by REM. I'm sorry, but it gets to me. The video really nailed it too. The simple musicbox melody and rhythm have an innocence to it, and since not only have I had a lot of pain in my life but i have a nagging sense of empathy, it opened up a window to our shared inner wounding, and since it came out, i haven't been able to get through it, and certainly not the video.
What's Goin' On by Marvin Gaye. I was recently reminded that i blubber at this one when i'm in a reflective mood. There will never be another song like it- not one that openly looks at the absurdity of our society and certainly not one that handles it seriously if you've heard the utter shallow shite on the radio now'a'days. But what gets to me, believe it or not, is the "father, father" part considering his father shot him. An earnest and haunting song with ironic foreshadowing- and the timber of his voice is evocative to compound it.
Honey by Bobby Goldsboro. This was traumatic from childhood. A song recalling the happy times of marraige after his wife dies with terms of affection as the title? The narrative is devistatingly depressing and why the HELL is that a song? Screw you, Bobby Goldsboro. I can't even think about it without tearing up, you arse!
Luka/What's the Matter Here? - okay this is more obvious and less triggerng. Child abuse songs. Poor Luka. Child abuse makes me so enraged that i can't listen to these because i'm sad and angry that someone would ever ever hurt an innocent kid. I know i have rage issues that Sprogette will discover and play with, but you just. don't. do that. *sniff*
It won't Rain all the Time by Jane Sieberry. - it's off the Crow soundtrack and used in the film it's just hauntingly perfect. But again, if you have ever dealth with depression or empathy, it can play your strings. And it's true- no matter how low you are, it's temporary, so don't dispair or be drastic. That's hard to remember, and this song is like a friend reminding you.
Dreams by the Cranberries.- Again, part of this is her timber. She cannot sing live, but Dolores O'Riordan records well. Anyway, this came out when i was in my late teens and the sentiment of being both wanting to love but being hesitant rang true with me. the line "you have my heart so don't hurt me" still touches me, because in my relationships- from J to friends, I tend to have a guard and once it's down, you want assurance that it's not in vain. I dunno- it's a silly song, but in the right mood- it brings back a lot of rejection and risk.
In My Life by The Beatles - see REM. It's the musicbox quality along with the fact that you don't always get to tell people you love them before it's too late- universal themes all in a simple tune and it's the simple ones that get ya. I still have problems listening to this one.
How Can I Keep from Singing? by Enya. Her voice conjures heaven, i'm convinced. I don't know if this so much makes me sad (which contradicts the intention of it) or just emotional. It recalls the intensity that prompts you to burst out- whether something be so beautiful, so joyous, or so painful and sad. The nerve that gets touched, or the spirit. So, i think about those times and get weepy.
Seventeen by Janis Ian - this is an old favorite. As a girl who never got asked out in high school (seriously) and was always the fat friend or the guy's safe confident, i know this song as if i wrote it. It's BS because janis herself was adorable, but so was I, really- it's all in the societies of youth and school days, and how destructive to how we saw ourselves.
Coal of Many Colors- Dolly Parton - this is a song about pride despite commercialism and status obsession. It's a coat made of fabric pieces that she's proud of because her momma made it. try arguing that when bullies insist you have the right shoes, and store bough everything. I was not that poor growing up, but my generation was and is still obsessed with status, and I didn't always keep up but i knew my mom tried her best and i was genuinely happy with what i had.
So Like Candy by Elvis Costello - adding this one because lately i heard it and had to bite my lip not to cry, and it wasn't just the hormones. This one is personal and sure, it's a pathetic song, but in my own small life, i've made decisions and done things that affected other people and i didn't take that into account. This song shows how affected people hurt. You do hurt the ones who love you and sometimes i come out of being Hurricane Maura not realizing i do damage.

I'm sure there are others, but these are the only ones coming to the surface.

Now.... YOUR TURN!!

Videos for reference available here in case you don't know the song:
http://misfitina.livejournal.com/2027016.html

Obscured by clouds

2008-10-14T08:01:00.001-07:00

Part of the romance in this season is feeling both the bursting beauty of it but also the undefinable longing as the days wane. Some of us are nocturnal; i am definitely solar powered and even afflicted with Seasonal Affective Disorder (which is not a huge thing, and i'm not declaring that as a trendy illness). So when the sunlight declines, it feels like something's missing and I believe that is the environmental portion of seasonal depression. For me, I've also had weird preggo mood swings and a huge life-change to accept, so I think i've been in a mild funk at a time when there is absolutely no reason to be. Well, you know what? Sometimes depression is irrational. And though I can debate clinical depression elsewhere (too often the approach to treat is a pill for the chemical imbalance when that imbalance is circumstantial and based on coping- so it's chicken/egg) mine is thankfully a passing thing in which i act childish, cooky, withdrawn, irascible, and whiny and unpleasant. YAY!

But then the clouds pass like smoke on a battlefield and those who remain are the keepers, right? This in no way means you can go unchecked as a hurricane and expect them to remain, but when you're not certain nor composed, it's a blessing, if you will, to find figures in the dissipating dust. J loves me despite myself, and this is a good time in our lives.

And you know what is a good reminder of this?

From the coast of gold, across the seven seas,
I'm traveling on, far and wide,
But now it seems, I'm just a stranger to myself,
And all the things I sometimes do, it isn't me but someone else.

I close my eyes, and think of home,
Another city goes by, in the night,
Ain't it funny how it is, you never miss it til it's gone away,
And my heart is lying there and will be til my dying day.

Chorus:
So understand
Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years,
Face up...make your stand,
And realize you're living in the golden years.

Too much time on my hands, I got you on my mind,
Can't ease this pain, so easily,
When you can't find the words to say, it's hard to make it through another day,
And it makes me wanna cry, and throw my hands up to the sky.

Chorus:
So understand
Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years,
Face up...make your stand,
And realize you're living in the golden years.

Video? Sure thing :)

(And i'll bet you thought "Obscured by Clouds" would have Pink Floyd references- come on, am i that predictable?)

Guess which awesomely creepy film...

2008-10-12T16:24:00.000-07:00

The Best. of. Both worldsss

2008-10-11T07:26:00.001-07:00

Star Trek as the A Team

structured play

2008-10-10T11:05:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about parts of my personality lately because frankly, when i have downtime i like to point out what's wrong about me and then come up with diagnoses and treatments. I guess that's neurotic- meh. Anyway, as J will emphatically agree, I like "structured play"- i don't like idle time or down time. This contributes to the fact that i never feel relaxed, probably, but i'm happiest with an itinerary, a goal, and activity. Articles on sprog-raising have suggested that "free play" is best for development despite what the 80's and 90's have advocated, and I think sprog-daddy might be best on preventing me from pulling my hair out because she's not actively engaged in something at those times.

But what makes a quirk and what makes an affliction? Here's a list of the grey areas:

I am not tidy. My work space has piles not to an extreme, but it does always look like there is work in progress that i could be attending to.
i like attention. I've grown disgusted with micro-blogging programs like Twitter because it's all self-indulgent, talking "at" each other and folks don't acknowledge when I reply nor do they acknowledge what i say. I like feedback, dialogue, reception. But maybe others do get it because they're more interesting or more "popular" - christ, the internet is such an extension of high school.
i don't like to be alone. i spend more than half of my waking hours in solitude at work and have a need to communicate somehow and connect with the social world in some way. When i don't, i feel rejected and restless. That's not pretty, i know, and i've never been accused of being clingy, but as a substitute i have the passive communication online and that just widens any void.

So when i look at things like this, it's clear that i'm childlike. I wouldn't say 'immature' because no, I accept responsibility and behave diplomatically. I don't simply "escape" from reality through games or alternate realities. But I have the naive expectations of going out, declaring myself, and recieving happy returns like a basket full of daisies. And the world is just not like that. I have idiolinguistics that come from nowhere and its frustrating. Exclusion from blog rolls mean people aren't proud to know me, and not having visitors, houseguests or fanfare totally means i'm worthless. Ah go, team maura.

Then I go home to all the love there and it's better, but probably needy on poor J.

This entry is painfully disjointed - somehow rambling and whining are okay eventhough they're pointless and don't accomplish anything but unstructured time befuddles and frustrates me.

Punkin Fest!

2008-10-07T18:24:00.001-07:00

Indentiwho?

2008-10-01T06:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon was a little difficult. Nothing huge, but a faint "illness" was hanging over me and i couldn't seem to do anything that didn't make me queasy. I'm at the point where hormones are shooting in all directions, probably producing more for the sprogette, and if i'd actually read the information on pregnancy I'd know. But part of the problem is that i'm in a kind of denial still, and that contributed to the crappy hours of my day.

When going to a site on pregnancy information, I noticed the same disinterest and mild disgust for baby issues and items that I've had most of my life. It was alien information for little monkeys that I had no instincts toward. A few years ago, when i had a second job at Target, I had to be forced at gun point to work in the infant section because i had no clue and didn't want to know. I didn't like the cult of parenthood, I have contempt for helpless humans, and I hate pastel! Not to mention the obsession with minutia in that cult, the smells, the branding... gah. So how am I supposed to start giving a damn?

Well, I'm not a cold person, and it's weird, but I like children and have a deep empathy for the tragic fact that they are happy little monkeys until we screw it up for them. I thought about sprogette finding out that I looked at this site in disgust, and thought about her internalizing that it meant i hated her, and I was awash with guilt. I'm very sensitive to living beings feeling unwanted- so much that it causes a visceral reaction if i think i've committed it. I don't know where it comes from- my parents wanted me, and maybe it's been the damage of everyone else's indifference toward me since (except J, virgil, splenda..). But anyway, i thought about the alien within me sharing my thoughts and feeling that, and the guilt was unbearable. I mentioned feeling like a monster for my disinterest, and someone brought forth a concept that made everything clear: pregnancy can be an identity crisis.

I am both confident in my identity and insecure at the same time- no, that's not cool to admit, but it's true. I've always been me and my problems lay mostly in the bewilderment that people don't rise up and embrace me for it. And yet, i'm constantly defining myself by rejecting things out loud and adapting in searches for acceptance (which soon lead to clashes from over-compromising). Who knows. My point is actually that identity is disrupted by life changes and truth be told, I haven't had very many to notice the impact. In my adult life, becoming a "wife" was easy because I'd been a "girlfriend" for years and I adapt well to living situations- it wasn't like being swept away from a nunnery to be the old butcher's wife. I ease into roles, learning, observing, testing- and none of this betrays the identity I've had. I wasn't a "single woman" with a specific lifestyle. But in this case, I have been resolutely child-free.

As early as 13 I decided I wasn't going to have kids- it sounds like a strange resolution, but in that age, we plan who we want to be. I wanted to be a writer or an English teacher (hence academic) and never saw myself with a family, mostly because i was sure no one would ever want to marry me. But anyway... through those developmental years and then adulthood, it became my thing to be aloof toward this growing cult of peers who when they were 13 began amusing themselves with baby names, wedding colors, and whatever else would be their haven and prison beyond school. I was going to be free- selfish, sure, but since life is a solo gig, it was going to be mine. I didn't grow up around babies and when one would come around I never knew how to hold them, was yelled at or laughed at or lectured on how fragile they are. I hate weakness and fragility in people, so why would i want to be responsible for such clay?

So adult hood settled in and my friends were also of the child-free sect, becoming an academic class aspiring toward professional and creative class whose idea of parenthood was that it was for stay-at-homes, religious nuts, and basically losers if you want to get ugly. We wouldn't give into the pressures of mothers-in-law and parents who assumed we needed to conform. In my case, I am aware of the strain of overpopulation and there is no obligation in the least for me to contribute to world hunger, divided access to wealth, and economic scarcity. It was noble and good of me to opt out! And it became me into the beginning of my 30's so that it was a topic only brought up among the like-minded who roll their eyes and sneer at the peasants who don't really know how to live. Yep- beware of child-free advocates- we/they can be nasty.

And now, boom. My personal convictions drove me to accept this challenge and though I have books that show how big the sprogette is, what i should be eating, why i'm vomiting, why I shouldn't have shellfish... there is a whole complicated psychological war going on that isn't fluffy. Who I am is changing and I will no longer resolve and master who I become. No, I don't have to suddenly want unicorns to poop pink clouds on my walls, but I do have to know what a Boppy is, how to use a thermometer, and prepare myself for smells that in the past have made me violently ill at their mere mention. It took a long time for me to realize that J needed me as I need him. Now, I'm going to have that established in sprogette's first breath. There's no way to prepare entirely, but I have to shed my self-concept enough to be open and not resist.

Be a Radical- READ

2008-09-29T08:19:00.000-07:00

Most Frequently Challenged Books of 2007-2008

And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell
Chocolate War by Robert Cormier
Olive's Ocean by Kevin Henkes
The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
The Color Purple by Alice Walker
TTYL by Lauren Myracle
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
It's Perfectly Normal by Robie Harris
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

More information Here from our University Library.

As you know, i'm a Library brat- practically brought up in one. Public libraries can be the front line of the government's war on Freedom, a scapegoat for the decadence of free information, and the butt of a joke in a consumer-driven economy that devalues free exchange. I'm proud to support the library, use it, and advocate for its place in society as the final sanctuary of ideas and possibilities. We cannot allow censorship or discouragement of ideas.

It's a Gourmet Day

2008-09-28T19:11:00.000-07:00

Well, i neglected a lot of things this weekend and have generally been under the weather. My joints ache and i feel like if someone could just twist me hard enough something would pop and i'd feel loads better. I don't believe in chiropractors, but i can see the appeal.

Anyway, today was "Gourmet Day". I am a foodie, but not really a snob since they're unbearable. So, I planned yummy things to make today that would exercise my kitchen foo and be easily repeated if you're curious. And they're pretty.

Olive Focaccia with garlic.

Supplies:
* 1 1/2 C warm water
* 3 tablespoons olive oil (plus some for drizzling)
* 1 1/4 teaspoons salt
* 3.5 C All purpose flour
* 1 tablespoon instant yeast
* 1/2 C sliced small green olives
* sliced cherry tomatoes
* 2 heads of roasted garlic

Lightly grease a 9 x 13 pan, and drizzle 1-2 tablespoons olive oil in the bottom.
Combine all of the ingredients (minus the garlic and basil) and beat at high speed with hand mixer until blended and consolidated. Pour out onto wax surface and knead for 5 minutes.
cover the bowl and let it rise at room temperature for 60 minutes until it becomes puffy.
While the dough is rising, preheat our oven to 375 F.
After the bread rises, transfer to lined and greased baking sheet. gently poke the dough all over with your finger. Top with garlic. Drizzle olive oil on top and bake for 40 mins.

Harvest Beef Stew
This turned out thicker than you might want because i skimped on the water and oversaturated with egg noodles

1 lb. beef tips (clearly not a veg option, kids)
3 tbs. Olive Oil
2 tbs. minced garlic
1 chopped white onion
4 cups beef broth
1 tbs. white pepper, paprika, and your favorite spices each
4 cups sliced cabbage
2 cups diced tomatoes (can be canned)
3 cups egg noodles

Seer tips with olive oil and dry spices at high hear. Add onions and garlic and sautee for 5 minutes. Add broth, bring to boil, cover and simmer for 1 hour. Let stand for 1 hour more. Then heat up again on high adding cabbagge and tomatoes. Cover again and once at a boil reduce to medium for 15 minutes. Then, add noodles and leave covered on low for 1/2 hour. Then you're ready.

BANANA PEANUT BUTTER BREAD
4 med., extra ripe bananas, peeled
1/3 c. peanut butter - natural!
1/4 c. butter, softened
2 eggs
2 c. flour
1/2 c. sugar
1 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
Slice bananas into blender. Puree until smooth (1 1/2 cups). Beat peanut butter and butter until smooth. Beat in eggs, then bananas until blended. Combine dry ingredients; gradually beat into banana mixture until blended.

Pour into greased 9 x 5 inch loaf pan. Bake in 350 degree oven 50 minutes until wooden pick inserted comes out clean. Cool 10 minutes in pan. Turn onto wire rack to complete cooling. Makes 1 loaf.

My letter to NPR's "All things considered"

2008-09-26T08:21:00.001-07:00

In reference to this: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=94985943

To All Things Considered:
I feel that I need to respond to Wednesday's segment on the parlor festival "All Tomorrow's Parties". The level of elitism and pretension oozing from that event and throughout the report was disgusting. An outrageously expensive show at an obscure small venue showcasing voices of the past and ultra-hip indie gods? Why would I want to be anywhere near these conspicuously wealthy, uber-cool people more interested in image and a fashionable experience than releasing music to a more accessible platform? How can we alienate people more from a musical experience? And then the reporter smugly celebrates its price tag and justifies this? What a sad time for music.

But what about me?

2008-09-25T06:43:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a little vacation from my compulsive political discussions today. I think we've come to a point so absurd and yet so severe, that little people like me are reduced to babbling and giving into the fear of hysteria. So, I opt out. I've been thinking about the act of "opting out" lately, too. Financially I am low-to-middle middle class, and technically we could engage in status-seeking behavior to be conspicuous about it, but we're able to see hollow value in such things as gadgetry, what passes for entertainment, and whatever goofy thing my infantile generation cooks up to project a cool image. Its sad when people work and work but are up to their necks in credit and bills to afford i-whatevers and new TV's. Opting out challenges the definitions of social class regarding demonstration through symbolic consumption. The fact that we can "opt" is a debatable factor of class itself, though; some view it as a choice of privilege, while others feel it's a choice no matter what rung you're in, within reason (a family in crisis at the mission may not buy an iphone, but they may budget when stabilized for cable TV).

Omg anyway.. I recently brought this up in a thread on a fundamentally progressive website, and studied the tone and content of the entire comment section to notice that class is a difficult issue to keep in the ideal or the abstract. At some point, politics being personal and whatnot, the discussion becomes about you or me. The author of the article suggested that people who are distressed about their economic situation look globally and note the relative wealth of our nation and its majority. That's fine, and as a whole, perspective does no harm but is an opportunity for growth and wisdom- perhaps even evaluating the gadget they are putting in overtime to afford. But, our times and some would argue our national identity make us sensitive to the possibility that someone's asking us to modify our perspective, and that causes defensiveness in the form of anecdote and personal view. How dare you tell me, who is struggling to make rent, struggling to afford daycare, struggling to afford gas, to consider myself lucky. It's relative! I suffer! It's valid!
And sure it is- but that's not the point of the post. Americans tend to be ethnocentric and self-involved, and this is a very hot area for us- personalizing the political so that the needs of the society are heavily dependent on the needs and motivations of the one.

How is that working for us so far? How will that work for us in the times ahead? Unless you've been hiding under a rock, you've noticed that the financial scene isn't so good in the US right now. Huge financial institutions are crumbling and the government is going to pull trillions of dollars off a tree farm? out its ass? oh yeah, out of our pockets to bail them out, some wanting to do this carte blanche and allowing CEO's to still draw incentives. No, we can't make sure every kid gets a free education and 3 squares, but we can give out golden parachutes. Yes, I support a humiliating revolution at this point, but what I'm hearing is a call to protect ourselves. Look at our assets and defend them, find out how vulnerable we are and act. The dialog is shifting from an impact on the people to an impact on you, the person. Yes, it's important, but time and again we see that individuals don't change their behavior as often as they look for resolutions to enable them. The fuel crisis and this banking crisis are opportunities to take a breath and see what is important, and I advocate we do that by noting the satisfaction of needs that comes from the items and services we use. My conclusions won't be the same as others, but I'd be so happy to see someone from the herd pop up and think about where they're going. They would stick their head up and see the crowd around them, the distinctions and the similarities and realize we're all on the road together- is it to a meadow, or to the slaughter?

Fiends of Coal Bull

2008-09-24T06:49:00.000-07:00

Marshall and WVU play an annual footiball game, which is nice and we usually get our asses handed to us while their fans make asses of themselves, but it's sponsored by "Friends of Coal" which is the Illuminati of the state.

Toreadorable

2008-09-21T08:25:00.001-07:00

Your result for Which Vampire the Masquerade Clan Are You?...
The Deceivers {Ravnos}

The wickedly black Ravnos clan rely on illusion. Like the gypsies of old they use the greatest tool of all, the con. They know that things are rarely as they seem and they rely on this to get by. They tend to say exactly what they mean and mean exactly what they say. To assume anything beyond what has been stated is foolhardy at best when dealing with the Ravnos. Everything is about perception to them and karmatic action is very important to them. They see death as a natural part of life and they believe that you should never take pity on a sucker.

For you to be a Ravnos means that you rely on deception and perception. You love to test those around you and you have no problem cheating at cards. The most important thing is for you to come out on top. You are always looking for the quick buck and for this reason I hope the luck is about you. Like all gypsies you follow your own moral code that outsiders wouldn't understand, be you natural Rom or not. So the question is, are you holding two aces or two duces?

Take Which Vampire the Masquerade Clan Are You? at HelloQuizzy

rock on.

2008-09-19T18:30:00.000-07:00

Heal Thyself

2008-09-19T07:03:00.000-07:00

When i worked in the Psychology Department, I found it amusing that the old snark about Psychologists were mental cases themselves was kind of true. I can't speak for the "hard" sciences (which face it, social sciences art, though our statistics are befuddlingly cute), but for social sciences, it seems like the disciplines attract those who are personally seeking answers from them. One Anthropologist friend of mine sees himself as an alien to the world and seeks to understand it as such. In my own discipline, I can see that it attracted me because I am somewhat of a misfit.

Now, when I say "misfit", a few things might erroneously come to mind, such as the pouty teenager in Hot Topic or someone intentionally and stylistically different. I'm not talking about that- i'm talking about, as i've mentioned, the "odd girl out" which isn't glamorous nor intended. Trust me, I wouldn't chose it. I remember as I progressed through my education in the discipline, I was interested in macro-sociology on a personal level because I always felt the unfair rub of being born working class and seeing from the outside that it wasn't my ability nor intelligence that prevented me from being groomed for success but more the social blockers. Then, we got into micro-sociology and at last i could diagnose why it was that while i did have one sister-like friend and people generally tolerated me, i always felt they held me at a distance and to anticipate that, i learned to not let them in. I became fascinated by the ideas of gestures, exchanges, especially by Goffman who I felt probably came from my worldview as his ideas about Dramaturgy and further development of Cooley's "looking glass self" spoke to me. Perhaps he was a misfit too, and saw how we are in action, with motivations, language and exchanges- shaped by the influence of theatrics as much as we develop them.

The truth is, that I remember being a bright, happy child, and I'm not sure when I turned into a lonely one. I did a visualization exercise one time and discovered that a part of myself was somewhere along the way discouraged, or that i anticipated acceptance and play and didn't receive it, but rather rejection or ambivalence and I didn't handle it well. I am still the optimistic, shy but open child with an open heart who wants to feel excepted and is completely not. As an adult, with the instincts of self-preservation and defenses, what happened is that though I naively try, I foolishly try to play along and join in, I'll either prevent myself from being vulnerable, or get taken in and learn over and over that I'm the misfit and not the special piece to a social network as I visualize.

I've met few self-actualized people who don't feel a little out of place somehow- maybe they're not as fit as they'd like, don't grasp a concept, or just want more money. So, we're all a little flawed in our own minds, and in mine it might always be socially. Recently, an online friend of mine suggested I look into ACOA resources eventhough my alcoholic parent died when i was a child. Symptoms like taking on the burden of a situation i'm marginally responsible for and becoming upset over small things, gloom doom- etc. are shared by people from similar or related family situations. I don't like to be a family-blamer, though. Sure, the mood was often grim with dad being sick, afflicted, and then gone.. but nurture is complete with friendships and there has always been something in the way. I have no choice but to admit that it's me, and in the tarot of society, i am "the misfit" apparently, "feelin' like i don't belong" as Karen Carpenter wrote, except at home with J, Splenda, the ghost of Virgil and Sprogette because she has no choice. And don't get me wrong, I'm thankful and blessed to have them- J is the best friend anyone can have and I mean it- he's never been insincere in his love for me and who would want a hundred friends of variable trust when you can have one to depend on, grow with, accept you. The acceptance I speak of is larger and more of a referencial group. I'd written about being the reluctant introvert, which is the same lines- i'm repeating the same pain in order to see if rearranging the words will help with conclusions.

Teaching social interactionist perspectives reminded me how interested I was in it. Some folks are drawn to their "-isms" and I do like to call out classism when I can, finding it a much deeper and quieter killer than the more trendy ones. But, in my field, such that it is and to which I loosely belong as a second-class educator who can't afford to get her PhD, I'm most drawn to the basics of human interaction, and while it'll probably never heal why I'm odd and unable to live as rich of a social life as I'd like, at least I can explore it scientifically instead of just thinking I'm a lame monster pat on the head but never invited to the party, and whose parties are never attended.

Or, i'm a social hypochondriac. It's okay- we all die alone :) *cheer cheer*

Blame J

2008-09-14T11:01:00.000-07:00

From Prenatal pics

Is of the fairer sex!

2008-09-10T10:40:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I had an ultrasound that revealed the sex of the alien sprog I'm carrying- it is female. I'd had a feeling this was the case, and she will be defying our look at the genetic legacy of recent generations. It could have gone either way, really, or more than either, if we keep in mind the sexual variations possible. And one could say that it doesn't really matter as long as they're healthy and happy. Yes, on an abstract level that's true, but "either way" it's a loaded road, and the truth is it really does matter.

Part of parenting and nurturing is responding to the needs of the child calling upon intellect, instinct, and also memory. As a girl myself (and oh whatta gal!), the memory part caused a heavy sigh for me after learning she's a sproggette. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that i thought it would be "easier" to raise a boy, and J vehemently disagrees. As monkeys with a conscience and clothing, we can be aggressive, competitive, cruel, and our gender assignments through socialization both inside and out of the groups can affect the delivery of these circumstances and phenomena. Most of my childhood was happy despite a lot of obstacles, but a part of me is still recovering from being an "odd girl out", chubby and too-bright, not caring about status symbols and eventually not liking women because I felt they were evil. Sure, men could be assholes and brutes, but women are truly evil, subtle, and would rather ruin your life than beat you up for a day.

And then there's society. As we saw (if we kept our eyes open) during the primary, a woman of experience and vision, who learns all the rules and survives can still be objectified and torn down by the same nagging stereotypes that made her pursuit radical and audacious. She can still be judged by the acts of her husband, and she must obscure parts of herself that feed into the prejudices of a patriarchal society. She is given different rules and expectations as an outsider while being accused of being a part of a dynastic establishment. And now, the republicans seek to undermine the strides made by feminism by holding up a clearly incompetent, tv-ready woman as equal in token to a candidate that endured and learned through trials by fire. If they win by the perversion and corruption of feminism, how hard is it going to be for sproggette when society has regressed at her birth to an era before the birth of her mother? In my current job, I see this same division and stratification along gender lines, and we're sociologists for chrissake!

So, the news is loaded for me. I'm a fighter when i want to be, and I'll fight for sproggette to live the best and happiest life I can provide, for her to make good and informed choices, and be fearless, with confidence and high self esteem. We will not let "the bastards get us down" (my mom's favorite saying). But now that I know which path parenting will take from the beginning (who knows where from there?), my heart sinks in my memory, flinching at the tears for being rejected, for being attacked, for being discouraged, or held back. She'll come into our world as a second citizen to some, raw meat to others, and though raising a boy would have a different treatise, she's born into a society that with something to prove at first breath.

I hope she kicks ass, surpassed our successes, and leads us into enlightment, progress, and equality at last.

Flaming Hypocrites EXXXposed!

2008-09-05T06:35:00.000-07:00

Oh, i have plenty to blog about and will produce content when I can.. but PLEASE take 5 minutes out of your day and watch this. Jon Stewart for the muthafunkin WIN!

this should be interesting cough

2008-09-04T11:57:00.000-07:00

Get out the nosecandy

2008-09-03T16:50:00.001-07:00

SI! Est Baccara!

Your Glamourous Self?

2008-09-02T11:17:00.001-07:00

When i was a tot, I idolized Ingrid Bergman. My mom brought home a gigantic book of movie posters and movie stars (written in the early 70's and obsessed with the golden age) and immediately I saw myself in Ingrid. It might be because we both have the lower cheekbones, reddish-blondish-brown hair, and the smaller nose, but as far as i can remember, this was the first instance of my Glamorous Self. Sure, she was also in some of the greatest films ever, but as each child looks for herself in others- her humor, her taste, she also I think looks for the ideal.

Then I discovered Rita Hayworth, and without being too analytical, I probably did this as i was beginning to develop a sexualized identity. While ingrid looked cerebral, serious, and at times wholesome (not so much in real life, i know), Rita was the vixen, the woman who would chew up good men, take too much from bad men, and was mysterious but overt at the same time.
Jack White mentions her as an icon for a dream woman in pretty much the same terms that I'd wanted to be that kind of dream woman. Sadly, learning about her awful childhood, awful relationships (even to a dreamy Orson Wells), and then Alzheimers, I don't see her purely as that icon anymore. But the facade she wore that caught our desire and imagination, might have also been her powerful escape, and if so, it's something I'd love an ability to attach.

J mentioned in a recent blog entry his affection for Julie Newmar, who is by most accounts the anti-Maura. She was tall, foxy, leggy, and oozed confidence and enigma. I'm not jealous, because he obviously digs me too. But we were looking at youtube material for Julie and came across a film in which she and Susan Hayward starred, and i realized it: I'm rather Susan Hayward at this point in life. I missed a lot of opportunities to be other manifestations due to my extremely low self esteem and weight issues, but I'm comfortable with my appeal now, kinda, and do know how to work it, even if the magic affects only me. I'm also discovering my inner Jennifer Saunders. I've been a fan of French and Saunders since I first learned about their work on the Young Ones (Jennifer being the drop in character "Helen Back") and tended to appreciate mostly Dawn French (for instance as Consuella the maid in the Comic Strip Presents). I think that's because in many of my friendships I admired the Dawn French in them. Bolder, outrageous, fearless- while my Saunders was more neurotic, self-conscious, and sarcastic. So, I now have 2 icons to rely on in my menagerie that already contains Boadicca, Joan of Arc, etc.
So welcome Susan and Jennifer!

Morbid Humor makes me happy

2008-09-02T07:35:00.000-07:00

I haven't been blogging much at all. Sometimes i'm Chatty Cathy, and sometimes I'm just too beaten into apathy by my disgust with the world and my inability to articulate the positives that keep me going.

I'm not much of a Star Wars fan, but I love the concept of a Jedi funeral. I would like to be cremated, and what better way than on a giant pyre? Actually, this would be modeled after Queen Dido in the Aeneid. She flipped out after Aeneas left her like a coward in the night (and got her revenge by giving him "the hand" in the underworld) and he could see the smoke from her pyre. I'm no queen (not even of DeNial), and I don't expect many to note my passing. Sure, i'm a likeable lass, but the impression fades. But, if I could have that one moment, my empty corpse ablaze, Carmina Burana chanted to entice spectators and evoke Irish mourners, I ask that when the flame dies this be sung. And if we can project the video, that would be fantastic.

This or That?

2008-08-29T05:51:00.000-07:00

.....Blasphemous, or just really immature?

People suck

2008-08-22T11:27:00.000-07:00

It turns out I will indeed have next Thursday off from teaching class (long story). One option is to go to a picinic, and another is for J and I to brave Charleston Regatta to see... Morris Day and some of the Time. You have to understand J and my appreciation for tacky 80's funkypop. And, I have to admit that I've thought Morris Day was a great showman since then and would like to catch him in action (he upstaged Prince in Purple Rain, for chrissake). Deciding not to drive a truck, these guys are going to play memories. But, we're not going to go. You know why?

Because people suck.
If the stage were in a nice, secluded area, where we could kick it on the lawn in the sunshine and listen, that's one thing. But, it's going to be at vagrant-fest, and there will be smelly drunk people either yelling that the band play Skynyrd or the other end of the chain will be discussing loudly on their cell phone how proud of themselves they are. There is nothing to like about summer festivals in West Virginia. It's hot, muggy, and it brings "the element" to town. I realize I sound like a blazing hypocrite since I'm such an advocate for class equality, public education, and harmony, but as a social being who has to deal with behaviors, I avoid social scenes in which the most offensive are amplified.

This is one of the reasons we don't go to the library anymore, too. J and I are book lovers. Right now I think he's having an affair with his 1000+ Robert Jordan novel. But weekends are only days that are good for us to go to the library, where there FREE books (double good!), and we live in an area right next to Asshatville with a small and tiresome library with awful parking. The closest with the most choices is "downtown" and you know who else is there? People. People yelling about how their boyfriend beat up their brother last night, omg! People bringing their 8 leashless children into the adult reading section with sticky popcicle hands. People looking up p0rn on the internet, trying to hide it from the librarians, and talking back to instant messages. The optimist in me says "libraries are for everyone because information is for everyone!" but the only way to remedy that voice and the one that wants people to drink a special koolaid is for me to blow the scene. Skip the circus. Snap the rag.

Er.. my point is that sometimes it's not the fact that "nothing good happens here". It's not that everything sucks, there's nothing to do, and someone should start something. It wouldn't matter what you start; people will come. Some are cool, polite, civil, and someone somewhere might be slightly sophisticated. But they're out numbered by the shadows of loud, rude, drunk people eating smelly food and all trying to participate in something, be entertained, escape. J and I are who we are just as they are, and it's best we just not ruin their time or let them ruin ours.

So screw it, we'll just rent Under the Cherry Moon!

Pretty Darned Cool

2008-08-19T13:07:00.001-07:00

Unfortunately, and predictably, there were arrests. Story Here.

One world, billions and billions of eyes

2008-08-19T09:24:00.000-07:00

While there are moments when you pause, such as hearing the baby's heartbeat through the monitor, so fast and strong, for me a good portion of reflections is consumed by worry since all research has an invitation to a more paranoid path. I know the only thing we can do is take things as they come, and be in the present, but the Celtic warrior in me picks out certain battles and devises plans to combat them. If I just prepare correctly, we'll avoid some of the ailments and "ailments" plaguing children (at the profit of pharm and the industries of remedy). But I know we can't avoid all challenges, and at this point though none have surfaced, the biggest fear is the unknown.

I can carry around a Bingo sheet with things that make my eyes roll. Pretentious statements, class blinders, ignorant statements.. I'll try a subtle jab to promote their awareness of it, but have learned to just sigh and roll. Some terms are included as well like "obesity epidemic". I'm not going into that right now and don't need to- read Kate Harding or any number of writers on the matter. I look at this card though, and see how much of it comes from people making value judgments of individuals based on their choices, whether or not they have equal access to the choices implied. Everyone judges everyone else, and it's as functional as it is harmful- it's evolution, picking out our tribe, finding out who to trust. But as I experience more of this "one world" mentality with the internet and globalization, i'm seeing more eyes staring back, waiting for any movement to attack.

Again, that's good and bad. With globalization, China is now feeling pressure (though embarrassingly weak) to stop human rights atrocities. But, on the individual participant level, with more immature individuals accessing social network sites, we also have an onslaught of stranger-bullying, endless "omg yer fat" ads marketing to pre-teens, and more resources offering opinions on what is cool or acceptable, which is usually something unattainable but that can be treated... for a price. I worry less about the sprog one day smoking than I do he/she being convinced they have a brain-chemistry malfunction that instead of therapy can only be treated by some magic pill that won't change their lives or outlook, just the cog that interprets them. I remember being 12, reading Seventeen, and experiencing the pressure to be more or less of who I was to reach a boardroom or runway-created ideal. Now, it seems amplified and darker, more bullying and attaching dissenting behavior or appearance as a malady.

So while I secretly hope the sprog comes out looking like it's father, lean, olive-skinned, dark hair, there is a good chance they'll have my tendency toward girth and social awkwardness/nerdiness. We don't have cable, but we have books, so it'll be literate but maybe lagging in cultural literacy. We have mildly humble means and no value in status symbols, so it'll probably not have the next generation of Wii but go on some fantastic camping outtings. And this is okay with me at 34, having gone through a generation that worshipped gadgets but not driving me to suicide over it. Now it's more intense and unless I instill the same level of class, the same understanding of necessity versus clutter, the same bullshit detector, and the liberating reaction of the eye-roll as I had, this might be a problem.

A larf- Star Trek "Closer"

2008-08-15T19:56:00.001-07:00

All Heroes are Flawed

2008-08-14T06:57:00.000-07:00

I will not deny I was and still am a fan of the political figure known as John Edwards. Living in this region and being a scholar in Appalachian studies, I was impressed by his ability to see the invisible people of our nation and call attention to the plight of real suffering, rather than the relative middle-class whining. That was his "schtick" just as it was Bobby Kennedy's and genuine or not, the ends justify the means if in the end policies benefit those caught in the cogs of capitalism. He's a Ken Doll, to be sure, and slick, and my sister, a doctor in NC loathes him for being an ambulance chaser, but on the national stage, his message spoke to me among the Big Three in the primary.

Now, I'm not naive. I was slightly when I was 18 and was able to place my virgin vote on Clinton's first administration- then, I became disillusioned, not realizing the depths of betrayal and abuse that were possible as we'd see under dubya. But, the humanity, the failings and the graces, became evident in the figure of Clinton, just as I found them in the role models throughout my life. Family, teachers, friends- all were fallible, including Jesus and Chris Connelly (poet). But for some reason, we find the personal failings of political figures appalling, when their vocation alone means they've found ways to manipulate and gain favors. I still adore Bill Clinton as he avoids floral speeches and tells the media who drag up his personal past to "shove it". But I see him as a person I'd like to know, and in no way hold him to a higher standard "morally" than anyone else. Given his intellectual capabilities, I expect and have received more than expectations on his ability to lead, however.

And so, I turn to another white, blue-eyed southerner who charms the crowd, acknowledges the forgotten, and extols liberal values. $300 haircuts made me snort, but obscene spending within that level of wealth is just foreign to me. On that note, I do admit that none of the candidates are "one of us" even if they point and call us out by name. But, there was John, able to speak candidly and plainly, intelligently and earnestly. He showed humility in voting for our disgusting and wrong war, he rolled up his sleeves and went to work helping people in national tragedies. Photo ops, maybe, but a wall built is a wall built. And his wife was the lovely woman I really wanted to run for president, but as we saw with the constant sexist character assassinations of Hillary, we aren't there yet for her to even have tried. And now her face is given more press than it had when she championed fighting the cancer that she battles. She is the long-suffering wife now, with a scandal that won't die because no one will let it.

John Edwards had an affair, and apparently that's part of the political culture given the history of political scandals from the days of Camelot. Why the hell are we shocked? Politicians are not the idealized creations of a society, but representatives of the political will of society. I want better public schools and an end to military aggression- so, I vote for the person with the plan. How difficult is that? Well, pretty damned when we're attaching superhuman traits to human beings. And, I feel it's an outgrowth of the integration of "moral" issues into political issues. A stoic approach would be the best, avoiding elections based on bigoted narrow views of marriage but then what stoic logic can apply toward my staunch opposition to capital punishment? Tricky. And, being emotional people with a desire to create a social world based on our values, the integration of even frivolous value-driven considerations will not be excluded from the political process, and thus applied to the icons serving as their sum or best representative.

So the shock, the awe, the boring angles and stories from every media source desperate for a sexy story, will always be with us as long as we ourselves want to believe that our icons obscure, suppress or deny the faults within us all in varying degrees. We want Messiahs and have faith that they exist. But Superman had kryptonite. We are all divine and it imperfect; until we can grasp that, the scandals will drone on and the misery of disillusionment and pain of failure after a lifetime of work will continue to haunt us, preventing us from progress.

Added: I didn't discuss the "hypocrisy" angle, and realize that. It is pretty sweet when a someone who pumps him/herself up as a superhuman falls from grace because it calls out the hypocrisy in their persona. But instead of attributing that to the fallibility of everyone, we tend to consider them a special flawed case, demonizing them more than we would a compassionate response for someone who didn't set themself up. Interesting.

Added: and of course, only Al Gore is infallible :)

River City Blogger Meetup 2 - Classing up B-Ville

2008-08-12T07:32:00.001-07:00

Come all ye internet woven blogging types!
Brunch with the River City Bloggers

This Saturday, August 16th
10am-noon
Panera at the Huntington Mall.... in Barboursville.

Comment if you have Questions- and bring people!

I'm gonna be "one of those moms"

2008-08-08T09:02:00.000-07:00

The sprog is 14 weeks in gestation, but already my blood pressure is going up thinking about the battles ahead.
... fighting with the school that no, he/she doesn't have to do the Pledge to any flag
... nor any prayer of any kind at any time unless we or he/she says so
... the Reagan years were not grand, and your history book should be used to wipe asses
... it's evolution only. creation theory is good for myth time discussing multicultural creation myths, but don't you dare try to confuse my sprog that it's reality.
... you cannot go over to Johnny's because he has a redneck family that plays on ATV's and you will not be a statistic.
... "my mom packs my lunch. this is hummus"
... math is for suckers
... "we don't have a TV, but i have books."

and finally.. "Mrs. Johnson, you're wearing your dresses way too high...."

Am I missing anything? I know who I am, I know what I want for the sprog, and i'll be damned if i'll let society "get" him/her.

It's bad enough that due to our location, status, and identity, getting into Yale is going to be a pickle.

Sowing Seeds

2008-08-06T10:25:00.001-07:00

"We plant the seed, nature grows the seed, then we eat the seed!"
Neil, The Young Ones

I'm finding this is only partly true, but i've accepted it all my life. Sure, i'll have little moments of clarity, but for the most part, a garden for me has been planting, walking away, waiting for magic and then going back expecting the treasure. As a result, I have had failed gardens, and guess what- it's a metaphor for relationships!

The phenomenon I've always been stumped by is a distance and silence that falls between me and family, friends, goals, and ideas. The spark is there, the moment when you say "this is something I want to see succeed" because the person or idea challenges, reinforces, attracts, or fits one perfectly. When you rely on the hands-off waiting approach to nurture, though, it can die because you're not a participant, you're merely a character, and indeed a caricature. You have to remain active, and if i can continue with the metaphor, you must weed, trim, add Miracle Grow, protect, water, or just visit. A good gardener or anyone that can work with the elements knows this, but we're also programmed to believe that instead of working with magic, ether, elements, we can wait for them to intercede- and sometimes miracles happen, luck, whatever, but those aren't tools, those are happy surprises. Imagine a gambler banking on "luck" and losing everything, and also see a friendless girl who never calls anyone.

Now, with everything else in this world, if i can let my inner Buddhist out, there is a balance. You aren't the Master with anyone but yourself, and even that is limited. With the garden metaphor, the sun, the soil, genes, and defense against predators is at play as well. You can respond with precision and brilliance, but note the flood wiping out the corn crops in Iowa this year. But a better example is relationships. You cannot control other people by being earnest in your tending to them. The ugly reality is that despite your best intentions the other person is a universe of their own, with their call to nurture the relationship as well as tend to the factors we know and don't know, externally and internally. We can't be hurt if they seem to neglect us when we've put forth our effort- maybe they're bad gardeners, or some other unknown factor among millions. But, we are equal partners when familiarity is established and the desire to maintain the connection is felt. We are then a participant and unless we realize that role, the survival, the dynamics, and the fruits are doomed. Doomed, I say!

Now, am I a guru? Good lord, no- i sit at home on weekends, am rarely invited to anything, no one RSVP's when i hold a party, my social networks are online and I hear from my family once in a blue moon. I share revelations, and once again I'm realizing that I have not done all i can to let people know I care, I like them, and I want to be a part in their plan. Sure, I can be and have been rejected, but each spring I feel the urge to plant a garden because each spring is the invitation and opportunity to do so. Now is the harvest, and I've learned that veggies take care, and it's translating into a method to apply toward the self-absorbed life I lead. Also, being with child is freaking me out because i'll have to take care of another human being when i barely take care of myself. My husband and I are a successful union of independent people, and a helpless monkey is going to be put in the world to grow. I'm blessed to realize now that what I've been doing "wrong" is sowing improperly and neglecting. The blessing for us all is that we don't have to wait for Spring to change that.

May all your seeds prosper ;)

PS- Crap- Tears for Fears was trying to tell me that all along ;)
PPS- and eventually i'll understand and share "when to just give up"

Campus part 1- the air

2008-08-05T10:59:00.000-07:00

I have been affiliated with the University since i was a junior in high school, 1991. Well, actually before that if you count the trips with my sister to the bookstore for her cumbersome pre-med texts brought to us by international students who constantly and uncomfortably struggled to understand which texts we needed. I had a great time on those trips- the air of August on campus being full of something i couldn't quite place. But it was promise- a birth. While Ostara ushers in the new year, Lammas definitely ushers in its own beginnings. If I go back further, I've always been excited about "new notebook" season, but the more I experience it and take note, the more I realize it's a homecoming, an invitation to be more, to adventure.

In '91 I became a Dj at the radio station and was nervous as hell to be around the older kids at the university who were doing this as prep for their profession. One thing that always amuses me is that older kids will always look that way even when i become that age. Their 21 was an older face than mine. I enjoyed the gig, so much that i stayed around for an embarrassingly long time, and officially stepped into the wheel of the school year by doing so. There wasn't any doubt that I'd go to college- it was expected of me, and despite my mediocre gpa (i don't apply myself) I did get in and in 92 began being a full time resident of campus, adhering to the cycle. Since then, I've been bitten and excited by a cool morning in the summer oppression, an earlier sunset, a clump of dead leaves, and the golden tones of the sky. Never a fan of heat and humidity, I inhaled the anticipation of dry air knowing that soon the stores would start shelving Halloween items and i could drag out my cardigan.

Just as years go faster with age, so does this wheel. I remember only a short time ago coming back to employment at the Uni and dealing with administriva for new, wide-eyed students. Here again i'm ordering books and sending off payment requests, but also taking a class and scrambling for funding, and teaching a class in which i'll play another role within the season. I've been trying not to dismiss summer as much, and enjoy the time I have, taking its gifts and absorbing its beauty. Even still, though, I'm anticipating the next few weeks as the season slips further into reds and golds, nervous tweenagers try to mate, new uniforms are donned to let everyone know who is an individual, and the energy explodes from football games, harvests, festivals, and new learning.

Autumn makes me love life a little more.

SNL: Death of Superman.. found it!

2008-08-04T04:48:00.000-07:00

Supermans Funeral | Funny Jokes at JibJab

pic of the day

2008-08-02T12:13:00.000-07:00

Splenda

Enjoy

2008-08-02T08:23:00.001-07:00

Devendra Banhart - Carmensita

Announcement! Well, if you bloody must know...

2008-07-30T07:57:00.001-07:00

Okay... superstition phase is over. Mother called. Tests done.

I am 3 months pregnant.

I know, shock and dismay. References to me being ill all the time or whining that i had something big but couldn't talk about it probably didn't set off anyone's spidey sense, but now i can stop going on about the little things.

Facts I'm aware of:

I have been resolutely child-free for 34 years and deserve a guffaw
i know nothing about birthing or raising no babies
Things happen when they're omg not even remotely planned for

But here we are. It is due in early February, which means Aquarius. I had a checkup and ultrasound yesterday and everything is peachy. I've only gained a few pounds out of oh my god my life is over stress and shock, my blood pressure is okay and they're not afraid of anything so far. I'm freaking out mostly about unpaid FMLA for 6 weeks when i have financial obligations and no savings- funny, huh? And i'm disappointed that i have to put my weightloss program on hold. I'm deeply concerned about not having any family or social network around to help. No idea about gender, and the nursery will be our current gym. Names floating around are girl: Adela Sophia and boy: Declan Ferguson (middle name not certain).

I am terrified, queasy, sometimes depressed, mostly just stunned. I want a healthy baby and an uncomplicated pregnancy, that's all. But whatever comes, we'll face it.

J has been fantastic and is excited. He's been patient and understanding and will be a great dad. We never thought of ourselves in these roles, but i don't think we'll be terrible. My mom was really pleased and shocked, and that made me happy. J's mom thinks she won the lottery. Splenda is mostly concerned about my health, and I think Virgil had something to do with this in the first place.

I don't know if this should be public or friends-only, but updates in this regard will be mostly friends only or chronicled at Reluctant Mother. I have been bored by motherhood updates and don't expect folks to be attentive to mine. This is just a complete life-changing event and well, if i don't talk about it and about my changes, i will just implode. This is a journal afterall.

So, yeah.
Nerdiest Child Ever. And the fetus would like you to vote for Obama.

The Dawn?

2008-07-23T11:29:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned before that i have an affection for 1950's and 60's nostalgia. I love the films, the music, the art, and the image of the atmosphere among admittedly middle class white America. There are several reasons for this, but in passing i heard a documentary on the time and it referred to its "optimism" and positivity. That might be it- smiles. The fashion and lines and colors smiled. While there were gritty dramas such as "A Face in the Crowd" or "On the Water Front", or "In the Heat of the Night", they were still handled with the optimism of if we just highlight it, we can fix it! A war on poverty! Civil Rights! Yes We Can.. oops. We then had the cynicism creep back in to the mainstream consciousness in the 70's to utter depression in the grey-lined 80's, both who had earnest and almost desperately colorful and adventurous art to release the oppressed optimism in dismal times. But the angles were different, and deflated thinking "how did we let this happen again?"

There is a flux to time and culture, you know. Just as things "skip a generation" there is usually a turn over time and then a boom, a bust, in varying degrees. I can't remember the professor from Texas who did extensive sociological research on that, but it was convincing. Right now i need to be convinced that these times right here can change, and i don't see it happening. Morale is so low after 8 years of abuse, deception, audacity, and oppression, that I've seen promising ideas come from the Obama camp and promptly crushed by cycnicism before they're able to take shape. Change is gradual, and i think we're so beaten that the seeds will have a high mortality rate.

After the Great Depression and WWII, our country slowly invested in itself and rebuilt, reinvented. Right now we're not in an overt World War, but aren't we? We have 2 fronts, threatening a third and have threats in every direction, and every conflict has allies and foes.. this "war on terror" being the new fear of fear itself. Our economy is shit, which doesn't affect those who make policy and own the news, so our voices and faces aren't legitimized unless its to prove a point to their advantage. See how miserable she is? Let our pals Exxon drill off the coast! They can escape to Dubai and fabricate attacks to perpetuate the conflicts that keep their money in business. Meanwhile, a big rain along the Gulf means $50 a fill up so i can get to work and make ends just meet. It's not about me- i feel i'm fortunate. It's just that in prior times, there was relief at a point, Happy Days there Again. To me, this latest low feels like times to be endured indefinitly, because we lack the empowerment and alchemy to make it get much better.

Spoiler: Obama isn't a messiah. Clearly, he's better than the desperate twit he's running against, but our problems go beyond one person or administration. I live my life as I can and reject the overwhelming garbage on the radio, on film, tv, public domain- all reverting to some Roman arena of low-brow juvenile humor, brutality and benign passivity. While i escape into the pinks and greens of Doris Day and shake my butt to the Zombies, I keep the blinds drawn, because outside has no innocence and we're all smiling and laughing to pass the time, get what's ours, survive as the fittest, and end up in less pain that the "other guy". That's not progress, that's tribalism. And I'm a creative girl, but i just don't see any relief in sight- only a hope of slowing down the burn.

Rock and Roll McDonalds

2008-07-21T14:19:00.000-07:00

Okay, i'm not going to wax quite so heavy on this topic as the subject implies. More, i'll just give another reason to avoid McDonalds. Hey, i get cravings for their spiced meat and onions on a bun with ketchup, too. I'm not high and mighty. When i'm in a sour mood, sometimes i want a Happy Meal, and get excited when the franchise has a cookie as well as toy. But, well, they're trying to keep us stupid, and their latest radio commercial proves it.

I never quote correctly, so let me paraphrase:
A woman says that her affection for latte has led her to appreciating classical music and jazz and literature, but since discovering McDonald's coffee, she can now enjoy Celebrity gossip magazines and pop music.
Not kidding. So, basically, what they're saying is that Starbucks or coffeeshops that offer good latte or "fancy schmancy" coffee are also trying to program people into being.. i dunno... cultured with high standards, and McDonalds has good coffee too and is for plain people, also known as shallow idiots. Ah, the freedom of not being challenged or being exposed to carefully crafted media.

This ad is an insult to its customers because they're boasting that customers are wrapped up in vapid lives and want to remain in the bubble of low expectations of reality TV, ABBA movies and Duffy. That's what they think of you.

Well, I am hip to TMZ on occasion, and will keep the radio on a Timbaland produced song, but I do have enough depth and pride to be well-rounded and multi-deminsional. To operate on prejudice of some place being for one culture of pretention or elitism (McDonalds republican?) and another being for silly girlie consumers reveals the mechanics behind the marketing- they think we're stupid and aspiring to an image, so why not one that takes the least amount of thought?

It's just coffee, and their's isn't bad, but i'd be embarrassed to be seen with someone who didn't respect me and wanted me to not respect myself, so why should i be different with those i patronize? For the record, I brew at home and try to go to local coffee shops, but in this battle of images, i'll take the one listening to Coltraine.

Read more about McDonaldization

you're welcome

2008-07-19T21:12:00.001-07:00

A pisces curse

2008-07-15T11:00:00.000-07:00

People don't understand why i get so upset over some things. I have a weird nagging hangup against people who have privilege and wealth, or are snobs or in my angst i've assumed they would be by prejudice. It's not something i'm proud of, naturally, but i do like to avoid apologizing too much since I think it is just to criticize material wealth and its disproportionate luck-of-the-draw. No one should suffer when we have plenty, but more importantly, we shouldn't put worth into non-essential materials so that their absence creates more "suffering".

Anyway- i'm not really waxing philosophical, because truly i'm not well educated in philosophy and that meme i posted crossed my eyes a bit. But it's one example of why i think i befuddle people, even myself. See, at the heart of it all, I am jealous over their assumed access to a reality i idealize. As grounded as I try to be, I am a reluctant and persistent dreamer, and my dreams include belonging to a glamorous or charming or romantic society. I caught myself last night watching History Detectives. They had a story about a gala celebration in NYC, 1933 at the Waldorf and I felt an undeniable pining to be a part of something so glamorous. To associate with great writers and artists, to have so much wealth as not to care about bills but more about which parties to attend. To have beautiful people adore you... my imagination kicks in and i feel i know a tease of its essence. But then I become aware of my round sluggish body slouching on the couch watching it all.

I have always been like this- never satisfied with where or who I am, always a bit lonely and out of place. I'd get sucked into culture or fashion, never really belonging but aspiring and escaping into it. From feeling the mopey depths of the Cure in my all-black attire and aunk to writing Chris Connelly letters feeling i was an adjunct member of the Chicago industrial scene, to this to that.. all throughout childhood watching British comedies and feeling a familiarity with the setting, the characters. If i read more, i'd get swept up in books as well. But more often than not, it was music related, and my imagination allowed me to be someone else with other idealized entities.

But then we wake up. And what a disappointment. Of course, I love my family, my home, and am generally happy with life, but I always end up having to come-to and realize the mists aren't there, the plots and settings aren't as fantastic, and a little part of myself feels left on the plane of imagination. It's cruel, really, and some days I appear moody for no reason, because i'm sad that these things aren't real and i have the capability of feeling their magic. What a curse, and silly when you say it. If you don't snap back, however, you can get lost in dreams, neglect the realities, and suffer even more. I'm happy to have a rubber band snap ability.

I'll be forever 24 it feels like, and always thinking about the less fortunate, sneering at the privileged and unable to be at peace with the injustice of it all. But at heart I know that my tendency to revel in the mythology of high society is partly to blame, as is the waking, the confused and deflated return to money anxiety and worn out shoes.

*Painting, "High Society" by Botero - Remind you of anyone?

whu?

2008-07-14T07:02:00.000-07:00

Your result for The Sublime Philosophical Crap Test...

N-A-O

You scored 67% Non-Reductionism, 89% Epistemological Absolutism, and 56% Moral Objectivism!

You are an N-A-O: a metaphysical Non-Reductionist, an epistemological Absolutist, and a moral Objectivist. If you are simply dying inside to figure out what all this mumbo-jumbo means, then simply continue reading.

Metaphysics: Non-Reductionism (Idealism or Realism)
In metaphysics, my test measures your tendency towards Reductionism or Non-Reductionism. As a Non-Reductionist, you recognize that reality is not necessarily simple or unified, and you thus tend to produce a robust ontology instead of carelessly shaving away hypothetical entities that reflect our philosophical experiences. My test recognizes two types of Non-Reductionists: Idealists and Realists.

1. Idealists believe that reality is fundamentally unknowable. All we can ever know is the world of sense experience, thought, and other phenomena which are only distorted reflections of an ultimate (or noumenal) reality. Kant, one of the most significant philosophers in history, theorized that human beings perceive reality in such a way that they impose their own mental frameworks and categories upon reality, fully distorting it. Reality for Kant is unconceptualized and not subject to any of the categories our minds apply to it. Idealists are non-reductionists because they recognize that the distinction between phenomenal reality and ultimate reality cannot be so easily discarded or unified into a single reality. They are separate and distinct, and there is no reason to suppose the one mirrors the other. Major philosophical idealists include Kant and Fichte.

If your views are different from the above, then you may be a Realist.
2. Realists deny the validity of sloppy metaphysical reductions, because they feel that there is no reason to suspect that reality reflects principles of parsimony or simplicity. Realism is the most common-sensical of the metaphysical views. It doesn't see reality as a unity or as reducible to matter or mind, nor does it see reality as divided into a phenomenal world of experience and an unknowable noumenal world of things-in-themselves. Realist metaphysics emphasizes that reality is for the most part composed of the things we observe and think. On the question of the existence of universals, for instance, a realist will assert that while universals do not physically exist, the relations they describe in particulars are as real as the particular things themselves, giving universals a type of reality. Thus, no reduction is made. On the mind-body problem, realists tend to believe that minds and bodies both exist, and the philosophical problems involved in reducing mind to matter or matter to mind are too great to warrant such a reduction. Finally, realists deny that reality is ultimately a Unity or Absolute, though they recognize that reality can be viewed as a Unity when we consider the real relations between the parts as constituting this unity--but it doesn't mean that the world isn't also made up of particular things. Aristotle and Popper are famous realists.

*****

Epistemology: Absolutism (Rationalism or Pragmatism)
My test measures one's tendency towards Absolutism or Skepticism in regards to epistemology. As an Absolutist, you believe that objective knowledge is possible given the right approach, and you deny the claims of skeptical philosophers who insist that we can never have knowledge of ultimate reality. The two types of Absolutists recognized by my test are Rationalists and Pragmatists.

1. Rationalists believe that the use of reason ultimately provides the best route to truth. A rationalist usually defines truth as a correspondence between propositions and reality, taking the common-sense route. Also, rationalists tend to believe that knowledge of reality is made possible through certain foundational beliefs. This stance is known as foundationalism. A foundationalist believes that, because we cannot justify the truth of every statement in an infinite regress, we ultimately reach a foundation of knowledge. This foundation is composed of a priori truths, like mathematics and logic, as well as undoubtable truths like one's belief in his or her own existence. The belief that experiences and memories are veridical is also part of the foundation. Thus, for a rationalist knowledge of reality is made possible through our foundational beliefs, which we do not need to justify because we find them to be undoubtable and self-evident. In regards to science, a rationalist will tend to emphasize the foundational assumptions of scientific inquiry as prior to and more important than scientific inquiry itself. If science does lead to truth, it is only because it is based upon the assumption of certain rational principles such as "Every event is caused" and "The future will resemble the past". Philosophy has a wide representation of philosophical rationalists--Descartes, Spinoza, Liebniz, and many others.

If that didn't sound like your own views, then you are most likely the other type of Absolutist: the Pragmatist.
2. Epistemological Pragmatists are fundamentally identified by their definition of truth. Truth is, on this view, merely a measure of a proposition's success in inquiry. This view is a strictly scientific notion of truth. A proposition can be called true if it leads to successful predictions or coheres best with the observed facts about the world. Thus, for the pragmatist, knowledge of reality is possible through scientific reasoning. A pragmatist emphasizes man's fallibility, and hence takes baby-steps towards knowledge through scientific methodology. Any truth claim for a pragmatist is open to revision and subject to change--if empirical observations lead us to call even logical rules into question (like quantum physics has done for the law of the excluded middle), then we can and should abandon even these supposed a priori and "absolutely certain" logical rules if they do not accord with our testing and refuting of our various propositions. As a consequence of this, a pragmatist doesn't feel that scientific knowledge is based upon unfounded assumptions that are taken to be true without any sort of justification--rather, they believe that the successes of scientific inquiry have proved that its assumptions are well-founded. For instance, the assumption of science that the future will be like the past is adequately shown by the amazing success of scientific theories in predicting future events--how else could this be possible unless the assumption were true? Pragmatism borrows elements from realism and yet attempts to account for the critiques made by skeptics and relativists. It is essentially a type of philosophical opportunism--it borrows the best stances from a large number of philosophical systems and attempts to discard the problems of these systems by combining them with others. Famous pragmatists of this type are Peirce and Dewey.

*****

Ethics: Objectivism (Deontology or Logical Positivism)
In Ethics, my test measures your tendency towards moral Objectivism or moral Relativism. As a moral Objectivist, you are opposed to Subjectivist moral theories and believe that morality applies to people universally and actually describes objects and situations out in the world as opposed to just subjects themselves. The two types of moral Objectivists my test recognizes are Kantian Deontologists and Utilitarians.

1. Kantian Deontologists believe that the one intrinsic good is a good will. As rational beings capable of making decisions, the moral worth of our decisions is ultimately derived from the intentions behind our actions, not their consequences. A moral being does the right thing not out of recognition of any consequences, but out of a sense of moral duty. For Kant, a good will is the ultimate good because to deny the will is to deny the one thing that makes us rational, moral beings. If an act will accord with or further our status as free, rational beings, and it is possible to will the universalization of such a moral principle without infringing upon our good wills, then an act is good. Kant's categorical imperative provides an objective standard to judge moral worth--it is not hypothetical in the sense of other imperatives, which hide a latent if-clause. For instance, "Eating razors is good" is good ONLY if you tack on an if-clause that says something like: "If you wish to destroy your gums." Thus, the categorical imperative is good, not just IF something is the case, but in ALL cases. It requires people to treat others as ends, and not means to ends, for to treat everyone as a means to an ends would be to deny them their ability to function as rational, free beings--which is what makes morality possible in the first place. The major propnent of this view in the history of philosophy is, quite obviously, Kant.

If that didn't sound like your position, then you are probably the other variety of moral Objectivist--the Utilitarian.
2. Utilitarians define "happiness" or "pleasure" as the sole intrinsic good, and the principle "The greatest pleasure for the greatest number" best reflects a Utilitarian view of ethics. Utilitarianism is a consequentialist moral theory, meaning the consequences of an action--not the intentions behind it--determine the act's moral worth. Even if you intended to do great evil with a certain act, if the act produces a net gain of pleasure and happiness for the greatest number, then it was indeed a good act because your intentions weren't realized. What matters in this scenario, obviously, is the consequences of the act. Utilitarianism, of course, can also be reduced to Hedonism. If you do not feel that the greatest happiness of the greatest number matters, but only pay heed to the greatest happiness of individuals, then you are more adequately classified as a Hedonist. But both Utilitarians and Hedonists define "pleasure" as an intrinsic good and determine the moral worth of an act through its consequences. The only difference is whether we measure the collective pleasure of a group or only an individual's pleasure. Prominent Utilitarians include Bentham and Mill.

*****

As you can see, when your philosophical position is narrowed down there are so many potential categories that an OKCupid test cannot account for them all. But, taken as very broad categories or philosophical styles, you are best characterized as an N-A-O. Your exact philosophical opposite would be an R-S-R.

About the Author

Saint_gasoline is a crazed madman who spends all of his time writing OKCupid tests and ranting about philosophy and science. If you are interested in reading more of his insane ramblings, or seeing his deliciously trite webcomic, go to SaintGasoline.com.

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2008-07-11T12:03:00.001-07:00

Target Circles

2008-07-10T06:44:00.000-07:00

Much of 2007 was spent getting my head out of my ass in several ways, one financially. I took on a second job at Target that was horribly inconvenient, not really profitable, and terribly depressing. I didn't get along with the kids that worked there, I'm naturally slow and not really pee-my-pants excited to peddle crap, and oh, i don't even like to shop. So, it was a grand time. I would have popcorn and diet pop for dinner because it was $1.06. Healthy. I did discover one thing though... a fabulous snack and one with which i was reunited yesterday:

Archer Farms Sunny Cranberry trail mix. My God. cranberries, almonds, gold raisins, sunflower seeds and pepitas (i luv pepitas). I ate these things on breaks and as a treat going home, a big bag costing $2.50 after employee discount. It made the shitty high school bullshit go away briefly. Oh, i was a terrible worker, but if i at least had a peer it would have been manageable. So, as in life in general i found comfort and companionship in food. Being in charge of huge departments, dealing with odd layouts and overcrowded racks, rude condescending people, people asking me about baby stuff i know nothing about, people stealing like crazy, people not knowing how to behave in a dressing room (kids, you hang up and return the item to the desk), talkative people, pissy people, answering the phone- madness I didn't need and wasn't equipped to handle.

Well, I quit abruptly last year on Memorial Day weekend, kinda screwing them, but not really since i was a drag. I just didn't show up anymore, and it's a cowards way out, but I didn't really feel they deserved much better- ah, rationalizing. I hadn't been back since either, since i don't like walking a football field to get one thing and then another, and we have other more afordable options. But yesterday I had to use a service of theirs alone, and went in, seeing some of the asshats i'd known, a little anxious but mostly smirking, and while waiting on the service i sought out my old friend. Today i revel in her delicousness without the draconian mental issues. Tis nice.

The only way to fly

2008-07-09T06:49:00.000-07:00

My commute is from our road, to Pea Ridge Road, then Route 60 to 3rd Avenue, which i think is still Route 60 technically. It's seven miles, and illegal for cyclists because Route 60 is a state route- no walking, biking, loitering, or asshattery. There isn't a back way, unless you can get to Merritt's creek road, make a left past the jail, and i think you can cross the railroad tracks somehow and get into Altizer (god help you) and over to 3rd, easily making it 2-3 miles extra and much more dangerous. I mapped this out while in my morning commute because some poor soul was biking in the middle turn lanes and after i gave mocking disapproval, i realized what a hypocrite i was.

I'm an Al Gore devotee, and I claim to be "progressive" which means I believe in approaching social problems with an open mind, promoting the welfare of all. That's quite a load, and no one's perfect in it. My general hangup is class equality, a prejudice which infects pretty much all other "ism" battles. To unify my beliefs in healing the environment and creating solutions that help out the entire population, with regard to the local travel choices among those who are engaging in seemingly harmful methods, I carefully consider their needs: distance, affordability, time constraints, tradition or lack of alternatives.

Along my trip, I identify that there's a population living in an area of scant economic opportunities, and you do often have to travel long distances from home. The home that is best for us might not be in the vicinity of the work that is best for us. The paths that we take to the store, to work, etc. might be like my own, and inconvenient for mass transit. I can trek 4 blocks up a dangerous road to catch a bus that runs 1 time an hour and ride an hour to work, or i can drive the 7 miles in 15 minutes. I'd save 50% on fuel costs if i went mass transit only, but i'd be compromising my time and safety to do so. What would be best for all cases would be to work toward a fitness goal, purchase a refurb'ed bike and ride it, but it's illegal to. I believe i'm in the same boat as many others who are pushed by ideology, financial burden or both, who are thinking of solutions but see the obstacles and wonder how we can overcome them.

So my conclusion is that our town is a great model for experimentation. I would like to see our city government, or county collective develop a task force to tackle this problem. We apply for innovation grants to create biking lanes for those wishing to go on the state route safely, offer a ride-share program to match people and their destinations, help the TTA to afford fuel and more busses so that more of the population can be served conveniently (more "expresses) and whatever great minds come up with to tackle the issues of a strained economy, suffering people who need to eat and work, and help the scarred and choking environment. We can be a test case for the nation- the man on the bike risking his life in the turning lane is a great poster child.

Is the talent here? The motivation? The money? And will their suggestions be heard in a region resistant to change (after centuries of change being abusive) ?

Thoughts?

Maura's Bliss Adventures

no one blogs about depression- it's so depressing.

doing what needs to be done

Ain't I a writer?

Take that, Chick-Fil-A!

A raw revitalization

Musical

From Ned

The Album Project

Race to the Finish

new notebooks

Listening for Bliss

Yep

What's all this then?

Your turn, O mighty Reader

Getting it

Me, otherness, humor and a pussy.

I like to Singa

Potential

It's so your thing

Queen Cnute

Outside

Empathy

Gods, 1994.

the wheel of the week goes round and round

Grey Skies over Huntington

In Sickness and health

Glam and unglam

round the way girl

Keep the Change

Soul Mates

No pleasure cruise...

Oh and I had a baby

Pancakes for One

I owe my soul to the company sto'

Auto-pilot

We make choices

A good day

the heart of the matter

Why I like Jedi Mythology

the dying of the light

Winter says "Hello"

Contrition

Cats and Holidays- why not?

Why do i keep from blogging?

Obligatory Thanksgiving Special

Fresca

Holy Crap!

Breast Beating to Deck the Halls

And with the power of conviction, there is no sacrifice

Fun with Faramir, who i like to call "Lars"

x-posting - Rhymes with Dote.

House Guests

What Halloween Means to Me

freedom and structure

Boo!

Odd

Balanced, Secure, and Realistic.

poetry and not

the Happy

Sad Songs they Say

Obscured by clouds

Guess which awesomely creepy film...

The Best. of. Both worldsss

structured play

Punkin Fest!

Indentiwho?

Be a Radical- READ

Most Frequently Challenged Books of 2007-2008

It's a Gourmet Day

My letter to NPR's "All things considered"

But what about me?

Fiends of Coal Bull

Toreadorable

rock on.

Heal Thyself

Blame J

Is of the fairer sex!

Flaming Hypocrites EXXXposed!

this should be interesting *cough*

this should be interesting cough