My Immune System Thinks It's Funny

I think my immune system knows that I don't have regular health insurance right now.

Why do I think this? Because I've been sick three times since the New Year. Why? I've been getting enough sleep, eating well, exercising when I can... And yet, still sick. It's so disrupting.

And not funny. You hear me immune system? Not funny.

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Betty and Rob and Woofwa

So me and my posse went out this weekend for a little round-up, shoot-out. Okay, not really. It was for boozing and dancing. But we were still a dangerous bunch. Okay, also not true. We're all pretty benign. Okay, very benign. Like little kittens. In fact, we didn't even go out... God, can't I James Frey a little bit?

Anyhow, we really did go out and it was a night of many weird-Os. First, at Heaven and Hell, there was the line-dancing, air-swimming girl who Antoine, Kelly and I decided is named Betty, works as a nanny, is from rural Montana (or Vermont... we were undecided) and drives a 90s model black Toyota Corolla that is rusting out. She rocked her body and boggled our minds. Who knew you could non-ironically line-dance to hip-hop?

After we left Heaven and Hell, we discovered our friend Corey had tried to get in but had been turned away because he was wearing a black hoodie and Heaven and Hell has a strict "no sweatshirt" policy... Don't they realize that sweatshirts are the indie boy uniform? It's not Corey's fault... it's just what he owns. It's in a rule book or something. So, Heaven and Hell was lame, but had strong gin and tonics. And Betty. Oh, Betty... I miss you already.

We finally ended up at the Blue Room, after Antoine and my molecules were squished together trying to get a drink at Angry Inch. We decided we wanted to remain separate entities, so we left. Blue Room didn't really have the music we were looking for, though, but it turned out to be fun. It had sort of a mix of hip-hop and house, which I don't tend to like, but it had a nice atmosphere. And a bar.

The most memorable part of the night actually happened while I was waiting for the restroom, which was near the bar. While waiting, I had an awful encounter with a man I have since named, Weird-O From West Africa(W-OFWA). Woofwa, if you will...

Woofwa: Hi
Me: Hi
Woofwa: You have to go to the bathroom?
Me: Yep.
Woofwa: Do you have to go bad? I'll help you.
Me (shifting uncomfortably): Um, I'm fine.
Woofwa (leaning forward and cupping his hands): If you have to go, I'll let you pee in my hands.
Me: Um... no thanks.
Woofwa: I'm just kidding, of course. Hahaha...
Me (turning to the girl next to me): Please pretend to be my friend. That man just asked me to pee in his hands...
Girl: Oh dear...
Me: Yeah, I know.

I'm not kidding. This happened. I'm still disturbed. It would have been less weird (but still inappropriate) for him to grab my boob or butt or something. But peeing in his hands? What?! Who says that? Woofwa, that's who.

On a brighter note, Betty actually ended up at the Blue Room too, although she had stopped air swimming. We had to find a new person to ponder and find did we ever. Next to us on the dancefloor was a short, chubby man with a red beard and glasses, bobbing his head and sort of wiggling his elbows. Antoine, Kelly and I decided that his name was Rob and that he watches anime. We were also convinced that he collects comic books and stores them in protective Mylar. Spurred on by gin and my belief in my deductive powers, I went up to Rob. I pretended to hit on him with the "what's your name, don't I know you?" line. His name is actually Rich... and he felt a strong need to tell me that we didn't know each other because he's from Boston.

Which I believe proves that he, in fact, keeps his comic books in Mylar.

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Keep Abortion Legal

I was writing a totally different post about boozing this weekend, but got interrupted by my friends Allison and Jeff who were heading out to look at the March for Life out on the Mall today.

I'm so mad now I can't finish my happy-go-lucky comedic rendering of Saturday night... We ended up walking all the way to the Supreme Court, holding makeshift signs, and protesting the Pro-Lifers with the 5 other Pro-Choice people who showed up on the steps of the Supreme Court. And you'd think that people who are supposedly so filled with love they can't bear for any baby ever conceived to die would be, I don't know, filled with love? Nope. Total jerks. We angry feminists were a thousand times nicer than these people.

God's love, my ass.

First, the median age of these protesters was about 14. These are kids who haven't even begun to learn how to think for themselves, much less ever known what it's like to have a job, yet not have enough money for food, much less for a baby. These are children... Stupid kids who want off from school so they can come socialize with other tweens and scream at people they've never even taken the time to really talk to...

Second, even though abortion affects women, the majority of these marchers were male. I'm not saying that father's don't have rights, but how in the hell can a 14-year-old boy know anything about being pregnant?! And what gives him the right to tell me that it's not my body?! I'm not kidding you, this was a so-called "conversation" I had while surrounded by angry anti-Roe activists. I was holding a sign that said "If you don't like abortions, don't have one. Keep your laws off my body" on one side and "More Trees, Less Bush." He apparently didn't like either of these sayings...

Boy: It's not your body!
Me: It's not? Really? Cause it seems to feel like it's my body... Like, when I pinch it, it hurts...
Boy: It's not your body until you have a child and you know what it's like to give life!
Me: How do you know I don't have children? How do you know I'm not a mom?!
Boy: Ummmmmmmm... well it's good if you do... um....

Apparently only childless women are against abortion... Of course, since I am childless and I was just confusing the poor, simple-minded boy, I'm not really disproving his point am I? Oh well... I disproved it in theory.

Finally, these people think that only they have the right to protest on the steps of the Supreme Court. We're not allowed to come to their rallies, even though they showed up en masse to the March for Women two years ago... The anger and belligerence seething from these marchers nearly suffocated the few of us protesting for women's rights. One kid stole my friend Allison's sign and tried to steal mine...while I was holding the Pro-Choice microphone and shouting "Women Will Decide Their Fate, Not the Church, Not the State!" He failed... And I nearly swore in front of major television outlets! Probably not good for our case for me to yell out "Fucking Kid! Give me back my fucking sign!" to a crowd-full of people.

Also, they kept "pretending" to fall into our sound system and turning it off so we couldn't be heard. They were literally and figuratively silencing women's right to choice. I was so angry. I know that all protests are like this... when I was in college I used to help organize the "Take Back the Night" march and you would surprised at how many people react angrily to an anti-rape march. I mean, really? What are you, for rape?! But this was different, as it was a National March on the steps of the Supreme Court of the United States of America, during a time when we are entering into another Dark Age... a time of anti-enlightenment and humanism and civil rights...

I know that last night was the candlelight vigil for Roe V. Wade, but I was disappointed at how few Pro-Choice people there were... Of course, I wasn't even planning on attending. My appearance was spontaneous activism borne of a lunch-time walk outside my office. Of course, when you work on the National Mall, I suppose it's easier to end up at the Supreme Court, holding a microphone and shouting at a thousand pro-life activists. I love D.C.

I'll leave you with one last retarded exchange, which occurred as we were walking back to make our signs... Jeff was smoking:

Idiot Kids: Smoking kills too!
Jeff: What?! Give me a break!
Allison: Shut the Fuck Up!
Idiot Kids: Go Home!!!!!
Me: I am home! I live here!
Idiot Kids: So do we!

Oooo, nice, Idiot Kids. Snap!

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Grrrrrrrr...

So, I'm not going to be able to take that class after all. It's going to take up too much time from work and if I take it, I can't volunteer at the Wilson. Which, seeing as how that's exhibits work, Wilson is better for me right now... Especially since I'm looking for a new job.

I was really excited. I even wrote out a little outline of edits. I started writing down call numbers of new books. Geek.

The bright side is that I can still edit my article on my own time... 'Cause that's gonna happen. Sigh.

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This or That

So, I love white wine.

Okay, okay, there's more to me than that... but essentially, I've been drinking vino throughout the night and have stayed up. My husband (tee hee, such a silly Victorian word) just went to sleep... and I'm still up. Of course, that was not without me sniffing his armpits repeatedly. He smells like snikerdoodle cookies. Now that's love.

Anyhow, I was staying up watching Poirot (see earlier post) in order to catch Dr. Who on late night public television. Yes, I watch PBS. Yes, I listen to NPR. It's true, I'm a liberal. But, here's the catch, I'm not from the coasts! Egads! I'm from... da da da... the middle of the US! Arkansas!!!!! Can it be true?

But I digress...

Staying up way past bedtime (in my case because of wine and a midafternoon nap, in his case because I made him) we caught This or That. It's this Burlesque game show that airs in San Fran, New York, Atlanta, and Arlington, Va (D.C.). It was hilarious. All I can say is "Sensual balloon popping." Wow.

Awesome what people will do...

I love not having cable. It forces me to find this stuff.

Fuck VH1.

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Hmmmmm

I just realized that in my sick delirium I put my underwear on inside-out this morning.

Too late now.

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Someone might see...

There are certain essentials that I always carry with me, no matter where I'm going. Even on days I'm not carrying my gym bag, I always have a purse big enough to carry a water bottle, my iPod, and a book. Yes, I always have a book. I'm a geek.

Well, the other day when I was packing up my bag, I couldn't decide what book to bring. I was reading two books at the time: Augusten Burroughs's Running with Scissors and (whew, this is hard to write...) Kathy Tyer's Star Wars: The Truce at Bakura. Even though I really wanted to continue the Star Wars book, which is set immediately after Return of the Jedi, I honestly thought this thought, "But I can't read a Star Wars book in public... What will people think?" So I packed Running with Scissors, which has the literary/hipster seal of approval. Plus it is a good book...

I was recounting this to a friend, because I was so embarrassed that I would think something so silly... I, in general, don't care what people think about me. I listen to what music I want to listen to, I dress how I want to dress, I drink what I want to drink... but there is a part in ALL of us (I don't care what you say) that makes those statements, the "someone might see" statements... In addition to this moment of weakness, I have also thought to myself that I don't want my iPod to be shuffling through my workout mix when I'm out and about because I don't want to die with Britney Spears playing... It's insane, so not how I really am about stuff... but there it is. I admit it. I care, even just a little bit, about what people think.

Well, when I was talking to my friend, I realized that I'm not the only person who does this. In fact, I realized that most people probably adjust their material expressions based on how others will respond. I also realized that the most retarded thing about it is that people end up impressing people who already agree with them!

How can I explain this? Let's see... Okay, for example, let's say you wear a certain brand of shoe in order to be seen as a certain type of person. The person that recognizes and validates the symbolism of that shoe you are wearing has to also inherently recognize the subjective value of the shoe. He has to think the shoe is already cool in order for you to be validated in the coolness of the shoe socially.

Let me put it another way: If I get on the train and I'm reading a copy of McSweeney's instead of the Star Wars book I really want to be reading, I am only capable of impressing other Metro riders who recognize the same social value of McSweeney's that I recognize. Metro riders who have no idea what it is don't care. Only other people placing the same symbolic value on my reading recognize the value of McSweeney's or would care enough to judge the value placed on a Star Wars book. Whether it be a yuppie with a Louis Vitton bag or a hipster with an Irvine Welsh book, it's essentially preaching to the same self-obsessed, image-conscious choir.

In the end, it's people trying for other people who care enough to try too. It seems so silly, when you think about it that way.

Of course, this is a harsh generalization. I know a lot of people read McSweeney's because it's frickin' hilarious and people who buy Louis Vitton because of the amazing craftmanship... I consider myself the type of person who wears what I want because I like it... But, come on and just admit it people! We all care what other people think, no matter how much we say we are above the fray, how alternative, how independent thinking, how unmaterialistic, how self-assured we are... No one lives in a social vacuum. Even if the only people we care about caring are the five other people who know the name of the obscure band we are seeing at a show at a club that opened for business only two days ago. Stop pretending! Embrace it! You care too!

And I guess I can give myself some slack for being embarrassed about Star Wars. I think it's fair to say that EVERYONE on that train would have been silently judging me for reading a Star Wars book. That's not just uncool... That's pretty geeky.

If you only knew...

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Frizzle Frazzle

Okay, so I promised to update on my to-dos with "Healthy Living 2006." As of now, I'm failing... not because I haven't been eating well, exercising regularly, and getting lots of rest, but because I've been sick for a frickin' week with what appears to be a sinus infection. I've essentially been sleeping for the past five days. Grrr... The week before, I went running three times and did free weights at home twice... I watched my money, worked hard, set up two new things to expand my resume while I'm working in preservation instead of exhibits... It was good. And then? And then sinus pressure, headache, and fatigue.

Grrrrr.

Well, hopefully next week I will be back on track for "health living." I can go back to work and digitize more fishies, get back to the gym, and make some of the yummy meals I planned for this week. Also, on Wednesday, I am going back to help the Curator at the Woodrow Wilson House on their next exhibit. It's on this French designer, Worth. I love the Woodrow Wilson House. When I was last there, I was given so much responsibility and had an entire exhibit script, plan, and research to show for my efforts. I won't be able to be as involved this time around, since I'm only able to work one day a week, but when I am there, I know I'll definitely be getting my hands dirty. I'm excited!

Also, because I'm a nut, I'm going to be joining an American Studies Writing Seminar to work on an article that seems so close to being done...but I know isn't. Right now, it's at about 35 pages and the interpretation of the primary sources is pretty good. But I need to do more with the historical context section. Plus I have to figure out what journals and what bent they are more interested in... The Professor who's teaching it is so wonderful to let me in the class, since I am no longer a student and I was never an American Studies masters student. I took several of her content classes when I was getting my masters in Museum Studies and we really took to each other. The class is basically for her PhD dissertation students who are writing there diss. chapters. I get no credit for the class and I can't put it on my transcript. I'm just doing it because I want to write and publish an article in my free time. God, I'm insane...

Of course, the subject is just so fun. And this is what I love doing. I love writing, especially academic papers. I would tell you what the article is, but I don't want you to steal my amazing idea. Hey, publishing in academia is cutthroat man! Some guy published a book on the same subject, like, one second before my dad was going to defend his dissertation. Seriously.
I will say that the article is a cultural studies/media studies subject with a women's studies bent. And that it involves watching lots of bad 1970s/80s soap operas. The way I see it, soap operas can't do nuttin' but help my "healthy living," man.

Rock on, Mr. Perm, rock on.

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Bye Bye Monkey.

I have a lot of different posts I'm working on right now, but I have have have have to post this first:

I found out yesterday that one of the best friends I've ever had is moving to Boston for an AMAAAAAAZING job in the costume/textile department of the Museum of Fine Arts.

I became friends with Allison the moment I saw her at orientation my first day at GWU. She had short, funky hair, cute clothes, a wonderful smile, and worn out flippity flops. I said to myself, that girl is going to be my friend. I know, it sounds so superficial and it's actually against my better judgment to find friends that way (as I'll explain in a later post) but it was less what Allison was wearing and more her presence. I actually became friends with my bestest friend Jennipher because she had an awesome red leather coat and wicked red glasses... Allison and Jennipher are the only two examples of people I continue to like based on these originally superficial assumptions... In both of these cases, I'm so lucky I used to be vain and superficial, because I don't know what I would have done these last two years without both of them.

Luckily for me, Allison thought the same thing about me. We immediately made plans to watch Girls Just Want to Have Fun and quickly became our own little twosome. Eventually, our group of friends filled out and now includes other amazing people I can't imagine being without... but Allison is still my Monkey. She's still that other part of my superhero team. When I see a mullet on the Metro, a great fashion faux-pas like hooker shoes, get great news, or have a clothing/hair/life crisis, Allison is invariably the person that I call first... Okay, sometimes I call my husband or mom first, but you get the idea. She's my girl. And she's leaving...

So, this post here is a shout-out to Allison Sloan Murphy, kick-ass Californian stuck on the East Coast and all-around amazing best friend. She's the kind of girl you feel lucky to have met, even if in order to do so you just spent $70,000 to get an ultimately useless, niche Masters. Allison being my friend is worth every loan check I write.

Good Luck in Boston, Allison. I'll miss you terribly. I'm just a MySpace comment away.

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All Aboard the Health Train!

So, New Year, New You, right? Although I usually make a very specific resolution, like "buy less celebrity gossip magazines," this year I'm going obtuse and mantra-esque... "Healthy Living" in 2006.

I know, I know, what does "Healthy Living" even mean and how in the world would one keep up such a resolution?

Essentially, the gist is that I want to eat better, work out more, have more patience, read more, be proactive... I want to be healthy emotionally, physically, and, cough cough, "spiritually." Okay, that one can go, it's just it's sort of a triumvarate and I couldn't exclude it.

This last year was a major stresser... I was always running around with my temper ready to flare, my mouth filled with crap food or beer, and my eyes filled with tears. I know, it's sounds so melodramatic, but it's true. I realized that all of the drinking, stressing, and life-changes were taking a toll on me and my personality. I was just so tired and anxious all of the time. So, I decided that this year, I will change the things that I can so I have a better chance of handling the things that I can't. Plus, I gained ten pounds and that has got to go.

Thankfully, it's not as bad as the great Zoloft incident of 2002, where I packed on 35 pounds in about a month, thanks to my lovely and less than forthright shrink:

Doctor: Elizabeth, we have decided that you have OCD and Panic Disorder. We think you should take some Zoloft, which is the only FDA approved SSRI for OCD.
Elizabeth: Um, okay. If you think it will help. Are there any side effects?
Doctor: Well, yes. You might have dry mouth, vivid dreams, and sexual disfunction. But probably not. Trust me.
Elizabeth. Well, okay. I guess it's worth it.

Two months and 35 pounds later, I discovered that Zoloft had one more side effect than the doctor had told me: Sudden and extreme weight gain... oh yeah and as long as you were on the Zoloft, you couldn't lose it. New diagnosis: Depression due to Zoloft side effects. What's the point of not having panic attacks if you don't like sex and your pants don't fit?

With the help of my best friend and health junkie Jennipher, a treadmill, and a healthy diet, I lost all of the weight and then some. But, with this last year, I just haven't been able to live and take care of myself like I want to. Thus, "Healthy Living 2006." I don't have Zoloft's extreme side effects as an excuse for my health this time, I just have me and my choices.

In order to facilitate this resolution, I am planning on doing weekly updates on my blog as to my progress, activities, etc. If I know people out there (some I'm sure I like, some not... you know who you are) are reading this, it pushes my results into the spotlight. People always perform better, make "right" decisions, behave when they think they are being watched. It's the best part of society, I think. Positive behavior out of guilt/legal action/shame.

So, if you don't like reading those sorts of posts, sorry. I promise there will also be cultural critiques along with my obsessive overviews of my diet. Unless I decide they aren't "healthy." Just kidding.

Cheers.

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New Year, Scmew Year...

Well, it's official. It's 2006. 2005 is finally over. Whew. Jesus Christ, it took a long time...

I was talking to my mom and her hope was that we don't have a repeat of 2005 and I heartedly agreed... but then I started thinking about it and a lot of good stuff happened last year. I got a contract at the Smithsonian, graduated with my Masters, wrote an entire exhibit for the Woodrow Wilson House, got married, had several parties celebrating this fact, went to other dear friends' weddings, made new friends... but then there was that one thing that seems to be fogging up my family's memories of 2005. It's insane how one bad thing, just one, can shape how we remember every other event. 2005 = the Year Grandma Died.

Hopefully, in time, I'll remember 2005 as the year that I got married, received my Masters, and started my life as a museum professional... that also happened to be the year my Grandma passed on.

As for 2006, I'm hoping for a year without a bad thing to define it... In fact, it would be nice to have a year of just ho-hum for once. So, here's to seeing the same old friends, drinking the same old beer, seeing the same old movies, and all the wonderfulness of a ho-hum life in 2006!

Happy New Year to All! May your 2006 be exactly what you want it to be!

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