Dead as a Doorknob?

Is this blog dead? I don't seem to have the time or impetus to update it anymore. I've been very busy with work, orchestra, friends, and sleep to have 15 minutes to sit down, much less sit down and write. I'm behind on my DVR recordings, my books, my social obligations. How in the world can I be expected to also blog? Sure, other people do it easily, but they are writers. I am not a writer, not really. I write academic and exhibit text, which is not off-the-cuff, quick-thought, journalism style. It's thesis, point point point, footnotes out the waaa-zoo. I just don't think I have it in me to be one of those "bloggers" with constant opinions and updates about the world out there.

So, I'm not saying that I'm never going to start this back up and update again, because inevitably there will be something that pisses me off so much I have to write about it... and maybe this summer I'll get reinspired to write more... but as my philosophy lately has been, less talking and more doing. So if you come knockin', don't be surprise if I don't answer the door... figurative door, that is.

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My Dad's Rules for Life

1) Never trust anything my cousin says
2) Never invade Russia in the winter
3) Don't Let You Friends Vote Republican
4) Don't Buy Roses at Wal-Mart

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Screw Rock Stars!

I just met and shook the hand of Dr. Levi Watkins, Jr! That may not mean much to y'all but go to his wikipedia page and you'll see how awesome he is. Basically, I met one of the coolest and most important medical professionals around... not to mention someone who has an unwavering commitment to social justice. His talk was amazing and not at all what my institution is used to hearing. He was frank about the rampant racial health disparities in our country and about how being "liberal" is what got him about of Montgomery, Alabama. Oh yeah and there was a backing gospel choir, something I can guarantee my institution is not used to experiencing!

I seriously haven't felt so inspired and rejuvenated in my work for social justice in a long time. Sometimes the cynicism just wins out. But then you get to experience the presence and wisdom and advice of someone who REALLY fought to change the world and despite setbacks, still REALLY fights to change the world...and honestly it just swells my heart.

Also, I know it sounds totally geeky, but after I shook Dr. Watkin's hand I realized that I had shook the hand of someone who had saved thousands and thousands of lives. And changed the lives of other people of color through his commitment to diversity. And changed the perspectives of the medical establishment and America. And inspired people... I have to admit that the geekiest thought I had was that I had shaken the hand of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. mentor, friend, and fellow activist to Dr. Watkins. Well, I guess it's more that both I and Dr. King have shaken the same hand, but you know what I'm saying...

I mean, I know it was just a handshake, but to think of whose arm it was attached to and all the things it had done in this country...

It was seriously cool.

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Babies on Spikes

And of course, instead of living in a country where I have thoughtful and inspiring leaders to help me make sense of what's happened, I have Bush. At the same time Bush is voicing his "deep concern" for the victims and families of Virginia Tech, he also feels it necessary for his puppets to tell the American public that "the president believes that there is a right for people to bear arms..." To buttress this heart-warming display of "compassionate conservatism," our lovely president came out supporting his Supreme Court's upholding of the partial birth ban, which has no clause to protect a women's health in any instance. All in the spirit of "building a culture of life in America." The day after the shootings!

Am I only one that finds the ways in which Bush builds his "culture of life" a little, well, fucked up? Seems like to me that laws that fail to protect the health of women and that allow easy access to semi-automatic weapons align more with a culture of death. But what do I know? I'm just a baby-hating, gun-hating, god-hating, illegal-immigrant loving, bleeding-heart liberal. And a woman on top of that!

Mmmm, tastes of chicken.

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Out Like a Lamb, My Ass

Well, it's been nearly a month since I've last posted. I actually hate this, because I like blogging. I think about snarky comments all day long. But I can't post at work because 1) I don't have the friggin' time and 2) I work for "the man." Couple this with the fact that I refuse to get a Crackberry and participate in the Verizon/Metro Love Fest and you get no time for posting.

Other than this damn flu I got (thus the title of the post) and moved-up deadlines for stuff at work, life has been pretty nice. It's weird, though, that I can simultaneously feel like I am both never home and always home. I've been having people over for dinner a lot and have also been getting up for the gym at 5:30am (dear lord!), not to mention I'm still going to orchestra. I actually had to sit first stand during a sight reading last week because noone came. That was painful. Very painful. For everyone, in fact. So I have all of these regular, weekly things taking up my time... then there's all the last minute movies or shows or happy hours or whatever and it's just go go go go. When am I supposed to blog? I guess it's just not as important to me now? I want to write and I want to vent, but I don't want to be a public writer for a living and I'd rather get a chance to actually read about the things that are annoying me. You know, in my attempt to be a well-informed, open-minded citizen instead of just a knee-jerk leftist. So instead of blogging I read my Mother Jones or I have a conversations with someone or I learn something new about this world I'm in. Maybe I can start making more time for this blog, make it a priority. Then again I've also starting painting again, so maybe this creative writing spurt is over and I'm needing a different form of expression in my life? I don't know. We'll see if this "once a month" update thing becomes regular once May is over since I won't be here for a lot of it. I'm off to Cleveland for a friend's masters recital and then to Chicago for a conference and then, well, I know I have somewhere I'm supposed to be...

Regardless, I didn't just get on here to get all philosophical about my blog. I actually have been rather bothered by the events of last week, but haven't quite known what to say. The Virginia Tech tragedy is really an awful thing and I can't believe that people are using the fact that someone, anyone, can get access to semi-automatic weapons and slaughter 30+ people as some sort of proof that we need MORE guns. Whatever, I'm from the South where lots of people have guns to go hunting, protect their "vast" properties of broke-down trucks and paranoid worldviews, and cause their daddies had them. I grew up in a gun culture. I know how guns work--my Grandpa had them and showed us what a safety was and how to load and clean so we wouldn't accidentally shoot ourselves or someone else.

That said, I don't like guns. I don't think they should be legal anywhere. I think that guns were created to exert violence and I don't think anyone can argue with that. There is no other use for a gun than to shoot something, be it alive or not.* And even though I know that, I also know that getting a gun-free culture is a losing battle in a country founded on a violent uprising. That doesn't mean we shouldn't work for it and it certainly doesn't mean we shouldn't all come together to ban certain weapons. If that kid had used a non-assault class gun* (or hell a knife), it would have taken him a hell of a lot longer and very good aim to kill all those people as he loaded and reloaded and cocked each round. Instead he had all the time in the world and all the ammunition he needed to murder en masse.

I'm sorry, but what happened at Virginia Tech does nothing to convince me that the American people need an assault weapon to keep the "ci-yotes" from their livestock or to stop a burglar or a rapist or even a school shooter. It just convinces me that we need to do something about the fact that we live in a culture where this happens again and again and again.


* So shove that stupid statistic about "cars killing more people than guns" up your butt because I happen to think that the fact that cars weren't created solely to kill is an important variable in this equation, k?
* yes, I know, I know, there's lots of debates about what these words mean... I don't want to get into it... In general, I mean the sort of guns that allow someone to put over a 100 rounds in 30 victims with little to no effort.

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Flirt versus Leer

As some of you may recall, I wrote a post where I was somewhat excited to live in an area where my type of physique is considered attractive. Now it didn't mean that I thought that sexually objectifying women was fine, cause it's not. And it also didn't mean that sometimes it crossed an unexplainable line that made me feel, well, harassed. Lately, that line as been crossed so much that I'm constantly pissed walking down the street or going to my staff cafeteria. Seriously, at a library, I'm getting bullshit like, "You're so beautiful, oh you're married, he won't mind," or "Are you German?" (what does that even mean?) or "You must be a Capricorn because of all the earth tones you're wearing" (for the record, I'm a Pisces). Now, these sound fairly harmless, but when accompanied by that little something creepy--slowing down a car, standing too close, following me to my office--it takes on that "other" quality that makes me feel icky instead of, well, secretly flattered.

And then, this week, it totally hit me. The "line" is totally in the meaning behind the eyes. Sure, street harassment is a sign of rape culture, but sometimes the person doing it just seems like what I'm calling, "The Flirt." "The Flirt" is where the man will cajole me and smile or charm or say silly things like "Do you have an apple because you make eating that one look so good" until I finally give him my number, take his, smile, or just say hello. Or I walk away without any contact. But I do feel like I can walk away.

The other, which I'm now calling "The Leer," is the complete opposite. He turns my stomach, makes me feel trapped (even if the person is in a car 20 feet away), makes me feel unsafe, and, to put it mildly, makes me feel like an receptacle for his penis. These are the multiplying moments where I feel like I might not have the choice to walk away. Unlike "the Flirt" who would just beg for my number, "the Leer" would assault me if given half a chance.

Let's just say that sort of attention from men doesn't make me feel pretty. In fact, it doesn't make any woman feel pretty. Or, for that matter, safe.

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DC Rollergirls Expo Checklist

1. Feministy girls of all shapes and sizes-- check
2. Friends to go along for the ride, even if it is out in assfuck Virginia-- check
3. Love of concession stand hotdogs-- check
4. Inexplicable presence of really overly familiar bikers seemingly not related to anyone on the team-- check
5. Amazingly (and area appropriate) punny team names like Scare Force One and Demoncats-- check
6. Short skirts and hot pink (or blue) wheels-- check
7. Halftime show that made me sorta want to (re) watch Roll Bounce-- check
8. Mmmm, hot dogs... oh wait did that one already--- check again
9. 2 hours of speed, falls, pushing, obscene finger gestures, tights and skates--check
10. The above making me want to join-- check

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Second Class Citizen

The voting rights bill stalled... stupid Republicans. I especially love how they want to force democracy on the rest of the world, but there are half a million people here in our capitol city who don't have the right to vote. Fuck. Does that mean I don't have to pay federal taxes and can throw tea into the nearest harbour?

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Another One Bites the Dust...

Another year, another birthday, another festivity where I eat chicken with my hands. Yes folks, Andrew and my joint bday party this year involved our requisite libations, show, and hand-held chicken. This time we ate at the famous Moroccan restaurant Marakkesh and along with a sparkler-topped birthday baklava, we ate up the undulating stomach of their nightly belly dancer. Seriously, the balance, stamina and muscles on that lady! Of course, if my job was to dance practically naked (covered only in sparklies and silk) I would probably work extra hard to have a flat stomach. Good thing I work in a museum and wear head-to-toe business casual--my belly can be as wobbly as my sweater set can cover!

The rest of my birthday was also great--the boy took me shopping for some new rugs, a new modern chair and some wall hangings. We spent yesterday walking around U street in the post wintry-mix (also known as "God's tired of me saying he doesn't exist birthday punishment") of the day before. We also had lunch at Cafe Saint-Ex (finally!) and found this gem of a thrift store, Ruff N Ready. We walked in assuming that it would be a flea market and it was...a flea market on crack. Stuff was piled to the ceiling in three buildings and you could barely walk through it. You couldn't even see half of the stuff they were selling! The final building had holes in the ceiling and buckets catching water to save the stash. This place had everything from old stoplights to victorian armoires to rotting doors. And all surprisingly overpriced for what it was (45 dollars for an old Mexican feather picture? Really?) Of course, I'm sure that the owners would barter just to make space for more stuff they took from the local dumpsters. It was seriously an awe-inspiring experience.*

So, another year in my life bites the dust and I have to say that 25 was definitely better than 24. Got my dream job, found a new place in the city, didn't have anybody die and finished grad school. Can't wait to see what happens this year. Especially if it ends with a party where I eat chicken with my little grubby hands.

*I took pictures with my new camera phone, but the bluetooth isn't recognizing my Mac. I'll keep trying.

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Oh...

...and I will be performing on my violin for the first time in 5 years this Sunday. Let's just say it's not quite like riding a bike.

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Always Low Price...Except When It Adds Up

So, had a great time at home and spent way too much money, as is ought to happen in AR. Bought 29 new books at the used book store (brought a suitcase just for this) and spent gobs at Wal-Mart. See the $5 movies seem great and cheap when you're putting them in the cart, but when you get to checkout, those 15 new movies add up. Oh well, at least I have books and movies and new shirts galore, right? Ah, gotta love consumer culture!

Oh and seeing Grandpa was good too. :)

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Defrosting...

I'm waiting for my chicken to defrost (I'm making Peanut Chicken for dinner...yum yum) and watching the ice and snow from the past two weeks melt with the warm rain and just feeling really good. Things are really on the up and up for me. I got a handle on my workload (which is allowing me to do really fun stuff, like blog at work about work for our upcoming exhibition website), I have an ever-growing group of amazing friends in DC, I've been cooking and working out nightly, I like my husband most of the time, and I just got some awesome new spectacles (the one benefit of being blind is the chance to accessorize). I know that last plus is super shallow but whatever.

Anyhow, I'm off to Arkansas for the weekend. Part of me wishes I were using my vacation time for exciting things like New York or SF or something, but home is where I need to go. I want to see my family and I really need to spend time with my Grandpa while he's cognizant of what's going on. Seriously, I have my entire life to ignore my family... But really, I do love Arkansas. I'm not one of those people who left because I hated it there and I certainly won't say that the roads I take won't lead me back (Head Curator of the Clinton Library would be pretty sweet, don't you think?)...

Well, time to cook some rice noodles and pack for my trip.

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Shoosh

Sorry for the time between posts... I've been out nearly every night for the past month. My "drink less" attempt during February was completely shot, but then again, I'm doing better on my "enjoy the city more" goal, so it's all even. Don't have much to report, just hanging out, going to museum lectures, going to shows, working... Well, did have something interesting happen at the Richard Buckner show last night. In the middle of making a new friend, looked back and saw someone I used to go to college with. Sure, I was at the show with someone I went to college with so it's not totally weird for a Mizzou kid to be in DC, but this was the ex-boyfriend of an ex-friend... I wasn't sure if that made us friends or enemies... All I was thinking was that running into anyone you used to know from home in a metro area of millions, no matter your feelings towards them, is an occasion to say "hi," right? Next time, I'll be sure to remind myself why I didn't stay in touch with a person before I get so optimistic and sentimental. The dude was taciturn, antisocial, and well, even though he was always sorta that way, I kinda wished I hadn't wasted the time going across the room just to get this confirmed. Oh well. I'm sure he's not even the least bit concerned with the incident, but I always obsess about chance encounters with people I'm not sure if I like and I'm not sure like me. I want to make sure I made it completely clear how amazingly successful and happy I am. Oh admit it, people, you do it too!

To top the night off, though, I got shooshed. At a show! This pointy-nose bitch shooshed me, like I'm five or something! I was talking to some guy next to me about how Buckner always seems to play these non-melodic musical interludes between songs instead of waiting for clapping or speaking a bit. Sorta transitions so he can go from song to song but still take a bit of a pause... Anyhow, I said this during one of these interludes and the twat patted my arm very condescendingly and said, "some of us are trying to listen to the music." I was like, "Dude, it's the pause. Get a grip." Okay, I didn't say that to her face, but I did give her death eye. And talked very rudely about her when she was in hearing distance. Also I told one of Buckner's band members and he confirmed that the "lady" needed to chill out, so ha! I win! I'm way more immature than she'll ever be! Na na na na naaaaaaa

Anyhow, I will probably be spotty blogging over the next couple of weeks because I have more musicians to talk over and health goals to fail... Oh and I just found out (like, literally as I was writing this) that Sara is moving a block away from me! Yippee!!! And Em just moved the neighborhood south (about 10 minute walk). Woohoo!! Friends everywhere!

Now I'm never going to have time to blog.

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Love Gone Wrong

Four years ago, the day before Valentine's Day happened to be Friday the 13th. I got the bright idea to throw an anti-Valentine's Day party, compleat with horror movies and booze. Thus, Love Gone Wrong was born.

This year's theme was friendship gone wrong, with Single White Female and Carrie as the film selections. The highlight of the night, however, was the crafts. I wasn't sure how popular the craft table would be, but that's because I temporarily forgot how geeky my friends are... I mean that as a compliment, of course. Here is the link to pics from the shindig and a collection of guests' anti-Valentine's. Below are two of my favorites from the night.

This was to Sara, from Emily. Sadly, the message is taken nearly verbatim from a very awkward compliment I was trying to give Sara. And now it's immortilized on construction paper. Forever. Thanks, Em.




This anti-Valentine was a group effort. I think that it's one of the funniest things I've ever read and I'm positive we have a future in what I predict is a burgeoning anti-Valentine market. I've just put all my money into construction paper, glitter glue, and scissors.




Long live, Love Gone Wrong!

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Deathmatch!

So, the battle between Philly and DC is over and DC won!!! Of course, this is based on four years in DC and about 36 hours in Philly. Balanced and fair, people, balanced and fair.

Here's a recap:

Atmosphere: Tie

I have to admit, I really liked the vibe in Philly. It was really nice to be around people who don't take themselves so friggin' seriously. I mean, they take themselves too seriously in the "hipster, I listen to better music and live in an awesome city" way, but not in the "if I don't get up this morning and get to the Capitol building, world peace will never happen" sort of way.

On the flip side, I'm one of those people that takes themselves too seriously. I kinda like living in one of the most important cities in the world (of course, this is partly because of America's global colonialism, but whatever...). Sure, being around the original area where the United States was made is nice and all, but DC is the place where that stuff is currently happening. There's something about the Washington Monument that the Liberty Bell just doesn't have.

Housing: Philly, although I like DC's Victorian turrets better than square Federals...

My friend lives in Fish Town and has a 3 bedroom, 4 floor federal with a backyard, three blocks from the train for $50 dollars more than I pay for a small one bedroom three blocks from the train. Dude, we could totally BUY in Philly if we wanted to... Philly wins on this one, hands down. Well, wallets down at least.

Food: slight edge to Philly...very slight...cheez whiz slight

Philly has great fine dining apparently, but what I liked the most about it was the local food culture. The market was amazing and bustling with people even though it was cold enough to give your hands frostbite while eating your tasty treats. Sure, DC has some wonderful and unique restaurants, local establishments with lots of history, and a cool indoor market, but Ben's Chili Bowl is no Cheesesteak. It's close (mmmm... half smoke), but it's no Whiz With.

Culture: DC

Both Philly and DC have good indie music scenes. And great symphonies. DCs fashion is a little lacking, but not in all parts. Philly has more indie bookscenes, but gay culture is thriving in both. So why DC?

Because DC has the Smithsonian Museums (all 15 or so), the National Gallery, the National Archives, the Library of Congress, the Corcoran, the Phillips Collection, independent galleries, etc. etc. etc. And almost all free. Every day of the week. Let's all say it: Free. Free. Free. Free.

Sure, Philly has some cool places, some with free days... but it's just not the same. Free free free all the long day! I guess I've definitely been spoiled here in DC--even as a museum professional whose wages depend on it, I balk at paying to get into a museum. Even if it is the Mutter and there are babies in jars. And Grover Cleveland's tumor. But, did I mention 15 of the most respected museums in the country, all free and within a 45 minute walk from my house?

Yep, free.

Public Transportation: DC

Okay, so Philly has lots of buses. That's nice. It also has a train system. That goes E-W and N-S. So if you live along those lines, great.... but if not, well, you drive. Or bike. Or, egads, bus.

And that's why DC wins. Because you can metro almost everywhere in the city, bus where you can't, and bike if you really feel like it. I haven't driven a car in DC once. In four years. Have never needed too. And I work in a completely different state. Now that's public transportation.

Jobs: DC, because I said so.

This one is hard because from my perspective, DC wins hands down. DC, other than New York, is the only city that has the diversity in museums that I want and need for my career. After I get my PhD, I want to work in a 20th century cultural history collection and DC has multiple institutions where I can do this. Philly is mainly colonial and early federal history. That's great and all, but I'm a post-Victorian era girl myself.

For the boy, however, Philly is way better. Its industry is not based around the government, but around business, which means a more creative and diverse design community. DC has a great underground art movement, but little in commercial, product, or print work that isn't for some sector of the federal government. Sure, there's a plethora of museum work, but it's harder to come by and that's a little too much inbreeding in the family career pool for my liking. So, Philly wins for the boy.

However, since my job is a lot more specialized and harder to come by (and this is my deathmatch), DC wins!

All in all, we had a great time in Philly. Takes just over two hours to get there and we met some cool new people, ate some yummy food, saw the King Tut exhibit and had a relaxing weekend not thinking about how important we are saving the world and living in the most important city in the world.

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The Consumption

I have another lung ailment--the third this year! Seriously, I think it must be an occupational hazard. When I was in preservation and working in a sterile, pristine environment, the moldy dusty disintegrating artifacts were brought to me. But now that I'm back in exhibitions, I'm working among the stuff again, breathing in 500-year-old mold. Bleck.

Hope I'm better by this weekend because the boy and I are driving up to Philly with a friend and his partner. Another friend decided to move back to Philly (apparently the coolest city man every created) after about a year in DC (which he thinks is the lamest). He's throwing a party to celebrate his homecoming and providing us Philly neophytes with a special guided tour. I haven't been to Philly since I was wee old and my parents did the Great Tour of New England 1993 in our '78 Chevy Impala with blue vinyl seats.* We've been meaning to go up to the other east coast cities more than we have since moving to DC, but with money and grad school, it just never happened... Philly better live up to all my expectations, as they were delayed by the most expensive school in the country. This trip better be worth $80,000 or else I'm boycotting it forever. Nay, I will do more than that for you ole beloved Capital town, much more! Philly-centric friend and I will enter into a death match using nothing but medieval weaponry. I swear I'll win for you DC and for your overpriced private university! I swear!

Anyhow, I should go take more 'Tussin now and sleep a peaceful sleep... it's very clear I'm not getting enough oxygen to my brain right now.

*If I have these years wrong Mom/Dad, it only proves that your memory is still better than mine...

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Normalcy Interrupted

Sometimes things are going so well, I forget that I have OCD and panic disorder. I mean, sure I try not to define myself by it, although I do "warn" people... you know, so they won't fuck with my post-it notes at work or tease me when I'm being irrationally obsessed with something somebody said... But those things happen so rarely now, after years of living with this "disease". I go weeks (or even months) with normalcy--getting up, going to work, going to the grocery store without fear or panic or severe obsessive/compulsive behaviours--I begin to get out of the habits that help keep me healthy... and then BAM!

Nope, kid, sorry. The world doesn't work that way for you. Messy ethernet cords immobilize you... You're obsessed with how the scatters of magazines lay just right in your magazine holder (you spend at least an hour arranging and rearranging and arranging and rearranging)... You're positive that your friends were giggling about you during the movie Saturday--you dream about it and can't move because of it. I know it totally seems like melodramatic silly stuff, and it is. That's what sucks about it. It is stupid stuff, like if my pages are paginated or I have too much hair on my arms or my sweater has lint. Or if random stranger on the Metro has too much hair on their arms or too much lint or x or y or z ... Stupid-inane-everyday-nothing worth worrying about-stuff consumes me and takes over my brain and I can't feel or think about anything else.

I don't know, it's not like I think I'm special for this (oh, overly-educated middle class white girl has such a hard time a la Prozac Nation)... Bleck. And I sorta didn't want to write about it--I mean it's so incongruous to the post I wrote yesterday it seems like I'm making too big a deal, you know? Of course, that's the thing: I can control what goes on my blog... I also fear that putting it out there is like I'm defining myself by it... but I guess it's ultimately cathartic for me to analyze it instead of just writing obsessive thoughts in my Moleskin journal like I normally do, forever captured on paper. Maybe talking about it publicly helps ease my secret shame? I don't know... I do know I'll probably obsess over this post for at least the next two days and maybe even delete it... Sigh.

In the end, the one thing days like this will always remind me is that this is normal for me and probably always will be. And that's okay. It has to be.

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Well..

...I went to the March. It was a beautiful day and an amazing turnout. I didn't march for long: I mainly sat on the side as an ethnographer, observing those who came to protest. It was pretty amazing to see the diversity--there were people with walkers, strollers, and protest drums side by side. It was also really interesting how many people brought cameras--they not only want to be seen, but also wanted to record that they had been seen. 10 people literally took the same photograph of protest signs shoved into the trash can near where I was sitting. They all seemed to think that it was a creative and unique composition. I should google it and see how many times it shoes up on Flickr...

Not sure if my or anyone else's going will make a difference with our current obstinate president, but it was nice to see that so many people are against this war. Gives me hope that, when bad enough, people will turn off their televisions and stand up for what they believe.

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What Really Counts?

This weekend is a large anti-war march in DC. I'm honestly not sure if I'm going. I have a lunch date with a friend who recently got out of the hospital and later, I'm hosting a Pride and Prejudice party. Does this mean that I care less about the war in Iraq ending? Does it mean that I am all talk and no action? Or does it mean that protests aren't the only form of political expression anymore? Does a person's blog count as much as a hundred marchers? I don't know, but I know that I honestly feel a bit like a schlub, living here in the nation's capital, in the shadow of the Capitol, and only going to a couple of protests a year. Shouldn't I be making hand-made signs and making up new protests songs weekly? Sure my job is activist related and I keep apprised of the news... I subscribe to Mother Jones and give money to Planned Parenthood. But with the current administration, is that enough? Or is this that moment in history where those who are doing shape the future and those who sat back passively benefit from it, never understanding the enormity of it all until it's too late? I've been reentering the world after about a year of hermithood, joining a volunteer orchestra and socializing more... but I feel like it's time to be more of a true activist. Activism used to be a large part of my life but has become more of something that happens to me, ending up on the steps of the Supreme Court because I was at work that day.

Anyhow, I am fully committed to volunteering more this year. Sure it's partly driven by guilt about being a huge liberal slug... But, I guess if you can't keep a lunch date you've been promising for weeks with a friend who has cancer, you aren't much help to the world anyhow, right? Right? Right?

We'll see...

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Voyeurism...

So, I'm finally catching up on my telly for the week and I have to say, I think I'm a bit of a voyeur. My boy is asleep because he gets embarrassed easily (hi Allison!) and I insisted on watching my American Idol episodes after we finished our Smallville and Netflix choices (The Night Listener...kind of want to read the book now)... I don't know why, but I really love watching people embarrass themselves while attempting their dreams. Is this because I don't attempt mine? I'm not sure, because I love love love love my job and can't believe people (as in tax payers) actually give me money to make awesome exhibitions (haha, do I take off my clothes? heard it, dude).... or is it my secret long-standing desire to be a famous singer? Sure I was in advanced choir, but that wasn't because I have a nice voice, it was because of those years in piano and violin that I actually could sing in tune. And read notes. Is my love of talent shows because I want to watch others suffer the humiliation I am afraid I will face myself? While I watch safely from my couch, my singing fantasy untouched by reality? Since American Idol hasn't been back to DC, I guess I'll never know, will I?

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Dear Lord...

...it's been forever since my last post... and I was doing so well at the first of the year! The least of my resolutions to go to pot 3 weeks into 2007, I suppose. Life, I mean, work, got in the way. I sent the objects to the designers today... finality is a good thing in my eyes right now, even if it meant working until 10 pm some nights this week.

The more important interference with my virtual communication, though, has been that another good friend has moved to DC! My new motto seems to be: why bother making new friends when all your old ones move to you? In all seriousness, this is my 4th very good friend to move to the District and I'm super excited she's here. Why all the moves? Because I'm so fantastical, of course... Actually, I guess it's because I gravitate toward politically-minded people who don't just bitch about the way the world is, but actually attempt to change it...D.C. is definitely one of the places to do that. Movers and shakers or at least people who fancy themselves movers and shakers. Anyhow, I always love sharing my home with virgin D.C.ers and I especially love that Sara is here... I'm a bit of a schizo and different people bring out different aspects of my personality. Sara (along with my other bestest kittenist friends) brings out the weird and slightly inappropriate Elizabeth. I've been rejuvenated since she got here--I'd forgotten how much I liked letting go of all my worries and just taking life as it comes. Worrying more about what experiences I'll have this week than thinking about bills... Plus, she's living and working in Capitol Hill, which is a neighborhood I haven't spent much time in, so this will give us both a chance to explore something I've missed out on the last 4 years. I can share my little piece of this city and she can share hers. So far it appears that her block has more trees and white people than mine, but I'm a very judgemental person and jump quickly to conclusions. I'll have to do a tree count to confirm my suspicions and then I'll get back to you. No offense, hillers, right? It's just bitterness because your one bedrooms are so much more expensive than mine in Columbia Heights and thus, more desirable. I have low neighborhood self-esteem, amongst other insecurities.

My statistical tree count will have to wait, however, because right now I'm going to keep boozing and celebrating the end of this damn hard week. And sleep in tomorrow. Zzzzzzzzz.

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Virgil Goode Is an Idiot

Virgil Goode is all in a tizzy because House Representative-elect Keith Ellison will be swearing in on a Quran. Thomas Jefferson's Quran, no less. According to Goode (who probably also thinks God talks to him), without immigration overhaul "there will be many more Muslims elected to office demanding the use of the Quran."

Does that mean that Goode is cool with "the Mexicans"?!? I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but I've noticed a lot of Christian churches going bilingual the past couple of years. Now that's the American spirit Goode must be talking about! As long as those damn Buddhists and Hindus and Muslims stay out, he will welcome our Christian brethren to the South with open, hospitable arms. This will teach the Minutemen to think twice about which borders they patrol. Christian or Bust, Baby! Our doors are welcome!

Somehow, I don' t think that's quite what Goode means. I know, I'm such a cynic, but whaddya gonna do?

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Why?

Why are drunk people so fucking loud? I'm including myself in this, of course, as I'm loud when I'm sober... But seriously? Do we just forget all rules of propriety and social kindness after imbibing a bit too much? In those lovely 18th and 19th century novels, being "too much in our cups" doesn't sound so bad for the innocents around us... but when I'm sitting on my couch watching a movie on a Saturday night and the people around me have partaken in too much sauce, I don't find it quite as amusing... Well, I guess others have said the same for me at one point or another, so I should stop being so reactionary. For now, at least... Cheers!

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Unsettled

... and unsure why.

Saddam Hussein was just executed. Listen, I'm not someone who thinks that the man is innocent or shouldn't be punished--he was an awful dictator who kept his people in constant fear through mass kilings and torture. Iraq wasn't more peaceful before the US invasion because of some goodwill on his part, but because it was a police state. I don't agree with what the United States has done by going into Iraq, but that's not because I think the Iraqis were better off under Hussein. I just don't think what they have now is any better.

But something about a hanging (or pictures of a man about to be hanged) unsettles me. I have a gut reaction to it--an emotional, visceral, negative reaction. I don't see how hanging someone, even a mass murderer, makes anything better. Is the world composed of living energies and now that his evil is dead, we're all fine and balanced now? I don't believe that or any other argument for executions... I think that capitol punishment is simply our base need for revenge and violence institutionalized in order to make it seem rational and logical... not to mention legal.

But then I think about the scope of someone like Hitler or Pol Pot's crimes... or someone who were to hurt my family... and a blazing anger rises up. I clench my fists and think about how I can hurt them. Or if someone were to attack me, how I would fight back so that they would never hurt again... Is that anger the same feeling that justifies (and would one day lead me to condone) a hanging or lethal injection?

I don't know, I guess that a situation like Hussein's brings gut reactions out of all of us and our individual natures move us towards one view or the other. I wholeheartedly believe that people feel what they feel sans thought. We use words and rational to create "reasons" that help us feel above our nature and justify our "illogical" emotions. So which is more telling to my true feelings: my small moment of rage at the thought of someone hurting my family or my complete disgust when looking at the picture of someone (even as detestable as Hussein) hanging? I'd like to think the latter and that my life-long reasons for being anti-capitol punishment and war are justifications for my innate aversion to the taking of any life for any reason.*

I just hope that I never have a situation where my family is hurt and I have to test this theory. And that we can change our society and world enough where we stop allowing dictators like Hussein to prosper... then we won't have to justify hanging them later for crimes we tacitly allowed them to commit.

*I know, I know, I'm pro-choice... doesn't that throw a wrench in this whole thing, you ask? Personally I'd rather leave that argument for another day, k? I'm being a little too philosophical and introspective for noon on a Saturday as it is.

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P.S.S.

My husband is aghast at the cloning thing and randomly pulled some factoid out of his head about how this will lead to the demise of food as we know it because of disease (you know, if all animals are genetically identical, they are genetically susceptible to the same disease) and gave the example of the Michel Banana as proof. I thought he was making it up as some knee-jerk reaction, but in fact, he's right. See this Science article and judge for yourself.

I know we totally sound like paranoid natural food health nuts, but we're really not. I had Chex Mix and Diet Coke for dinner... I just have a hard time trusting "scientific" rulings on food these days. Remember, not that long ago scientists and the FDA all swore that margarine was going to save us all from butter. And we all know how well that turned out. Trans fat, anyone?

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