Americans love to hate the French. After all, the French are just pussies who eat way too much fruit, cheese and snails, think Jerry Lewis is a comedic genius, speak with an accent that can only be described as faggish, refuse to help our government kill thousands of innocent people for no reason and refuse to give a fuck what America thinks about them. That's probably what Americans hate the most.
More than six months ago, I was helping a friend of mine move from Tallahassee to Tampa. As our caravan neared Perry, a town filled with forest that frequently burns and toothless and semi-toothless mouth breathers, we decided to stop for lunch. We pulled off the road at a local diner. The parking lot was filled with pickup trucks, and the menu featured pulled pork, boiled hearts of palm and a buffet filled with assorted meat slathered in BBQ sauce and soggy veggies.
When we walked in, everyone stared. My friend, after all, is part Phillipina, and they were expecting someone who looks like her to come in only after the place had closed and only with a vacuum cleaner in hand. It didn't help that I had purple hair and was wearing a T-shirt that said "Pigface," the name of one of my favorite bands. They stared extra hard after we sat down and proceeded to have a lively political discussion that included plenty of GW bashing and the expression of fierce disdain over one of the menu items: freedom fries.
Freedom fries were something I had heard about before but had never seen. For my own sanity, I put those far-fetched yarns about freedom fries in the same category with Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. But, now, Americans' clear rejection of all things French was staring me in the face. I wanted to walk out with loud indignation. But we stayed. The lunch wasn't too good, but the waitress was super nice and gave me a second bowl of palm hearts for free.
This diatribe is going somewhere. I swear. Oh, yeah. I remember now. The French. I love them. When I set foot in Europe for the first time, I want my feet to be planted in Paris. I studied the language for seven years, and I chose French as one of my minors in college. I don't really understand why Americans find the French offensive and laughable. Could it be because the French appear to be an easy target with their frou-frou language and culture that makes them look as wimpy as the kid eating cucumber sandwiches, no crust, and petits fours while everyone else chows down on bologna sandwiches and chips?
If so, the French have a good disguise going. In reality, it appears that the French have major balls.
Hundreds of thousands of French residents have banded together against a new labor law making it easier for French employers to fire workers younger than age 26 during their first two years of employment. Opponents say the law makes it more possible for employers to "use" young employees for a couple of years without having to provide the social benefits long-term contracts would provide, according to The New York Times. Proponents say the the new law makes hiring easier, supposedly their only intention behind the legislation.
Regardless of the law's intention, the people of France have spoken. They think their government can take that law and shove it, and they have made their feelings known through strikes, demonstrations, protests and a little itty bitty of violence. The result has meant the disruption of trains, planes, buses and the Paris Metro as workers went on strike. Teachers stayed home, newspapers weren't delivered, banks remained closed, universities shut down, major violence erupted in the city center and the Bastille Opera refused to sing. Demonstrations also occurred in several other cities throughout France.
What do Americans do when they don't like something their government imposes on them? Whine. And not to government officials or to a larger audience in an effort to band people together, either. They whine to a friend or uncle Clete. At least the French know how to make their feelings known on a global scale and take steps toward getting for themselves what they feel is fair. After all, the government is supposed to be there to serve its people. Not the other way around.
maarmie's musings
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Dances with Nasty E-mails
Unfortunately, I have to send too many nasty e-mail messages to the men - er, boys - with whom I've had dealings recently. For those of you who are slow to catch on, "dealings" means "sex" or something resembling the onslaught - yes, I mean onslaught - of romance.
This is the latest nasty e-mail I've drafted for my latest fling. I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure he's got a girlfriend - if that's any indication of just what a selfish prick he can be. He refers to said girlfriend as "a girl he's seeing" but they have sex without using condoms. That's more serious than marriage in my book, and I don't think he's ready for anything more serious than his weekly Dungeons & Dragons games, his Star Wars figurines, his daily 12-pack of Diet Mountain Dew and his science fiction festivals in Atlanta - his cell phone constantly hooked to his belt buckle, of course. I know this gives you an indication of exactly what kind of loser I see fit to fuck, but he's physically attractive, and, damn!, it's true: Bad sex is better than no sex.
There comes a time, though, when a line must be drawn.
---------------------------------------
K****,
I apologize for not picking up the phone last night or for calling you back. I was home, but I don't want to speak to you, and I don't want to see you.
I have many, many problems with the way you've acted, the way you've treated me, and the person you are. If possible, you are more immature than you were the last time I knew you. I hate the way you constantly grope all over me as if you were a horny 14-year-old, and I only put up with it thus far because I figured it would quickly end. But it hasn't, and you don't listen to me when I tell you to stop. That's really annoying. What's worse is that you know it bothers me, but you don't care.
Sex. You are the worst lover I've ever had. It's pretty sad that you think the night of passion has been a successful encounter if you managed to last longer than 3.2 seconds. Every time we have sex, I am left unsatisfied. Most times, I don't even orgasm. Sex is better with myself than with you. Maybe you need to stop trying so hard to do every position known to man and concentrate more on who you are with and how you can please her.
I told you I'm tired of disappointments. Several times now you haven't called when you said you would, you leave when you promise to stay, and you are either unwilling or unable to fulfill me sexually. Those are disappointments. I have been doing the math. Three strikes, baby. You're out.
This is the latest nasty e-mail I've drafted for my latest fling. I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure he's got a girlfriend - if that's any indication of just what a selfish prick he can be. He refers to said girlfriend as "a girl he's seeing" but they have sex without using condoms. That's more serious than marriage in my book, and I don't think he's ready for anything more serious than his weekly Dungeons & Dragons games, his Star Wars figurines, his daily 12-pack of Diet Mountain Dew and his science fiction festivals in Atlanta - his cell phone constantly hooked to his belt buckle, of course. I know this gives you an indication of exactly what kind of loser I see fit to fuck, but he's physically attractive, and, damn!, it's true: Bad sex is better than no sex.
There comes a time, though, when a line must be drawn.
---------------------------------------
K****,
I apologize for not picking up the phone last night or for calling you back. I was home, but I don't want to speak to you, and I don't want to see you.
I have many, many problems with the way you've acted, the way you've treated me, and the person you are. If possible, you are more immature than you were the last time I knew you. I hate the way you constantly grope all over me as if you were a horny 14-year-old, and I only put up with it thus far because I figured it would quickly end. But it hasn't, and you don't listen to me when I tell you to stop. That's really annoying. What's worse is that you know it bothers me, but you don't care.
Sex. You are the worst lover I've ever had. It's pretty sad that you think the night of passion has been a successful encounter if you managed to last longer than 3.2 seconds. Every time we have sex, I am left unsatisfied. Most times, I don't even orgasm. Sex is better with myself than with you. Maybe you need to stop trying so hard to do every position known to man and concentrate more on who you are with and how you can please her.
I told you I'm tired of disappointments. Several times now you haven't called when you said you would, you leave when you promise to stay, and you are either unwilling or unable to fulfill me sexually. Those are disappointments. I have been doing the math. Three strikes, baby. You're out.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Hallmark Needs a New Line
Try as I might, I can't seem to find the right birthday card or Mother's Day card to suit the shrew of a step-mother I am forced to endure. I have hated this woman since I was 15 or 16 years old, and Hallmark doesn't have a line of cards to excoriate the one you detest on that special day.
So, each year, I am forced to scan the rows and rows of pretty cards bearing flowers and syrupy rhymes extolling the virtures of this mother or that. They're never talking about MY mother, I can assure you: one who looks like a cross between Droopy the dog and a female Grinch. She is shrewd. She is crafty. She is mean. She has no boobs and no sense of humor, and she retired in her early 50s to spend her time being a professional homemaker and banker's wife.
I don't necessarily have any problems with homemakers, but this one doesn't have any kids to raise, and how many times can a floor be cleaned in a day? I have a vague suspicion she's living off the sweat of my father's brow while sitting around the house all day. When she retired, she said she'd maybe get a job as a cashier at a grocery store ("I've always wanted to do that. It looks like a fun job!") or benefit her community through volunteer work. She has yet to do either, and it's been years. When asked what she's been up to, she always offers only one word: "Things." I say, "Like what things?"
"Oh. Things."
Whatever.
For her birthday on March 24, I found this perfectly benign card that can be taken any way she sees fit.
Exterior:
Blue flowers and the word "Mom"
Interior:
"Wishing you the kind of birthday you deserve so much."
Perrrrrfect!
So, each year, I am forced to scan the rows and rows of pretty cards bearing flowers and syrupy rhymes extolling the virtures of this mother or that. They're never talking about MY mother, I can assure you: one who looks like a cross between Droopy the dog and a female Grinch. She is shrewd. She is crafty. She is mean. She has no boobs and no sense of humor, and she retired in her early 50s to spend her time being a professional homemaker and banker's wife.
I don't necessarily have any problems with homemakers, but this one doesn't have any kids to raise, and how many times can a floor be cleaned in a day? I have a vague suspicion she's living off the sweat of my father's brow while sitting around the house all day. When she retired, she said she'd maybe get a job as a cashier at a grocery store ("I've always wanted to do that. It looks like a fun job!") or benefit her community through volunteer work. She has yet to do either, and it's been years. When asked what she's been up to, she always offers only one word: "Things." I say, "Like what things?"
"Oh. Things."
Whatever.
For her birthday on March 24, I found this perfectly benign card that can be taken any way she sees fit.
Exterior:
Blue flowers and the word "Mom"
Interior:
"Wishing you the kind of birthday you deserve so much."
Perrrrrfect!
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
ACLU SHMACLU
A long time ago, the ACLU targeted me to join the organization and send them some cash for the honor. While I am grateful to the ACLU for defending everyone's right to free speech, I can't help but dislike them for defending EVERYONE'S right to free speech, everyone including every hateful bigot that crawls around in this godforsaken world. I guess another way to say what I just said is that I would like them a whole lot better if they would defend only the people who say things I agree with and put tape over the mouths of those I don't. Makes me sound like a fascist dictator, doesn't it? I guess I am.
A couple of clods have recently been thinking it wise to express themselves here with comments against both me and my blog. I would take these criticisms a whole lot better if the one who is tired of my pity parties didn't choose to remain anonymous and if the one who HATES my choice in favorite movies and thinks Betty Frieden is being driven around in a limo by satan even as I type this wasn't some kind of inbred Nazi with an IQ of 12. In my opinion, nothing he could ever say should be allowed to be said. To take it one step further, his balls should be severed so he can't decide to procreate. When he dies, it would be nice if we could all heave a sigh of relief that his genes stop with him.
The ACLU TRIED to be great during the protests of the Republican National Convention in August 2004. While protestors by the hundreds were having their civil liberties ripped away by the thugs with machine guns who called themselves cops, the ACLU was handing out little white cards to protestors telling them what to do if ever a cop tried to rip away their civil liberties and handing out the phone number of a lawyer that could help you out if you got arrested. I wrote the phone number in red ink on my arm, where it stayed for the duration of my visit. But the little white card, which I carried in my back pocket, might as well have been shoved up my ass for all the good it would do against the cops. When they want to create chaos and violence, they certainly do a good job of it. While I was there, and I was there most of that week, I never saw one hint of violence from any protestor. As a matter of fact, we were so docile, the cops got to herd us like cattle, lie to and mock us, corral and arrest us and hold us captive for days without reason or a lawyer. Where was the ACLU? Where are they now? Where are the lawsuits?
Bullies suck.
A couple of clods have recently been thinking it wise to express themselves here with comments against both me and my blog. I would take these criticisms a whole lot better if the one who is tired of my pity parties didn't choose to remain anonymous and if the one who HATES my choice in favorite movies and thinks Betty Frieden is being driven around in a limo by satan even as I type this wasn't some kind of inbred Nazi with an IQ of 12. In my opinion, nothing he could ever say should be allowed to be said. To take it one step further, his balls should be severed so he can't decide to procreate. When he dies, it would be nice if we could all heave a sigh of relief that his genes stop with him.
The ACLU TRIED to be great during the protests of the Republican National Convention in August 2004. While protestors by the hundreds were having their civil liberties ripped away by the thugs with machine guns who called themselves cops, the ACLU was handing out little white cards to protestors telling them what to do if ever a cop tried to rip away their civil liberties and handing out the phone number of a lawyer that could help you out if you got arrested. I wrote the phone number in red ink on my arm, where it stayed for the duration of my visit. But the little white card, which I carried in my back pocket, might as well have been shoved up my ass for all the good it would do against the cops. When they want to create chaos and violence, they certainly do a good job of it. While I was there, and I was there most of that week, I never saw one hint of violence from any protestor. As a matter of fact, we were so docile, the cops got to herd us like cattle, lie to and mock us, corral and arrest us and hold us captive for days without reason or a lawyer. Where was the ACLU? Where are they now? Where are the lawsuits?
Bullies suck.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Life
maarmie takes a sidestep so she's standing in front of a coworker, not allowing her to pass through the hallway. smiles.
coworker: Judi! maarmie's being mean to me. She won't let me through!
maarmi shuffles over into Judi's line of sight. to Judi: I was voted "friendliest" in fifth grade. Do you really think I'd ever be mean to her?
Judi: You were voted what?
maarmie: Friendliest.
coworker: You remember that from fifth grade?
maarmie: Yeah. (whispers to coworker) That was before life ripped my fucking heart out.
Laughter all around.
coworker: Judi! maarmie's being mean to me. She won't let me through!
maarmi shuffles over into Judi's line of sight. to Judi: I was voted "friendliest" in fifth grade. Do you really think I'd ever be mean to her?
Judi: You were voted what?
maarmie: Friendliest.
coworker: You remember that from fifth grade?
maarmie: Yeah. (whispers to coworker) That was before life ripped my fucking heart out.
Laughter all around.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Gag Me
While attempting to check my e-mail, I stumbled across this little gem, a veritable fount of indispensable information. It's a Cosmo-esque diatribe about WHAT MEN WANT, WHAT MEN NEED, WHAT MEN FIND ROMANTIC and HOW TO HOLD THE KEY THAT UNLOCKS HIS DESIRE. Of course, I have my two cents to add. Keep in mind I've recently been on the receiving end from not ONE but TWO assholes in a row.
---------------------------------------------
"Many stereotypes about men abound: They don't like to cuddle after sex; they're only interested in women with model-thin bodies; they hate to show their feelings and vulnerabilities. Not true, say guys. So we gave them the floor to set the record straight. Here, the top things men want women to know, straight from the mouths of real men."
The preceding paragraph requires no response. It's THAT laughable.
1. Kissing and romance mean as much to us as sex. "There has to be an emotional foundation for sex," says Ed Fertik, a Brooklyn, New York, bachelor. It's not that men don't love unforgettable sex; they do. But in a serious relationship, they want it preceded and followed by romance, kisses, hugs, and a loving touch. Contrary to the notion that men just want to roll over and play dead after intercourse, many guys say they do want to cuddle afterward. Some will even admit they'd like you to read to them or rub lotion on their bodies (and they'll do the same for you, if you ask!).
Read to them? Rub lotion on their bodies? I think someone got that a little mixed up. That reading material is most likely a Penthouse and that lotion? It's not for just ANY body part, baby.
2. We like you just the way you are; no models required! Hollywood and fashion magazines may make women feel they must have taut tummies and look model-perfect, but guys say they appreciate real women with foibles and imperfections. And personality counts! "Warmth is a much bigger turn-on than cleavage," says Clifford Berkley, a divorcee in Staten Island, New York.
No wonder you're divorced, Clifford. You're a fucking liar. And a bad one at that. Everyone knows guys want a girl with huge boobs and no brains or waistline who doesn't really seem to have any needs but will spread her legs whenever he wants her to.
3. We love when you cook us a meal, knit us a scarf, or buy us something we need without our asking. Guys aren't saying that they want women stuck in conventional household roles, just that they enjoy the surprise of a special meal on the table, a homemade gift, or a thoughtful gesture. "I love it when my wife buys me something she knows I need for work," says Douglas Hanau, a New York City newlywed. "Or when she prepares a meal for me that she's never made before."
BUUUUULLLLLLLSHIIIIIIT! It's called "get in the kitchen, bitch, and make me some dinner before you do the dishes, take care of the kids and clean the fucking house. Who cares that you've just put in a 10-hour day at work, I AM THE MAN OF THIS HOUSE, AND I DESERVE SPECIAL TREATMENT!"
Douglas, I have a feeling you won't be married for long. That is, unless your new bride is the mail order variety from Siberia.
4. We want to be constantly admired. Guys know they're not perfect, but they want you to tell them they are, or at least highlight frequently the things they do best. If he's great with stuff around the house, ask him to fix something by telling him what a great job he did on the last fix-it task. If he's a gifted writer, ask him to write you love notes, and tell him how much you love his way with words. He wants you to look for his strengths and applaud them -- often! There's also no bigger turn-on, guys say, than a woman who notices the small things he does to be considerate.
If he goes to work, he wants a gold fucking star. If he picks up a towel, he wants a gold fucking star. If he goes into the next room to fart, he wants a gold fucking star. If he makes you come, he wants a gold fucking star. If he isn't a completely insensitive clod who wouldn't know how to treat another human being well even if his life depended on it, he wants a gold fucking star. My advice is this: Do something worthy of those stars, assholes. The basics doesn't cut it.
5. We appreciate when you contribute financially, especially if you can afford to. Men like to treat women to special things, but they also like to be treated, in return. Share the financial burden of a relationship and know your guy's financial situation; be sensitive to what he can afford. Don't expect a $200 night on the town if that's the sum total of his monthly savings. And don't forget to break out your wallet. "If she earns a good living and is otherwise liberated, I appreciate her helping out," says Fertik. You don't have to split the bill on every night out; just take out your wallet some of the time, men suggest.
I can't make fun of this one. I agree.
6. Being kind to our mothers, siblings, and annoying relatives scores big points with us. Guys so appreciate when women go out of their way to be kind to their families. If there's a relative who's particularly annoying, remember, your man often feels as much frustration or antipathy toward the person as you do. But blood is thicker than water, and a little patience and effort go a long way. Bring along a special treat for a big family meal; send a warm thank-you note after you've visited; or participate in the weekly phone call your guy makes to his mom. Ask him how he prefers you to show your interest.
This translates into, "Mommy will always be more important to me than you are. In fact, I often think of my dick being inside HER pussy while I'm fucking YOU! Please remember that this attached umbilical cord is necessary for my survival."
7. Unusual spots for sex turn us on. Men like to get out of the bedroom. They'd like you to offer up your bathroom, your kitchen, and other unusual spots for a special afternoon of love-making. "There's nothing like sex in the afternoon," says Berkley (especially, he says only half-jokingly, if you'll let him indulge in watching a TV sporting event later). And when it comes to fantasies, they're happy to play along with yours, and they love for you to indulge theirs. Another guy request: They want to talk to you about sex, openly and candidly.
Well, if you can get it up and keep it up, I'll fuck you anywhere you want. OK?
8. We want to be validated all the time. It may sound like psycho-jargon, but men like to talk about their feelings, and they like when you echo those feelings back to them so they feel understood. Guys also love to talk about work, interactions with colleagues -- and sports. Give them their rants. And if they are creative, or concocting an idea a minute for work, they want to lay out their ideas for you to applaud. So applaud! "There's nothing that turns me on more than a girl who asks me to explain the logistics of football calls," says Berkley. "It can be a great bonding moment."
Everyone knows that the male ego is the most fragile thing on this planet and will wither and die without constant stroking. My response is this: I have no problem being supportive and complimentary, but you need to return the fucking favor, buddy. I'm not your goddamn nanny.
9. We need you to encourage us to take risks, and support us if we fail. If your man has a chance for a promotion at work, he wants your encouragement and support. Build up his confidence by listing all the reasons he should try for the promotion. Also, guys don't want you to change their bad habits; they say they're well-aware of the things they're not so good at. But you can gently offer suggestions for coping or altering annoying habits. "Great is the gal who helps me make fun of my foibles," says Berkley.
Grow up. Be a man. Period. If I have bigger balls than the quivering mass of testosterone standing in front of me, there's no quicker way to make my dick shrink.
10. We can have platonic friendships with females. Don't assume we've got something to hide if we want an hour to play racquetball or four hours to play golf, guys say. Female friends are also a necessary ingredient in many men's social routines -- and work connections make it likely that some of a guy's close friends may be women. If you're concerned that a friendship is turning romantic, talk to him candidly about your worries -- but don't presume foul play.
Yeah. Right.
11. We like women who are assertive, but not aggressive. If you want to try something out in bed, guys are almost always game. Assertiveness is also welcome when planning a weekend getaway, a vacation or even a night out. Let your guy know what you like in a soft-spoken, caring way. Others prefer subtle assertiveness. "Manipulate us in a feminine way," says Berkley, "but don't let us know we're being manipulated." That means don't try stuff that's too strange too soon in a relationship; talk and communicate.
Manipulate us in a feminine way? Be soft spoken? That's it! I'm becoming a lesbian!
12. We're not as different from you as you think. Books that tout the differences between the sexes may be hot on the best-seller lists, but guys yearn for the same emotional connections that women do -- they just express those needs differently. "Guys who tell you they don't need to be close and bond -- with women or with each other -- are lying," says Berkley. To keep the bond strong, ask your guy often what you can do to make him feel more loved. He'll love you back even stronger.
Fuck men.
---------------------------------------------
"Many stereotypes about men abound: They don't like to cuddle after sex; they're only interested in women with model-thin bodies; they hate to show their feelings and vulnerabilities. Not true, say guys. So we gave them the floor to set the record straight. Here, the top things men want women to know, straight from the mouths of real men."
The preceding paragraph requires no response. It's THAT laughable.
1. Kissing and romance mean as much to us as sex. "There has to be an emotional foundation for sex," says Ed Fertik, a Brooklyn, New York, bachelor. It's not that men don't love unforgettable sex; they do. But in a serious relationship, they want it preceded and followed by romance, kisses, hugs, and a loving touch. Contrary to the notion that men just want to roll over and play dead after intercourse, many guys say they do want to cuddle afterward. Some will even admit they'd like you to read to them or rub lotion on their bodies (and they'll do the same for you, if you ask!).
Read to them? Rub lotion on their bodies? I think someone got that a little mixed up. That reading material is most likely a Penthouse and that lotion? It's not for just ANY body part, baby.
2. We like you just the way you are; no models required! Hollywood and fashion magazines may make women feel they must have taut tummies and look model-perfect, but guys say they appreciate real women with foibles and imperfections. And personality counts! "Warmth is a much bigger turn-on than cleavage," says Clifford Berkley, a divorcee in Staten Island, New York.
No wonder you're divorced, Clifford. You're a fucking liar. And a bad one at that. Everyone knows guys want a girl with huge boobs and no brains or waistline who doesn't really seem to have any needs but will spread her legs whenever he wants her to.
3. We love when you cook us a meal, knit us a scarf, or buy us something we need without our asking. Guys aren't saying that they want women stuck in conventional household roles, just that they enjoy the surprise of a special meal on the table, a homemade gift, or a thoughtful gesture. "I love it when my wife buys me something she knows I need for work," says Douglas Hanau, a New York City newlywed. "Or when she prepares a meal for me that she's never made before."
BUUUUULLLLLLLSHIIIIIIT! It's called "get in the kitchen, bitch, and make me some dinner before you do the dishes, take care of the kids and clean the fucking house. Who cares that you've just put in a 10-hour day at work, I AM THE MAN OF THIS HOUSE, AND I DESERVE SPECIAL TREATMENT!"
Douglas, I have a feeling you won't be married for long. That is, unless your new bride is the mail order variety from Siberia.
4. We want to be constantly admired. Guys know they're not perfect, but they want you to tell them they are, or at least highlight frequently the things they do best. If he's great with stuff around the house, ask him to fix something by telling him what a great job he did on the last fix-it task. If he's a gifted writer, ask him to write you love notes, and tell him how much you love his way with words. He wants you to look for his strengths and applaud them -- often! There's also no bigger turn-on, guys say, than a woman who notices the small things he does to be considerate.
If he goes to work, he wants a gold fucking star. If he picks up a towel, he wants a gold fucking star. If he goes into the next room to fart, he wants a gold fucking star. If he makes you come, he wants a gold fucking star. If he isn't a completely insensitive clod who wouldn't know how to treat another human being well even if his life depended on it, he wants a gold fucking star. My advice is this: Do something worthy of those stars, assholes. The basics doesn't cut it.
5. We appreciate when you contribute financially, especially if you can afford to. Men like to treat women to special things, but they also like to be treated, in return. Share the financial burden of a relationship and know your guy's financial situation; be sensitive to what he can afford. Don't expect a $200 night on the town if that's the sum total of his monthly savings. And don't forget to break out your wallet. "If she earns a good living and is otherwise liberated, I appreciate her helping out," says Fertik. You don't have to split the bill on every night out; just take out your wallet some of the time, men suggest.
I can't make fun of this one. I agree.
6. Being kind to our mothers, siblings, and annoying relatives scores big points with us. Guys so appreciate when women go out of their way to be kind to their families. If there's a relative who's particularly annoying, remember, your man often feels as much frustration or antipathy toward the person as you do. But blood is thicker than water, and a little patience and effort go a long way. Bring along a special treat for a big family meal; send a warm thank-you note after you've visited; or participate in the weekly phone call your guy makes to his mom. Ask him how he prefers you to show your interest.
This translates into, "Mommy will always be more important to me than you are. In fact, I often think of my dick being inside HER pussy while I'm fucking YOU! Please remember that this attached umbilical cord is necessary for my survival."
7. Unusual spots for sex turn us on. Men like to get out of the bedroom. They'd like you to offer up your bathroom, your kitchen, and other unusual spots for a special afternoon of love-making. "There's nothing like sex in the afternoon," says Berkley (especially, he says only half-jokingly, if you'll let him indulge in watching a TV sporting event later). And when it comes to fantasies, they're happy to play along with yours, and they love for you to indulge theirs. Another guy request: They want to talk to you about sex, openly and candidly.
Well, if you can get it up and keep it up, I'll fuck you anywhere you want. OK?
8. We want to be validated all the time. It may sound like psycho-jargon, but men like to talk about their feelings, and they like when you echo those feelings back to them so they feel understood. Guys also love to talk about work, interactions with colleagues -- and sports. Give them their rants. And if they are creative, or concocting an idea a minute for work, they want to lay out their ideas for you to applaud. So applaud! "There's nothing that turns me on more than a girl who asks me to explain the logistics of football calls," says Berkley. "It can be a great bonding moment."
Everyone knows that the male ego is the most fragile thing on this planet and will wither and die without constant stroking. My response is this: I have no problem being supportive and complimentary, but you need to return the fucking favor, buddy. I'm not your goddamn nanny.
9. We need you to encourage us to take risks, and support us if we fail. If your man has a chance for a promotion at work, he wants your encouragement and support. Build up his confidence by listing all the reasons he should try for the promotion. Also, guys don't want you to change their bad habits; they say they're well-aware of the things they're not so good at. But you can gently offer suggestions for coping or altering annoying habits. "Great is the gal who helps me make fun of my foibles," says Berkley.
Grow up. Be a man. Period. If I have bigger balls than the quivering mass of testosterone standing in front of me, there's no quicker way to make my dick shrink.
10. We can have platonic friendships with females. Don't assume we've got something to hide if we want an hour to play racquetball or four hours to play golf, guys say. Female friends are also a necessary ingredient in many men's social routines -- and work connections make it likely that some of a guy's close friends may be women. If you're concerned that a friendship is turning romantic, talk to him candidly about your worries -- but don't presume foul play.
Yeah. Right.
11. We like women who are assertive, but not aggressive. If you want to try something out in bed, guys are almost always game. Assertiveness is also welcome when planning a weekend getaway, a vacation or even a night out. Let your guy know what you like in a soft-spoken, caring way. Others prefer subtle assertiveness. "Manipulate us in a feminine way," says Berkley, "but don't let us know we're being manipulated." That means don't try stuff that's too strange too soon in a relationship; talk and communicate.
Manipulate us in a feminine way? Be soft spoken? That's it! I'm becoming a lesbian!
12. We're not as different from you as you think. Books that tout the differences between the sexes may be hot on the best-seller lists, but guys yearn for the same emotional connections that women do -- they just express those needs differently. "Guys who tell you they don't need to be close and bond -- with women or with each other -- are lying," says Berkley. To keep the bond strong, ask your guy often what you can do to make him feel more loved. He'll love you back even stronger.
Fuck men.
Doppelganger's Back
And here's what he/she/it had to say in response to my response to his/her/its previous comment listed under "I'm in the Mood for...Backgammon"
"Hm. Must have frightened him off well and truly by now, mate."
My reply?
"Frighten him off? If me amusing myself by seeing if I can figure out who he is frightens him off, then he doesn't have the fortitude to be with me. I am a strong woman. And I need a REALLY strong man."
"Hm. Must have frightened him off well and truly by now, mate."
My reply?
"Frighten him off? If me amusing myself by seeing if I can figure out who he is frightens him off, then he doesn't have the fortitude to be with me. I am a strong woman. And I need a REALLY strong man."
Friday, February 10, 2006
Readers Respond
And I respond back! A recent reader commented about the post titled "I'm in the Mood for...Backgammon!"
Doppelganger Throwback said, "But did you mention you'd be locating him quite so precisely on your internet radar... ?"
My response: "I actually already tried to find him on the Internet using what limited info I know about him. I came up with Andrew Yuncken, Andrew Shanks and Andrew McAuley, all of whom appear to be television editors in Australia. I don't think it's any of them, though, for some reason."
I guess my aptitude as a private investigator isn't what I thought it was.
Did I happen to stress enough my love of yahoo! backgammon? One can "meet" all kinds of interesting people on there from all over the world. Even celebrities are doing it! One time, I played for almost an hour against Eric McCormack, the hottie who plays Will on "Will & Grace." No, really. It was him. He told me so himself. Honest!
Even though there are people in there from most every country, people who speak different languages and have entirely unique ways of looking at the world, I always have at least one thing in common with anyone I play against. No matter where they're from, they all seem to hate George W. Bush just as much as I do.
Doppelganger Throwback said, "But did you mention you'd be locating him quite so precisely on your internet radar... ?"
My response: "I actually already tried to find him on the Internet using what limited info I know about him. I came up with Andrew Yuncken, Andrew Shanks and Andrew McAuley, all of whom appear to be television editors in Australia. I don't think it's any of them, though, for some reason."
I guess my aptitude as a private investigator isn't what I thought it was.
Did I happen to stress enough my love of yahoo! backgammon? One can "meet" all kinds of interesting people on there from all over the world. Even celebrities are doing it! One time, I played for almost an hour against Eric McCormack, the hottie who plays Will on "Will & Grace." No, really. It was him. He told me so himself. Honest!
Even though there are people in there from most every country, people who speak different languages and have entirely unique ways of looking at the world, I always have at least one thing in common with anyone I play against. No matter where they're from, they all seem to hate George W. Bush just as much as I do.
Monday, February 06, 2006
A Death in the Family
Feminist and NOW founder Betty Friedan died of congestive heart failure Saturday at her home in Washington. She was 85. Following are some quotes by the author of "The Feminine Mystique."
"Men are not the enemy, but the fellow victims. The real enemy is women's denigration of themselves."
"When she stopped conforming to the conventional picture of femininity she finally began to enjoy being a woman."
"Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffered Cub Scouts and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night — she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question — 'Is this all?' "
"No woman gets an orgasm from shining the kitchen floor."
"If divorce has increased by one thousand percent, don't blame the women's movement. Blame the obsolete sex roles on which our marriages were based."
"Men are not the enemy, but the fellow victims. The real enemy is women's denigration of themselves."
"When she stopped conforming to the conventional picture of femininity she finally began to enjoy being a woman."
"Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffered Cub Scouts and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night — she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question — 'Is this all?' "
"No woman gets an orgasm from shining the kitchen floor."
"If divorce has increased by one thousand percent, don't blame the women's movement. Blame the obsolete sex roles on which our marriages were based."
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Minimum Wage?
Tallahassee has its very own hangout for Greens and Reds and almost any other Christmas color you can think of. The hangout is appropriately titled The Progressive Center - a place where nonprofits can set up offices for cheap that also includes a civil rights museum, a fair trade store, a cafe and works of art made by local artists. Every week, a variety of activities take place there: concerts, film viewings, meetings of local chapters of various groups including Tallahassee NOW, screenings of Bush's latest state of the union address or debate or the latest Michael Moore endeavor.
Last night, during a screening of the film "Matewan" - a movie about coal miners struggling to form a union - I learned that employers sometimes treat their employees poorly and sometimes provide them with unfair pay and unsafe working conditions. Who would have guessed?
Alito: Boo!
Last night, during a screening of the film "Matewan" - a movie about coal miners struggling to form a union - I learned that employers sometimes treat their employees poorly and sometimes provide them with unfair pay and unsafe working conditions. Who would have guessed?
Alito: Boo!
Monkey See, Monkey Do
All the cool kids are doing it, so I'm going to do it, too. Today, I am a follower.
All the cool bloggers who make a living off blogging and travel around the world talking about the world of blogging are posting answers to some very silly questions. In an effort to keep up with the biggest kids on the playground, here goes:
Four jobs I have had
1. Check-out girl at a grocery store (I got hit on more times than you can imagine)
2. Shift supervisor at Wendy's (I dumped more grease in a grease pit than you can imagine)
3. Receptionist at a hotel (I was offered sex more times than you can imagine)
4. Reporter for a small-town newspaper (I was yelled at and threatened more times than you can imagine)
Four movies I can watch over and over
1. Frida
2. Breakfast Club
3. Poltergeist
4. Sixteen Candles
People tell me I look like Molly Ringwald.
Four places I have lived
1. In a "1 1/2 bedroom" apartment over an Ecuadorian restaurant in Queens, NYC
2. In several dorms at Florida State University with several young and annoying girls who were fresh out of their parents' homes
3. In an old house divided into apartments in downtown Portland, Oregon
4. In a three-bedroom duplex in Tallahassee, Florida, with two roommates, two dogs and three cats. It was enough to drive me insane.
Four TV shows I love
1. Sex & the City
2. Seinfeld
3. The Daily Show
4. The Dave Chapelle Show
I'm a Comedy Central junkie.
Four places I have vacationed
1. Big Sky, Montana
2. Montreal, Canada
3. San Francisco, California
4. Hot Springs, North Carolina
Four of my favorite dishes
1. Chicken chimichangas
2. Chili
3. Meatloaf
4. French fries
Four sites I visit daily
1. Dooce
2. The New York Times
3. Postsecret OK, that's weekly
4. Yahoo games I play backgammon at work!
Four places I would rather be right now
1. Having sex with a great guy
2. Vacationing in Hawaii
3. Surrounded by good friends
4. Sitting at a cafe in Paris
I have no idea what "tagging" is...
All the cool bloggers who make a living off blogging and travel around the world talking about the world of blogging are posting answers to some very silly questions. In an effort to keep up with the biggest kids on the playground, here goes:
Four jobs I have had
1. Check-out girl at a grocery store (I got hit on more times than you can imagine)
2. Shift supervisor at Wendy's (I dumped more grease in a grease pit than you can imagine)
3. Receptionist at a hotel (I was offered sex more times than you can imagine)
4. Reporter for a small-town newspaper (I was yelled at and threatened more times than you can imagine)
Four movies I can watch over and over
1. Frida
2. Breakfast Club
3. Poltergeist
4. Sixteen Candles
People tell me I look like Molly Ringwald.
Four places I have lived
1. In a "1 1/2 bedroom" apartment over an Ecuadorian restaurant in Queens, NYC
2. In several dorms at Florida State University with several young and annoying girls who were fresh out of their parents' homes
3. In an old house divided into apartments in downtown Portland, Oregon
4. In a three-bedroom duplex in Tallahassee, Florida, with two roommates, two dogs and three cats. It was enough to drive me insane.
Four TV shows I love
1. Sex & the City
2. Seinfeld
3. The Daily Show
4. The Dave Chapelle Show
I'm a Comedy Central junkie.
Four places I have vacationed
1. Big Sky, Montana
2. Montreal, Canada
3. San Francisco, California
4. Hot Springs, North Carolina
Four of my favorite dishes
1. Chicken chimichangas
2. Chili
3. Meatloaf
4. French fries
Four sites I visit daily
1. Dooce
2. The New York Times
3. Postsecret OK, that's weekly
4. Yahoo games I play backgammon at work!
Four places I would rather be right now
1. Having sex with a great guy
2. Vacationing in Hawaii
3. Surrounded by good friends
4. Sitting at a cafe in Paris
I have no idea what "tagging" is...
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Brokecrap Mountain
I don't see what the big deal is about this film. I can see a consentual anal rape scene any day in my bedroom.
Seriously, just because a major motion picture has the cojones to show dudes spitting on their palms to lubricate anuses for fucking and engaging in passionate make-out sessions it won the Los Angeles Film Critics Association's award for best picture of 2005? I don't get it. Nothing about the film was exceptional - not even its subject matter. No, you don't often see a film about gay cowboys - the gay porn flick aptly titled "Bareback Riders" aside. But does that qualify it for top honors?
Seriously, just because a major motion picture has the cojones to show dudes spitting on their palms to lubricate anuses for fucking and engaging in passionate make-out sessions it won the Los Angeles Film Critics Association's award for best picture of 2005? I don't get it. Nothing about the film was exceptional - not even its subject matter. No, you don't often see a film about gay cowboys - the gay porn flick aptly titled "Bareback Riders" aside. But does that qualify it for top honors?
Friday, January 27, 2006
I'm OK. You're OK
I'm still not smoking, and it's been about a month. I guess I finally licked the habit again. Hopefully, this round will last longer than the 3.5 years I quit before.
Celexa has become my new best friend even though I can't really say I feel the effects of her yet. Right now, she's just someone I say "hi" to every morning. I'm waiting for her to say "hi" back and to give me a smile or a hug. In the meantime, I'm feeling better anyway.
Celexa has become my new best friend even though I can't really say I feel the effects of her yet. Right now, she's just someone I say "hi" to every morning. I'm waiting for her to say "hi" back and to give me a smile or a hug. In the meantime, I'm feeling better anyway.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Roe v. What?
My friend, Michael, showed up at my house last night to see if I wanted to go see a speaker at FSU: Sarah Weddington, the woman who, at age 26, successfully argued Roe v. Wade. He said he wouldn't have come to get me, but he didn't want to go alone. I instantly felt so grateful that he's one of my best friends.
Weddington is currently a Texas lawyer and a law professor at UT, Austin. She was eloquent, sincere and intelligent and had a great sense of humor. She spoke for about an hour about the landmark case that changed the world and interrupted her talk only once with a more than benign request that someone in the audience turn off his video camera - still photos only, please.
Roe v. Wade is 33 years old now, and pro-choice advocates around the country grow more fearful by the day about the future of this landmark case. Will Alito take the bench? Will the case be overturned? Will fucking, for women AND men alike, equal a willingness to reproduce?
Not long before Weddington argued Roe v. Wade, it was illegal for people, both married and unmarried, to use contraceptives of any kind, and abortion was legal only for women whose health or lives were on the line in pregnancy. This led to illegal and home abortions and the injury, sterilization and death of countless women. At issue here, says Weddington, is the right to privacy, the same right granted to married and unmarried people who wanted to use birth control - but legally couldn't - shortly before Roe v. Wade was debated among U.S. Supreme Court justices.
While the nation and individual states can regulate safety issues with regard to contraceptives, they can no longer regulate the legality of using them just as the government can regulate abortions but cannot currently deny them. If Roe v. Wade is ever overturned, said Weddington, there will be mass chaos.
Let's hope so.
Weddington is currently a Texas lawyer and a law professor at UT, Austin. She was eloquent, sincere and intelligent and had a great sense of humor. She spoke for about an hour about the landmark case that changed the world and interrupted her talk only once with a more than benign request that someone in the audience turn off his video camera - still photos only, please.
Roe v. Wade is 33 years old now, and pro-choice advocates around the country grow more fearful by the day about the future of this landmark case. Will Alito take the bench? Will the case be overturned? Will fucking, for women AND men alike, equal a willingness to reproduce?
Not long before Weddington argued Roe v. Wade, it was illegal for people, both married and unmarried, to use contraceptives of any kind, and abortion was legal only for women whose health or lives were on the line in pregnancy. This led to illegal and home abortions and the injury, sterilization and death of countless women. At issue here, says Weddington, is the right to privacy, the same right granted to married and unmarried people who wanted to use birth control - but legally couldn't - shortly before Roe v. Wade was debated among U.S. Supreme Court justices.
While the nation and individual states can regulate safety issues with regard to contraceptives, they can no longer regulate the legality of using them just as the government can regulate abortions but cannot currently deny them. If Roe v. Wade is ever overturned, said Weddington, there will be mass chaos.
Let's hope so.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Update
No crying since Monday night. I start on Celexa today or tomorrow. Lexapro was what my therapist recommended, and I've read that it helps with both anxiety AND depression while Celexa appears to be good for depression only - a milder version of Lexapro. We'll see. My therapist said she wants me to take it for only a little while.
I had dinner at a friend's house last night. I really like being around him. He's sensitive and kind. I never feel bad around him, and I really feel like I can let down my guard and be myself around him. Of course, there's really no fear of rejection considering he's married but he is a good reminder of what I should be looking for in a mate and that age, height, weight, attractiveness, a great education and a fabulous job don't really mean much when you're deciding who you want to devote yourself to. It's what's inside that counts the most and how you feel when you're around the other person.
I need to keep this in mind the next time I'm stuck on some asshole.
I had dinner at a friend's house last night. I really like being around him. He's sensitive and kind. I never feel bad around him, and I really feel like I can let down my guard and be myself around him. Of course, there's really no fear of rejection considering he's married but he is a good reminder of what I should be looking for in a mate and that age, height, weight, attractiveness, a great education and a fabulous job don't really mean much when you're deciding who you want to devote yourself to. It's what's inside that counts the most and how you feel when you're around the other person.
I need to keep this in mind the next time I'm stuck on some asshole.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Clarification
Ok. Because friends are asking, I'm offering a clarification to yesterday's post.
I don't really think it's this particular guy that I'm depressed about. I think it's this kind of hopelessness that has come over me in the past couple months that even though I found someone out there who's the right age range, height range, weight range and attractiveness range and who has a great education, a great job, remarkably similar interests and values (claimed values, anyway) and overwhelmingly shares the same outlook on nearly everything - even when all these are in place, the relationship didn't work out. Not only didn't it work out, but it all fell apart amazingly speedily. Like there wasn't a second to waste. And, like that, my hopes disintegrated.
If the problem doesn't lie with him, then it lies with me, and I consider myself to be a catch. I'm attractive (but I need to lose 20 pounds or so), funny, smart, educated, adventurous, spontaneous, curious, energetic, responsible, honest, loyal, caring, considerate, thoughtful, loving, affectionate and passionate. I'm an avid reader, and I have knowledge of a diverse range of music. I can talk about everything from politics to fashion, poverty to cooking - and everything in between. I think my biggest flaws are that I can tend to be extremely sensitive to criticism, and I get really anxious at the beginning of any relationship (attachment disorder). Am I so bad?
My way of thinking is that if a relationship won't work out with someone who seems so nearly perfect for me on paper, it won't work out with anyone. And I can't handle the thought of being alone forever.
Another thing that could be fueling my depression is the fact that I quit smoking. I found a Web site yesterday that says, once they quit smoking, depression worsens for people who normally experience a mild range of it. Apparently, the depression can last for a while and can meld into some kind of long-term funk. Another site said my insulin would go up as well. Good news considering my insulin count is very low.
I went to the gym last night and had a little one-on-one with a personal trainer. He measured my body fat percentage, and I found out that not only is my body fat a danger to me but it's also a danger to everyone in the immediate vicinity. Apparently, according to my body fat index, I am considered obese. That's funny. I don't feel obese. I guess the only place to go from here is up.
We went through the various weight machines I will be using: for my thighs, lower back, calves, chest, arms and abs. Time to get in shape.
I didn't cry yesterday, and I don't feel so bad today.
I don't really think it's this particular guy that I'm depressed about. I think it's this kind of hopelessness that has come over me in the past couple months that even though I found someone out there who's the right age range, height range, weight range and attractiveness range and who has a great education, a great job, remarkably similar interests and values (claimed values, anyway) and overwhelmingly shares the same outlook on nearly everything - even when all these are in place, the relationship didn't work out. Not only didn't it work out, but it all fell apart amazingly speedily. Like there wasn't a second to waste. And, like that, my hopes disintegrated.
If the problem doesn't lie with him, then it lies with me, and I consider myself to be a catch. I'm attractive (but I need to lose 20 pounds or so), funny, smart, educated, adventurous, spontaneous, curious, energetic, responsible, honest, loyal, caring, considerate, thoughtful, loving, affectionate and passionate. I'm an avid reader, and I have knowledge of a diverse range of music. I can talk about everything from politics to fashion, poverty to cooking - and everything in between. I think my biggest flaws are that I can tend to be extremely sensitive to criticism, and I get really anxious at the beginning of any relationship (attachment disorder). Am I so bad?
My way of thinking is that if a relationship won't work out with someone who seems so nearly perfect for me on paper, it won't work out with anyone. And I can't handle the thought of being alone forever.
Another thing that could be fueling my depression is the fact that I quit smoking. I found a Web site yesterday that says, once they quit smoking, depression worsens for people who normally experience a mild range of it. Apparently, the depression can last for a while and can meld into some kind of long-term funk. Another site said my insulin would go up as well. Good news considering my insulin count is very low.
I went to the gym last night and had a little one-on-one with a personal trainer. He measured my body fat percentage, and I found out that not only is my body fat a danger to me but it's also a danger to everyone in the immediate vicinity. Apparently, according to my body fat index, I am considered obese. That's funny. I don't feel obese. I guess the only place to go from here is up.
We went through the various weight machines I will be using: for my thighs, lower back, calves, chest, arms and abs. Time to get in shape.
I didn't cry yesterday, and I don't feel so bad today.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Morphine, Anyone?
I could sure go for a nice IV full of morphine right now. I remember how magical that clear liquid is and how it can make life at least bearable. I'm starting to not feel so sorry for Terri Schiavo and her 15 years of unconsciousness. It sounds pretty good right now.
I'm on week eight or so of depression, give or take a year. I got home around 5 last night and cried until I feel asleep at 11. I woke up wondering if I need to be hospitalized after another night filled with recurring dreams. When I talk on the phone to most people I know, I try to fool them into thinking I'm happy. I try to sound upbeat and pull out all the jokes. My closest friends know how I'm really doing, though, and people at work steer clear of my office because I always look on the verge of a breakdown.
I think the problem has to do with my lack of an acceptable job, one that pushes me to my potential, and with my lack of a nice boyfriend. I most recently dated this mentally and emotionally abusive (surprise, surprise) jerk who really enjoyed yelling at me, calling me names, being completely arrogant and selfish towards me, and hating me whenever I tried to be nice to him. The tragic thing is that HE rejected ME and ripped away my self esteem in the process yet he thinks that we can't have a relationship because I'M the one who's such a bad person.
He never wanted to talk about any of my issues with him (imagine!), and anytime I expressed displeasure over one of his mental cuts he would either laugh or gleefully tell me that I've probably never met anyone like him before. When I would let him know that I wouldn't even stay friends with him if he continued to act the way he did, he would just say "ok" and throw away my phone number or say "I'll talk to you soon" and leave me sitting there stunned at his callousness and complete disregard for reality.
Whenever there is such a conflict of reality, I tend to start doubting myself. Am I the monster? If I'm the bad one, why do I think he's so bad? Are we both bad, and we're projecting onto each other?
Or is he just a fucking immature reject of an asshole who never deserved one second of my time.
I'm on week eight or so of depression, give or take a year. I got home around 5 last night and cried until I feel asleep at 11. I woke up wondering if I need to be hospitalized after another night filled with recurring dreams. When I talk on the phone to most people I know, I try to fool them into thinking I'm happy. I try to sound upbeat and pull out all the jokes. My closest friends know how I'm really doing, though, and people at work steer clear of my office because I always look on the verge of a breakdown.
I think the problem has to do with my lack of an acceptable job, one that pushes me to my potential, and with my lack of a nice boyfriend. I most recently dated this mentally and emotionally abusive (surprise, surprise) jerk who really enjoyed yelling at me, calling me names, being completely arrogant and selfish towards me, and hating me whenever I tried to be nice to him. The tragic thing is that HE rejected ME and ripped away my self esteem in the process yet he thinks that we can't have a relationship because I'M the one who's such a bad person.
He never wanted to talk about any of my issues with him (imagine!), and anytime I expressed displeasure over one of his mental cuts he would either laugh or gleefully tell me that I've probably never met anyone like him before. When I would let him know that I wouldn't even stay friends with him if he continued to act the way he did, he would just say "ok" and throw away my phone number or say "I'll talk to you soon" and leave me sitting there stunned at his callousness and complete disregard for reality.
Whenever there is such a conflict of reality, I tend to start doubting myself. Am I the monster? If I'm the bad one, why do I think he's so bad? Are we both bad, and we're projecting onto each other?
Or is he just a fucking immature reject of an asshole who never deserved one second of my time.
Monday, January 09, 2006
The Test
I put my bottle of water on the counter.
Clerk: Will that be all?
I nervously eye the rows of cigarettes behind her. Marlboros. On sale for $2.45 a pack!
Me: Uhhh....yeah.
Clerk: Will that be all?
I nervously eye the rows of cigarettes behind her. Marlboros. On sale for $2.45 a pack!
Me: Uhhh....yeah.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
New Year, New Habits, New Job, New Body
I'm still depressed, but I am looking forward to the new year a little more now. I'm sure I'll be looking forward to it even more than I am now as soon as I get the prescription for Zoloft or Lexapro my therapist recommends.
A new job with the legislature came open that I'm planning on applying for. It would mean a much better job for 50 percent more money. The only problem is I'd be working for the Republicans and doing their bidding. Might not be so bad, though. The money would be great to pay off my debts and leave Florida.
Smoking: Day 3 of no smoking. That's how long I lasted last time I tried to quit. I have had three severe cravings so far in these past three days but nothing that would be enough to make me start again. I dreamt I was in a store last night. At the register, I picked up a pack of cigarettes and almost bought them. At the last second, I put them back. I think I'll make it this time.
New habit: the gym. When my back heals, I'm going to be joining the gym again. My goal is to get down to 150 pounds again to feel better about myself. Plus, I'm hoping the exercise will help release whatever chemicals will make me stop crying.
A new job with the legislature came open that I'm planning on applying for. It would mean a much better job for 50 percent more money. The only problem is I'd be working for the Republicans and doing their bidding. Might not be so bad, though. The money would be great to pay off my debts and leave Florida.
Smoking: Day 3 of no smoking. That's how long I lasted last time I tried to quit. I have had three severe cravings so far in these past three days but nothing that would be enough to make me start again. I dreamt I was in a store last night. At the register, I picked up a pack of cigarettes and almost bought them. At the last second, I put them back. I think I'll make it this time.
New habit: the gym. When my back heals, I'm going to be joining the gym again. My goal is to get down to 150 pounds again to feel better about myself. Plus, I'm hoping the exercise will help release whatever chemicals will make me stop crying.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Happy...New...Year
I'm starting off this new year sad and depressed and with a hurt back. This morning, I bent over to pick something up off the floor and, boom!, my lower back spasmed. I almost didn't come to work (I can barely walk!), but I'm here only because I couldn't stand another 24 hours in bed. I was severely depressed this weekend and didn't really leave my bed much, which has made me even more depressed.
Adding to my funk is that I quit smoking (again) yesterday. I cried on the way to work today. Nice way to start off the new year. My therapist will have a field day when I see her Wednesday and will, no doubt, want to start me on antidepressants in no time.
Adding to my funk is that I quit smoking (again) yesterday. I cried on the way to work today. Nice way to start off the new year. My therapist will have a field day when I see her Wednesday and will, no doubt, want to start me on antidepressants in no time.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Merry Christmas!
I leave tomorrow after work for a trip to Tampa for Christmas.
This trip will be better than my Thanksgiving trip because 1) I won't be visiting my parents this time and 2) I will be meeting up with my good friend Lili whom I haven't seen since I visited Providence, RI, two Christmases ago. That year, Lili and I hung out with her ex-husband, Robert, much of the time. We had a blast eating, watching movies and MTV (trying to dance like the guy in that Polaroid song? You got to shake it, shake it, shake it), visiting Boston, shopping and acting like general bufoons.
That was the year Lili had to say goodbye to a very good friend of hers she had known for a couple of years. This friend of hers was taking a snowy walk with us in a cemetery one day when she disappeared. We looked everywhere for two hours, left our name and number with the cemetery office in case she happened to be found. I took a photograph of her that day, the last photograph ever taken of her. She has not been found since. Yes, Lili's winter cap she wore on the walk that day was her favorite. A few weeks later, I mailed Lili a photo of her wearing her favorite hat. I think Lili held a funeral service, because I got some sort of weird invitation in the mail a couple weeks later inviting me to a wake.
Ha!
So, I'm trying to think of fun things Lili and I can fill our time with. There aren't that many gay clubs left in central Florida. That's what Lili and I used to do in Ybor City in the good old days when we first met 11 years ago: go to Masquerade on 7th Avenue and gyrate among all the pretty queers.
Two trips to Tampa ago, Tess and I found this huge club in downtown Tampa that bosts Saturday night as gay night. It's two stories tall with two bars on each floor, a well-hung bar dancer in a g-string, blaring electronic music and beds along one whole wall upstairs. I'm supposing the beds are for the voyeurs and exhibitionists alike. They appealed to me, because I'm both.
Merry Christmas everyone! Happy new year!!!!
This trip will be better than my Thanksgiving trip because 1) I won't be visiting my parents this time and 2) I will be meeting up with my good friend Lili whom I haven't seen since I visited Providence, RI, two Christmases ago. That year, Lili and I hung out with her ex-husband, Robert, much of the time. We had a blast eating, watching movies and MTV (trying to dance like the guy in that Polaroid song? You got to shake it, shake it, shake it), visiting Boston, shopping and acting like general bufoons.
That was the year Lili had to say goodbye to a very good friend of hers she had known for a couple of years. This friend of hers was taking a snowy walk with us in a cemetery one day when she disappeared. We looked everywhere for two hours, left our name and number with the cemetery office in case she happened to be found. I took a photograph of her that day, the last photograph ever taken of her. She has not been found since. Yes, Lili's winter cap she wore on the walk that day was her favorite. A few weeks later, I mailed Lili a photo of her wearing her favorite hat. I think Lili held a funeral service, because I got some sort of weird invitation in the mail a couple weeks later inviting me to a wake.
Ha!
So, I'm trying to think of fun things Lili and I can fill our time with. There aren't that many gay clubs left in central Florida. That's what Lili and I used to do in Ybor City in the good old days when we first met 11 years ago: go to Masquerade on 7th Avenue and gyrate among all the pretty queers.
Two trips to Tampa ago, Tess and I found this huge club in downtown Tampa that bosts Saturday night as gay night. It's two stories tall with two bars on each floor, a well-hung bar dancer in a g-string, blaring electronic music and beds along one whole wall upstairs. I'm supposing the beds are for the voyeurs and exhibitionists alike. They appealed to me, because I'm both.
Merry Christmas everyone! Happy new year!!!!
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
A New Leaf in Cold Winter
Enough already. I've decided to snap out of my depression dilemma and have convinced myself that I'm going to convince myself that life is...fun.
I'm meeting next week with a photography professor at Florida State University. He has kindly agreed to critique some of my photographs to let me know if I've got what it takes to take pretty pretty pictures. I've gone through all my photos and selected about 20 to show him first. I'm still waiting for my ordered copy of the 2006 photographer's market guidebook to arrive.
I'm meeting next week with a photography professor at Florida State University. He has kindly agreed to critique some of my photographs to let me know if I've got what it takes to take pretty pretty pictures. I've gone through all my photos and selected about 20 to show him first. I'm still waiting for my ordered copy of the 2006 photographer's market guidebook to arrive.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Untitled
For some reason, I couldn't think up a title for this post. Nothing seemed appropriate. Nothing seemed interesting. Nothing interests me. Nothing is fun. Nothing is funny. I look forward to nothing. I look forward to sleep.
Yes, I am depressed. My therapist wants to put me on anti-depressants and will evaluate me in two weeks to see if I'm doing better by then. I'm supposed to be exercising to release some seratonin, but, of course, I DON'T FEEL LIKE IT.
My days have been bleak lately, adding to the gray skies that have been flying over Tallahassee. What I look forward to most during the day is getting home so I can check my mail. Yes, MY MAIL is the most exciting part of my day.
Thanksgiving. I left Tallahassee at about 2 p.m. Tuesday headed for Tampa. The five days were just a blur of sun and moon punctuated by five hours of slaving in the kitchen to make a turkey dinner (I was the adult this year!), one miserable hour of getting treated like crap by my parents at their L-O-V-E-L-Y home, a night in Ybor City dancing at a club called Czar with a hopping monkey and going to an all-the-meat-you-can-eat Brazilian restaurant with my brother, his wife and friends and my ex. I usually have a good time when I go to Tampa, but this time pretty much sucked. I don't know why. I think it's because I'm depressed. And broke. And because I only got one fucking piece of pumpkin pie on Turkey Day.
Yes, I am depressed. My therapist wants to put me on anti-depressants and will evaluate me in two weeks to see if I'm doing better by then. I'm supposed to be exercising to release some seratonin, but, of course, I DON'T FEEL LIKE IT.
My days have been bleak lately, adding to the gray skies that have been flying over Tallahassee. What I look forward to most during the day is getting home so I can check my mail. Yes, MY MAIL is the most exciting part of my day.
Thanksgiving. I left Tallahassee at about 2 p.m. Tuesday headed for Tampa. The five days were just a blur of sun and moon punctuated by five hours of slaving in the kitchen to make a turkey dinner (I was the adult this year!), one miserable hour of getting treated like crap by my parents at their L-O-V-E-L-Y home, a night in Ybor City dancing at a club called Czar with a hopping monkey and going to an all-the-meat-you-can-eat Brazilian restaurant with my brother, his wife and friends and my ex. I usually have a good time when I go to Tampa, but this time pretty much sucked. I don't know why. I think it's because I'm depressed. And broke. And because I only got one fucking piece of pumpkin pie on Turkey Day.
Monday, November 21, 2005
"Rape a Woman Day" Gains Popularity
It appears people in the U.K. are as stupid as Americans when it comes to women and rape. CNN reported the results of an opinion poll that shows one-third of otherwise intelligent people across the pond believes women are to blame for being raped if they drink too much, dress provocatively, walk alone at night or have an active (consentual) sex life. Figures. I was raised thinking these same things, so it's no surprise that others do as well. What I'm shocked about is the fact that so many people STILL think these things in 2005.
Also reported in the article is the fact that rapists are prosecuted for their crimes only 5 percent of the (reported) time over there (the figures here probably aren't much higher). It's nice to know that 1) most rapes are never reported (I'm guilty of that one) and 2) even if they are reported, police/hospital staff may not take it seriously (happened to the sister of a friend of mine. Rape kit? Why do you need one of those? A police report? You don't want to go through that trouble, do you?) and 3) even if 1 and 2 happen, your garden variety rapist would probably only get a slap on the wrist, if anything.
Men suck.
Also reported in the article is the fact that rapists are prosecuted for their crimes only 5 percent of the (reported) time over there (the figures here probably aren't much higher). It's nice to know that 1) most rapes are never reported (I'm guilty of that one) and 2) even if they are reported, police/hospital staff may not take it seriously (happened to the sister of a friend of mine. Rape kit? Why do you need one of those? A police report? You don't want to go through that trouble, do you?) and 3) even if 1 and 2 happen, your garden variety rapist would probably only get a slap on the wrist, if anything.
Men suck.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
So Much Shit
There's so much stupid shit going on in the world right now that I don't even want to be awake most days. Gay marriage ban in Texas. A continued war in Iraq despite the whole world despising George for it. Unveiled e-mails from horse-trainer Brown who should have been helping to save the people of New Orleans but was, instead, worried about which tie to wear and scheduling adequate time for dinner. A vote on a coal-powered plant for Taylor County that Tallahassee would buy into for profits and additional electricity. I'm so tired of everyone's stupidity. Yawn! I think I'll sleep instead.
But on a brighter note, I spent seven days in Washington, D.C. - also known as The District. Museums visited: The National Gallery of Art (east building only), The Holocaust Museum, The Museum of Natural History and the Museum of American History.
Restaurants eaten at: Capital Grille ($120 lunch), Banana Cafe (a Cuban place in the Eastern Market district), Pizzeria Paradiso (a gourmet pizza joint in the Dupont Circle area), Dukam (Ethiopian place in the U-Street area), Ben's Chili Bowl (late-night eatery for drunks, also in the U-Street area), etc., etc., etc.
I had Chinese take-out from some uber rated Chinese place near Chinatown. Peking Garden right here in Tallahassee trumped that meal by a million. Nice to know we have something in this small town that D.C. might not have.
I also saw a concert at a cool bar/club called The Black Cat. The band, which hails from Baltimore, is called Wilderness (Jagjaguwar Records) and should not be underestimated. Check out the band's Web site, if you want, for more info. I was instantly smitten by the lead singer, and the band is one of my new favorites. Also met my favorite homeless guy outside the club. His name is Black Cat Bill, and he sits outside Black Cat in one of those motorized wheelchairs. Big, fat black homeless guy peddling for money and calling, "Black Cat, Black Cat. I'm Black Cat Bill." I told him the club should pay him for promoting the place and that he should wear a Black Cat T-shirt. He laughed. He bummed a smoke off me. Then, Mel gave him $5. He tucked it in his pocket saying he had to hide the bill because it was so big. He didn't want to get mugged. I told him I was going to mug him because I knew he had not only $5 but also a cigarette. He laughed and said, "Don't do that....hahahahahahaah." Sad. Wherever you are, Black Cat Bill, I hope you're warm and safe.
I also went to Baltimore and ate lunch in Little Italy before buying an eclair the size of a baby's arm at another place that sold Italian pastries. What else? Oh, yeah. I almost got killed by a homeless person near the Capitol. As Melonie and I were approaching, the guy was yelling his head off. She and I figured he was just some crazy homeless guy with an advanced form of Tourette's. But, as we got closer, he stared us in the eyes and yelled, "I'm gonna cut you, bitch!" and started coming towards us. Melonie wasn't paying attention to him or what he was saying. Good thing I was, because I turned to Mel and said, "We gotta get outta here. He's coming for us. We gotta go."
We started running and some other bummy looking guy on a bicycle rode by us and told us we were in the wrong part of town. The first weird guy ended up crossing the street and ranting and raving up and down the other side.
Favorite areas of D.C.: Dupont Circle, U-Street, Capitol Hill, Eastern Market. The only major areas I didn't make it to were Georgetown and Foggy Bottom. I wish I had gone there. I hear there's a lot of good music venues. Biggest complaint: Lack of record stores. I don't get it. Good local music scene. Hardly a record store in sight. I didn't go to one the whole time I was there. The one I tried to go to (specializes in underground/local music) wasn't there anymore. This I found out after I made the train ride and mile walk to get there. Ugh! Biggest compliment to D.C.: You have a lot of hot/interesting looking men living there. That's reason enough for me to move.
In one year, it's you and me, D.C. We're gonna have some fun.
But on a brighter note, I spent seven days in Washington, D.C. - also known as The District. Museums visited: The National Gallery of Art (east building only), The Holocaust Museum, The Museum of Natural History and the Museum of American History.
Restaurants eaten at: Capital Grille ($120 lunch), Banana Cafe (a Cuban place in the Eastern Market district), Pizzeria Paradiso (a gourmet pizza joint in the Dupont Circle area), Dukam (Ethiopian place in the U-Street area), Ben's Chili Bowl (late-night eatery for drunks, also in the U-Street area), etc., etc., etc.
I had Chinese take-out from some uber rated Chinese place near Chinatown. Peking Garden right here in Tallahassee trumped that meal by a million. Nice to know we have something in this small town that D.C. might not have.
I also saw a concert at a cool bar/club called The Black Cat. The band, which hails from Baltimore, is called Wilderness (Jagjaguwar Records) and should not be underestimated. Check out the band's Web site, if you want, for more info. I was instantly smitten by the lead singer, and the band is one of my new favorites. Also met my favorite homeless guy outside the club. His name is Black Cat Bill, and he sits outside Black Cat in one of those motorized wheelchairs. Big, fat black homeless guy peddling for money and calling, "Black Cat, Black Cat. I'm Black Cat Bill." I told him the club should pay him for promoting the place and that he should wear a Black Cat T-shirt. He laughed. He bummed a smoke off me. Then, Mel gave him $5. He tucked it in his pocket saying he had to hide the bill because it was so big. He didn't want to get mugged. I told him I was going to mug him because I knew he had not only $5 but also a cigarette. He laughed and said, "Don't do that....hahahahahahaah." Sad. Wherever you are, Black Cat Bill, I hope you're warm and safe.
I also went to Baltimore and ate lunch in Little Italy before buying an eclair the size of a baby's arm at another place that sold Italian pastries. What else? Oh, yeah. I almost got killed by a homeless person near the Capitol. As Melonie and I were approaching, the guy was yelling his head off. She and I figured he was just some crazy homeless guy with an advanced form of Tourette's. But, as we got closer, he stared us in the eyes and yelled, "I'm gonna cut you, bitch!" and started coming towards us. Melonie wasn't paying attention to him or what he was saying. Good thing I was, because I turned to Mel and said, "We gotta get outta here. He's coming for us. We gotta go."
We started running and some other bummy looking guy on a bicycle rode by us and told us we were in the wrong part of town. The first weird guy ended up crossing the street and ranting and raving up and down the other side.
Favorite areas of D.C.: Dupont Circle, U-Street, Capitol Hill, Eastern Market. The only major areas I didn't make it to were Georgetown and Foggy Bottom. I wish I had gone there. I hear there's a lot of good music venues. Biggest complaint: Lack of record stores. I don't get it. Good local music scene. Hardly a record store in sight. I didn't go to one the whole time I was there. The one I tried to go to (specializes in underground/local music) wasn't there anymore. This I found out after I made the train ride and mile walk to get there. Ugh! Biggest compliment to D.C.: You have a lot of hot/interesting looking men living there. That's reason enough for me to move.
In one year, it's you and me, D.C. We're gonna have some fun.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Visions of D.C...
I'm going to Washington, D.C., Thursday for eight days of drinking, eating, traipsing through museums, and, apparently, freezing my ass off. It's cold up there, folks. Time to drag out that coat I bought in Montreal.
I've been thinking of moving to a bigger city. I've narrowed it down to D.C., Philadelphia, Chicago, or Austin. I'm going to D.C. this week to see if it's a place I'd want to live. I was there last year for four days, but I was there on business, and I was drunk most of the time. It'll be different this time.
I had a hard time sleeping last night. I kept waking up and hearing noises. I was cold. Congested. Couldn't get back to sleep. I remember a pretty good dream that I moved to D.C. and lived in this cool apartment/house kind of thing with a neat staircase up to a second floor and hardwood floors. There were lots of hot guys my age living in the neighborhood and in the same house (maybe more than one apartment in the same house), as I recall. That would be a nice change from Tallahassee where guys are either 20 or 60 or already married or not on the market for one reason or another.
So, D.C., we have a date. Let's see if you fit into my vision of my future.
I've been thinking of moving to a bigger city. I've narrowed it down to D.C., Philadelphia, Chicago, or Austin. I'm going to D.C. this week to see if it's a place I'd want to live. I was there last year for four days, but I was there on business, and I was drunk most of the time. It'll be different this time.
I had a hard time sleeping last night. I kept waking up and hearing noises. I was cold. Congested. Couldn't get back to sleep. I remember a pretty good dream that I moved to D.C. and lived in this cool apartment/house kind of thing with a neat staircase up to a second floor and hardwood floors. There were lots of hot guys my age living in the neighborhood and in the same house (maybe more than one apartment in the same house), as I recall. That would be a nice change from Tallahassee where guys are either 20 or 60 or already married or not on the market for one reason or another.
So, D.C., we have a date. Let's see if you fit into my vision of my future.
The Quitter has Quit
Since Sunday at about 5 or 5:30 p.m., I've been a nonsmoker.
I've been sick. Some kind of lung/sinus kind of thing for more than a week now. Of course, I had continued smoking throughout the coughing fits and the three days off work. Just not as much. That's considered conscientious, right?
Wrong.
Sunday at about 5 p.m., I was sitting on my front porch smoking the second-to-the-last cigarette in my last pack of Marlboro Light 100s (box). It tasted like shit. My mouth tasted like shit. I started to feel queasy. I thought, "This will be my last cigarette."
But what about the lucky? I couldn't just abandon the fifth cigarette in the first row that I so diligently turned on its head pack after pack after godforsaken pack. On second thought, yes I could. I decided breaking my last lucky in my last pack of smokes was the luckiest thing I could ever do. I tossed it in the trash, put out my mostly-smoked cigarette and proceeded to vomit for about 10 minutes in the bathroom sink. Lovely feeling as snot shot out of every hole in my head and barely-chewed food from my recent dinner spewed from my stomach out of my mouth.
I haven't smoked since. I know it's only been 1.5 days or so, but I don't even want one. The only time I miss it is when I get in my car. Smoking is a necessity, after all, when one is behind the wheel.
I've been sick. Some kind of lung/sinus kind of thing for more than a week now. Of course, I had continued smoking throughout the coughing fits and the three days off work. Just not as much. That's considered conscientious, right?
Wrong.
Sunday at about 5 p.m., I was sitting on my front porch smoking the second-to-the-last cigarette in my last pack of Marlboro Light 100s (box). It tasted like shit. My mouth tasted like shit. I started to feel queasy. I thought, "This will be my last cigarette."
But what about the lucky? I couldn't just abandon the fifth cigarette in the first row that I so diligently turned on its head pack after pack after godforsaken pack. On second thought, yes I could. I decided breaking my last lucky in my last pack of smokes was the luckiest thing I could ever do. I tossed it in the trash, put out my mostly-smoked cigarette and proceeded to vomit for about 10 minutes in the bathroom sink. Lovely feeling as snot shot out of every hole in my head and barely-chewed food from my recent dinner spewed from my stomach out of my mouth.
I haven't smoked since. I know it's only been 1.5 days or so, but I don't even want one. The only time I miss it is when I get in my car. Smoking is a necessity, after all, when one is behind the wheel.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Words to Live By
Thirteen
from the Tao Te Ching
Accept disgrace willingly.
Accept misfortune as the human condition.
What do you mean by "Accept disgrace willingly"?
Accept being unimportant.
Do not be concerned with loss or gain.
This is called "accepting disgrace willingly."
What do you mean by "Accept misfortune as the human condition"?
Misfortune comes from having a body.
Without a body, how could there be misfortune?
Surrender yourself humbly; then you can be trusted to care for all things.
Love the world as your own self; then you can truly care for all things.
from the Tao Te Ching
Accept disgrace willingly.
Accept misfortune as the human condition.
What do you mean by "Accept disgrace willingly"?
Accept being unimportant.
Do not be concerned with loss or gain.
This is called "accepting disgrace willingly."
What do you mean by "Accept misfortune as the human condition"?
Misfortune comes from having a body.
Without a body, how could there be misfortune?
Surrender yourself humbly; then you can be trusted to care for all things.
Love the world as your own self; then you can truly care for all things.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Mr. America
(photo of Mr. America won't post. Will try again later)
Meet Mr. America. He's insane. Literally. As best I can tell, anyway.
As I recall, Mr. America is a proud American originally from Yugoslavia who was in Union Square in full regalia during the Republican National Convention. Mr. America loves America. Mr. America loves GW. Mr. America would be willing to SAY (but probably not DO) anything, and I mean anything, to protect the reputation and goodstanding of his fine, fine country. Too bad he's insane. Literally.
I had the good fortune to see Mr. America in action in Union Square one day during the week of the Republican National Convention. Spread all around him on the ground were pairs of military boots and civilian shoes once belonging to those who ended up dying for this fine, fine country in a little-known war in Iraq. Mr. America appeared not to see the shoes and boots for he was too busy screaming...screaming...about what? Oh, yeah. About how much he loves America and stands behind George Bush. Anyone who doesn't, says Mr. America, can go back where they came from or go anywhere else at all - immediately, if not sooner. Reminds me of my former co-workers and managing editor at that paper in South Georgia.
While Mr. America was ranting and raving - at times directly in my face as I stared into those insane blue eyes and felt his hot breath on my nose, cheeks and mouth - Mr. Switzerland came up to see what the hubub was all about, bub. Turns out, Mr. Switzerland was not only NOT neutral, he was ANTI GEORGE BUSH! Mr. America and Mr. Switzerland almost threw punches, but Mr. Switzerland managed to de-escalate the confrontation before ambling away shaking his head. That's more like it.
I used to have audio tape of this mindless freak and the near-altercation, but I left the tape recorder and said tape in a fucking cab on my way to a NOW rally in Central Park. I made a missing item report - as if THAT would ever do any fucking good.
Ugh...
I hate John G. Roberts Jr. for obvious reasons. Another anti-christ here to make our lives hell. I hope you're happy, Bush. I know you are. I'm losing energy for fighting all the injustice. Will maarmie go on? Find out in the next episode of "As maarmie's World Turns."
Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of maarmie's life.
Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of maarmie's life.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Photo Orgy
Following are some of the photographs I took during my trip on the AT. They are pretty self-explanatory. All photos taken by maarmie. Rip me off and die.
This is a photo of the conical ceiling and skylight in the yurt at which my friend and I stayed the night before the two-day hike and the night following it. Dahlonega, Georgia. Yurt: A cylindrical structure with a conical ceiling having two windows and a door. This was a more advanced yurt, however, as it had a deck area out front, a canopy bed and a composting toilet, and it was wired for electricity with a free-standing air conditioner, a coffee maker, fridge, microwave and electric heat source. Roughing it, huh?
Exterior shot of above-mentioned yurt.
This is what happened to my knees after I fell on my ass a quarter of a mile into the hike. The bottoms of my shoes were ripping off before the hike began, so I put some magic tape around them to bolster their sturdiness. In retrospect, these weren't the perfect shoes to hike 20 miles in on rugged terrain with 25 pounds on my back. Possible trail name because of the shoes and subsequent fall: Fallnee Down.
About four miles into our hike, we crossed a bridge. This is the view. Heaven. Hence the title of the shot, Organica Orgasmica.
Either this is the highest number of photos that can be in one post, or I'm going crazy. Won't let me upload any more using the button. Won't let me upload any more using HTML code. Hm. More later.
This is a photo of the conical ceiling and skylight in the yurt at which my friend and I stayed the night before the two-day hike and the night following it. Dahlonega, Georgia. Yurt: A cylindrical structure with a conical ceiling having two windows and a door. This was a more advanced yurt, however, as it had a deck area out front, a canopy bed and a composting toilet, and it was wired for electricity with a free-standing air conditioner, a coffee maker, fridge, microwave and electric heat source. Roughing it, huh?
Exterior shot of above-mentioned yurt.
This is what happened to my knees after I fell on my ass a quarter of a mile into the hike. The bottoms of my shoes were ripping off before the hike began, so I put some magic tape around them to bolster their sturdiness. In retrospect, these weren't the perfect shoes to hike 20 miles in on rugged terrain with 25 pounds on my back. Possible trail name because of the shoes and subsequent fall: Fallnee Down.
About four miles into our hike, we crossed a bridge. This is the view. Heaven. Hence the title of the shot, Organica Orgasmica.
Either this is the highest number of photos that can be in one post, or I'm going crazy. Won't let me upload any more using the button. Won't let me upload any more using HTML code. Hm. More later.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Judgment Day
My protest buddy, friend and mother figure, Michael, is going to D.C. Saturday to help surround the White House in protest of the senseless war in Iraq. He has been protesting the war right here in Tallahassee for about three years now, standing in front of the capitol every Thursday and Sunday singin' songs and a carryin' signs, as it were. Now that's diligence.
I have been invited along for the ride, but I don't want to spend the money to fly from Jacksonville for one little day in D.C. I normally would, but I'm going there at the end of October for Halloween madness.
I'm sad that I won't be there, but I'll be there in spirit. I know Michael will be enough force for the two of us, anyway, so my presence isn't really needed. He seems like a quiet guy, but don't get him around irrational police officers who try and quash his civil liberties. He scares even me in those situations. Trust me on this. We protested the Republican National Convention together, and because of his "intensity" with the more - shall we say - militant police officers, I was frightened for our safety (and freedom) on more than one occasion. While I am not as brave, I say YOU GO to Michael. Just don't GO around me unless I am wearing a bulletproof vest or loaded down with armor-piercing bullets and an arsenal.
Precautions, Michael, precautions.
I have been invited along for the ride, but I don't want to spend the money to fly from Jacksonville for one little day in D.C. I normally would, but I'm going there at the end of October for Halloween madness.
I'm sad that I won't be there, but I'll be there in spirit. I know Michael will be enough force for the two of us, anyway, so my presence isn't really needed. He seems like a quiet guy, but don't get him around irrational police officers who try and quash his civil liberties. He scares even me in those situations. Trust me on this. We protested the Republican National Convention together, and because of his "intensity" with the more - shall we say - militant police officers, I was frightened for our safety (and freedom) on more than one occasion. While I am not as brave, I say YOU GO to Michael. Just don't GO around me unless I am wearing a bulletproof vest or loaded down with armor-piercing bullets and an arsenal.
Precautions, Michael, precautions.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Rape Victims on Trial
It seems a new class of villian is emerging in the Middle East: Female rape victims are a whole new kind of scurrilous, sub-human scab that needs to be picked from this planet, according to Pakistani President Pervez "I want to cut his dick off" Musharraf.
Here's their nasty plan that must be foiled, says Musharraf: They decide they want to get away from their homeland to the "good land" so they devise a plan to get an easy ticket to Canada. That easy ticket, my friends, is rape.
The main pig of Pakistan is taking a lot of heat over his comments, comments which show him to be what he is: a heartless and backwards misogynist. At least he's in the Middle East where he belongs, right? Wrong. He was recently on U.S. soil addressing the U.N. General Assembly. Yikes. Maybe he and GW had a congenial chat over bourbon and cigars after.
But Canadian Prime Minster Paul Martin, Amnesty International (yay!) and Pakistani media are condemning his words, which include shit like, and I quote from CNN, "You must understand the environment in Pakistan...This has become a money-making concern. A lot of people say if you want to go abroad and get a visa for Canada or citizenship and be a millionaire, get yourself raped."
Tomorrow, this fucker - who obviously has no problem blaming victims for their victimhood - will be in New York City chatting up a group of Pakistani-American women. I hope these women know their places and plan on shutting up and spreading their legs so Pakistan's leader can feel like he's doing what he was born to do.
There are a lot of great men in this world, but this kind of thing makes me glad to be a woman, a woman who DOESN'T live in Pakistan.
Just ask Mukhtaran Mai what it's like to be a woman in Pakistan. Three years ago, her brother, then 12, was chatting up some chick who was off limits to him, and the village council ordered HER gang-raped as a punishment to HIM. This same pig leader banned her (surprise, surprise) from going to a women's rights conference in the U.S. after that. The ban was later lifted when the media cried out causing the rest of the world to cry louder.
Here's what Mai, who has reached the status of human rights icon, said about Musharraf's most recent fumble: "Nobody does it intentionally. A large number of women are molested and insulted in the country. How many of them have made money? Such thinking about women is not good."
Rock on, Mai.
Here's their nasty plan that must be foiled, says Musharraf: They decide they want to get away from their homeland to the "good land" so they devise a plan to get an easy ticket to Canada. That easy ticket, my friends, is rape.
The main pig of Pakistan is taking a lot of heat over his comments, comments which show him to be what he is: a heartless and backwards misogynist. At least he's in the Middle East where he belongs, right? Wrong. He was recently on U.S. soil addressing the U.N. General Assembly. Yikes. Maybe he and GW had a congenial chat over bourbon and cigars after.
But Canadian Prime Minster Paul Martin, Amnesty International (yay!) and Pakistani media are condemning his words, which include shit like, and I quote from CNN, "You must understand the environment in Pakistan...This has become a money-making concern. A lot of people say if you want to go abroad and get a visa for Canada or citizenship and be a millionaire, get yourself raped."
Tomorrow, this fucker - who obviously has no problem blaming victims for their victimhood - will be in New York City chatting up a group of Pakistani-American women. I hope these women know their places and plan on shutting up and spreading their legs so Pakistan's leader can feel like he's doing what he was born to do.
There are a lot of great men in this world, but this kind of thing makes me glad to be a woman, a woman who DOESN'T live in Pakistan.
Just ask Mukhtaran Mai what it's like to be a woman in Pakistan. Three years ago, her brother, then 12, was chatting up some chick who was off limits to him, and the village council ordered HER gang-raped as a punishment to HIM. This same pig leader banned her (surprise, surprise) from going to a women's rights conference in the U.S. after that. The ban was later lifted when the media cried out causing the rest of the world to cry louder.
Here's what Mai, who has reached the status of human rights icon, said about Musharraf's most recent fumble: "Nobody does it intentionally. A large number of women are molested and insulted in the country. How many of them have made money? Such thinking about women is not good."
Rock on, Mai.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
...One Nation, Under Buddha
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
The country is watching you, Michael Newdow. And you look fabulous.
Newdow, an avowed atheist - who also happens to be a lawyer AND a doctor - who has been challenging the constitutionality of the phrase "one nation under god" in the Pledge of Allegiance, got more than his day in court Wednesday when U.S. District Judge Lawrence Karlton finally cut the guy some slack and ruled that reciting the pledge in public schools is, indeed, unconstitutional because the phrase in question essentially eliminates a child's right to choose what he or she believes as far as religion is concerned.
This ruling happened in Sacramento, and the judge said he would be preventing the recitation of the pledge in Sacramento County. Wow. However, expect appeal after appeal after appeal. Damn I hate those religious groups almost as much as I hate how much white-people religions are so deeply interwoven into the fabric of our government.
This is a major coup for Newdow who will have to be taken more seriously by higher courts now. When the Supreme Court tossed Newdow out on his ear, I wrote about it for the small-town, South Georgia newspaper I was working at at the time. Local reaction. You can imagine what it said. Except....
I found a little, tiny coffee shop on the main drag of the town I was working in that was (and maybe still is) frequented by a group of people not commonly found in a small southern place. They weren't young miscreants, either. They were just like you and me. Well, more like me, anyway - but older.
So, my story ended up being extremely balanced. A Baptist minister on this side, an atheist on the other, a school superintendent here, blah, blah, blah. I gave the pro-pledge side the last word in the article, however, because of my well-known bias against organized religion and brainwashing. Hey. Call me fair.
I can't find the article on-line, so I will get it from home and type it in here. I wrote it, so I feel free to reprint it here. If it's not supposed to be here, let me know. I'll take it down. Silence, however, equals permission in this case.
Enjoy.
Ha.
Ha.
The country is watching you, Michael Newdow. And you look fabulous.
Newdow, an avowed atheist - who also happens to be a lawyer AND a doctor - who has been challenging the constitutionality of the phrase "one nation under god" in the Pledge of Allegiance, got more than his day in court Wednesday when U.S. District Judge Lawrence Karlton finally cut the guy some slack and ruled that reciting the pledge in public schools is, indeed, unconstitutional because the phrase in question essentially eliminates a child's right to choose what he or she believes as far as religion is concerned.
This ruling happened in Sacramento, and the judge said he would be preventing the recitation of the pledge in Sacramento County. Wow. However, expect appeal after appeal after appeal. Damn I hate those religious groups almost as much as I hate how much white-people religions are so deeply interwoven into the fabric of our government.
This is a major coup for Newdow who will have to be taken more seriously by higher courts now. When the Supreme Court tossed Newdow out on his ear, I wrote about it for the small-town, South Georgia newspaper I was working at at the time. Local reaction. You can imagine what it said. Except....
I found a little, tiny coffee shop on the main drag of the town I was working in that was (and maybe still is) frequented by a group of people not commonly found in a small southern place. They weren't young miscreants, either. They were just like you and me. Well, more like me, anyway - but older.
So, my story ended up being extremely balanced. A Baptist minister on this side, an atheist on the other, a school superintendent here, blah, blah, blah. I gave the pro-pledge side the last word in the article, however, because of my well-known bias against organized religion and brainwashing. Hey. Call me fair.
I can't find the article on-line, so I will get it from home and type it in here. I wrote it, so I feel free to reprint it here. If it's not supposed to be here, let me know. I'll take it down. Silence, however, equals permission in this case.
Enjoy.
After All
A poem I wrote for an ex right after he became an ex.
You told me your life
didn't work out as planned
You gave me eyes
but told me not to see
You showed me the way
swept paths of debris
Path's all clear
but road's not clear
Hurt once too long
better disappear
Crush what I want
always crash what I want
I'll never understand
the way you spin
Even earth don't spin
random like you
Those cloudy eyes
them eyes don't see
They told me once
and once won't die
Forward thinking
never got me nowhere
For the first time I fly
goodbye
For years - maarmie, 2001
You told me your life
didn't work out as planned
You gave me eyes
but told me not to see
You showed me the way
swept paths of debris
Path's all clear
but road's not clear
Hurt once too long
better disappear
Crush what I want
always crash what I want
I'll never understand
the way you spin
Even earth don't spin
random like you
Those cloudy eyes
them eyes don't see
They told me once
and once won't die
Forward thinking
never got me nowhere
For the first time I fly
goodbye
For years - maarmie, 2001
Talking About My Dead Rose: It Is You
I've been told I'm a hopeless romantic. Here's a little bit of proof.
Talking About My Dead Rose: It Is You
O, red rose, come speak to me,
Now the wind
Whips through the trees, now
The shutters snap,
Snap go the shutters,
The only sounds I hear.
All the sweet Marjories and the not-
so-sweet Janes speak to me,
Like you should, from their
Quaint graves.
Lost souls; forgotten memories
Like the ones you give me, o rose.
Your bittersweet stench, still
Hot under my nose,
Fills my head,
A dizzying scent. I remember
Who I gave you to, now,
She is gone, gone now, gone, too.
All shriveled and crushed and sad
And flat you are,
All darkly brooding
In your allotted corner. Throwing
Accusations my way.
O, remembrances of a fresh you.
1993 - maarmie
Talking About My Dead Rose: It Is You
O, red rose, come speak to me,
Now the wind
Whips through the trees, now
The shutters snap,
Snap go the shutters,
The only sounds I hear.
All the sweet Marjories and the not-
so-sweet Janes speak to me,
Like you should, from their
Quaint graves.
Lost souls; forgotten memories
Like the ones you give me, o rose.
Your bittersweet stench, still
Hot under my nose,
Fills my head,
A dizzying scent. I remember
Who I gave you to, now,
She is gone, gone now, gone, too.
All shriveled and crushed and sad
And flat you are,
All darkly brooding
In your allotted corner. Throwing
Accusations my way.
O, remembrances of a fresh you.
1993 - maarmie
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Undecidedly Unplural
Last night, I was talking with a friend on the phone, and, somehow, the conversation turned to definitions. And, somehow, I got my mind set on finding the perfect word that would describe or define me - or at least come very, very close.
I started with geek. Gangly? Antisocial? A freak? Not quite. Nerd? Similar, but not as severe. No. Outcast? Close. Then, my friend - who is excessively charming and has an entirely brilliant mind - had an idea as I began using many words to describe myself hoping that one of us could come up with the next word that would spark the next word and so on.
Luckily, he's a big fan of Sherlock Holmes. Luckily, there was a word Mr. Holmes used frequently that stuck in my friend's brain. Singular. BINGO.
Only the definitions that could be used in this context are included here, but this is according to Webster.
Singular - Sin´gu`lar. Pronunciation: sĭņ´gũ`lẽr
Separate or apart from others; single; distinct.
(Logic) Existing by itself; single; individual.
Standing by itself; out of the ordinary course; unusual; uncommon; strange; as, a singular phenomenon.
Distinguished as existing in a very high degree; rarely equaled; eminent; extraordinary; exceptional; as, a man of singular gravity or attainments.
Departing from general usage or expectations; odd; whimsical; - often implying disapproval or censure.
Being alone; belonging to, or being, that of which there is but one; unique.
Related Words
abnormal, absurd, alone, anomalous, atypical, conspicuous, curious, deviant, different, distinct, divergent, dotty, dual, erratic, esoteric, freakish, funny, idiosyncratic, irregular, isolated, kinky, kooky, lone, notable, noteworthy, nutty, oddball, off, offbeat, one and only, outlandish, outre, outstanding, quaint, queer, quintessential, quirky, screwy, separate, significant, special, superior, twisted, unanalyzable, unconventional, unimaginable, unique, unordinary, wacky, weird, whimsical, whole, wondrous
The related words certainly do ring a bell. Now, for a lovely quote about singularity.
To be singular in anything that is wise and worthy, is not a disparagement, but a praise. - Tillotson.
I started with geek. Gangly? Antisocial? A freak? Not quite. Nerd? Similar, but not as severe. No. Outcast? Close. Then, my friend - who is excessively charming and has an entirely brilliant mind - had an idea as I began using many words to describe myself hoping that one of us could come up with the next word that would spark the next word and so on.
Luckily, he's a big fan of Sherlock Holmes. Luckily, there was a word Mr. Holmes used frequently that stuck in my friend's brain. Singular. BINGO.
Only the definitions that could be used in this context are included here, but this is according to Webster.
Singular - Sin´gu`lar. Pronunciation: sĭņ´gũ`lẽr
Separate or apart from others; single; distinct.
(Logic) Existing by itself; single; individual.
Standing by itself; out of the ordinary course; unusual; uncommon; strange; as, a singular phenomenon.
Distinguished as existing in a very high degree; rarely equaled; eminent; extraordinary; exceptional; as, a man of singular gravity or attainments.
Departing from general usage or expectations; odd; whimsical; - often implying disapproval or censure.
Being alone; belonging to, or being, that of which there is but one; unique.
Related Words
abnormal, absurd, alone, anomalous, atypical, conspicuous, curious, deviant, different, distinct, divergent, dotty, dual, erratic, esoteric, freakish, funny, idiosyncratic, irregular, isolated, kinky, kooky, lone, notable, noteworthy, nutty, oddball, off, offbeat, one and only, outlandish, outre, outstanding, quaint, queer, quintessential, quirky, screwy, separate, significant, special, superior, twisted, unanalyzable, unconventional, unimaginable, unique, unordinary, wacky, weird, whimsical, whole, wondrous
The related words certainly do ring a bell. Now, for a lovely quote about singularity.
To be singular in anything that is wise and worthy, is not a disparagement, but a praise. - Tillotson.
Miscellanea
Four items on which I must comment:
Sept. 11
It's good to remember those who died in the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center. Sunday marks the fourth anniversary of the terrorist attacks that changed New York for, oh, a whole couple months at least.
People became (more) guarded and fearful as government officials spread their propanda about imminent future terrorist attacks and dedicated billions of dollars to homeland security, money yanked from other programs that actually do some good in this country. The terror alert went from yellow, to orange to red and back again. Americans were kept on their toes believing every goddamn lie and piece of shit speculation the government fed them. God knows what the government was actually doing while Ma and Pa Kettle were sitting on their porches, shotguns in hand and waiting for Osama to step foot in their neck of the woods.
So, here we are. Terror mostly forgotten. Not forgotten are those who died, including firefighters and other professionals who lost their lives trying to save people trapped in the wreckage that used to be the REAL nexus of evil in this country. Why are they dead? Because our government is staffed by bullies who foolishly think they can continue to kick sand in the faces of all the children on the playground and not have to pay the piper, so to speak. Ignoramuses that they are, they don't learn from their mistakes, either. Hopefully, more people don't have to die as a result of their continued idiocy.
DeFede(d)
Former Miami Herald columnist Jim DeFede has escaped criminal charges for secretly audiotaping interviews with Arthur E. Teele Jr. - Miami's former city commissioner who decided to blow his brains out in the Herald's lobby a while back after his nefariousness was exposed in the pages of one of Florida's largest newspapers - but is still without his job. The Herald refuses to take him back.
While I'm sure he was good at his job and that he will be missed, the Herald has not only a right but also a duty to uphold its standards. After all the bullshit that's been going on at major and minor news outlets lately, media overseers need to be stringent and public about their "no tolerance" policies and weed out even minor infractors.
The public's faith in journalism has been shaken, and rightfully so. Hopefully, if managers stay diligent, that faith will one day be restored.
Culprit Fingered
The six-month-old mystery of The Chili Finger Caper has come to an end, and the culprits will soon be sentenced. Anna Ayala, who in March allegedly found a fingertip in her bowl of Wendy's chili, has pleaded guilty, along with husband Jaime Placencia, to conspiring to file a false claim and attempted grand theft.
Looking for a big buttload of quick cash, Ayala prepped herself to file a lawsuit against the chain for the alleged incident and was busted after she withdrew her claim. The fingertip? It belonged to a co-worker of hers who lost it in an accident. According to the Associated Press, Ayala faces up to 10 years in state prison. Her hubby faces up to 13 years.
Good. Phony lawsuits suck.
Coup for Cane Cutters
Sugar-cane cutters, more than 1,000 of them, successfully earned the right to recover lost wages when a federal court judge in West Palm Beach determined Thursday they are owed back pay after they were paid per pound when, by law, they should have been paid a fixed rate per hour of work. Also, they say, they were shortchanged on their timesheets and underpaid what was offered via contract.
What can I say? The company they got $5 million from is Osceola Farms, a subsidiary of Flo-Sun Inc., one of the largest sugar cane producers in the country which happens to be, in my opinion, one of the biggest piece of shit companies out there. The company is destroying the environment, fucking over its employees (most of them coming from the Caribbean and, no doubt, living in slave camps) and making a bundle in the process. I have a big problem with that. It's good that the judge felt the same way and made the workers victorious in this landmark class-action suit.
To many more employment lawsuits! Workers unite!
Sept. 11
It's good to remember those who died in the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center. Sunday marks the fourth anniversary of the terrorist attacks that changed New York for, oh, a whole couple months at least.
People became (more) guarded and fearful as government officials spread their propanda about imminent future terrorist attacks and dedicated billions of dollars to homeland security, money yanked from other programs that actually do some good in this country. The terror alert went from yellow, to orange to red and back again. Americans were kept on their toes believing every goddamn lie and piece of shit speculation the government fed them. God knows what the government was actually doing while Ma and Pa Kettle were sitting on their porches, shotguns in hand and waiting for Osama to step foot in their neck of the woods.
So, here we are. Terror mostly forgotten. Not forgotten are those who died, including firefighters and other professionals who lost their lives trying to save people trapped in the wreckage that used to be the REAL nexus of evil in this country. Why are they dead? Because our government is staffed by bullies who foolishly think they can continue to kick sand in the faces of all the children on the playground and not have to pay the piper, so to speak. Ignoramuses that they are, they don't learn from their mistakes, either. Hopefully, more people don't have to die as a result of their continued idiocy.
DeFede(d)
Former Miami Herald columnist Jim DeFede has escaped criminal charges for secretly audiotaping interviews with Arthur E. Teele Jr. - Miami's former city commissioner who decided to blow his brains out in the Herald's lobby a while back after his nefariousness was exposed in the pages of one of Florida's largest newspapers - but is still without his job. The Herald refuses to take him back.
While I'm sure he was good at his job and that he will be missed, the Herald has not only a right but also a duty to uphold its standards. After all the bullshit that's been going on at major and minor news outlets lately, media overseers need to be stringent and public about their "no tolerance" policies and weed out even minor infractors.
The public's faith in journalism has been shaken, and rightfully so. Hopefully, if managers stay diligent, that faith will one day be restored.
Culprit Fingered
The six-month-old mystery of The Chili Finger Caper has come to an end, and the culprits will soon be sentenced. Anna Ayala, who in March allegedly found a fingertip in her bowl of Wendy's chili, has pleaded guilty, along with husband Jaime Placencia, to conspiring to file a false claim and attempted grand theft.
Looking for a big buttload of quick cash, Ayala prepped herself to file a lawsuit against the chain for the alleged incident and was busted after she withdrew her claim. The fingertip? It belonged to a co-worker of hers who lost it in an accident. According to the Associated Press, Ayala faces up to 10 years in state prison. Her hubby faces up to 13 years.
Good. Phony lawsuits suck.
Coup for Cane Cutters
Sugar-cane cutters, more than 1,000 of them, successfully earned the right to recover lost wages when a federal court judge in West Palm Beach determined Thursday they are owed back pay after they were paid per pound when, by law, they should have been paid a fixed rate per hour of work. Also, they say, they were shortchanged on their timesheets and underpaid what was offered via contract.
What can I say? The company they got $5 million from is Osceola Farms, a subsidiary of Flo-Sun Inc., one of the largest sugar cane producers in the country which happens to be, in my opinion, one of the biggest piece of shit companies out there. The company is destroying the environment, fucking over its employees (most of them coming from the Caribbean and, no doubt, living in slave camps) and making a bundle in the process. I have a big problem with that. It's good that the judge felt the same way and made the workers victorious in this landmark class-action suit.
To many more employment lawsuits! Workers unite!
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Duh
From CNN. No commentary necessary.
Bush: 'I take responsibility' for U.S. failures on Katrina
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
NEW ORLEANS, Louisiana (CNN) -- President Bush on Tuesday said he takes responsibility for the federal government's failures in responding to Hurricane Katrina.
"Katrina exposed serious problems in our response capability at all levels of government and to the extent the federal government didn't fully do its job right, I take responsibility," Bush said during a joint news conference with Iraqi President Jalal Talabani.
Bush said he wants to know what went right and what went wrong so that he can determine whether the United States was prepared for another storm, or an attack.
"I'm not going to defend the process going in, but I am going to defend the people who are on the front line of saving lives," Bush said.
Earlier in the day, the White House announced the president will address the nation Thursday night about recovery efforts in the Gulf Coast.
Bush: 'I take responsibility' for U.S. failures on Katrina
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
NEW ORLEANS, Louisiana (CNN) -- President Bush on Tuesday said he takes responsibility for the federal government's failures in responding to Hurricane Katrina.
"Katrina exposed serious problems in our response capability at all levels of government and to the extent the federal government didn't fully do its job right, I take responsibility," Bush said during a joint news conference with Iraqi President Jalal Talabani.
Bush said he wants to know what went right and what went wrong so that he can determine whether the United States was prepared for another storm, or an attack.
"I'm not going to defend the process going in, but I am going to defend the people who are on the front line of saving lives," Bush said.
Earlier in the day, the White House announced the president will address the nation Thursday night about recovery efforts in the Gulf Coast.
Brown Has Stepped Down
Good boy. You did the right thing. Were you "let go" or did you really resign? It doesn't matter at this point. Run free, FORMER director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency. Run like the wind.
Monday, September 12, 2005
(White) House Surrounded
Mad as hell? Visible? Cohesive? GWB, there's a hole in your bucket, and it's getting ready to be filled.
About 100,000 anti-war protestors are expected to surround the White House for a rally on Sept. 24. According to the Washington Post, this will be the first time a protest has completely surrounded America's holiest of houses in more than a decade.
This happening and other anti-war events will take place throughout three days (Sept. 24 - 26) and will be sponsored by United for Justice with Peace and the ANSWER coalition. Umbrella groups include the Buddhist Peace Fellowship, the DeKalb Interfaith Network for Peace and Justice, Grandmothers for Peace, Historians Against the War, Jewish Voice for Peace, the Kalamazoo Non-Violent Opponents of War (KNOW), Texans for Peace, Korea Truth Commission and dozens more, according to the Post. According to the article, people's rage about the continuing war has recently been fueled by the minimal response to the Katrina disaster, the minimal response being blamed on a lack of resources due to the war. The groups stress they are not anti-soldier. They are anti-war. There's a difference, for you fuckers who can't see that.
Buses, vans and carpools, people, are carting in folks from all over the country for this powwow. I'm sanctioning a jump on this bandwagon if you can get time off work. I'd love to be there to talk to people, add to the mayhem and take photographs.
I got this info off Michael Moore's Web site. It's worth checking out.
About 100,000 anti-war protestors are expected to surround the White House for a rally on Sept. 24. According to the Washington Post, this will be the first time a protest has completely surrounded America's holiest of houses in more than a decade.
This happening and other anti-war events will take place throughout three days (Sept. 24 - 26) and will be sponsored by United for Justice with Peace and the ANSWER coalition. Umbrella groups include the Buddhist Peace Fellowship, the DeKalb Interfaith Network for Peace and Justice, Grandmothers for Peace, Historians Against the War, Jewish Voice for Peace, the Kalamazoo Non-Violent Opponents of War (KNOW), Texans for Peace, Korea Truth Commission and dozens more, according to the Post. According to the article, people's rage about the continuing war has recently been fueled by the minimal response to the Katrina disaster, the minimal response being blamed on a lack of resources due to the war. The groups stress they are not anti-soldier. They are anti-war. There's a difference, for you fuckers who can't see that.
Buses, vans and carpools, people, are carting in folks from all over the country for this powwow. I'm sanctioning a jump on this bandwagon if you can get time off work. I'd love to be there to talk to people, add to the mayhem and take photographs.
I got this info off Michael Moore's Web site. It's worth checking out.
My Favorite Quote - Ever
"The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it." - - Albert Einstein
Friday, September 09, 2005
My Application Essay for the Guardian Ad Litem Program
While my parents never failed to provide my brother and I with the basic necessities of life - food, shelter and clothing - they consistently failed to provide psychological and emotional support. Cold, demeaning and emotionally neglectful, my parents were neither mentally nor emotionally equipped to handle the immense task of the raising of children in a positive way.
By the time I was six months old and my brother, Brian, was age four, our biological mother had left. By the time I was seven years old, our father had settled in Florida and remarried three times, the last time to a woman who didn't have children of her own and seemed to think of my brother and I as mere accessories to the life for which she had signed up.
While my parents were fastidiously occupied with their marriage and demanding career climbs, my brother and I were busy raising ourselves. He left home at age 18 to get married and join the military. I finished high school with a string of honors and advanced placement classes behind me. However, having felt like an unwanted guest in my own house for many years, I forewent college after graduation, and, at age 18 and saddled with incredibly low self esteem and the tendency to involve myself in romantic relationships that would batter my body and bruise my esteem all the more, left home to be homeless.
Three years later, I wrenched myself from a physically and emotionally abusive boyfriend and, not long afterward, started community college without the support of my parents. Five years later, I graduated from college with a degree in communications and have lived all over the country since then working mostly at various newspapers writing about crime, politics, education, art, the environment and people who are both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time. Most proudly, though, I have written about the debilitating personal and social effects of domestic violence and childhood abuse and the experience of it as seen through the eyes of the overwhelmingly strong and courageous women and children who have lived and survived it. I also have written about domestic violence and childhood neglect as seen through the lens of my own experience.
Throughout these moves and endeavors, I have learned more about myself, others and society and have come to have a better understanding of the inner and outer forces that make me - and others like me - who we are and of the inner and outer forces that compel others to hurt and neglect those they profess to love.
The six things I love in this world, besides my brother and my good friends, are truth, justice, equality, wisdom, humor and beauty. In my life, I have encountered each of these things - things that make life worth living - many times in the most unexpected of places. However, I, too, have encountered the flip side of these concepts and ideals: lies, ignorance, abuses of power and blind indifference to atrocity. I'm not entirely sure where my professional life is headed, and I could say that, in my volunteer life, what I want most is to help vulnerable people who don't have the power to help themselves in an effort to wipe out abuse and injustice. Abuse and injustice will never be wiped out in my opinion, however, so my goal here is to be a voice for those who are voiceless and to help America's most vulnerable population find its way through situations it didn't choose to safer, more nurturing places.
By the time I was six months old and my brother, Brian, was age four, our biological mother had left. By the time I was seven years old, our father had settled in Florida and remarried three times, the last time to a woman who didn't have children of her own and seemed to think of my brother and I as mere accessories to the life for which she had signed up.
While my parents were fastidiously occupied with their marriage and demanding career climbs, my brother and I were busy raising ourselves. He left home at age 18 to get married and join the military. I finished high school with a string of honors and advanced placement classes behind me. However, having felt like an unwanted guest in my own house for many years, I forewent college after graduation, and, at age 18 and saddled with incredibly low self esteem and the tendency to involve myself in romantic relationships that would batter my body and bruise my esteem all the more, left home to be homeless.
Three years later, I wrenched myself from a physically and emotionally abusive boyfriend and, not long afterward, started community college without the support of my parents. Five years later, I graduated from college with a degree in communications and have lived all over the country since then working mostly at various newspapers writing about crime, politics, education, art, the environment and people who are both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time. Most proudly, though, I have written about the debilitating personal and social effects of domestic violence and childhood abuse and the experience of it as seen through the eyes of the overwhelmingly strong and courageous women and children who have lived and survived it. I also have written about domestic violence and childhood neglect as seen through the lens of my own experience.
Throughout these moves and endeavors, I have learned more about myself, others and society and have come to have a better understanding of the inner and outer forces that make me - and others like me - who we are and of the inner and outer forces that compel others to hurt and neglect those they profess to love.
The six things I love in this world, besides my brother and my good friends, are truth, justice, equality, wisdom, humor and beauty. In my life, I have encountered each of these things - things that make life worth living - many times in the most unexpected of places. However, I, too, have encountered the flip side of these concepts and ideals: lies, ignorance, abuses of power and blind indifference to atrocity. I'm not entirely sure where my professional life is headed, and I could say that, in my volunteer life, what I want most is to help vulnerable people who don't have the power to help themselves in an effort to wipe out abuse and injustice. Abuse and injustice will never be wiped out in my opinion, however, so my goal here is to be a voice for those who are voiceless and to help America's most vulnerable population find its way through situations it didn't choose to safer, more nurturing places.
Brown Made a Boo Boo
FEMA Director Brown has made a series of big boo boos, and he now has to pay for them. It seems Chertoff is sending Brown back to D.C. with his tail between his legs and has, hopefully, appointed someone more competent to head up New Orleans disaster relief. Coast Guard Vice Admiral Thad W. Allen, who was overseeing New Orleans relief and rescue efforts, has been chosen to head things up. The right man for the job, finally? We can only hope. Brown, quit lying on your resume, and go do your thing with horses like you were bred to do. Leave the big jobs to people who are actually willing and able to accomplish something.
Readers Respond
Finally. A dissenting viewpoint. I. Love. It.
Reader: "Whine. Bitch. Moan. Why doesn't the government take care of me? Did the Feds respond as quickly as they could or should have? No. More importantly, did the STATE respond as quickly as they should have? No. It is important to remember that the Feds can't, don't, and SHOULDN'T just go storming into state taking autonomous action. The state has primary police power over its citizens and the primary duty to provide for the general welfare in situations like this. The Feds certainly have immense resources that can be brought to bear, but the primary onus is upon the state."
maarmie: Good point. But when people are trying to leave New Orleans on foot (sometimes the only transportation the people had) and they are being turned back by police, there's something wrong. When Wal-Mart (oh, how I hate that company, but it actually did something nice) is sending semi-truck loads of water to the area and those are being turned away, there's something wrong.
R: "Don't get me wrong, I'm not defending Bush. What I'm doing is trying to provide the Civics lesson that the schools seem to have stopped giving so many years ago. Why so much focus on the Feds and nearly none on the governor of Louisiana? They knew that they had all these people living where people shouldn't live - they knew their levy system was only rated to Category 3 - they knew what would happen if those levies failed."
m: Yes, everyone knew. A little, tiny unknown magazine called National Geographic last year carried a HUGE article about what would happen if a cateogry whatever hurricane struck New Orleans. Officials and engineers have been publicly discussing the situation for years. Why weren't steps taken to prepare? I guess everyone involved dropped the ball.
R: "But ignore the government for a minute. Only bleeding heart, pansy ass liberals blame everything on the government without at least asking the personal responsibility question. Did these poor victims not know a hurricane was coming? Did they not know that they lived below sea level and were virtually surrounded by billions of gallons of water that desperately wanted to be where they were? Did they not know that standard practice for hurricane preparedness is to have 7 days of food, water, medicine, and necessities on hand? If they couldn't afford to flee, I guess I have to accept that. With that much advance notice though, I find it hard to believe that they couldn't find *some way* to leave."
m: Admittedly, some people did not want to leave the area they and their families had lived in for generations and generations. That's their own problem, I guess. But, again, from what I understand, some people WANTED to leave and were not allowed that most basic of civil liberties.
R: "I mean we're not talking World Trade Center here that just hits out of the blue and you'd never expect it in a million years. We're talking about something that happens every fucking year - we even have a fucking season for it - "hurricane season". So these people sit the fuck back and do nothing for themselves and expect that the moment the shit hits the fan that the mommy state will be there for them to kiss it and make it better. Sorry, but it just doesn't fucking work like that. Shit takes time. You want it faster? Provide for yourself."
m: Well said. And off-duty emergency workers, nurses, etc. as well as companies and average citizens have done just that. They have done more than prove their altruism, though. They have proven that we, as average people who possess great skills, can do a better job of getting things done than this government we place so much trust in.
R: "Of course *some* people were prepared, did have a week of food, water, and medicine, and while they certainly weren't the most comfortable they've ever been, they had the buffer to then be able to wait for relief to arrive and not die in the process. When you depend upon someone else for your basic survival you are setting yourself up for grave disappointment. Don't like it? Tough shit. Fucking do something about it. There's not one single mother fucking person in this country that can't go to college if they want to. Too lazy? Don't go. But don't bitch about the result of your decision."
m: I agree. However, there are so many social ills and things that keep people from reaching their full potential. I'm not making excuses for laziness or resignation. I'm simply understanding of it. When you are born into a life that, from the very beginning, has so many chips stacked against it, you can tend to not put a lot of value on it. Your parents don't. None of your relatives do. Your teachers don't. Society doesn't. So it takes a very strong person to, from the time he or she is a child, not believe that he or she is worthless when so many people who claim to be nurturers and protectors are telling her or him, consciously or subconsciously, this is so. Laziness tends to breed laziness. Resignation tends to breed resignation. Violence tends to breed violence. Ignorance tends to breed ignorance. There are cycles to everything.
R: "And with regard to the piece of shit miscreants shooting at the people who are trying to help, and looting merchandise businesses, and committing all manner of rape and robbery, the National Guard should shoot every single one of them. Now if someone is looting a grocery store because their food stocks were destroyed or they were unprepared, that's fine - if you have to choose between that minor crime and dying, you commit the crime. But stealing TVs has no benefit to survival."
m: I agree. They should be prosecuted for the crimes they committed just as people would who weren't in that situation.
R: "Come on people - think. Are you really so fucking lame that you expect to have no preparedness for an event you know is going to occur, and then bitch that the mommy state wasn't fast enough for you?"
Thank you for your comments. Everyone is entitled to his or her own viewpoint on maarmie's musings.
Reader: "Whine. Bitch. Moan. Why doesn't the government take care of me? Did the Feds respond as quickly as they could or should have? No. More importantly, did the STATE respond as quickly as they should have? No. It is important to remember that the Feds can't, don't, and SHOULDN'T just go storming into state taking autonomous action. The state has primary police power over its citizens and the primary duty to provide for the general welfare in situations like this. The Feds certainly have immense resources that can be brought to bear, but the primary onus is upon the state."
maarmie: Good point. But when people are trying to leave New Orleans on foot (sometimes the only transportation the people had) and they are being turned back by police, there's something wrong. When Wal-Mart (oh, how I hate that company, but it actually did something nice) is sending semi-truck loads of water to the area and those are being turned away, there's something wrong.
R: "Don't get me wrong, I'm not defending Bush. What I'm doing is trying to provide the Civics lesson that the schools seem to have stopped giving so many years ago. Why so much focus on the Feds and nearly none on the governor of Louisiana? They knew that they had all these people living where people shouldn't live - they knew their levy system was only rated to Category 3 - they knew what would happen if those levies failed."
m: Yes, everyone knew. A little, tiny unknown magazine called National Geographic last year carried a HUGE article about what would happen if a cateogry whatever hurricane struck New Orleans. Officials and engineers have been publicly discussing the situation for years. Why weren't steps taken to prepare? I guess everyone involved dropped the ball.
R: "But ignore the government for a minute. Only bleeding heart, pansy ass liberals blame everything on the government without at least asking the personal responsibility question. Did these poor victims not know a hurricane was coming? Did they not know that they lived below sea level and were virtually surrounded by billions of gallons of water that desperately wanted to be where they were? Did they not know that standard practice for hurricane preparedness is to have 7 days of food, water, medicine, and necessities on hand? If they couldn't afford to flee, I guess I have to accept that. With that much advance notice though, I find it hard to believe that they couldn't find *some way* to leave."
m: Admittedly, some people did not want to leave the area they and their families had lived in for generations and generations. That's their own problem, I guess. But, again, from what I understand, some people WANTED to leave and were not allowed that most basic of civil liberties.
R: "I mean we're not talking World Trade Center here that just hits out of the blue and you'd never expect it in a million years. We're talking about something that happens every fucking year - we even have a fucking season for it - "hurricane season". So these people sit the fuck back and do nothing for themselves and expect that the moment the shit hits the fan that the mommy state will be there for them to kiss it and make it better. Sorry, but it just doesn't fucking work like that. Shit takes time. You want it faster? Provide for yourself."
m: Well said. And off-duty emergency workers, nurses, etc. as well as companies and average citizens have done just that. They have done more than prove their altruism, though. They have proven that we, as average people who possess great skills, can do a better job of getting things done than this government we place so much trust in.
R: "Of course *some* people were prepared, did have a week of food, water, and medicine, and while they certainly weren't the most comfortable they've ever been, they had the buffer to then be able to wait for relief to arrive and not die in the process. When you depend upon someone else for your basic survival you are setting yourself up for grave disappointment. Don't like it? Tough shit. Fucking do something about it. There's not one single mother fucking person in this country that can't go to college if they want to. Too lazy? Don't go. But don't bitch about the result of your decision."
m: I agree. However, there are so many social ills and things that keep people from reaching their full potential. I'm not making excuses for laziness or resignation. I'm simply understanding of it. When you are born into a life that, from the very beginning, has so many chips stacked against it, you can tend to not put a lot of value on it. Your parents don't. None of your relatives do. Your teachers don't. Society doesn't. So it takes a very strong person to, from the time he or she is a child, not believe that he or she is worthless when so many people who claim to be nurturers and protectors are telling her or him, consciously or subconsciously, this is so. Laziness tends to breed laziness. Resignation tends to breed resignation. Violence tends to breed violence. Ignorance tends to breed ignorance. There are cycles to everything.
R: "And with regard to the piece of shit miscreants shooting at the people who are trying to help, and looting merchandise businesses, and committing all manner of rape and robbery, the National Guard should shoot every single one of them. Now if someone is looting a grocery store because their food stocks were destroyed or they were unprepared, that's fine - if you have to choose between that minor crime and dying, you commit the crime. But stealing TVs has no benefit to survival."
m: I agree. They should be prosecuted for the crimes they committed just as people would who weren't in that situation.
R: "Come on people - think. Are you really so fucking lame that you expect to have no preparedness for an event you know is going to occur, and then bitch that the mommy state wasn't fast enough for you?"
Thank you for your comments. Everyone is entitled to his or her own viewpoint on maarmie's musings.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Hurricane Shmurricane
J: Back to you, maarmie, with more about the hurricane.
m: Thanks, John. This not just in but just being reported. President Bush isn't the only incompetent moron who bungled the Hurricane Katrina disaster in New Orleans. Sure, he didn't come off his important vacation for days after the city was on its way to being in ruins and thousands of people were dead and dying, but FEMA dropped the ball, too, by not responding in a diligent fashion. It seems FEMA director Michael Brown was more concerned about connecting with Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff to get the PR machine up and running again - to save the president the embarrassment he is due for his callous indifference to all this human suffering. Brown wasn't so much interested in damage control in New Orleans, John, but with damage control of the president's approval rating and with how the nation viewed his intense lapse of judgment. Bush rewarded Brown's quick action with a two thumbs-up at a press conference while the city drowned. The first lady, ever an astute observer and understander of the human condition, remarked that the poor people who were forced into the Superdome were faring much better there than they had been before Katrina struck. It's good to know that the top woman in this country cares so much about the health and safety of one of its most vulnerable populations.
J: maarmie, have you learned of any new developments?
m: No, John. I've had my head up my ass for the last week, so let me regurgitate what I've learned from Oprah and The Daily Show. You know, Jon Stewart is such a card.
J: Yes, he is.
m: Yes, indeed, he is.
J: (silence)
m: Yes, indeedy. He is, isn't he?
J: (unsure) Yes. He is.
m: Yeah. That's what I thought. He's pretty funny.
J: (tense) Well, what did he say, maarmie? Our viewers want to know.
m: Well, John, the venerable Mr. Stewart came back from his own week of vacation and asked if anything had happened while he was gone. See? Funny stuff! Then, in Jon Stewartlike fashion, he excoriated the prez.
J: Excoriated?
m: It's a verb, John, and it, apparently, has two definitions. But don't worry, John. Stewart didn't tear the skin off Bush. He denounced him. Yep, that's what he did.
J: He did?
m: Strongly.
J: Wow.
m: Yeah. Wow. Oprah, on the other hand, took a more......conservative stance where blaming the government was concerned. She did a whole show on location in the affected areas, John. It was amazing. She did the show with her hair pulled back, and, get this! NO MAKEUP! She was one of us for a day, John. One of us.
J: (incredulous) One of us? That's amazing, maarmie.
m: Yeah. Truly. Truly, truly amazing, John.
J: (on the edge of his seat, eager for enlightenment) What did she say?
m: She rallied all her superstar friends together to give aid to those in need, John. They were all over the place down there. Matthew McConaughey, Lisa Marie Presley, Chris Rock. You name them, they were there. McConaughey has a thing for animals, see. And he flew in on a chopper and landed at this hospital in downtown New Orleans where an anesthesiologist was holed up with, like, 50 dogs, 18 cats and two hamsters. So. Cute. These doggie woggies were so cutie wutie and they had these big, sad eyes. They missed mommy and daddy.
J: (unsure) Cutie wutie?
m: So majorly cute, John.
J: Go on.
m: So he went to this hospital where the doc was holed up without electricity, food or water and took the animals out by boat so the doctor could get to safer ground. Not only did he hold and pet the animals, but he returned them to their rightful owners. That's a good soul, there, John. A good one.
J: Darn good. That's heartwarming, maarmie.
m: Yep. And the kid of the King of Rock was passing out food and diapers to those left homeless and in shelters, John. She went to Target HERSELF, John, and bought diapers, socks, T-shirts, toothpaste. Whatever she thought they would need. She spent thousands there. The camera showed the total while the lady was ringing stuff up.
J: Thousands? That's generous.
m: Way.
J: (on edge of seat again) And Chris Rock? What did he do? Did he entertain with one of his routines? They need a good diversion, you know.
m: Yeah, I know. A comedy routine would've been just what the doctor ordered, John. But he was so selfish that all he did was go talk to poor people left with nothing and pack box after box with food to pass out to the stranded.
J: (with disappointment) Oh.
m: That's all we have time for, now, John. When I get more news, you will, too.
J: Thanks a bunch, maarmie. (dripping with falsity with rueful eyes trained on the camera) In these trying times, we need to remember those less fortunate than ourselves. Even celebrities can forget their posh lives for at least a day to give so freely of themselves. Dear viewers, you can, too.
m: So true, John. So true.
m: Thanks, John. This not just in but just being reported. President Bush isn't the only incompetent moron who bungled the Hurricane Katrina disaster in New Orleans. Sure, he didn't come off his important vacation for days after the city was on its way to being in ruins and thousands of people were dead and dying, but FEMA dropped the ball, too, by not responding in a diligent fashion. It seems FEMA director Michael Brown was more concerned about connecting with Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff to get the PR machine up and running again - to save the president the embarrassment he is due for his callous indifference to all this human suffering. Brown wasn't so much interested in damage control in New Orleans, John, but with damage control of the president's approval rating and with how the nation viewed his intense lapse of judgment. Bush rewarded Brown's quick action with a two thumbs-up at a press conference while the city drowned. The first lady, ever an astute observer and understander of the human condition, remarked that the poor people who were forced into the Superdome were faring much better there than they had been before Katrina struck. It's good to know that the top woman in this country cares so much about the health and safety of one of its most vulnerable populations.
J: maarmie, have you learned of any new developments?
m: No, John. I've had my head up my ass for the last week, so let me regurgitate what I've learned from Oprah and The Daily Show. You know, Jon Stewart is such a card.
J: Yes, he is.
m: Yes, indeed, he is.
J: (silence)
m: Yes, indeedy. He is, isn't he?
J: (unsure) Yes. He is.
m: Yeah. That's what I thought. He's pretty funny.
J: (tense) Well, what did he say, maarmie? Our viewers want to know.
m: Well, John, the venerable Mr. Stewart came back from his own week of vacation and asked if anything had happened while he was gone. See? Funny stuff! Then, in Jon Stewartlike fashion, he excoriated the prez.
J: Excoriated?
m: It's a verb, John, and it, apparently, has two definitions. But don't worry, John. Stewart didn't tear the skin off Bush. He denounced him. Yep, that's what he did.
J: He did?
m: Strongly.
J: Wow.
m: Yeah. Wow. Oprah, on the other hand, took a more......conservative stance where blaming the government was concerned. She did a whole show on location in the affected areas, John. It was amazing. She did the show with her hair pulled back, and, get this! NO MAKEUP! She was one of us for a day, John. One of us.
J: (incredulous) One of us? That's amazing, maarmie.
m: Yeah. Truly. Truly, truly amazing, John.
J: (on the edge of his seat, eager for enlightenment) What did she say?
m: She rallied all her superstar friends together to give aid to those in need, John. They were all over the place down there. Matthew McConaughey, Lisa Marie Presley, Chris Rock. You name them, they were there. McConaughey has a thing for animals, see. And he flew in on a chopper and landed at this hospital in downtown New Orleans where an anesthesiologist was holed up with, like, 50 dogs, 18 cats and two hamsters. So. Cute. These doggie woggies were so cutie wutie and they had these big, sad eyes. They missed mommy and daddy.
J: (unsure) Cutie wutie?
m: So majorly cute, John.
J: Go on.
m: So he went to this hospital where the doc was holed up without electricity, food or water and took the animals out by boat so the doctor could get to safer ground. Not only did he hold and pet the animals, but he returned them to their rightful owners. That's a good soul, there, John. A good one.
J: Darn good. That's heartwarming, maarmie.
m: Yep. And the kid of the King of Rock was passing out food and diapers to those left homeless and in shelters, John. She went to Target HERSELF, John, and bought diapers, socks, T-shirts, toothpaste. Whatever she thought they would need. She spent thousands there. The camera showed the total while the lady was ringing stuff up.
J: Thousands? That's generous.
m: Way.
J: (on edge of seat again) And Chris Rock? What did he do? Did he entertain with one of his routines? They need a good diversion, you know.
m: Yeah, I know. A comedy routine would've been just what the doctor ordered, John. But he was so selfish that all he did was go talk to poor people left with nothing and pack box after box with food to pass out to the stranded.
J: (with disappointment) Oh.
m: That's all we have time for, now, John. When I get more news, you will, too.
J: Thanks a bunch, maarmie. (dripping with falsity with rueful eyes trained on the camera) In these trying times, we need to remember those less fortunate than ourselves. Even celebrities can forget their posh lives for at least a day to give so freely of themselves. Dear viewers, you can, too.
m: So true, John. So true.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Notes from the AT
Friday, Sept. 2
Tripped over a root one-quarter of a mile in and fell on left knee. Hurt bad. Stayed on ass for cigarette/water break. Lunch at Stover Creek Shelter 1.5 miles in. Apple, cheese, dried fruit, Ritz, ham, tuna. Peed in woods. At shelter, someone left behind tablets of water purifier, a pot, a pacifier and a lost dog sign. Yellow lab named Bailey. Lost in July. Last seen on Springer Mountain summit. For next time: knee pads and Ben Gay.
Later that day
Made it the five miles to Hawk Mountain Shelter. It's amazing the energy a well-timed granola bar or two can give you. The incline had us stopping every few minutes to catch our breaths. At one point, I was on the ground internally bargaining for a reprieve. Charlene is filling the platypus with water. I'm decompressing. Three aspirin, tons of cigarettes, the rest of my two liters of water. Then, I will be centered. Turkey tetrazzini for dinner. Yum! This shelter has a loft. This is all I crave.
Saturday, Sept. 3
Survived my FIRST NIGHT EVER in the woods. By 9 p.m., sun down. Scared. Staring into the darkness. Fatigue overcame, and I tried for sleep. Woke up at every crack, creak and rustle. Sat up nervously clutching my knife, and, twice, clutching Charlene to wake her up with "there's something out there" and "I heard a noise." Yesterday, no sign of any mammal. Just bees, gnats, flies, butterflies, daddy longlegs and a weird bug that didn't run or fly when prodded. Body efficient. Didn't take much food yesterday to be satisfied. Only peed once though drank at least two liters of water. 4 a.m. Waking up Charlene for the third time. Praying for 6 a.m. and the promise of sunlight. It was 4. 6:30 a.m. Sun coming up. Fear dissipating. Heard mice. Saw a chipmunk this morning. No birds yet. Hear planes. Helicopters. Shit and peed in the privvy. Helped Char get water from stream. Breakfast of freeze-dried scrambled eggs with salt, strong black tea (no sugar) and brown sugar oatmeal. Handful of dried fruit. 7.5 miles to Springer. It's a beautiful day.
Sunday, Sept. 4
Hiked about 9 miles from Hawk Mountain Shelter to Springer Mountain Shelter including a stop at a waterfall for lunch. Passed lots of people on trail - most doing day or short hikes. Met two lesbians at Hawk Mountain on their way to Springer. One had been doing the trail in sections for 15 years and was completing the last eight miles to Springer, the southern terminus. The trek back, though longer, was not as rough. Shoulders and back noticeably stronger. More sure footed. Never fell. Never even stumbled. Got to Springer Shelter after a .9-mile climb that was up, up, up and rocky. Not expecting that. The .9 felt like 5.9. A man and his very talkative boy were eating dinner (mashed potatoes and ramen) and the lesbians were packing up dinner while we heated our water for freeze-dried lasagna. Dinner was good. Sat up til 12:30 with Peter and his dog, Mickey, after building a confessional fire. Talked about books, relationships, meeting people and breakups. He's post-dumped from a long-distance relationship with what sounds like an immature woman who manipulated him and then dumped him for another guy - did it in a way to con him into still being her "friend." He sent her a letter putting her in her place. Hasn't heard from her since. He's sweet, smart and cute. He'll have no problems meeting someone else who is fantastic. Ready for breakfast and a water run. Today we go to Springer summit, back to Dahlonega. Springer shelter is known for its bears, and we hung our food last night. Char and I slept in the loft. Peter and Mickey slept on the ground floor. I felt safe. Up around 7. Got food and water. Cooked breakfast. Last leg of journey. It's been good.
Tripped over a root one-quarter of a mile in and fell on left knee. Hurt bad. Stayed on ass for cigarette/water break. Lunch at Stover Creek Shelter 1.5 miles in. Apple, cheese, dried fruit, Ritz, ham, tuna. Peed in woods. At shelter, someone left behind tablets of water purifier, a pot, a pacifier and a lost dog sign. Yellow lab named Bailey. Lost in July. Last seen on Springer Mountain summit. For next time: knee pads and Ben Gay.
Later that day
Made it the five miles to Hawk Mountain Shelter. It's amazing the energy a well-timed granola bar or two can give you. The incline had us stopping every few minutes to catch our breaths. At one point, I was on the ground internally bargaining for a reprieve. Charlene is filling the platypus with water. I'm decompressing. Three aspirin, tons of cigarettes, the rest of my two liters of water. Then, I will be centered. Turkey tetrazzini for dinner. Yum! This shelter has a loft. This is all I crave.
Saturday, Sept. 3
Survived my FIRST NIGHT EVER in the woods. By 9 p.m., sun down. Scared. Staring into the darkness. Fatigue overcame, and I tried for sleep. Woke up at every crack, creak and rustle. Sat up nervously clutching my knife, and, twice, clutching Charlene to wake her up with "there's something out there" and "I heard a noise." Yesterday, no sign of any mammal. Just bees, gnats, flies, butterflies, daddy longlegs and a weird bug that didn't run or fly when prodded. Body efficient. Didn't take much food yesterday to be satisfied. Only peed once though drank at least two liters of water. 4 a.m. Waking up Charlene for the third time. Praying for 6 a.m. and the promise of sunlight. It was 4. 6:30 a.m. Sun coming up. Fear dissipating. Heard mice. Saw a chipmunk this morning. No birds yet. Hear planes. Helicopters. Shit and peed in the privvy. Helped Char get water from stream. Breakfast of freeze-dried scrambled eggs with salt, strong black tea (no sugar) and brown sugar oatmeal. Handful of dried fruit. 7.5 miles to Springer. It's a beautiful day.
Sunday, Sept. 4
Hiked about 9 miles from Hawk Mountain Shelter to Springer Mountain Shelter including a stop at a waterfall for lunch. Passed lots of people on trail - most doing day or short hikes. Met two lesbians at Hawk Mountain on their way to Springer. One had been doing the trail in sections for 15 years and was completing the last eight miles to Springer, the southern terminus. The trek back, though longer, was not as rough. Shoulders and back noticeably stronger. More sure footed. Never fell. Never even stumbled. Got to Springer Shelter after a .9-mile climb that was up, up, up and rocky. Not expecting that. The .9 felt like 5.9. A man and his very talkative boy were eating dinner (mashed potatoes and ramen) and the lesbians were packing up dinner while we heated our water for freeze-dried lasagna. Dinner was good. Sat up til 12:30 with Peter and his dog, Mickey, after building a confessional fire. Talked about books, relationships, meeting people and breakups. He's post-dumped from a long-distance relationship with what sounds like an immature woman who manipulated him and then dumped him for another guy - did it in a way to con him into still being her "friend." He sent her a letter putting her in her place. Hasn't heard from her since. He's sweet, smart and cute. He'll have no problems meeting someone else who is fantastic. Ready for breakfast and a water run. Today we go to Springer summit, back to Dahlonega. Springer shelter is known for its bears, and we hung our food last night. Char and I slept in the loft. Peter and Mickey slept on the ground floor. I felt safe. Up around 7. Got food and water. Cooked breakfast. Last leg of journey. It's been good.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
How I Learned to Stop Worrying about Bears and Love the Trail
Update on 2.5-day AT hike to come. But, for now, I want to rant about the devastation in New Orleans, etc.
George W. Bush is a fucking fucker who needs to go fuck himself and every one of his cronies as well as those who pull his strings. PEOPLE ARE DEAD! PEOPLE ARE DYING! PEOPLE ARE HUNGRY! PEOPLE ARE HURT! PEOPLE ARE SCARED! This includes WOMEN, MEN, CHILDREN, ELDERLY PEOPLE, DISABLED PEOPLE, ANIMALS, ETC., ETC., ETC. Hello? Is anyone out there? Is the President watching? Or did he unplug his TV and go on vacation - AGAIN?
Once again, I am saddened and ashamed to be an American. I am ashamed that, in this country, we care more about spreading our fucking regime around the globe than about taking care of our own citizens. That we care more about rich people than we do about those who need our help. That we care more about big businesses than about the very people who make those businesses possible: employees and consumers. Jesus fucking Christ, folks. Does it bother you that this government DOES. NOT. FUCKING. GIVE. A. RAT'S. ASS. ABOUT. YOU. AND. NEVER. WILL.
Fuck you, Georgie. You're not my president. You never were. You never will be. You deserve prison for this and many other acts of heartlessness and cowardice. I hope you one day rot.
Links to news articles about Hurricane Katrina
The Times-Picayune is keeping its readers up-to-date via the Internet
Latest Times article with links to other Times coverage
E. Coli update from CNN with links to other CNN coverage
The hurricane according to Salon.com with links to other Salon.com coverage
Nothing beats the BBC
The New Yorker goes hurricane
George W. Bush is a fucking fucker who needs to go fuck himself and every one of his cronies as well as those who pull his strings. PEOPLE ARE DEAD! PEOPLE ARE DYING! PEOPLE ARE HUNGRY! PEOPLE ARE HURT! PEOPLE ARE SCARED! This includes WOMEN, MEN, CHILDREN, ELDERLY PEOPLE, DISABLED PEOPLE, ANIMALS, ETC., ETC., ETC. Hello? Is anyone out there? Is the President watching? Or did he unplug his TV and go on vacation - AGAIN?
Once again, I am saddened and ashamed to be an American. I am ashamed that, in this country, we care more about spreading our fucking regime around the globe than about taking care of our own citizens. That we care more about rich people than we do about those who need our help. That we care more about big businesses than about the very people who make those businesses possible: employees and consumers. Jesus fucking Christ, folks. Does it bother you that this government DOES. NOT. FUCKING. GIVE. A. RAT'S. ASS. ABOUT. YOU. AND. NEVER. WILL.
Fuck you, Georgie. You're not my president. You never were. You never will be. You deserve prison for this and many other acts of heartlessness and cowardice. I hope you one day rot.
Links to news articles about Hurricane Katrina
The Times-Picayune is keeping its readers up-to-date via the Internet
Latest Times article with links to other Times coverage
E. Coli update from CNN with links to other CNN coverage
The hurricane according to Salon.com with links to other Salon.com coverage
Nothing beats the BBC
The New Yorker goes hurricane
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Hiking the AT (aka Conquering all Fear)
View from the Blue Ridge Parkway in the Smokies - photo/maarmie
Tomorrow, I set out on my four-day adventure. A colleague of mine who grew up in North Carolina and knows a lot of the Appalachian Trail like the back of her hand is graciously dragging me on an AT adventure to make me less of a chickenshit and to make me prove to myself that my balls are bigger than a pair of peas.
My first experience with the AT came a couple of months ago when I traveled to Hot Springs, N.C., on a solo adventure that involved whitewater rafting (level 1-4 rapids!), horseback riding, a 90-minute massage, a dip in natural hot springs, and days of driving hundreds of miles through the Smoky Mountain National Forest and along the part of the Blue Ridge Parkway that starts at the northern end of the SMNF (in Tennessee) and runs southeast until it goes northeast to Asheville, which sits 37 miles southeast of Hot Springs.
I found a part of the trail that runs through Hot Springs (one of the few downtowns through which the AT actually runs) and followed it into the woods at the edge of town. I wanted to go the 1.6 miles to Lover's Leap, a high ridge that is good for the scenery and taking pictures. I sat at the foot of that trail and decided that NO. WAY. IN. HELL. was I ever going to attempt it. I cried. I bargained. I pleaded to whatever god may exist for the courage to attempt it alone. You're not understanding me correctly, I'm presuming. This wasn't just any trail. It was a footpath that was wide enough for exactly one foot which ran straight up over this stream into THE THICKEST WOODS I HAVE EVER SEEN. Bears? Snakes? Crazy mountain men with hatchets and penchants for young girls who are dumb enough to venture into the wilderness alone? I don't think so.
So, I sat at the foot of this trail and yelled at myself and berated myself into such a tizzy that I had to take a shit. I walked over to the edge of the woods, took down my pants and proved to myself that I could, indeed, shit in the woods. It was exhilerating and is something I will, no doubt, need to do sometime during these three days and two nights on the trail.
I finally convinced myself to take one step, then another, then another, until I was deep in the woods. With every step, I yelled out "helllooooo!" in an effort to scare off any black bears that may have been waiting just around each turn. The steps became more and more painful the further away from the clearing and parking lot I got. After I had gone about a quarter of a mile, I realized enough was enough, and I turned around and practically ran back to my car. I sat there for an hour longer and bargained and pleaded and yelled at myself and subjected myself to torture. All I wanted was that 1.6 miles. I never got it.
Now I will.
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