It seems to me that people have varying degrees of a need for passion in their lives. No, I don’t mean sex – physical passion – I mean the desire for the ups and downs of emotional life. Some people really seem to enjoy being in situations where they can poke and prod their partners and be treated in kind, and to revel in the emotional upheaval that ensues. Other people are more remote, and treat passion as a necessary stop on a long drive – like a potty break on a road trip – something you do once in a while to refresh yourself, but not a place you stop and stay.
The X was a man of constant public passion. He was never happy unless he was in the middle of some kind of self created turmoil, the center of all attention, nailed on a self imposed angst ridden cross. Trust me when I say that that level of maintenance has a high price indeed. If I look at him dispassionately, I can tell you that his constant focus on passion leaves him unable to focus on anything else in his life. It became exhausting to participate in his roller coaster; after a while one just pulls the emergency brake and gets off the ride.
There are quiet, passionate people. Those who are so unassuming that you know nothing of their lives other than their public façade, until the day you see or hear that one spouse has killed the other, or a mother has slain her children and then herself. There are people who abandon their entire lives and careers and move across the world to feed indigent people in the Sudan.
And there are people who have no control over their passions. People whose every waking moment and though is consumed with whatever they are focused on for the moment. You know, like those nutty people who go ga over the newest online multi player game, and stalk Ebay auctions looking for virtual real estate to build their empire? You know who I talking about. Like the couple who recently made the news – their children were forcibly removed from their home and the parents charged with abuse. The children were starving and living in squalor, while the parents had state of the art technology and were playing some online role playing game.
Again, passion gone awry.
Where do you fall? Who are you?
20070928
20070925
My Momma Done Tole Me
If you can't say anything nice, keep your mouth shut.
You catch more flies with honey, not vinegar (thanks, grandmom).
Some things are better left unsaid (yes, your ass does look fat in those pants).
People in glass houses should not throw fuschia pots.
Every cloud has a lining. Whether or not it's silver is a matter of interpretation.
Wash everything in cold. Except towels, which ye shall wash in hot, lest they smell.
Put lemon in your hair to lighten it in the summer.
Always pick up a penny. Who cares what side it's on? You are still one penny richer!
Once in a while, do something random. Pay someone else's toll. Tip your server 40%. Pay a stranger's tab. Drop $20 in the Salvation Army bucket at Xmas time.
You catch more flies with honey, not vinegar (thanks, grandmom).
Some things are better left unsaid (yes, your ass does look fat in those pants).
People in glass houses should not throw fuschia pots.
Every cloud has a lining. Whether or not it's silver is a matter of interpretation.
Wash everything in cold. Except towels, which ye shall wash in hot, lest they smell.
Put lemon in your hair to lighten it in the summer.
Always pick up a penny. Who cares what side it's on? You are still one penny richer!
Once in a while, do something random. Pay someone else's toll. Tip your server 40%. Pay a stranger's tab. Drop $20 in the Salvation Army bucket at Xmas time.
Feminist Bullshit
So here's what I believe:
1. Men and women are equal, and should be equal partners in all things.
2. Men should learn to do their fair share of housework. I don't think that the Justice League has a super talent called "Ignorus Dirtus".
3. Women enjoy sex just as much as men, although perhaps not as often.
4. Men and women have obligations to each other and to society - to do the right thing.
1. Men and women are equal, and should be equal partners in all things.
2. Men should learn to do their fair share of housework. I don't think that the Justice League has a super talent called "Ignorus Dirtus".
3. Women enjoy sex just as much as men, although perhaps not as often.
4. Men and women have obligations to each other and to society - to do the right thing.
Ever have days where you feel like the biggest tool on the planet? Like you've let yourself be agitated into doing something stupid, and it matters to no one but you (because you are the only one who has to pay the price)? Icky.
It seems that despite my best intentions life will never run smoothly.
In talking to Miss Molls, I was struck with a moment of envy. She is so happy with her life, her husband, and their path to love and to marriage was so simple...that...well, I don't know what to do.
I am one of those people, I think, for whom nothing comes easily if it comes at all. Please believe me when I say it's not of my own chosing. If I could suddenly zap parts of my brain and heart and make myself into a lesser being, there a days/moments/seconds where I would gladly trade all the complexity that I am for a much simpler being.
It seems that despite my best intentions life will never run smoothly.
In talking to Miss Molls, I was struck with a moment of envy. She is so happy with her life, her husband, and their path to love and to marriage was so simple...that...well, I don't know what to do.
I am one of those people, I think, for whom nothing comes easily if it comes at all. Please believe me when I say it's not of my own chosing. If I could suddenly zap parts of my brain and heart and make myself into a lesser being, there a days/moments/seconds where I would gladly trade all the complexity that I am for a much simpler being.
20070924
Monday Madness
Just because I love you all, go and dig this site....
The captions are as funny as the dresses....
http://www.visi.com/~dheaton/bride/the_bride_wore.html
In fact, this might be my favorite (Called Mars Attacks)...can you believe women actually pay money to look this bad? Ok...my laptop is bad. IE is bad.
Go and look for the Mars Attacks Dress...freaking hysterical.
The captions are as funny as the dresses....
http://www.visi.com/~dheaton/bride/the_bride_wore.html
In fact, this might be my favorite (Called Mars Attacks)...can you believe women actually pay money to look this bad? Ok...my laptop is bad. IE is bad.
Go and look for the Mars Attacks Dress...freaking hysterical.
20070923
Remember when the music/came from wooden boxes hung with silver wire....
Nostalgia.
The desire or ability to live joyfully in one's past.
My father wrote a song for me when I was a little girl....
"Little girl you look a mess/you've gotten/jelly stains upon your dress/and peanut butter in your hair/defying laughing standing there"
It goes on, but you get the idea.
There's nothing out there like the love of a parent for a child. Treasure it while you have it.
Nostalgia.
The desire or ability to live joyfully in one's past.
My father wrote a song for me when I was a little girl....
"Little girl you look a mess/you've gotten/jelly stains upon your dress/and peanut butter in your hair/defying laughing standing there"
It goes on, but you get the idea.
There's nothing out there like the love of a parent for a child. Treasure it while you have it.
20070921
Granddaddy
"Louis Millard Wood, Sr., age 81, of Marietta, died February 7, 2007. Louis was a native of Atlanta and graduated from Russell High School, as well as Georgia State University. He served in the US Army during WWII. Louis retired from the US Department of Labor, Wage and Hour. He is survived by his wife, Ethel Ragan Wood; children, Louis Millard Wood, Jr., of Sandy Springs, Susan Chaffin of Charlotte, NC, Christopher Ragan Wood of Marietta, and Nancy Sparks of St. Augustine, FL; eight grandchildren." (AJC)
Granddaddy is in the backpack; on his way to his final resting place.
Granddaddy is in the backpack; on his way to his final resting place.
The dunes (that didn't really exist in my childhood) in front of the beach house we used to rent.
Last photo before Mr. Manners kindly turned the camera off, as I de-shoed myself and walked out into the ocean to scatter his ashes.
Last photo before Mr. Manners kindly turned the camera off, as I de-shoed myself and walked out into the ocean to scatter his ashes. Dear God,
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
God bless everyone everywhere
And thank you for all the gifts you've given me
My friends and my family.
Amen.
20070920
Ever have those weeks where you are just off? That is just this week for me. I'm just off. I've had a low grade migraine since Monday afternoon that I just can't shake. I realized that when I did my great Charity Clothing and Shoe purge I gave away all my dress shoes except one pair, forcing me to purchase another. My face is still dry as all get out, although no longer swollen. I am sooo tired. Maybe I need iron. I'm falling asleep at my desk! Am now eating a cracker from last week.
I did see my dog dog last night....
I did see my dog dog last night....
20070917
There are some things that are just rude.
My across the cul de sac neighbors are teenage boys, and of driving age, with friends who have no manners. Said friends like to show up after school to pick up said neighbors, and rather than park their mother's mini van and go and knock on the door, they like to sit in the cul de sac and honk repeatedly.
I, princess of manners that I am, while taking out the trash today decided enough was enough and yelled at the hooligans "dude, lay off the freaking horn and go knock on the door!"
Imagine my surprise when said hooligans did pull into the driveway and DID go knock on the door.
Will wonders never cease.
My across the cul de sac neighbors are teenage boys, and of driving age, with friends who have no manners. Said friends like to show up after school to pick up said neighbors, and rather than park their mother's mini van and go and knock on the door, they like to sit in the cul de sac and honk repeatedly.
I, princess of manners that I am, while taking out the trash today decided enough was enough and yelled at the hooligans "dude, lay off the freaking horn and go knock on the door!"
Imagine my surprise when said hooligans did pull into the driveway and DID go knock on the door.
Will wonders never cease.
Do forgive me, for I find this terribly amusing:
Warnings on the back of an over the counter medicine:
Uses: For temporary relief of external anal and genital itching.
Do Not Use: in the genital area if you have vaginal discharge. Consult a doctor.
Do Not Put: directly into the rectum by using fingers or any mechanical device or applicator.
Stop Using if: Rectal Bleeding Occurs.
Uh....mechanical device? WTF are people DOING to themselves these days?
I was laughing hysterically while standing in line reading the warning label.
I'm not sure anyone else will get the joke.
Warnings on the back of an over the counter medicine:
Uses: For temporary relief of external anal and genital itching.
Do Not Use: in the genital area if you have vaginal discharge. Consult a doctor.
Do Not Put: directly into the rectum by using fingers or any mechanical device or applicator.
Stop Using if: Rectal Bleeding Occurs.
Uh....mechanical device? WTF are people DOING to themselves these days?
I was laughing hysterically while standing in line reading the warning label.
I'm not sure anyone else will get the joke.
Vanity
Thy name is Eliza
So I went to the dermatologist last week because my skin has regressed to a state not seen since I was about twelve and just beginning menarche. Left quite happy with some samples – benzaclyn for morning use, and differin for evening use. Wednesday morning, after differin use – skin was nice and even and not blotchy and all and all quite happy. Thursday morning benzaclyn use…burned. Friday morning, burned, and moisturizer burned, and skin started to turn red. Did not use any differin that night, nor did I use anything on Saturday morning but my face decided that it was tomato season, and that I should swell up, turn bright red, and look like someone punched me in the face – in both eyes! Lotion hurt, water hurt, soap hurt, crying hurt. My fingers were swollen, my neck was red and swollen…the works. Out of sheer desperation, went to Walgreen’s to talk to the pharmacist, who looked at me and said “allergic reaction. Throw it away. Take lots of benadryl”. Which helped (and a solpo to deaden my face…my last one!!!). I managed to just sleep through most of Saturday. Sunday rolls around and while the swelling is almost gone, I still look like a tomato, albeit a scaly one. A VERY VERY scaly one…a cross between a snake and a tomato during molting season in high summer, in fact. Not great. I can was my face with apricot scrub, and can put on Lubriderm only. That’s it. I touch my face and I snow skin. It’s gross. It’s like I just burnt off the top ten layers of skin. Now I know what I will look like in ten years with too much sun. Scary!
Called the dermatologist this morning – soooo not happy. Waiting for a call back.
Here is what WebMD has to say about the side effects: “Dry skin, redness, burning, itching or skin peeling may occur. If any of these effects persist or worsen, notify your doctor or pharmacist promptly.” Really? Really? ????? Please note that it does not say that you will resemble a giant fruit, or a big fat red snake that has just eaten a small baby.
Have just spoken to them now, in fact. “Stop using it immediately” Honey? I got news for you… it is already in the trash. They are trying to decide if I should come in tomorrow or not, and how much damage has been done. Great. Just great. This is the one time in my life I wish that a burqua was an acceptable fashion accessory. I’d like to stick my hand in the sand and not come out until this heals up.
Otherwise; weekend…ugh. Went to a place called Monkey Joe’s for a birthday party for two young ‘uns on Sunday. Ever have those moments where you realize that you just don’t belong somewhere? So I’m standing there, surrounded by doting moms and a few dads, looking at adorable little children running around in their little sock’ed feet, bouncing on big inflatable air toys (slides, bouncy thingies….), and I realize, in looking at my peers, that I will NEVER EVER be like any of those women. First, I think having a big birthday party for a bunch of little kids is kind of silly. Is there a child under six who remembers a birthday party ever? I might have had one, but if I did, I don’t remember having one at all (ever, in fact). I guess I’m too practical….I’d rather be socking that money away into a college fund and having a quiet family birthday at home. Secondly, in looking at the other women…ugh. Blond, well coiffed, largely perfect, well dressed, new Coach or D&B or Prada bags, nice tidy manicures and pedicures. All slender, with nice hair, and bleached teeth, yammering on and on about private day care or private school or their volunteer groups or whatever. I can’t even make myself talk to them. I can’t even force myself to be that kind of person. I can’t. Something tells me that none of the women I met yesterday have the same dark, brooding side that I do. I could try, of course, as I’ve done before, but that ends up becoming a spiral of misery that is hard to escape from, and completely perpetual.
Anyway, that’s my ramble.
So I went to the dermatologist last week because my skin has regressed to a state not seen since I was about twelve and just beginning menarche. Left quite happy with some samples – benzaclyn for morning use, and differin for evening use. Wednesday morning, after differin use – skin was nice and even and not blotchy and all and all quite happy. Thursday morning benzaclyn use…burned. Friday morning, burned, and moisturizer burned, and skin started to turn red. Did not use any differin that night, nor did I use anything on Saturday morning but my face decided that it was tomato season, and that I should swell up, turn bright red, and look like someone punched me in the face – in both eyes! Lotion hurt, water hurt, soap hurt, crying hurt. My fingers were swollen, my neck was red and swollen…the works. Out of sheer desperation, went to Walgreen’s to talk to the pharmacist, who looked at me and said “allergic reaction. Throw it away. Take lots of benadryl”. Which helped (and a solpo to deaden my face…my last one!!!). I managed to just sleep through most of Saturday. Sunday rolls around and while the swelling is almost gone, I still look like a tomato, albeit a scaly one. A VERY VERY scaly one…a cross between a snake and a tomato during molting season in high summer, in fact. Not great. I can was my face with apricot scrub, and can put on Lubriderm only. That’s it. I touch my face and I snow skin. It’s gross. It’s like I just burnt off the top ten layers of skin. Now I know what I will look like in ten years with too much sun. Scary!
Called the dermatologist this morning – soooo not happy. Waiting for a call back.
Here is what WebMD has to say about the side effects: “Dry skin, redness, burning, itching or skin peeling may occur. If any of these effects persist or worsen, notify your doctor or pharmacist promptly.” Really? Really? ????? Please note that it does not say that you will resemble a giant fruit, or a big fat red snake that has just eaten a small baby.
Have just spoken to them now, in fact. “Stop using it immediately” Honey? I got news for you… it is already in the trash. They are trying to decide if I should come in tomorrow or not, and how much damage has been done. Great. Just great. This is the one time in my life I wish that a burqua was an acceptable fashion accessory. I’d like to stick my hand in the sand and not come out until this heals up.
Otherwise; weekend…ugh. Went to a place called Monkey Joe’s for a birthday party for two young ‘uns on Sunday. Ever have those moments where you realize that you just don’t belong somewhere? So I’m standing there, surrounded by doting moms and a few dads, looking at adorable little children running around in their little sock’ed feet, bouncing on big inflatable air toys (slides, bouncy thingies….), and I realize, in looking at my peers, that I will NEVER EVER be like any of those women. First, I think having a big birthday party for a bunch of little kids is kind of silly. Is there a child under six who remembers a birthday party ever? I might have had one, but if I did, I don’t remember having one at all (ever, in fact). I guess I’m too practical….I’d rather be socking that money away into a college fund and having a quiet family birthday at home. Secondly, in looking at the other women…ugh. Blond, well coiffed, largely perfect, well dressed, new Coach or D&B or Prada bags, nice tidy manicures and pedicures. All slender, with nice hair, and bleached teeth, yammering on and on about private day care or private school or their volunteer groups or whatever. I can’t even make myself talk to them. I can’t even force myself to be that kind of person. I can’t. Something tells me that none of the women I met yesterday have the same dark, brooding side that I do. I could try, of course, as I’ve done before, but that ends up becoming a spiral of misery that is hard to escape from, and completely perpetual.
Anyway, that’s my ramble.
20070914
I can't believe in all the investigative discussions surrounding Madeline McCann the one detail people have found to focus on is this, and this is a quote, and I'm not telling you where it came from because I find it so....incredibly lacking in intelligence and moral fiber that to reveal the identity of the speaker would just give all of us normal folk a new target of lesser intelligence to mock.
"Conceiving a child though IVF is a sin. Madeline's disappearance is God's punishment."
What the fuck?
Get lost, idiot, and go grow a brain.
"Conceiving a child though IVF is a sin. Madeline's disappearance is God's punishment."
What the fuck?
Get lost, idiot, and go grow a brain.
I am SOOOO TGIF!!!!!
Let's see....
Last night, as I'm eating my boiled potatos with cheese, I hear this slight thunk come from the kitchen. Honestly? I thought it was the dishwasher until I turn around and notice the absence of one small black dog. Make trip to kitchen...small black dog delicately curled up on floor, paws firmly holding tub of butter, that she is gently licking for all she's worth. New tub of Kerrygold!!! Bad Zoe, no Biscuit! Please notice that the Madster was sitting at my feet and ignoring the butter. Maddy got a biscuit.
This morning they've both discovered something great and nasty smelling in the back garden that they've proceeded to wallow in at great length, much to my nose's dismay. Dogs!
Downstairs is going tudor. I'm ditching the lime green in favor of dark brown and cream. Will look fabu.
Let's see....
Last night, as I'm eating my boiled potatos with cheese, I hear this slight thunk come from the kitchen. Honestly? I thought it was the dishwasher until I turn around and notice the absence of one small black dog. Make trip to kitchen...small black dog delicately curled up on floor, paws firmly holding tub of butter, that she is gently licking for all she's worth. New tub of Kerrygold!!! Bad Zoe, no Biscuit! Please notice that the Madster was sitting at my feet and ignoring the butter. Maddy got a biscuit.
This morning they've both discovered something great and nasty smelling in the back garden that they've proceeded to wallow in at great length, much to my nose's dismay. Dogs!
Downstairs is going tudor. I'm ditching the lime green in favor of dark brown and cream. Will look fabu.
20070913
Once in a while, when someone knows you are having a bad day, they send you something that makes you giggle:
Subject: Why women should not take their husbands shopping
This is why women should not take men shopping against their will....
After Mr. and Mrs. Fenton retired, Mrs. Fenton insisted her husband accompany her on her trips to Wal-Mart. Unfortunately, Mr. Fenton was like most men -- he found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out.
Equally unfortunately, Mrs. Fenton was like most women -- she loved to browse.
One day Mrs. Fenton received the following letter from her local Wal-Mart.
"Dear Mrs. Fenton,
Over the past six months, your husband has been causing quite a commotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and may be forced to ban both of you from the store. Our complaints against Mr. Fenton are listed below a nd are documented by our video surveillance cameras.
1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they weren't looking.
2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5 minute intervals.
3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's restroom.
4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice, "Code 3 in Housewares - get on it right away."
5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&M's on layaway.
6. September 14: Moved a "CAUTION - WET FLOOR" sign to a carpeted area.
7. September 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told other shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department.
8. September 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, "Why can't you people just leave me alone?"
9. October 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.
10. November 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.
11. December 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly humming the "Mission Impossible" theme.
12. December 6: In the auto department, he practiced his "Madonna look" by using different sizes of funnels.
13. December 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled "PICK ME! PICK ME!"
14. December 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed "OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!"
And last, but not least,
15. December 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile, then yelled very loudly, "Hey! There's no toilet paper in here!"
Regards,
Wal-Mart
Subject: Why women should not take their husbands shopping
This is why women should not take men shopping against their will....
After Mr. and Mrs. Fenton retired, Mrs. Fenton insisted her husband accompany her on her trips to Wal-Mart. Unfortunately, Mr. Fenton was like most men -- he found shopping boring and preferred to get in and get out.
Equally unfortunately, Mrs. Fenton was like most women -- she loved to browse.
One day Mrs. Fenton received the following letter from her local Wal-Mart.
"Dear Mrs. Fenton,
Over the past six months, your husband has been causing quite a commotion in our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and may be forced to ban both of you from the store. Our complaints against Mr. Fenton are listed below a nd are documented by our video surveillance cameras.
1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they weren't looking.
2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5 minute intervals.
3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the women's restroom.
4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice, "Code 3 in Housewares - get on it right away."
5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&M's on layaway.
6. September 14: Moved a "CAUTION - WET FLOOR" sign to a carpeted area.
7. September 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told other shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets from the bedding department.
8. September 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying and screamed, "Why can't you people just leave me alone?"
9. October 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a mirror while he picked his nose.
10. November 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.
11. December 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly humming the "Mission Impossible" theme.
12. December 6: In the auto department, he practiced his "Madonna look" by using different sizes of funnels.
13. December 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed through, yelled "PICK ME! PICK ME!"
14. December 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he assumed a fetal position and screamed "OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!"
And last, but not least,
15. December 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile, then yelled very loudly, "Hey! There's no toilet paper in here!"
Regards,
Wal-Mart
20070912
Lest ye think that terrorists have cornered the market on evil:
Woman, 20, Was Imprisioned and Tortured courtesy of the NY Times
Woman, 20, Was Imprisioned and Tortured courtesy of the NY Times
20070910
9/11
I won't write about this tomorrow, but I will write about it today.
September 11, 2001. Approximately 2,998 U.S. civilians (mostly civilians) dead or missing on American soil, due to an unprecedented and cowardly act of terrorism. It is a great pity that a nation that prides itself on being one of the strongest in the world had it's citzenry overcome with boxcutters and knives. As we have all said subsequently, and I think, uniformly: do it again, and this time you will be the one dying and we will be the ones who live. Cultural memory is an interesting thing: I have done nothing to anyone who belives in Islam. No one who believes in Islam has done anything to effect me personally. Therefore, I fail to understand the absolute rabid fundamentalist hatred they have toward us, and must boil the hatred to it's simplest argument - you end up hating what you covet the most.
I am normally a non violent person. However, when I watched people who made the concious decision to plunge to their deaths rather than burn to death, I became violent. How dare you conspire to murder perfectly innocent human beings based on their nationality? Had any of them stood in front of me, I would have willingly killed them myself.
However, death in itself does not change a culture, does not alter a people's religious belief's. If you kill the father, the son grows up with more hatred in his heart than the father had. What, then, is the solution? One cannot, in good conscience, eradicate a people.
I went to the site of the Towers in 2003. Without a doubt, the eeriest and most haunting experience ever, with it's fence covered in photos of the missing and the dead, and the remnants of wreaths and floral arrangements scattering amid the ash in the wind. I stood there, with my fingers through the chain link, and I was fucking angry.
September 11, 1971. The date of my parent's marriage, at the First United Methodist Church in East Point, GA. My parents have now been married thirty six years (btw, my parents NEVER have remembered their anniversary), and have the dubious distinction of having the date of their anniversary be the date of one of the most heinous crimes in contemporary history. I think, in fact, that the best thing any of us could do as Americans would be to schedule any important event on this date (as much as we could; bris's, bar mitzvah's, baptisms, christenings, births, weddings, engagement parties, divorces..well..maybe not divorces). Anything that was life affirming or celebratory in nature. We are still here. We still live on. We still have spirit. Our economy is not ruined (discounting the housing debacle). We are not oppressed. We are not destroyed. And...we are still angry. And we will never forget those who died.
September 11, 2001. Approximately 2,998 U.S. civilians (mostly civilians) dead or missing on American soil, due to an unprecedented and cowardly act of terrorism. It is a great pity that a nation that prides itself on being one of the strongest in the world had it's citzenry overcome with boxcutters and knives. As we have all said subsequently, and I think, uniformly: do it again, and this time you will be the one dying and we will be the ones who live. Cultural memory is an interesting thing: I have done nothing to anyone who belives in Islam. No one who believes in Islam has done anything to effect me personally. Therefore, I fail to understand the absolute rabid fundamentalist hatred they have toward us, and must boil the hatred to it's simplest argument - you end up hating what you covet the most.
I am normally a non violent person. However, when I watched people who made the concious decision to plunge to their deaths rather than burn to death, I became violent. How dare you conspire to murder perfectly innocent human beings based on their nationality? Had any of them stood in front of me, I would have willingly killed them myself.
However, death in itself does not change a culture, does not alter a people's religious belief's. If you kill the father, the son grows up with more hatred in his heart than the father had. What, then, is the solution? One cannot, in good conscience, eradicate a people.
I went to the site of the Towers in 2003. Without a doubt, the eeriest and most haunting experience ever, with it's fence covered in photos of the missing and the dead, and the remnants of wreaths and floral arrangements scattering amid the ash in the wind. I stood there, with my fingers through the chain link, and I was fucking angry.
September 11, 1971. The date of my parent's marriage, at the First United Methodist Church in East Point, GA. My parents have now been married thirty six years (btw, my parents NEVER have remembered their anniversary), and have the dubious distinction of having the date of their anniversary be the date of one of the most heinous crimes in contemporary history. I think, in fact, that the best thing any of us could do as Americans would be to schedule any important event on this date (as much as we could; bris's, bar mitzvah's, baptisms, christenings, births, weddings, engagement parties, divorces..well..maybe not divorces). Anything that was life affirming or celebratory in nature. We are still here. We still live on. We still have spirit. Our economy is not ruined (discounting the housing debacle). We are not oppressed. We are not destroyed. And...we are still angry. And we will never forget those who died.
20070907
20070906
You know, since I'm feeling under the weather today, I thought we would talk a bit about health care.
Ah, screw it. We won't talk about it today - well, we will, just in short form.
You get sick. You have no job. If you have no job because you are disabled, a child, or elderly....that's one thing. If you have no job because you are....well, whatever....then tough shit.
So we have programs to help the disabled, children and the elderly already. They are called social security and medicare and medicaid (and most states have some other form of medical social support programs available, although the paperwork for these programs ala PeachCare seems to be extraordinarily painful).
Is there a reason we need to help people who have two functioning arms, two functioning legs and a brain that works (more or less)?
Ah, you say, but what about educational levels having an impact upon people's ability to earn a living? If you don't have a college degree, you can't get a good job. Bollix, I say! Not everyone is suited for a higher education. Not everyone needs to go and major in English. And it isn't that people who don't have college degrees are, en masse, lazy. I don't have a college degree. I work for a living, and have held professional jobs since eighteen continuously with only a three month break. And I am not lazy, by anyone's definition.
The thing is this: if we decide to require, at a Federal level, all companies with...more than five employees to provide insurance coverage to their employees (meaning that the company has to pay for it if the employee can't themselves)...that means the cost of doing business will increase. In response, there will be some factor of businesses that are driven out of business or who are forced to decrease in size as a result of the additional spend. No one likes that idea.
The second idea - to fund again at a Federal level some kind of magical insurance fund available to anyone that doesn't have insurance - uh, again, I thought that is why we already have the social programs we do? Do you really want to see yet another deduction come from your check to pay for someone else? Really?
It all comes down to one fundamental question: what are we? Are we a capitalist society? Are we a quasi socialist society? Are we some sort of new hybrid? Are we looking for a replacement for the role previously fulfilled by organized religion and community in the law?
Ethically and morally, I'm not comfortable with letting people suffer because they can't afford to purchase insurance and are thus denied anything but basic healthcare, but I don't want to pay for it personally. I'm pretty sure that makes me a typical American, doesn't it?
Ah, screw it. We won't talk about it today - well, we will, just in short form.
You get sick. You have no job. If you have no job because you are disabled, a child, or elderly....that's one thing. If you have no job because you are....well, whatever....then tough shit.
So we have programs to help the disabled, children and the elderly already. They are called social security and medicare and medicaid (and most states have some other form of medical social support programs available, although the paperwork for these programs ala PeachCare seems to be extraordinarily painful).
Is there a reason we need to help people who have two functioning arms, two functioning legs and a brain that works (more or less)?
Ah, you say, but what about educational levels having an impact upon people's ability to earn a living? If you don't have a college degree, you can't get a good job. Bollix, I say! Not everyone is suited for a higher education. Not everyone needs to go and major in English. And it isn't that people who don't have college degrees are, en masse, lazy. I don't have a college degree. I work for a living, and have held professional jobs since eighteen continuously with only a three month break. And I am not lazy, by anyone's definition.
The thing is this: if we decide to require, at a Federal level, all companies with...more than five employees to provide insurance coverage to their employees (meaning that the company has to pay for it if the employee can't themselves)...that means the cost of doing business will increase. In response, there will be some factor of businesses that are driven out of business or who are forced to decrease in size as a result of the additional spend. No one likes that idea.
The second idea - to fund again at a Federal level some kind of magical insurance fund available to anyone that doesn't have insurance - uh, again, I thought that is why we already have the social programs we do? Do you really want to see yet another deduction come from your check to pay for someone else? Really?
It all comes down to one fundamental question: what are we? Are we a capitalist society? Are we a quasi socialist society? Are we some sort of new hybrid? Are we looking for a replacement for the role previously fulfilled by organized religion and community in the law?
Ethically and morally, I'm not comfortable with letting people suffer because they can't afford to purchase insurance and are thus denied anything but basic healthcare, but I don't want to pay for it personally. I'm pretty sure that makes me a typical American, doesn't it?
20070904
Labiaplasty
Toodling through the internet, as one does....when the word LABIAPLASTY leapt out at me and hit me across the nose.
According to this article in Newsweek, women are starting to treat labiaplasty as the new boob job. You know, you don't particularly like yourself "down there" or think that you have too much flesh there or maybe it's the wrong color at the bottom or I don't know what, just something (this is like anorexic people thinking they are fat...wtf?)! So you decide that you want to go and have a part of yourself that represents your femininity cut off? I mean, sure, I wax. The current trend of being completely denuded I find kinda weird...because it makes all women pretty much look like pre pubescent girls, and I think that is rather creepy. I am not, however, about to go under general anesthesia so someone can take a knife and cut off a part of my flesh.
This is my favorite quote:
"In many cases women say that they began to question the look of their vaginal area after a comment from a male partner who had been influenced by images in sexually explicit magazines or movies."
Ladies...if a man is comparing you to Jenna Jameson when the two of you are in bed together, it's time to find a new man!!! Not go under the knife!!!! I mean, people in porn are digitally cleaned up/enhanced! No one is that perfect; why run the risk of desensitizing yourself trying? I mean, seriously, if your partner said to you "I sure wish you could deep throat like she does" I think you'd get pretty pissed off, so why listen to what someone else says about your body? Damn, ladies, don't you know by now to only listen to the good stuff that other people say? We women do enough self body criticism, we certainly don't need to listen to anyone else!
And as the article goes on to mention, it is rather ironic that as Western cultures agitate for the outlawing of female circumcision or other forms of genital mulitation....aren't we doing the same thing ourselves? Isn't slicing off a functional piece of your body (a part that does actually provide lubrication during intercourse) mutilation when all is said and done?
According to this article in Newsweek, women are starting to treat labiaplasty as the new boob job. You know, you don't particularly like yourself "down there" or think that you have too much flesh there or maybe it's the wrong color at the bottom or I don't know what, just something (this is like anorexic people thinking they are fat...wtf?)! So you decide that you want to go and have a part of yourself that represents your femininity cut off? I mean, sure, I wax. The current trend of being completely denuded I find kinda weird...because it makes all women pretty much look like pre pubescent girls, and I think that is rather creepy. I am not, however, about to go under general anesthesia so someone can take a knife and cut off a part of my flesh.
This is my favorite quote:
"In many cases women say that they began to question the look of their vaginal area after a comment from a male partner who had been influenced by images in sexually explicit magazines or movies."
Ladies...if a man is comparing you to Jenna Jameson when the two of you are in bed together, it's time to find a new man!!! Not go under the knife!!!! I mean, people in porn are digitally cleaned up/enhanced! No one is that perfect; why run the risk of desensitizing yourself trying? I mean, seriously, if your partner said to you "I sure wish you could deep throat like she does" I think you'd get pretty pissed off, so why listen to what someone else says about your body? Damn, ladies, don't you know by now to only listen to the good stuff that other people say? We women do enough self body criticism, we certainly don't need to listen to anyone else!
And as the article goes on to mention, it is rather ironic that as Western cultures agitate for the outlawing of female circumcision or other forms of genital mulitation....aren't we doing the same thing ourselves? Isn't slicing off a functional piece of your body (a part that does actually provide lubrication during intercourse) mutilation when all is said and done?
Left Foot, Right Shoe
Spent some time walking down the beach, peering through the new (to my mind) high and wild dunes looking for the old beach house. The old driftwood tree, my childhood landmark, is gone. Found the new old trail, took off my shoes, waded out in the water, and let granddad's ashes fly off into the wind and water as he wished. Said a small prayer. Thought about all the times we walked that beach when I was a child. Walking back, saw a flock of sandpipers, which made me cry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
