Strong Women Create Strong Nations

For the second year in a row I have had the honor of attending the Women for Women International Women of the World Awards Gala. Last year I was a guest, and had only just become familiar with the work of the organization. This year I attended still as a guest, but also as a staff person, someone who has seen some of how the proverbial sausage is made, and who continues to be astounded and impressed with the work. I cannot recall ever feeling so proud to be a part of something as I was tonight, hearing the words of a woman I have only begun to get to know in the last couple of months.

Yes, my job causes me stress and sometimes makes me fantasize about running away and working as a food service person on an Amtrak train, but events like tonight, seeing the way people come together to support our work, hearing the words of celebrities, board members and lay people speak about the phenomenal work that I am a part of, gives me resiliance and is a powerful reminder of why I have chosen to pursue the life that I have.

Tonight Zainab, the CEO of Women for Women International, remarked that she does not know if we live in an age of war, but that it is war that seems to dominate our lives, our politics and discussions and sometimes even our families. She said that in such times it would be easy to get depressed, to give up and lose hope, but then she thinks about the women she has met in her work, women who have been violated and brutalized and who continue to g et up every morning, who have hope for the next day, and the one after that.

I have never viewed pride as a particular valuable or good emotion, but tonight, sitting in the room and hearing the words, I was proud of myself for being a part of something that is doing so much good. I am proud of myself for following my dreams, for knowing what I want and for figuring out how to achieve it. I am happy to know that I am capable of making these things happen in my life, and it gives me faith that I can achieve some of the good that I want to in the world.

The Way We Get By

Friends, I tell you you have not lived until you have spent an hour on the living room couch with a 6'7 German man named Oliver, watching the Gilmore Girls and discussing heavy metal versus industrial, and how Metallica carried us through high school. I guess some experiences really do transcend time and space... though I didn't think they would really involve Metallica.

In other news, I will be spending about 35 hours in New York at the end of this week. If anyone wants New York presents, you should let me know before Thursday morning because I don't know what my internet access will be like. I will not tell you what a New York present is... and I can't honestly promise you that it won't be something that I find on the street. But if you are interested... comment/ message me.

Work has been crazy, hence the dearth of posting... I regret to say that I have fallen off of the NaBloPoMo project, but I am still trying to write more than I was before, and hopefully it shall continue.

Dodger has been particularly whiney. This had been going on for a couple of weeks following some unfortunate bladder evacuations on his part (a problem mostly solved by us having a stern discussion of the consequences of continued bed peeing upon, and also me locking him in a small room with a litter box and some toys and a blanket at the suggestion of my vet, so that he could relearn how to use the box). Anyway, after the peeing came the noise making, which let up for a couple weeks, but seems to have returned. The common internet knowledge seems to be to ignore the cat when he is whining, and reward him when he stops. My question to the internet is this. My cat walks around the house meowing at the top of his lungs. He could want for me to feed him, or pet him, or play with him, or he could want me to ignore him and tell him irately to learn how to use his words, cause ma's had a long day at work and needs language with her vocalizations. Now, any of the three former ones are fine, but if he wants the fourth one... I mean, how do I know that I'm not inadvertently rewarding his bad behavior?

Someone will tell me when I've gone fully round the bend, right?

Note to self:
Probably don't read O magazine about the women your organization helps in Africa while on the metro. Crying on the train is so cliche.

Anyone out there who's curious about what I do, why I put up with the days that make me post stuff like I did last night, and the night before that, check out O magazine for the month of December (currently on the stands). Page 283. These are not stories that are easy to read, but this is why I do it. Knowing that in my own abstract way I am doing something to help these women.

I am faced with the question, how can this be the world I live in? Do men rape women when civil society degrades to a level that there is no reason for them not to? Would the men I know act in the same way if our society collapsed completely? Is this what anarchism really means? If it's not the collapse of the rule of law that allows such atrociety, what are other possible explanations? Is this the normal state of the cultures in which these women live, or is this caused by the illness that began three hundred years ago with European "exploration"?

I'm tired, and I don't know if I make sense right now. I would like to believe that there aren't cultures whose default position is to endorse violence (towards women or anyone else) but my knowledge of the Old Testament belies that belief.

I need to think on this more.

Started making plans to kill my own kind

A note on absenteeism. This has not been an easy couple of weeks for me. Unfortunately there is very little of it that is mine to talk about, but in the interest of completeness and honesty, right now is not an easy place for me to be. Things get better in bits and spurts, but it's not quite awesome. And by not quite awesome I mean at least I don't quite feel like I'm drowning in this moment.

As is my wont, when I get stressed out I create small, or sometimes large projects for myself. The current project that is percolating is one in which I see all of the monuments and museums in DC in one weekend. This is a baby idea right now, and i have two days in which to nurture it. How many hours will it take? Is my goal of only walking a reasonable one? How many miles will it be by the end? Should I go to museums that are closed, or am I exempt from those? Does the library of congress count as either a museum or a monument?

Does anyone want to join me?

Look for me when the sunbright swallow sings upon the birch bough high

It's been a day. Something in my room smells of cat piss and I have not yet determined what that is.
Awesome.

It gets you down, there 's no spark, no light in the dark

There are a million things I want to write about, but in the harsh reality of the fact that, in fact, no one is interested in what I ate for lunch, I don't really know what to say about any of it.
How do we know which are the right decisions to make? How do I know if I am living my life well, if I am a help to my friends, a comfort to them in their time of need? How do I know how to be the person I should be?

I was recently faced with a person who said he would not be able to date someone who is religious. I didn't push him on what he meant by religious. Does he mean that he couldn't date someone who believes in god, who isn't an atheist, or that he couldn't date someone who takes the bible as the only truth... he used ambiguous language. Of course that wasn't the only problem, between us anyway.

I'm not an atheist, I never have been. I'm not agnostic... I think that a lot of modern religion is a crutch that people use in order to feel less alone in an entirely frightening world, and religion as a crutch is a lot healthier for the body than drugs as a crutch, or self mutilation, or any number of other things that people use in order to travel through a world that is generally fairly terrifying.

But I'm not religious. Sometimes I wish I could be. Someday maybe I will. But I was always be a questioner. I am not the kind of person who can follow a rule for the sake of being told to. My mom once said that was what faith was all about, following a rule that you don't understand in order to show that you believe in whomever set the rule. Faith is far more frightening, and beautiful to me. Faith is what keeps people having children, what allows us to look one another in the eye, what prompts us to create things of beauty, and to continue looking for goodness in others.

I don't have a whole lot of faith right now. It's been a hard year, and I feel pretty trampled. I'd like for someone to give me the answers for a little while, and while I know that isn't something that's actually acceptable for me, I can see how tempting it is for others who find themselves losing their faith.

1. Do you sleep with your wardrobe doors open or closed?
Closed
2. Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotels?
Only if it's a nice hotel and I like the way the stuff smells.
3. Have you ever 'done it' in a hotel room?
Yes.
4. Have you ever stolen a street sign before?
Yes.
5. Do you like to use post-it notes?
Only since starting my current job.
6. Do you cut out coupons but then never use them?
Yep.
7. Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?
Bear.
8. Do you always smile for pictures?
Only if asked to.
9. What is your biggest pet peeve?
Apathy
10. Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out?
In mostly.
11. Do you ever count your steps when you walk?
When I was younger I did, actually I counted stairs, and sometimes I still do.
12. Have you ever peed in the woods?
Sure.
13. Do you ever dance even if there's no music playing?
Depends on my mood.
14. Do you chew your pens and pencils?
Pens, not penscils (I don't like the taste of eraser)
15. Ever talk on a cell phone in a public bathroom?
Not public bathrooms.
16. Do you like popcorn from those big tins?
Nah, it tends to be stale.
17. What is your "Song of the week"?
Rilo Kiley- Hail to Whatever You Found in the Sunlight that Surrounds You
18. Is it okay for guys to wear pink?
Who am I to tell a guy not to wear pink?
19. Do you still watch cartoons?
If I had cable I would watch adult swim.
20. Whats your favorite scary movie?
The scary movie that scared me the most was The Ring. I don't generally *like* scary movies so I don't have a favorite.
21. Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some?
It wouldn't be hidden if I told.
22. What do you drink with dinner?
Water or beer.
23. What do you dip a chicken nugget in?
When I ate chicken I would dip nuggets in bbq sauce. I have fake chicken nuggets now, and I tend to dip them in bleu cheese or italian dressing.
24. What is your favorite food/cuisine?
Right now i'm a big fan of veggie restaurants, but I have a soft spot for Indian Buffet.
25. Last person you kissed/kissed you?
Irrelevant.
26. Were you ever a boy/girl scout?
"I was a boy scout once... a girl scout too... till some brat got scared!"
27. Ever gone skinny dipping?
For the first time this year :-)
28. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper?
I wrote a letter to a friend back in Denver on the flight to Boston Friday night.
29. Can you change the oil on a car?
I haven't done it yet, but I'm sure I'm capable of doing so.
30. Ever gotten a speeding ticket?
Twice in a month a couple of years ago.
31. Ran out of gas?
Nope.
32. Favorite kind of sandwich?
Portobello mushroom with mozerella, basil and tomato.
33. Best thing to eat for breakfast?
Greasy diner food.
34. What is your usual bedtime?
between 11-1
35. Are you lazy?
Kind of.
36. When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for halloween?
Lots of different stuff. The best was the year I dressed up as Death from Sandman. That was in high school though so I don't know if it counts.
37. Ever eat a Chaco Taco?
Yeah. Chaco Tacos are SWEET. Not as good as the ice cream cones that they used to sell at the snack bar in middle school with the chocolate in the bottom, but still pretty good.
38. How many languages can you speak?
I speak English fluently, I understand Hebrew (but speak poorly at best), and I've studied Spanish and German. Arabic is next.
39. Do you have any magazine subscriptions?
Wired and Foreign Affairs
40.Which are better legos or lincoln logs?
Legos.
41. Are you stubborn?
Sometimes.
42. Who is better...Leno or Letterman?
eh.
43. Ever watch soap operas?
Does Grey's Anatomy count?
44. Afraid of heights?
Only in buildings.
45. Sing in the car?
Sometimes. Don't have a car anymore.
46. Dance in the shower?
Nope, I'd probably kill myself.
47. Dance in the car?
Nope.
48. Ever used a gun?
No.
49. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?
A couple of years ago my dad had some pictures taken of me and my brother.
50. Do you think musicals are cheesy?
Depends which. West Side Story, yes, Rent, kinda, The Phantom of the Opera, not so much.
51. Is Christmas stressful?
Not my holiday
52. Ever been to GoofyAuctions.com?
No...?
53. Favorite type of fruit pie?
Apple
54. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?
Astronaut, writer, water ballerina
56. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?
Yeah
57. Take a vitamin daily?
try
58. Wear slippers?
yeah
59. Wear a bath robe?
yeah
60. What do you wear to bed?
tee shirt and sweats or boxers, or just underwear
61. Your First Concert?
By myself, Metallica on the Re-Load tour
62. Wal-Mart, Target or K-Mart?
none
63. Nike or Adidas?
converse all stars
64. Cheetos Or Fritos?
doritos
65. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?
sunflower seeds
66. Ever have a hidden piercing?
Does navel count, or are we looking for more hidden?
67. Ever take dance lessons?
Yeah
68. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?
huh?
69. Can you curl your tongue?
Yes.
70. Ever won a spelling bee?
Nope
71. Have you ever cried because you were so happy?
I don't think so.
72. Ever eat a booger?
When I was young
73. Own a record player?
Yeah.
74. Regularly burn incense?
no
75. Ever been in love?
Yes.
76. Who would you like to see in concert?
The Beatles
77. What was your last concert you saw?
I saw Say Hi to Your Mom on Wednesday night.
78. Hot tea or cold tea?
Usually hot tea.
79. Ever ran around outside without a shirt?
Not since I was little.
80. Favorite kind of cookie?
Chocolate chip
81. Can you swim well?
pretty well
82. Can you hold your breath without manually holding your nose?
Yes.
83. Are you patient?
Mostly
84. Band or DJ?
Band
85. Ever won a contest?
Yeah
86. Ever had plastic surgery?
No.
87. Which are better black or green olives?
Green.
88. Can you knit or crochet?
Both
89. Best room for a fireplace?
Never had one.
92. Who was your high school crush?
My first boyfriend.
93. Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way?
No.
94. Do you have kids?
No.
95. Do you want kids?
Yeah.
96. What're your favorite colors?
Blue and Green, and sometimes dark red.
97. Do you miss anyone right now?
Not really
98. Who do you wanna see right now?
No one in particular.
99. Do you enjoy your job?
In waves
100. What college did you or want to go to?
I went to Guilford College.

Hahvahd Skwayah

That's my imitation of the Car Guys. That being said, this weekend i am in Cambridge visiting a dear, wonderful friend. Today we had a wonderful relaxing day, observed the shabbat in a way I haven't done since I was in Israel, and walked around. I met her friends, which was also amazing. I like Cambridge (I have to keep in mind that all of the time that I think I've spent in Boston has actually been in Cambridge, except for the twenty minutes we were walking on the other side of the river this afternoon), though I don't know if this is really a place I would want to live. It's a little bit overwhelming as a locale, it doesn't seem as readily accesible as the other cities in which I've spend single days or weekends (San Francisco/ Berkely and Chicago). Although really when I moved to DC I hadn't spent a whole lot of time in the city, mostly out in Northern Virginia or Maryland. Not that at the moment I'm all that concerned with my next move, I'm still recovering from the last one.
Being around Rosy has reminded me of home. It's strange, I keep trying to think of DC as home, I try to say "going back to Denver" instead of "going home", but Denver is still the last place I could really call home. I love DC, but it's not home yet. I don't love people in DC, I don't love places in DC. I feel like I'm on an extended summer camp or something. I've actually lived in DC less time than I lived in Israel. Anyway, this was really just a brief update, and Rosy and I are going to watch some Gray's Anatomy.

Lessons of the day:

When flying on the shuttle between Washington DC and Boston at 9pm from National Airport it is completely unnecessary to get to the airport an hour and twenty minutes early, no matter what they say. Go home, get your i-pod and inhaler, you won’t miss the flight.

When being paid hourly GO HOME at 5 pm. Especially if you have a flight to catch and haven’t packed yet (so you don’t forget your i-pod and inhaler, or run around like a lunatic thus frightening the cats, who will subsequently most likely pee on your bed).

Bank of America exists in Boston. Who knew? (except all of you Bostonians… you don’t count)

Tourists can be made noticeable by
a. their accents
b. their exclamation over the presence of Annie’s Pretzel stand in the airport
c. being tanned orange and wearing white pants in November

Stress makes you an unpleasant person. Don’t flip out, and breathe (so that you don’t need the inhaler you left at home)

No matter what you say, you aren’t really going to study for the GRE at the airport, on the plane, or while you are in Boston. Let’s be honest.

The combination of $7 earphones and your computer effectively mimics an ipod until you want to start walking.

Your dependence on your ipod, and the fact that you noticed it was missing a full 45 minutes before your inhaler is somewhat distressing and you should probably have your head examined.

She plays pop music of the future

The touring pink lamp.


It was not a great day today. There was about an hour there where I thought it might be, but not so much.
Things that were good today:

Rilo Kiley
Making pumpkin pie (for the first time ever!)
Drunk dialing my mom
Thinking about Boston tomorrow

Last night I saw Say Hi to Your Mom, which was unexpected, and fun and wonderful. Jenn and Susan came with me, even though we were all tired and had never been to the venue before. And what a venue it was. Quite strange. Anyway, I don't think I've ever been to a show with fewer people. But it was fun, and there were enough people that it wasn't a complete wash.

I just realized I forgot to do my laundry. Crap.

Seeing Ghosts

There's a definite downside to the part of google chat in which people can attach pictures to their profiles. This is that when I scrolled over my ex boyfriend's name (with whom I chat perhaps once every two weeks or so), I saw his picture, and it startled me. It's not that I've been avoiding his picture, it's that after breaking up with someone there is a process. And generally fairly early in the process I purge my life of the visual reminders, the pictures all go in a box. I have the box, and I have the pictures, and occassionally I even see their digital counterparts on my computer as I scroll through the 4,000 odd pictures on my computer. I was unprepared, and it was like seeing a ghost. It fixated me for a moment, and then I moved on.

In other news, I love sudaphed. If it wouldn't get me put on all sorts of federal watch lists I would probably buy it in bulk. I didn't realize how congested I have been for the last week until this morning when I finally broke down and took sudaphed, and dear sweet lord, do I feel better today than I have in weeks.

A retrospective in stickers

I have voted in every election since I have been eligible to vote. I overnight mailed an absentee ballot from Israel when I was studying there, and that was an odd year election. I did not always get the nifty stickers, because for the majority of my voting existence I have voted absentee, and this is the first year that Colorado has included stickers with their absentee ballots. When I was a small child I would ask my mom for her "I voted" sticker and she would never give it to me. She would say that I hadn't voted, and when I had voted I could have a sticker. She also would not let me pull the lever on the old voting machines. My mom is a purist.

Despite my jaded feelings towards our fair democracy, I have voted, and I will vote, every year until I die.

Because I can't bitch about it if I don't vote.

Yesterday morning I woke at 4:30 in the morning to books falling on my head. I had stored them on the top ledge of the window frame. This did not seem like an ill-fated plan at the time because I had done so on my other window frames with no ill effect. And, in truth, these books stayed put for a month and a half.

Beyond the physical discomfort of suffering a bloody nose from paperbacks falling on my face, there is potentially some psychological trauma that may need to be dealt with stemming from being assaulted by the paper-back copy of Anne Frank's diary that I read in second grade.

Tomorrow is mid-term elections. I felt pretty removed this year, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I've just moved, and if there's anything more complicated than the electoral college it has to be DC politics. Since I plan to raise my familiy in Denver (whenever that may be) I don't feel badly about having voted absentee in Colorado. The big issues in my district were the gubanatorial election, the two marriage amendments. There was a seat in the running, but it is a Democrat versus someone in the Green Party.

Getting back to the two marriage amendments. One is a definition of marriage stating that it is between a man and a woman. The other is a domestic partnerships amendment which also defines marriage as between a man and a woman, but allows that people in domestic partnerships should have the exact same rights. Personally, I don't have any problem defining marriage as one thing and domestic partnerships as another, as long as they really truly mean the same thing. To me it reeks of "seperate but equal" and we know how well that worked out. I don't understand what the problem is. I don't understand why two women being wives detracts from a man and a woman's joy in being husband and wife. Why is it so offensive?

For legal/ civic purposes I think everyone should get a domestic partnership. Let's removed the term in question from the equation. Everyone gets a domestic partnership, and if you want to get "married" you can do so in your church/synagogue/coven whatever. If you belong to a religious organization which objects to the love you have for your partner, at that point it becomes your issue, not the government's.

If I thought anybody read this I would prepare myself for an onslaught, but since I think there are maybe three people in the world who check it periodically I'm not all that concerned.

I'm feeling disenchanted with democracy. Don't get me wrong, I love to vote, it's crucial to vote, GO VOTE TOMORROW (the three of you who are reading this... maybe). It's just that I can't get past the idea that the people are stupid. Or maybe not the people. I don't know any truly stupid people, so I have a hard time qualifying anyone as stupid. And yet the American People (writ large) seem to allow, condone, encourage incredibly upsetting behavior. I don't understand the disconnect. Where is the majority that voted for Bush two years ago? I haven't met any of them... where are they stashed?

Anyway, I belive in the power of democracy, but I can't help but think that the people with whom I share this democracy aren't paying attention.

The system is too big, and too broken.

Quote of the Day

Question received today Nov. 6, 2006-"What/ Who is google"?

Today I met a woman who is truly living a life of courage, tenacity and hope. She lives in a war zone and helps women to support themselves and their families. She goes to work every day down different routes so that she decreases the opportunity for those who don't like what she does to hurt or kill her. She lives the decisions that she makes every day, and she is aware of their implications. Her temerity is tempered by realism. She is scared, and she is angry and she despairs.

I got to spend time with this amazing woman, and as much as I enjoyed being near her, listening to her, I felt unqualified to exist near her. In a way, being near to her made me feel like a spoiled, whining child. I had nothing of worth to share with her from my life, nothing that I could give to her that had the power and importance of what she gave to me. I have lived a life of privilege tempered by social conscious and responsibility. I am not embarrased of the life I have lived to this point, and that I was lucky enough to be born in a safe place and time. I have a fair enough understanding of odds to know that I am damn lucky in drawing the life I did.

She told me stories that broke my heart, and all I could do was listen, but listening seemed like too little. How should I respond to stories about rape, murder, societal corruption, the overwhelming and paralyzing affects of poverty? Every day she wakes up and faces the visceral, intellectual and emotional cost of war head on. It reminds me of visiting the zoo as a small child. I always wanted to go see the rhinocerous pen, because you could see on the painted metal door where she rammed it with her head. The door was dented and the paint was chipped, and looking at it you knew that it was a small battle won by the animal, because at some point the zoo stopped repainting the door.

Every time I get in a car,or buy a piece of fruit from New Zealand I feel as though in a small way I am enabling the war to continue. Every time I turn off the radio, ignore the newspaper or watch a stupid sitcome I want to do penance for my escapism. How can I justify wanting to ignore the world, when I live safely and calmly in the wealthiest nation in the world? How can I stand next to women who risk their lives every day to make a world that does not notice their existance a better place?

I have a responsibility to these women, to do my best from where I am and with what I have, to honor their risk, their courage, their fear and their pain every day with the life I lead.

There's so much beauty it could make you cry

It surprises me to be able to say that since leaving college one of the things I enjoy most on the weekends is sleeping in, but not sleeping in too much. I was never like some of my friends who could, and would easily sleep until 4 or 5 in the afternoon. But more often than not I wouldn't get up until about 1 or 2. I love that now, on the weekends, I can wake up at 9 and feel like I've been great and wondrous gift of an extra hour and a half of sleep. Actually making a concerted effort to get six or more hours of sleep a night has made this seem reasonable.

This morning I awoke after being up far later last night than I have been in weeks. And by far later what I really mean is 2:30am. I wasn't doing anything interesting, I was recovering from the adrenaline rush of trying to fix a crisis that arose at work. It involved airplanes and airports in New York and possibly Homeland Security and I can probably blame President George W. Bush for the fact that I was up until 2:30am. I'm gonna roll with that unless I find out on Monday that it was someone else's fault.

Anyway, what caused me to wake up at the same time this morning that I do every other day of the week? A strange crashing sound out my window (which, despite a "freezing warning" was open because I live on the third floor of my house, and we all learned in kindergarten or something that heat rises... so it's freezing down in the kitchen, and a tropical resort in my room). I bleary-eyed looked out the window and could make no sense of the situation. And then I remembered that I've worn glasses for the last ten years of my life, and making visual sense of the world below would be aided by actually putting them on my face. And then I saw the dog.

Far below on the sidewalk was a dog I have noticed in my neighborhood before. I notice this dog because in an age of Human Societies, and a concerted effort to reduce the population of mutts in the world, it is very rare to see a.... shall I say, "intact" dog. But intact he is. Independent of his anatomical correctness, the dog looks sort of like a cross between a greyhound and a great dane. He has the height and face of a great dane, but the body and build of a greyhound. Anyway. The glorious sound that brought me out of slumber at 7:30 this morning, the crashing of metal against metal was caused by this dog.

Two cars, swerving to avoid the dog? Someone distracted by his dangling bits, crashing into a lightpole?

Nay my friends. The dog’s owner had tied him to a wrought iron patio chair, and apparently the dog had decided he no longer wanted to be where he was, and so he left. But he took the chair with him, because you never really know when you will need a nice patio chair. And as he was running with his freedom down the glorious streets of North West Washington DC he came to an abrupt stop. His buddy, the chair, had become intractably lodged underneath the creepy black van parked outside my house.

This was when I began observing the scene. Uncomprehending, and still reminding my eyes of how to focus in order for my brain to process information, I saw a giant dog and a creepy black van outside my house. And like any good neighbor I stayed in my warm, cozy bed and opened the window a little wider. After a moment I heard the frantic calls of the dog’s person. Having recently spent untold hours calling for a reluctant animal who is doing what he oughtn't, I felt a twinge of guilt for not pulling on some sort of clothing and going out to assist the guy (at this point I didn't quite understand why the dog couldn't freely continue on his jaunt to the great dog park of freedom). But I'm kind of intimidated by any dog owner who, for whatever reason, does not "fix" his dog.

Guy arrived, dog was disentangled from creepy black van, and guy, firmly scolding the dog, retreated, chair in tow.

And, at 7:35 this morning I was in my cozy bed, with two small cats curled around me, observing this poor man's misfortune, and empathizing. From my warm cozy bed. If i stayed up all night and slept until 2pm I would never get to see these things.

NaBloPoMo

Ok,
So I'm a little late to the NaBloPoMo scene. I guess that's what happens when I fall of the face of the Earth (or at least the internet) in order to move and start a job which takes up a significant part of my life.
There I was, about to write something about work, and then I remembered dooce and what a damnfool idea that is.

So here I am internets. I am taking pictures again, I am writing again, at least a little, and hopefully soon I will be making art again. It really is a case of using it or losing it I have found. but for this moment there seem to be homicidal cats to wrangle, and sleep to be had. There will be a real post in the morning.

shredding

There is something truly satisfying about standing in front of the shredder and destroying a year and a half of unused checks from three different bank accounts. I'm purging my life of stuff that is taking up space, and I am protecting myself against identity theft and fraud, and also the shredder makes an incredibly satisfying hum.



On the subject of stuff that takes up space. I've been feeling slightly oppressed by my connections to the material world recently. I am feeling held back by my books, my movies, my furniture. I wish I could just walk away from about 95% of it, and I suppose I could, but I know that there is some of it I would inevitably miss if I did so. I am trying to be a bit firmer about getting rid of stuff when I bring new stuff into my life, about getting rid of clothes that I really haven't worn in a long time. I'm working on giving away the books I am not actually going to read again, or that I don't think I will want to share with someone special at some point in the future. Yet I am haunted by the sense of "But what if...." when I get rid of things... especially books.



I think that some of my problems with my stuff right now stem from the fact that when I moved I brought a two bedroom apartment's worth of possessions and have, for the most part, tried to make most of it go into a single bedroom (of course the common area furniture remains in common areas). I don't have an unreasonable amount of stuff, I'm simply trying to make it fit into an unreasonable space. Does that really mean I need to get rid of 4 of my 5 copies of Ender's Game? Probably. But I don't necessarily have to get rid of Where the Wild Things Are, or the candles I brought from Denver. I just need to be a little bit more strategic about how I store everything. Which leads me to how I came home last night and found that half of the books I had artfully arranged on the upper sill of my windows had come crashing to the ground at some point during the day yesterday. I have a hard enough time keeping my room in some semblance of neatness without my room actively working against me.



Argh.