Avec Moi Ce Soir?

Is This Blog Magic?

2011-10-17T19:55:00.000-07:00

My stars, how its raining men in my life lately!

I can hardly turn around without meeting someone new. I have to say--if a boyfriend is not in the cards right now, I will gladly take this as a second option. Flirting is just so fun.

In my last post I was lamenting the inappropriate ages of all the eligible bachelors. Then, it seems that as soon as the last blog posted, every new man was suddenly between the wonderful, golden ages of 28-31. Was that the universe's reply to what I wrote?

I'm willing to consider it as an option. Which brings me to this post. If putting it in writing and throwing it on the web helps change the tide of who I'm meeting, let's try to tackle this next challenge.

While my dating life has made the vast improvement in terms of age, now, confusingly, all these new men are politically conservative! I think it speaks volumes as to how frustrating the age issue was to admit that even knowing their politics, I am still going on dates with these guys. Because I mean, come on. We know that shit isn't going anywhere. But going on dates is lovely and spending an evening with a man my own age? Its such a remarkable experience.

Still, I feel like most conversations are full of landmines. How quickly any topic can veer into politics-especially if I am the one speaking! Talking about food, volleyball and TV can only get me so far.

So here it is, universe! Thank you-really-for the improvement on the age issue. Now, if we could just get someone a bit more liberal. That's all I need! Everything else is great! They've been good looking, funny, fun, smart and laid back. Just need them to be leftist.

Let's see what you've got.

One for the Ages

2011-10-07T14:02:00.000-07:00

I recently stumbled upon all these blogs written by single women across the country, chronicling their mostly terrible dates and thoughts on being single. Its been a comfort to know that there are women--women my age!!--who are still single, and struggling with the same things I am. Doubts about our own worth (is it something horrifying about me that makes me unable to find a partner), doubts about the need to be in a relationship (is it me or society that thinks I even need a partner), doubts about the guys we date (is this moron really my only option for a partner?). Most of these women seem smart, funny, independent and lively. If they are still single, then maybe it is not something so inherently monstrous about me that has me single as well.

The blogs remind me that at one point I had considered making this blog about my own single life. At the time I thought that was an original idea (ha!) but I didn't follow through with it for 2 reasons. 1) I don't, in fact, relish the idea of my love life being one big joke and 2)...not enough dating stories to compile a blog!

My blogging sisters found a way to deal with the second problem--online dating. Ugh. I am so not ready to do that again. When I think of online dating again, the words that pop into my head are like "hell", "torture"..."agony." I seriously, seriously hated it. That was 3 years ago and I'm still, like...have PTSD about it. I was hoping to never ever online date again. I am still far far away from wanting to, but I have noticed this one problem.

One of my biggest complaints about finding someone to date is the problem of age. I can constantly be heard bitching about the fact that all the non-retarded guys that are age-appropriate for me are already in relationships. Despite all my whining about this, I have been hoping that maybe I just don't know where to find them. But the last few weeks have me feeling more than ever that this is an actual, serious problem.

A month ago, I broke it off with a 34-year old. Just to clarify, I DO consider this age appropriate. Too bad it turns out there were some pretty solid reasons why he's 34 and not already married to someone else. Anyway. Since then, I have been pursued by a 25 year old...which, before I met him, I also would have considered age appropriate. But the more we texted, the less attractive he became. He did things like spell it "definnately", "good mourning" and "four play" and I was astounded by what a complete and total dumbass he was. Maybe its not fair to blame his stupidity on his age, but that's how I saw it. Things with him are currently on hold, although most like "on hold" will turn into never talking to him again.

Last weekend I got asked out by a 24-year old. (I refused. If 25 is too young, 24 is obviously not going to work either).

AND THEN, last night I met a guy. This was an interesting episode, let me just paint the picture for you. I play tons of volleyball, and evidently a couple of weeks ago someone had seen me at a league night talking to a mutual friend and had wanted to meet me. Not knowing this, I had left early as I was sick. Said mutual friend informed me that his hot friend was interested so I had better get my ass to the court this week (said friend is gay, so his use of the word "hot" is trusted-but he's also bossy). So, I get to the volleyball courts, I meet the guy, who is indeed hot, we play volleyball--he's an amazing player, which for me makes him extra, super hot--and although I can't say a shooting star was born with our union, he seemed cool. Judging by his looks, I had him figured for my age or maybe a couple years older.

Well, I did some Facebook stalking today. The guy is 22. 22!!! Holy hell!! What the fuck! At the speed they are getting younger these days, but next month I will be some freshman high schooler's homecoming date. 22, good lord.

This has caused me to reflect--I do, in fact, meet guys all the time. But they are either so young or in their 40s. What if online dating truly is the only way to meet single guys that are my age? Which of the three options do I prefer? Staying single for all eterntity (seems most likely), dating guys that are either children or fathers, or wading back into the online dating pool...

Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh.

Little Poem for a Little Girl

2011-08-15T16:08:00.000-07:00

I've been co-leading a women's process group at work. By co-leading, I mean that I sit there and either smile or frown, depending on what's appropriate, while my co-worker does all the actual talking and leading and engaging of clients. I am obviously the most valuable coworker ever.

Anyway. My co-worker feels that it is appropriate for her and I to participate in all the conversations and activities that we lead our clients through. The last few weeks have been spent working on our inner child. Don't worry, when she first started talking about healing the child within, I thought she was more than a little full of it myself. It sounds so Freudian, so analytical, so contrived and ridiculous. Now that I've done some work with it, I have to say there is some value in trying to remember an untainted time in your life and seeing how you can connect that to healing and change.

Today she had us think of our "pure child", and describe her with 5 words, and then take 5 verbs to match and write a poem. I participated in this activity begrudgingly, not knowing where she was going with it, and still thinking mostly that it was silliness. But when I read my poem to the group, I found to my total surprise that it made me tear up a little. I can't quite say what emotion caused the tears, but I do feel like I want to hold on to this little poem. Somehow it seemed like the next step was to throw it up on the blog.

"Abadibble"
She runs, uninhibited, like a gust of wind.
She laughs, feeding energy with energy.
She explores her world, and feels excitement and anticipation for what is around each corner.
She imagines, and creates games and play that are purely for fun and joy.
She builds, and finds delight in her forts and castles, unweighed down by responsibility.

And the 8th Dwarf Was Named Doubt

2011-08-02T19:27:00.000-07:00

I'm a therapist now.

Its been a long time coming. There's a lot of feelings and thoughts that go along with it. Joy. (I'm doing something that matters!) Pride. (I worked my ass off for this!) Relief. (Thank god I'm out of that paralegal job.) Fascination. (Trauma is so interesting).

But mostly I wonder if I'm up to the task.

How on earth can I be effective in another person's life?

Grad school supposedly taught me that, at least on paper, but we had an "unconventional" program and they really glossed over the clinical side of things. I spend so much time in my sessions wondering what the fuck I should say to my client. My client tells me she went swimming yesterday with her aunt. I focus intently on not yawning. My client tells me she gets panic attacks frequently, and starts having one in the room. I try not to have a response panic attack of my own and all I can do is tell her to breathe in and out. My client tells me in graphic detail how her father used to beat her. I try to make sure my mouth stays shut while in my mind there's a picture of myself gaping at her, open-mouthed, in shock and horror.

A hundred times a day, a thousand times a week, I wonder if my clients feel let down by my presence. Mental health can be a terrifyingly dark and lonely road. At the very least, a therapist should shine a flashlight on the path to healing. I spend nearly all my time banging the flashlight against my forehead.

Sometimes I want to go up to my supervisors and shake them. "What were you THINKING hiring me?" Is it not so painfully clear to everyone around me that I don't know what I'm doing?

And how long before someone notices my incompetence and exposes me for the total fraud that I am?

Yo, Akon

2011-06-29T08:05:00.000-07:00

Akon sings, "I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful."

His answer?

Chorus-- "Damn, you'se a sexy bitch."

Another line--" ...not just your neighborhood ho..."

Really Akon? That was the best you could come up with while trying to be respectful? Maybe you should try a little bit harder.

Good song, though.

What's a Few Million

2011-03-18T12:11:00.000-07:00

Last night I was having dinner with my family and we were discussing the Chernobyl disaster. For context for future readers who may not remember exactly what was happening in the world on March 18, 2011, the world is currently on edge, waiting to find out what will happen with the Fukushima nuclear power plant in Japan. Well, some people are on edge. Other people are stupid and still advocating expanding nuclear energy. But that's another blog.

My dad said there was a recent report published that said that Chernobyl caused roughly 1 million casualties to date.

I was astounded. 1 million. That is an enormous number.

I scanned my history lessons in my head. Trying to get a grip on the number 1 million, I offered the alternative number that in the Vietnam War, only 55,000 died.

My dad said "55,000 Americans."

I looked at him blankly. Meaning...whaaat exactly?

"Three million Vienamese died."

Three million Vietnamese died.

3,000,000.

Three times as much, apparently, as died from radiation poisoning because of Chernobyl.

I was a history major in college. I was a model history student 1st through 12th grade. I read history for fun. I'd rather discuss ancent battles than current housing markets, and could argue more effectively about Hitler's rise to power than George W. Bush's. And yet I never knew that so many Vietnamese people died in the war. Never did it even occur to me that the token 55,000 only referred to us whiteys.

3 million.

3 million.

Golden Friends

2011-01-03T18:12:00.000-08:00

I recently had lunch with a friend I haven't seen in about 3 years. She got married about 4 years ago.

I wasn't sure if the conversation would flow or if it would be awkward. I had some questions in mind that I could bust out if needed. Considering she's been married 4 years and we're almost 30, one of the more obvious ones in my arsenal was to ask if she was planning on having kids soon.

About 15 minutes into our lunch, she referred to one of her pregnant friends as "harboring a fetus."

Guess I can skip that one, then.

Stop It

2010-11-04T15:41:00.000-07:00

There's nothing that irritates me more than someone coming up to me while I'm reading and getting in my face and asking "WHATCHA READIN THERE?"

Especially if I don't know you.

I will punch you in the throat.

Paska Peruna

2010-08-25T08:54:00.000-07:00

I've been playing a lot of volleyball this summer, with a ragtag group of people at Wash Park. One of them is Finnish--a real Finn!--and I was pretty excited when I found that out. Still, I didn't rush over to him and immediately tell him that I used to live in Finland. I wanted to have time to talk about it and also...he's crazy hot, and its scary talking to people who have more muscles on their stomach than I do in my whole body.

Let me just take a moment to say that Finland is very dear to my whole family. We all four loved the time we spent living there and miss it sorely. We are fierce defenders of anything Finnish and I remember getting outraged at my mom when I was younger for pointing out that I am in fact American, not Finnish. There was a time when I thought in Finnish and had a heavy accent when I spoke English. That time is unfortunately long gone, but I like to think the language still lives dormant in me somewhere.

Last week after playing several of us went to a bar and The Finn and I ended up next to each other. The time had come for my big confession. After we had gotten settled I turned to The Finn and said "Guess where I used to live?"

He said "I have no idea...Venezuela?"

(What the fuck?)

Well, that threw me off.

I huffed and stuttered that no, why would I make him guess if that was the answer, of course that's not it, I used to live in FINLAND.

His face brightened just in the way I had been expecting. But then he started to talk about how great Finland is. He sounded like a travel agent, but what's more is that he wasn't telling me anything I didn't know. I kept trying to say "I know" or "you're preaching to the choir" but now it was like we were both speaking words that kept running into each other in midair, instead of filing out in the disciplined exchange that some people call conversation.

Then came the question I knew would come. "Do you speak any Finnish?"

Dammit.

I had to confess that I used to, but now I barely remember it, I can only say the most basic of phrases. "How are you?" "I'm a girl." The most sophisticated sentence that I can piece together right now is "The boy is red."

He wasn't going to let me off the hook though. He told me to just say something in Finnish, anything.

He stared at me expectantly; intensely. My mind went completely blank and even the few introductory phrases I used to rely on slipped out of my brain. I opened and then closed my mouth. We stared at each other. There was only one phrase left that I would never ever forget, but it was sort of abnormal. This was getting awkward. Finally I sat up straight and looked him in the eye and said in Finnish,

"Shit potato."

Its what my sister and I used to call each other when we were fighting.

And do you know, he didn't even laugh? Didn't even crack a smile? How is that even possible. If someone came up to me and those were the only English words he knew, I'd laugh until I cried. I guess its true what they say after all. Finns have no sense of humor.

Political Frustrations

2010-06-30T13:23:00.000-07:00

One of the things I chide myself over is that when conversations turn toward politics, I tend to put on a self-mute button. Politics lead to so much drama, and I prefer not to be in confrontations of any kind. But I have such strong opinions about politics that maybe I'm doing a disservice by not standing up for my views more often.

Then I actually try to engage in one of these conversations and remember why I don't do it.

On May 31, an aid ship headed to Gaza was boarded by Israeli soldiers. At least 9 people were killed and a media frenzy followed.

A few days later an acquaintance of mine brought up the incident. She started out by saying the media is so interesting, the way they can skew situations, which I fully agree with. Then she said that some news source (that I have since forgotten) showed pictures of the aid workers with knives in their hands.

I stared at her blankly.

Israel, she says, therefore, actually did have to defend themselves from these aid workers.

And I totally snapped. Some people had knives in their hands, so Israel should board their ship and kill people?? Israel has the 4th largest army in the world. Their weapons can do a lot more than slash someone at close range. What the fuck should they be threatened by a few people with knives for?? Additionally, who is to say that those aid workers (or boat personell; its never fully clear who had the knives) didn't run to the kitchen in a panic and grab some knives, their only defense against soldiers with machine guns?

People in Gaza are dying. That ship was trying to bring food and medical supplies. How is it NOT a human rights violation for Israel to be responsible for people starving to death, for people dying of curable medical problems? And you're telling me about a couple of knives. Are you f'ing kidding me?

And that is why I can't talk politics with people. How am I supposed to have a rational conversation over such ridiculous shit.

Drunk Talk

2010-04-23T08:55:00.000-07:00

Me: Who wants to come to Central America with me in the fall?!

Jo: Let's go to Patagonia!

Me: What's in Patagonia?

Jo: Fuckin, penguins!!

Its Always Something

2010-02-11T13:57:00.001-08:00

Well.

You think you're having a fairly good day and then your key falls out of your pocket and into the toilet.

Oh, War

2010-02-04T11:37:00.000-08:00

Today at lunch I was reading the Westword and in the latest issue there is a cover story about returning Iraqi vets. I already know the numbers well from class; roughly 25% of returning vets have PTSD. That is an astounding amount, for those of you who don't spend all your time talking about trauma and PTSD, like I do.

Anyway, that's really not even the point. The point is, in reading the article about this particular vet, my heart suddenly cracked open and I nearly burst into tears, right there in Chipotle.

I have always been anti-war, pro-peace. Staunchly. People who supported war and/or went off to fight were always, to me, the enemy more than any foreign country or terrorist threat. Reports of dead soldiers from Iraq rarely even caught my attention as my thoughts were always...they knew what they were getting themselves into.

Geez, I can be such an asshole, right? Finally, today, I understood how callous I have been in my thoughts and feelings towards those in the military. Surely, most of the people who join the military really DO feel like they are doing the right thing, like they are fighting for a just cause, their country, their freedom, their families. And all I could ever do was look down on them and think they were full of shit, just because they didn't see things my way. I think of myself as open-minded but it took me 27 years to realize this? For shame.

I am truly embarassed about my lack of empathy in this situation and hope that in the future I can be more respectful towards serving-in-the-military-type issues.

On the other hand, I still just don't get it. While protecting your country, freedom, family or whatever may be deeply important to you, how can there be so many millions of people that think anything at all will be solved by killing others? That is such a juvenile way of dealing with problems, and yet millions of people make careers out of it, devote their lives to it. The success of societies through peace and not war is such an obvious truth to me that it absolutely boggles my mind that not everyone gets that.

Why, why, why is this not a universally accepted truth, like needing air to breathe or water to sustain life, or gravity to stay rooted to the ground?

Dating Tips

2010-01-19T13:27:00.000-08:00

I've spent the last couple months dating a slew of idiots. In my defense, I didn't realize they were all idiots before I dated them. I spent a lot of time complaining to my friends about the men I was going out with and the dates I had just finished. But now that I have started school again and no longer have the time to meet new men, let alone date them, I look back on the last several weeks and can't help but admit to myself that it was kind of fun. It was fun thinking of date ideas. It was fun to get dressed up to go somewhere. It was fun once again having the possibility that it might be a boy calling, instead of my mother or best friend (not that I dont love hearing from my mother or friends, best or otherwise). Mostly it was fun dissecting the dates with my friends and laughing over the ridiculousness that is the single male population of Denver.

Of course, I did learn from my experiences. Which of course got me to thinking, I should write a blog about it.

Some lessons I learned:

1. Men do not look good in coats that go past their knees. I'm pretty sure the only man on EARTH who can pull this look off is Denzel Washington, and even that is iffy. But especially if you're shorter than 6ft, for the love of god...just get a shorter coat.

2. I need to stop the cussing. I should fucking know better, but dammit, I can't seem to stop letting the shit fly out of my mouth. Also, I have been taking my cue from my dates, and apparently that's not ok. Even if HE cusses, SHE still is not allowed to. Clearly I didn't meet my soulmate in the last couple months, because I believe that The One doesn't care whether or not I cuss.

3. Alcohol on a first date is not worth it. While it might make you more relaxed in the beginning, you will find on the second date that the sexy and interesting male specimen you met earlier in the week is in fact, when sober, kind of neanderthal-looking and outrageously dull.

4. If a guy says to you "You have such soft skin" and your reply is "No offense, but when is the last time you touched a woman?", he will get offended anyway.

5. Never, ever, ever sit in the front row at a comedy club. Oh wait, I already knew that. I guess the lesson here is never, ever, ever allow your date to convince you that sitting in the front row won't be that bad and that the comediens will not pick on you.

And would this post really be complete without a few tips for the guys? Methinks not.

Men:

1. Don't wear coats that go past your knees.

2. DO NOT EVER pull hair unless you are ABSOLUTELY POSITIVE she's into that.

3. If you are taking a girl out to a fancy restaurant date you might want to make sure that you know where the restaurant is, as well as how to get to the restaurant from your date's house. You might want to also make sure the restaurant is actually open.

And lastly, and this should not be new, but this is the most important part of being with a woman. No means no. No doesn't mean yes. No doesn't mean maybe. No doesn't mean try harder. No doesn't mean she's just "afraid it might feel good" (I still fume with rage thinking of this comment.) When she says no, she isn't just playing a game.

No means no. Respect it, or get the hell out of the dating world.

Some Questions

2010-01-10T11:41:00.000-08:00

This is kind of the sister blog to my entry several months ago that was "Some Observations." Actually, I dont remember what I called it, but that title would make sense to me.

Here are some questions that I would like answered. If anyone knows the answers, you should definitely let me know.

There's a good chance this blog will get added on to as time goes by.

As of 1/10/10, these are a few thoughts I've been mulling over:

1) Where do good looking single men grocery shop? I go to grocery stores all over the city, depending on what I am doing, and where I am, and I NEVER see hot single guys in the stores. One hundred percent of the time when I see a good-looking guy getting groceries, he is either attached at the hip with a woman, or wearing a wedding ring. WTF.

2) What in Jesus's name is a 'beautiful nightmare'?

(This next question makes me really really glad that I only tell a few people about this blog.)

3) People have phantom limbs, right? And if someone has lost a hand (or whatever) they can still feel pain in it, they can still feel cramps in it, it will even itch. The other day I found myself wondering, do eunuchs feel phantom balls? And since you can feel pain in parts of your body that are no longer there, do they ever experience...phantom blue balls??

Stay tuned for more brain-wrinkling musings.

Ahh, Kids

2009-11-20T13:02:00.000-08:00

I have a clinical internship this year, and one of the things I've been doing every week is group therapy for 8-10 year olds. Its supposed to focus on communcation skills.

I'm pretty new to the role of teacher type person slash...someone who is ever around children at all, so I've been getting a kick out of a lot of the stuff they say. A lot of the funniest stuff is not relatable with the written word, but this week I think we got one that I can pass on.

We've spent the last several weeks discussing how to share and how to all come to an agreement about things as a group and, about a month ago, we even introduced the word "compromise."

I thought my co-therapist was jumping the gun on that word, they are pretty young, but after a couple weeks they were using that word left and right without our prompting and it seemed like they were really getting the idea. We even had a kid carry it over into his individual therapy and talk about how he "compromised" with his sister by sharing the last cookie.

We were beaming with success and so proud of our super smart kiddos.

This week a new girl joined group. My co-therapist says "What do we do when we don't know someone?"

A resounding answer: "Com-pro-mise!"

So much for THAT victory.

Thoughts from Shantaram

2009-11-05T10:26:00.000-08:00

I've been reading Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts. Its quite an impressive book. Its an autobiographical account of his time living in Bombay as an escaped convict from Australia. He is so insightful. He writes with such beauty, some of his simplest descriptions make me want to put the book down and cry. And, always a bonus, he is funny as well. I absolutey recommend this book to anyone who hasn't read it.

I'm only about 100 pages into the 1000 page book, but there's an issue he's already brought up a couple of times that I have been getting stuck on. He describes India graphicly and honestly, making note of some shocking things he witnesses, such as a child slave market. He goes on to discuss his attitude that there are a lot of extremely horrible things in this world, and the only way to make them worse is when someone tries to help, and this seems to be his argument, his excuse, the balm to his conscience as to why he never takes action in any of these situations.

Now, I agree that there are a lot of instances where people are trying, with the purest of hearts, to improve a situation and all they do is screw it up in a myriad of new ways. Especially when you have all these westerners trying to enter different cultures and dominate the relief effort, without taking the time to understand the nuances of the very people they are extending their "aid" toward. Identifying these kinds of situations is, in fact, a big part of the master's program that I am in. Its also a big concern for me, that in my desire to work abroad I may find myself in a job that perpetuates a problem instead of alleviating it. I would quite honestly never ever work abroad than to be in that kind of position, and in fact have lately wondered if I should even puruse international work anymore. My point in all this me-focused rambling is that I do, quite deeply, understand that when there's pain in the world, it is no simple matter of just entering the scene with good intentions, and all becomes well.

But does that mean we shouldn't even try? Everyone should just keep their eyes on the ground, not reach out to other human beings, just because any condition, no matter how bad it is, could always be made worse? That is an awful, lazy, dismissive way of interpreting the world. I'm not saying Roberts could have fixed everything he witnessed, not even close, but damn, he could have at least tried. And maybe he does, later in the book, but I really don't think so.

This issue comes up when he's talking about being taken to a child slave market. He remarks on the starving children, and their ragged clothes, and their palpable fear. Then he frankly admits that he took not a single step to interfere with this process, to inquire about it later, to examine the system and see if there was a way to break it, to crack it, to even get one or two children out. Again, the argument about being a foreigner, about not making things worse, about trying to look at the bright side. The bright side of the situation, as he sees it, is that these kids would have starved to death, or died from disease if their parents had not sold them into the slave market. For every one Indian child that found themselves sold into the slave market, dozens more simply perished. Who is he to say that a life of slavery, of sexual abuse, of being treated as property is better than dying? Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, maybe it depends on who you are. But it certainly isn't so simple as to say "in fact, these children are lucky to be slaves, because the only other option for them is death." Targeting death as the very worst possible outcome is in itself a very western attitude.

Interfering in any problem, whether it be micro or macro, always carries with it the possibility of making things worse. Its important to recognize that. But I can not, I will not believe that doing nothing is the best possible option.

Another Snapshot

2009-10-21T10:06:00.000-07:00

There is another scene that keeps coming to me over and over when I think about my summer.

Autumn* and I walked to work together, most days.

One morning we were walking and it was particularly windy. Leaves and trash were swirling around everywhere. My eyes were half shut so I wouldn't get dirt in them.

A plastic bag came shooting toward us, pasted itself against Autumn's leg, and stayed there.

"What the fuck!", was her reaction.

Hahahahaha.

As if the wind, or the bag, or even Bosnia had done it on purpose.

*Name not changed to protect her identity.

Its the Little Things

2009-08-26T08:47:00.000-07:00

I had a GREAT summer. I traveled all over the place, made new friends and visited some cherished old ones, learned a lot of painful things about war and politics, saw a lot of breathtaking scenery, and never once denied myself anything that looked like a pastry. Or like chocolate. Or just anything tasty looking.

One day found me in Northern Ireland, wandering all over Derry County (on the all-inclusive Freedom of Northern Ireland pass, no less) having many adventures and misadventures with my friend Dacia. After a long day we were finally on the train home back into Derry the city and we were sitting across the aisle from a family playing cards.

I'm a card-game geek so I was watching them play, trying to figure out what game it was. Dacia and I sat and stared while father and son both flipped over every single card in their hand until the deck was out. And that was it. Nothing else ever happened in this "game".

"That was it?" I muttered. "What a crap game!"
Dacia, always a little more patient and tolerant than me, replied "Well, sometimes its the little things."

No sooner were those words out of her mouth when we hear the eight year old boy exclaim "What the HELL?!" Apparently he wasn't impressed with this game either.

Dacia was right though. Sometimes it IS the little things. That tiny, insignificant moment in time is one of my favorite memories from this summer, one that makes a laugh bubble up in my chest every time I think of it and I will probably will remember it much longer than a lot of other events from the summer.

Baffled

2009-08-21T14:35:00.000-07:00

Why do they still make grape jolly ranchers??

Is Being An Idiot the New Black?

2009-04-30T12:08:00.000-07:00

I've been considering lately writing something about race or sexual orientation, because these are two subjects that I have been thinking a lot about lately. I hadn't tried an entry yet because I wasn't sure I had anything worthwhile to share, or could express myself in a sensitive way. But last night I heard a dialogue on the radio that shocked and appalled me and now this blog seems like as good a medium as any for me to respond to what I heard. I am aware that I am still taking a risk in speaking for a population that I'm not a part of. If anyone reads this and finds me to be just another obnoxious, clueless straight person then please, feel free to comment and tell me so.

There is an evening dj that I often listen to when I'm driving places late in the day. I already know that she gets on the nerves of several of my friends, but I always kind of liked her. Last night, however, I think she lost one more listener.

Her topic for the evening was "Is being a lesbian the new black?". She listed a bunch of female celebrities who had recently, or are currently, dating women and kept referring to them as having "been lesbian", "gone lesbian" or "used to be lesbian", over and over. Her language alone pissed me off. First of all, if someone dated a woman but is dating a man now, they never were a lesbian to begin with. If you're going to spend all evening labeling people and putting them in boxes, maybe you should understand what the hell the labels mean to begin with.

Second of all, the entire idea that being a lesbian is for anyone simply a "fad" to go through is extremely offensive, ignorant and insensitive. Being a lesbian is not a reality that people undergo lightly; coming out of the closet takes a lot more courage and foresight than simply "is this the popular thing to do right now"? Also, the idea that people could wear a lesbian identity just for public relations reasons undermines the struggles of real people in the queer community who fight every day to try to be themselves.

Additionally, the dj and the people calling in kept asserting that it was easier in today's society to be a lesbian than to be gay. O RLY? You see that Lindsay Lohan dated a girl and that Ellen DeGeneres got married and now it's "easy" to be a lesbian? Obviously I take issue at any indication that being non-hetero is easy, but to also say that being a lesbian is more accepted than being gay is just the MOST ridiculous thing I have heard. Let's just look at Denver alone. There are gay bars, clubs, strip clubs, neighborhoods and parks. The les community has a couple of bars and...oh wait, that's it. One of the gay clubs designates one night a month as les night, but that's it. If you're a lesbian and want to go dancing among other lesbians, you better get out that one night because otherwise you have to wait 5 more weeks to do so. And do you see lesbians in the media ever except for when its two hot famous women making out? The gay community has "Brokeback" and "Milk". What do the lesbians have? (Disclaimer: I am certainly not saying that no one should ever make another movie with gay characters just because there are 2 out there.)

Essentially, it was really frustrating to hear so many people taking so lightly an issue which affects a lot of people around me. I suppose its a relief that at least no one called in damning queers or being intentionally cruel. Still, the ignorance of people, especially on this topic area, continues to astound me. I wish I could be more articulate about the entire issue but I'm having trouble siphoning my irritation into effective communication.

Please, people, can't we just evolve a little bit?

Worth Sharing

2009-04-27T08:00:00.001-07:00

Overheard outside the bar, by my friend Kim:

Girl 1: I am so horny that I'm about to just start humping.

Girl 2: I want my jacket back.

Some observations

2009-04-13T12:45:00.000-07:00

I tend to be a pretty unobservant person. How many friends do I have that started wearing glasses and about a year later I come along with "Heyyy, you got glasses!"? Or got their hair cut? Or moved and all I did was vaguely wonder why I hadn't seen them in awhile? Still, I do sometimes notice stuff. Some of its even worth sharing.

(Well, maybe its not worth sharing, but I feel like writing about it, that's the whole point of this blog, so I can write about whatever I feel like.)

Ok, Observation 1:
I noticed recently that when I say "please" what I really mean is "do it now", or probably even "do it now, i just dare you not to". I wonder if that's the case for other people too? If you are reading this and we are friends, please forget this immediately, so that you don't think I'm an asshole the next time we hang out.

Observation 2
Technology makes me dumber. One day my automatic car unlock button wasn't working on my keychain. I thought "Oh my god, I can't get into my car!!". It was a very real moment of panic. I almost called my dad. I'm relieved to report that I figured out what "keys" are for before that happened.

Facebook has made me forget that if I have friends with whom I want to catch up, I can actually e-mail them and find out, instead of waiting around to see if they post an informative status, from which I can gather my own conclusions about their life.

Technology makes my friends dumber too. Those of my friends with GPS units in their cars are without a doubt the worst people ever at finding where they are going. I take it as a personal offence when I'm in the car with them and they try to use it, and I insist on giving them directions personally. What always happens is something like this: Me, "Turn up here at this light." Them, "Which way?"...frustrated pause..."As you may have noticed as we passed the street we were supposed to turn on, it is a one way street."

But do they suck at driving because they have GPS units, or do they have GPS units because they suck at driving?

Observation 3
Living alone makes me loony. I still love my tiny little apartment, and my solitude, but I have started to talk to myself. A trait that I have always classified with people who are either 1)so incredibly brilliant that sometimes some of their thoughts spill out of their brains or 2)wack jobs. I know I have a pretty average intelligence so...yeah. The other day I spilled milk all over my counter and I actually muttered aloud "Oh, good Ab." Every day when I go to work I have to pay for my parking at an automated stand. Last week when it told me to "Have a Nice Day", I actually said "You too." Sigh.

Observation 4
Hah, yeah right, like I have actually noticed enough stuff to fill out four of these.

Wish Me Luck

2009-04-09T08:26:00.000-07:00

I've been having kind of a rough week. I figured that if I could get through today without crying, snotting any of my allergies onto another person, or disappointing my boss (I do that a lot) that I should be ok and things will start to look up.

Then this morning I arrived at work and realized I had not eaten breakfast, nor brought anything with me that could serve as such. I went to the (awesome, independent, delicious) coffee shop nearby and as I was waiting for my drink I noticed a Magic 8 ball on the counter.

"Magic 8 ball, will I survive this day?"

"Better not tell you now"

Crap.

Congratulations, AIG...

2009-03-17T08:43:00.000-07:00

...you have achieved what no one else has ever been able to do before!!

Finally, the democrats and republicans agree!

The AIG move to award their CEOs with several million dollar bonuses, AFTER getting bailed out for sucking at running their company, is so greedy and shameless that even republicans are outraged. The news today is plastered with quotes from both political parties, everyone using words like "reckless", "greedy" and "resign".

An even rarer event, a republican finally said something that I not only laughed out loud at hearing, but actually agree with:

Senator Charles Grassley, R-Iowa: I would suggest the
first thing that would make me feel a little bit better
toward them [is] if they'd follow the Japanese example and come before the American people and take that deep
bow and say, I'm sorry, and then either do one of two
things: resign or go commit suicide.

Man, that's harsh. I'm not actually advocating for anyone to die, but AIG is going to have a world of shit flying toward it soon, and deservingly so. Is there anyone who doesn't want to see some heads roll?

Words Psychology Grad Students Love to Use

2009-02-13T12:11:00.000-08:00

I wonder if a psych grad program would be complete without lots and lots of class discussion? We may never know. In ours, we are always sure to discuss the bejesus out of everything. Two terms into this program, I have noticed that there are some words that always always get said by someone. And most of the time, it sounds like that person is just forming a sentence around the word, relevant or not, so they can get it in before, god forbid we move on to something else.

Some of these words are:

Dichotomy, as in "There is a dichotomy between your vocabulary and your actual intelligence. I can tell, because the only advanced word you ever use is dichotomy."

Psychosocial, as in "Abbie is going to need a psychosocial intervention soon because you are all driving her totally crazy with your irrelevant drivel."

Caveat, as in "A caveat to joining the IDP program: you will forget what men look like and having one even accidentally enter the room during class will become the pinnacle of excitement."

Vocab that is used less often, but makes the sayer sound like an asshole every time:

SES, as in Socio-economic-status, usually said with the word "lower". Saying poor people have a "low SES" makes you sound even more like a pretentious bastard, FYI.

"My dad says", We are in grad school, not fifth grade. If you can't defend your opinion without citing your father, then maybe you should just shut the fuck up. The worst part is that more than one person in my program does this. All the time. And, of course, we all know that MY dad is smarter and tougher and stronger and bad assier than all their dads combined.

"From the Zionist perspective..." , self explanatory.

I could go on and on, but I should probably stop here before I work myself into a fit. Also, I've been at work for 2 hours and have accomplished nothing besides this blog and some gmail chatting so....

The End

Thanking the Universe Just Feels So Impersonal

2009-01-26T14:03:00.000-08:00

I have never mourned the absence of religion in my life. But sometimes when something amazing happens I am left without a direction to send my gratitude towards.

I spent the weekend in San Diego and my flight home last night was delayed. This meant that I was arriving to my car at the airport at 12:30am, in freezing cold weather and snow falling thickly and steadily. I was on my way to get onto I-70 when my pathetic excuse for a car stalled out on me. In my frustration and panic, I pulled over to the left instead of the right, so instead of sitting on the shoulder, I was stuck in the middle of a road with surprisingly heave traffic flow, considering it was the middle of the gd night. I waited a couple minutes before trying to start the car again, and of course it didn't work.

I nearly started crying before I remembered that I was an adult, not a 16 year old clueless new driver, and I had my trusty AAA card with me. Also, I was wearing 4 thick layers and was more in danger of suffocating than freezing to death. I got my card out and just as I was reaching for my phone to call for a tow, something happened that restored my disappearing faith in humanity in general, and men specifically. (When you're in a program like mine, its hard to maintain the attitude that people are inherently good. And if you are unclear on my frustrations toward men, refer to my earlier post re: assholes).

Someone knocked on my window and I looked up to see a guy in a mechanic uniform pointing in front of my car, where he had parked his tow truck without my noticing him. I told him the problem and he was very friendly and didn't act at all like I was a brainless twit, even though I bet that's what he really thought. I told him he was welcome to try to start my car if he liked. And of course, even though I had tried to start it to no avail, as soon as he climbed in and turned the key it revved up like some new model right off the lot. Embarrassed but greatly relieved, I thanked him profusely and got back in and started back on my journey home.

But to add to my feelings of incompetence, my hazard light button had frozen so I couldn't turn them off. My best bet was to pretend it was on purpose so I stayed in the right lane and tried to drive slower than other people, so they might think I was being a careful driver, instead of a dumbass. About 10 minutes later my car finally warmed up enough that I could turn them off, at which point a truck behind me sped up and passed me. It was the tow truck driver. Not only had he saved me in the middle of the night and in the middle of the road but he had stayed behind me and made sure I was really ok before going on with his own business.

That was so god damn nice of him, and I was too flustered to even note the name on his uniform, or the name of his company! I remember thinking to myself Thank you god, for sending him to me. And then I was like "hold on mate, you don't believe in god" and then I went back to my standard thanking the universe in general when something lovely happened (I also blame the universe when something shitty happens--what was that 8 year Bush Administration thing about, UNIVERSE??) but it didn't feel quite as satisfying. I wish I could thank the actual tow truck guy.

Thanks, guy who saved me. I hope you get some sweet sweet karma coming your way soon.

A Small Voice

2009-01-12T09:44:00.000-08:00

I wrote a note on facebook this morning because I wanted to frame an editorial I was posting that my dad wrote. Out came some anguish I've been carrying for the past few weeks and now I feel compelled to post it on my blog as well.

My thoughts on this subject are short but concise. Confused but heartfelt. Posted below my comments is the editorial my dad wrote.

This article doesn't even begin to go into the unfathomable treatment of the Palestinians at the hands of the Israelis. I have spent the last couple of months reading about the Holocaust and the fact that a people who claim the worst genocide in history could turn around and subject another people to decades of oppression baffles me to no end. I ache and ache for the Palestinians, and hope with all my heart that this "conflict" will be over soon. But I also hurt for the Jewish people of Israel, who have become so twisted and fierce as to believe that something constructive might come of their blowing other people all to hell. How do they not see the parallels between them and the Nazis? How is useless killing ever different, ever honorable and right, no matter what guise it is under?

http://www.dailycamera.com/news/2009/jan/06/going-blind-in-gaza/

Where Have All the Single People Gone?

2008-12-31T09:26:00.001-08:00

...gotten married, every one.

Why is it that every time I go out these days, I only call two people and then I'm done with my list? It used to be I never went out in public with less than a dozen friends. Restaurants hated us. When we used to go out, we looked like a very laid back, lazy attack squad released on downtown, fanning out in all directions.

I have noticed an epidemic in the last few years. Like a true contagious and deadly disease, it has taken out many of my friends. It has struck not only those who seemed vulnerable to it, but also those who said they would never ever be trapped by it. I wonder if the people who always loudly declare "I will never get AIDS!" are likewise the first ones to contract it? Similar to survivors of the plague, it is unlikely to recover a friend after they've gotten married. If you do, they are just a burned out, traumatized, bitter shell of what they used to be.

In a way it's worse than a disease. Because while my friends who get married don't die off (at least not yet), neither are they the people I enjoyed good times with in the past. They morph into adults with responsibilities, their thoughts are about kids and houses and future joint burial plots with their spouses. I can not relate to any of these things, nor do I want to. I remember one married friend showing me her newly painted townhouse. She was really really excited about it. They had painted the whole thing beige. Freakin beige. What kind of reality is that where the pique of excitement is beige paint??

Honestly, the whole boring-married people thing baffles me. I know it is possible to be married AND still be fun, and normal, because I know couples like that. They are few and far between but they exist, giving me hope for my remaining friends who will undoubtedly get hitched soon. But why are the lame ones the predominant species in the married family?

The biggest difference between ebola and marriage? I don't want ebola. And maybe the reason I'm so distressed about all this is that I don't want to become insipid when I get married. And maybe what worries me the most of all, is that I may never have a chance to find out.

The Administration called, they want their asshole back

2008-12-16T13:49:00.001-08:00

In the last couple weeks I have been knocked flat on my ass with stories of men treating my friends like shit. There's always one of those douche-bag stories floating around, but it seems like lately the number of assholes has sky-rocketed. Is there something in the water? Or rather, in the beer? Are all the men on the planet PMSing at once? Because this behavior has skipped right over the Atlantic Ocean and effected my friends across the pond as well.

It is bad enough to hear stories of my friends getting treated like doormats (or whores), but the most depressing part for me is how these conversations always go:

[friend wraps up story]
Me: Gasp! I can't believe he said/did that! What an outrageous asshole! Please tell me you are never talking to him again/seeing him again/kicked him in the balls/slapped him in the face/shoved him out of a moving car/fed him poison??
Friend: Well, no...that's just the way he is/he's very stressed out right now/i dont think he meant it like that/he had a paper cut so was very cranky/i just take things too personally/he's right, monogamy is outdated/its my fault for bringing it up....etc.

There are few excuses for being rude or callous to another person. But when men act like babies or assholes or self-centered bastards, and the women in their lives just take it, what reason would they ever have to change? This guy, let's call him Shmeric, should not have called my beautiful, smart, capable, globe-trotting friend a "ditzy blonde with no situational awareness who dresses like a mom". What kind of insufferable jerk says things like that out loud to another person? On the other hand, my friend should not have gone to New York with him, after they had broken up and he had treated her like shit for months and made her feel less than human and incompetent, fat and ugly and worthless. It is his responsibility that he acted like scum, but what did she really expect from him by that point??

I am not saying I have never let a guy treat me badly. In fact, I've been in a couple outrageously unhealthy relationships, the second one all the worse because I should have learned from the first one. But I think that's why I get so upset now. I know what its like to defend someone who doesn't deserve it, and I also know the freedom and empowerment that finally comes with standing up for yourself, with tossing aside the sludgy guy, with having the confidence to be alone and knowing that being alone is better than being with someone who diminishes you every day.

It just boggles my mind that I have so many friends that are so extremely smart and motivated and capable until it comes to men and then they are simpering idiots. What is that about??

If you are a guy, please, don't be an ass. Its not that hard to be decent to the people around you, I promise it isn't. But if you are a girl, stop putting up with bullshit. You deserve better.

I Was Tagged

2008-11-29T09:43:00.000-08:00

My friend tagged me in her blog and here's the basic idea--go to your bookshelf, and talk about the book on the top shelf, 5 from the right, and then the book on the bottom shelf, 5 from the left, and what it means to you. She tagged me ages ago and I've been feeling guilty for not getting around to it, so here it is. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how interesting these books turned out to be.

Top shelf, 5 from right: My Sister's Keeper, by Jodi Picoult. I do love this book, it deals with some ethical issues that blow my mind to consider. I think I've rarely read a book that made me cry as much as this one, which sounds weird to mention but it can be really therapeutic. This is so far the only Jodi Picoult book that I have found worth reading. Its no wonder, since she churns them out every 6 months, that a lot of them aren't great quality. On a personal level, this book is a remnant of a friendship that no longer exists. It was the first book in a private book club between the two of us, designed to help us feel more connected when she lived 3 hours away. Little did we know that it was us actually living together that would destroy the friendship. I guess this book makes me feel melancholy, for the plot and for my lost best friend.

Bottom shelf, 5 from left: A History of Their Own, edited by Anderson and Zinsser. The bottom shelf of my bookshelf happens to be where I keep all the books from college that I found worth holding on to. This is a history book from a women's history class; its supposed to be all the classic history from the last couple hundred years, except from the point of view of women. I'm sorry to say I remember it as being extremely dull. I held onto it because it does seem like something that should be important. I will probably never open it again, if we're being honest.

I'm supposed to tag 5 people but only 5 people know about this blog, one of them being the girl who tagged me. So, my 4 remaining readers, I shall tag you-- Dacia, Betsy, Chris and Noah.

I Am In Love

2008-11-18T12:59:00.000-08:00

I know this will be surprising since there has been no indication of anything special in my life.* The truth is, this attachment has been around since I was a child. Introduced by my father, I have returned to this love time and again. But it was only this week that I had to admit that my feelings were not of warmth or affection but of actual love.

I am talking about the Tattered Cover.

I walked in to the Tattered Cover earlier this week and the sense of relief and calm and peace and happiness hit me like a wave. A warm, enveloping, nurturing wave (think: opposite of a Katrina wave). Sometimes when I go in there I have to get a grip on myself to keep from lying on the carpet and waving my arms and legs happy-book-store-snow-angel style.

Is there anything better than being surrounded by books? And the Tattered Cover(s), they get it, they have these comfy couches and cute nooks where you can cuddle up with a book, or a dozen books. And they are actually comfortable and have butt-worn marks on them, unlike other bookstores that I can think of that have "comfy" chairs for looks but if you sit in them you can see that they are not actually there for you to sit in. (Rhymes with Shmarnes and Shnoble.)

Here's the best part of all. I know, I mean I know this is a love that will last for the rest of my life. I'm never going to stop feeling this way about books and reading and there is nothing that can offer that up like the Tattered Cover. There is no way I could ever find all there is to explore in there, and even if I dedicate my whole life to it, there are new books being printed and classics waiting for my mind to ripen to them and whole genres of literature that I have yet to reach. Imagine. Just imagine.

Wait...revelation.

Is this what its like to be in love with a man? Not just any man, because I have been in love, but THE ONE. I have a dear friend who is in love (with a human) and getting married and she says that just thinking about her partner makes her feel peaceful and calm, just like the Tattered Cover makes me feel (she did not know I was comparing her feelings on her soul mate to mine toward a bookstore).

On the other hand, its hard to imagine any person having so many layers that they are never completely spent through. Also, if this is what I expect from a partner, isn't that what I should be offering in return? I am most definitely not that deep. I'm pretty sure I only have about 3 layers...not ten thousand. Also, the 3 layers depend a lot on whether or not I've gotten enough sleep the night before. Some days I'm just a one-layered exhausted, cranky bitch.

Oh well. Who cares about real men when I have Jamie Fraser and Mark Darcy and not just them but The Secret Garden and Wilbur, the whole cast of Lonesome Dove and a red tent full of women so deep and spiritual and real that I can feel them in my soul.

*Ok, maybe there was some talk about an LI in earlier posts, but that guy is sooo not worth my time and I sooo see that now.

Speech Impediments

2008-10-29T13:21:00.000-07:00

I have been told that I have slow speech patterns. This can make me appear unintelligent, or more often, high. I am constantly having people tell me that they thought I was high when they first met me because of the way I talk.*

In fact, the reason that I am usually slow to respond to people is because I am scrolling through, and trying to find, appropriate responses in my head. When i land on one, i can finally finish my sentence.

Some examples, pour vous:

Supervisor at Internship: "I can tell that you aren't extremely excited about this project"
Me: "Oh no, that's only because....
....this internship is a f*n waste of my time
....I've been watching Friends in my head to keep my sanity intact
....you're a total idiot and I can't believe I have to work with you
....a monkey could do this work
....I'm not feeling very well today."

I am inappropriate in other situations as well, it is not just that I have a problem with authority.

Hottie in my class "Was my presentatioin all right?"
Me "I think so....
....but you forgot to take off your shirt
....mainly because I was picturing you naked
....why, did your useless girlfriend tell you it wasn't?
....let's go find a closet and shag
....I especially liked the activity you had us do as a class, very creative."

Sometimes I am positively speechless because I can not come up with a single thing to say that is tactful. That's when I'm lucky. The sad part is, sometimes I go through all that scrolling and never piece any polite thoughts together and it shoots right out of my mouth anyway.

Political friend:"How have you not heard of Ted Stevens?"
Me: "....YOUR MOM hasn't heard of Ted Stevens" (said political friend's mom died last month)

Classmate that probably will not make it through this term alive because I'm going to kill her: "Everyone should be Jewish because Jews don't think that natural disasters are God's punishment [like Catholics believe]"
Me:"...You have GOT to be kidding me."

So there is the truth. When I am staring at you blankly and you think I dont understand, I am really just having an internal struggle and trying to decide if not insulting you is worth coming up with something complacent to say.

*If my normal state is what most people get to when they are high, it could explain why smoking up always immediately makes me fall asleep. Apparently I can't get more relaxed than I already am on a regular basis. But maybe that's another post for another day.

Tooooo looooong

2008-10-02T16:05:00.000-07:00

I have been in the catering business for too long. I enjoy it, which is probably why its been a side job for me for 10 years (!!), and there's something to be said about being good at your job. But lately I've realized I have acquired skills that nobody should have. Nobody.

At a recent event I was passing wine to people entering a party. One of the guests complimented me on how well I handled the tray. Um, what?

At another event I was carrying a huge armload of stuff to the van at the end of the night, so I couldn't see my feet, and I was going down the stairs. I fell down the stairs. It hurt. But, as I landed on my ass, I somehow did it without spilling a single thing from my armload, nay, without any of it even moving. When did I get conditioned to think that not dropping stuff is more important than not falling down?

I was working a wedding, and the toast was going to start soon so I was carrying a tray of champagne glasses. As I walked by my boss, she burnt her hand and so I was all "oh my god! are you ok?" and rushing toward her and wandering around finding her some ice and picking up the item she threw when she burnt herself, and basically being involved in a flurry of activity and then I realized I was still carrying the tray of champagne. And hadn't spilled a drop. I waitress so freakin much that holding a tray of glasses feels like a natural extention of my body.

Uhhh, yeah, I need to stop doing this. Before I morph into some crazy waitressing robot and I serve people in my sleep and duck into restaurants and clear tables for them and will only eat food that's been getting cold on the buffet line for two hours and don't feel like my night is complete unless my hands are wrinkly from doing so many dishes in some rich lady's enormous, marble sink that you know only gets used when we cater at her house and...

...where was I?

Oh, right. I need to quit catering. Luckily I am in grad school which will HOPEFULLY lead to a good enough job when I graduate that I will no longer need to make money on the side.

I Would Make an Amazing Vice President

2008-09-16T14:25:00.000-07:00

Ok, all right, I'm getting the hang of this campaign crap. Basically, what the running parties have to offer has nothing to do with anything. So if we're all going to think Sarah Palin is so great, let me just say that I would be an even BETTER vice president than her for these reasons:

1. Palin knows all about foreign diplomacy and issues because she lives in Alaska, which we all know is the closest part of the United States to Russia. Damn, that is some serious stuff there, that's tough to beat. But I lived in Finland for FIVE YEARS and (if you're a McCain/Palin supporter you probably DON'T know this geography) Finland is on the border of Russia. Finland touches Russia!! Which means I was even closer than Sarah to Russia, which means I know everything there is to possibly know about those people, and their politics, and their society, and their infrastructure, and their religions, and their culture, and their military, etc. Ooh, ooh, PLUS I have actually been to Russia, yes, its true, when I was about five years old, there are pictures to prove it. It can not be questioned; I am a foreign policy expert (and isn't the logic that if I know about Russia, then I know all about all other countries everywhere?).

2. I wear glasses.

3. My hair is short and hip and with the times. Sarah's always got her hair in an old-fashioned up-do. Gotta get with the younger generation, Sarah.

4. I don't hunt, but I do kill flies.

5. I can tell jokes too. What's the difference between a Christian Fundamentalist and a complete and total psycho? Publicity!

I think I've proved my point. Come November, vote Prince.

Books and brains

2008-09-10T14:20:00.001-07:00

I was just watching Sense and Sensibility, and that combined with just finishing Persuasion, I finally realized why Jane Austen is a timeless author for women.

Her novels may not be exciting by today's standards, or easily relatable because they focus on England's rich society, but damn does she know how to write persevering love. In her books the men behave so chivalrously that its irresistable, and if they ever falter for any reason in their devotion, it turns out to be for an even better and heroic reason that we could have imagined to begin with. Of course I realized, superficially, that Jane Austen is supposed to be the original genius of writing men we can fall in love with but today it just hit me on a personal level. Maybe its becaue my LI is barely even aware that I'm alive, let alone, you know, willing to ride his horse all day and all night in the rain to fetch my mother for me if I'm sick. The fact that he has not a horse, but a subaru, is not the point. For Jane Austen's men, no gesture is too big to display his love and dedication. When the men in her novels fall in love, they fall in love for life. Just look at Captain Wentworth in Persuasion, he agonized over Anne for eight years, only to meet her again and only fall in love with her even further. {sigh}

Here's the best part though. The men in Austen's novels fall in love with women who have brains (except for Fanny, who didn't really seem to). Brains! What a radical notion. Just look at the collective wittiness of Elizabeth, Elinor, Emma, and Anne. Smart girls, those ones. Hell, Anne even speaks Italian. This could be another reason why Austen's books are timeless. Just look at the heroines we have in today's literature. Smart is not exactly the first word I would use to describe most of them. Bridget Jones? Lovable to the extreme, but not exactly bright. And how about that awful shopaholic bitch. Don't even get me started on her intellectual shortcomings. Where have all the smart women in literature gone? To the fringes. We have Claire from Outlander, but who has ever heard of the Outlander?

How much can we value intelligence in ourselves as women, when our heroes don't even posess it?

Of My Life

2008-08-25T15:22:00.000-07:00

It always gets on my nerves when people exaggerate so much and say they saw the funniest movie of my life or they had the worst day of my life and so on.

But the other day, I really seriously experienced the most ironic moment of my life.

I was with my Love Interest, and it is no secret between us that I want to be with him and he has absolutely no romantic interest in me.

He says "Do you think unrequited desire is the essence of humor?"(Does anyone else think this is a weird thing to say anyway?)

I tensed up a little, even though it seemed unlikely that he was so blatantly insulting me and bringing up our awkward dynamics for us to discuss. I ventured to say that no....I did not think unrequited desire was the essence of humor.

He went on to elaborate a couple of different movie scenes in which a man wanted a woman and wasn't able to have her, and they were hilarious. I consented that maybe unrequited desire was funny, but not the, you know, "essence of humor" as he called it. I cited our mutual favorite comedian Mitch Hedberg as evidence, saying he never uses unrequited desire.

LI shot back with Hedberg's koala joke, in which he wishes he had koala bears to pet and feed leaves to, but they are so far away from him. This did not totally seem like unrequited desire to me but I was willing to let it go. Then LI brought up the joke where Mitch Hedberg says he wishes he could be in Little League. I told him that was absurd, as Little League could not want Mitch Hedberg back.

Then LI says "...I guess I dont really know what unrequited means".

My unrequited love doesn't know what unrequited means? I almost had to roll over and die, it was so. damn. ironic.

Intro

2008-07-28T14:08:00.000-07:00

I finally caved and started a blog. What was always holding me back before is I felt like I didn't have enough interesting thoughts to entertain the world at large. But I decided I need a dumping ground for all the random thoughts I have that can't be directed to any specific person, or that I would like to put out there in the universe. So here we have it. If you're reading this, you probably shouldn't anticipate anything brilliant, or consistent, or even coherent.