what is it about the power of the vagina that has weak men so scared shitless? what is it about the vagina that pushes small-minded men to oppress women? i don't have that answer, but usually it comes out of patriarchal religious beliefs (god was obviously a misogynist, which is partly why i don't believe in the whole god myth). as a vagina-owner, i've often theorized that many vagina-owners are evolutionarily superior to most men. sure, there are those bimbette, ditzy vagina-owners that get enormous boob implants, let their heads become vacuums and give the rest of us a bad name, but i think some men will agree with my theory, at least in part. in venezuela, the subject of reincarnation came up with this guy i knew - a completely self-centered guy who was quite the womanizer. i said that i felt like i must have been a cat in a past life, because i was so lazy and stubborn. he said that he thought women probably go through several cycles of being men until they finally reincarnate into a higher being, a woman. i thought, right on.
a couple of weeks ago, netflix delivered the movie kandahar. i liked it, more or less, especially some of the cinematography. the ending was crap, so if you rent it, expect to be sorely disappointed, but the whole time andrew & i were completely freaked out by the burqas. andrew made the comment that the women looked like ghosts, like they weren't even allowed to really be there. i remembered a line in tom robbins' fierce invalids... the protagonist theorizes that in order for there to be such oppression of women in the middle east today, the women of long ago must have been some pretty powerful, amazing chicks to get those men scared absolutely shitless. i think tom robbins is onto something there.
here in the states, we've got many forms of our own special brand of female oppression, whether it's polygamy & forced marriage at 14 (fundamentalist mormons, i'm talking about you); women forbidden to work, homeschooling the kiddies and popping out babies with regularity (fundamentalist christians, i'm talking about you); domestic violence and sexual assault or anti-abortionists/anti-contraceptionists (usually the same folks, but the bottom line is that allowingn women to have control over their vaginas is a pretty threatening thing). which brings me to why i wanted to write this post in the first place.
today i read this article in rolling stone. it's about the tactics of operation rescue leader troy newman, who moved to wichita, ks to harrass the staff of dr. tiller's clinic full-time. his tactics are unfortunately not new to most people standing up for women's reproductive rights - harrassment & intimidation of doctors, clinic employees, friends and family of doctors and clinic employees and anyone they do business with. here in austin, we saw how (temporarily) effective these tactics can be with chris danze's boycott of the new planned parenthood clinic (which is coming along quite nicely, the last time i drove by. fuck you, chris danze, you devil spawn). these assholes even go through people's trash, looking for anything they can use against them, such as a spouse's work address. it's sickening, but from what i've seen, there's a particular pattern with these anti-abortion zealots - the leaders are always men & the only women in the movements take secondary roles or are used as pawns (that means you, norma mccorvey).
this passage in particular disturbed me:
Standing beside the demonstrators, clutching a dirt bike, a black boy about ten watches them intently. "Hi there, honey," Michelle Herzog says. "How are you?
The boy toes the dirt. "Can I get by?"
"You sure can," she says. She's speaking in that honeyed voice that adults use with toddlers. "Do you know why we're here?"
The boy shakes his head.
"We're here because there's a woman in your neighborhood who's killing babies. And we're fighting so those babies can live. You know, there was a time that people of your color didn't have the right to be born, either. And lots of good people fought hard to help them gain rights. Isn't that a good thing?"
The boy nods, his eyes downcast.
"If you know this lady, you can help us by telling her that we want to help her find a new job. Can you tell her that for me?"
The boy nods again, then slinks past and takes off on his bike.
using a little kid to spread your message of intolerance and hate, manipulating him with unfounded parallels to slavery and oppression of african-americans? so fucking twisted!
dr. tiller bears the brunt of all this anti-abortion zeal because he's a total badass among abortion providers. he's one of the few doctors in the country that does late-term abortions. he was shot in both arms by a violent protestor, but he survived & even came into work the next day!
i had the privilege of hearing dr. george tiller speak at a national network of abortion funds conference in 1999. here's what i remember of what he told us of his past: he wasn't always an abortion doc - he started off as a dermatologist, but after his father died in an accident, he moved to wichita to help run his father's family practice. this was pre-Roe v Wade and women started coming to him asking for his help with abortions. at first he turned them away because it was illegal, but he realized that his father must have been performing abortions for them. then one of his patients died from a botched illegal abortion and he was determined not to let something like that happen again. and the rest is history.
he illustrated why he performs late term abortions by showing us slides of grotesque fetal anomalies. he told us that it's criminal to give a woman the technology to find out that her baby stands zero chance of living outside the womb, if it even makes it full term, and then not give her a choice about it. and he's right.
the rolling stone article isn't the first i've read recently about harrassment at dr. tiller's clinic. as i get ready to go to law school, i keep thinking that something has to be done, that these tactics cannot withstand legal challenges for long. going through someone's trash? the paparazzi does it to celebrities (who have $$), so maybe that's an avenue to make that sort of thing illegal. sending gruesome & intimidating mail to someone's neighbors? that has to be some sort of invasion of privacy, stalking or undue harrassment. following someone & taking pictures of them while they're going to the gym or dropping off the dry cleaning for the purposes of threatening or intimidating others? there's got to be some sort of legal complaint to be filed.
but legal or not, these kinds of tactics are another sign that some men in this country are very, very threatened by the vagina. and with so many of these small-minded men in positions of power (george w bush, that means you), i'm worried that one day in the future, a couple will be sitting at home watching a film called america and they'll comment on how the women look like ghosts, like they're not even allowed to really exist.
i know this isn't an incredibly well-thought out feminist essay or anything - just more of my rantings and ramblings. and i keep getting interrupted by people bringing me flowers or cards or calling me on the phone. it is my last day of work. and i feel loved. of course, there's still the after-work happy hour to get through & i'm not expecting many people to show up. god, i hope it's not totally awkward!
sexta-feira, julho 30, 2004
quinta-feira, julho 29, 2004
what i did on my summer vacation: the strip off
on our first night in portland, my sister took amanda & me to a dive bar in her neighborhood, one of the few she knew of that served both beer and hard liquor. amanda had a date with her buddy jack daniels & apparently there are mostly brew pubs in the area or something. we ended up at porky's pub, which we later realized was not just your average neighborhood dive, but the neighborhood alterna-queer dive. we stayed for one drink before heading over to the kennedy school - just long enough to see the flyer for the amateur strip contest to be held the following night.
we had to go.
so, the next day after a burrito & drinks at another dive (with ping-pong tables!), we drove over to porky's, only to find out that it was hours until the entertainment was to begin. we drank and drank, enjoying the excellent dj & half-watching bring it on on the big screen tv (not that bring it on is a good movie - dear god no!- but when a tv is on, i always end up staring at it.) eventually amanda & i could no longer resist the temptation of good hip hop & we got up & danced with the other laydeez.
finally, well after the promised midnight start time, the contest got started. there were six entrants, meeting the qualifications of being "male, female or whatever." the first act was a more buxom, curvy female couple, taking off each other's vintage gowns to a song with the lyrics "i'm a boy." one of them had her breasts held down with an ace bandage, which was then unwrapped & they both wore men's boxers under the dresses. yeah, it was a little confusing & as a strip act, it left a little to be desired. but whatever, it was really more of an excuse for them to get up there & make out in front of a hundred other people. more power to them.
act #2 was the most disappointing - a too-skinny girl with nonexistent breasts who gyrated and rubbed against her friends standing in the front row. she never even took off her bra (there was nothing to see anyway) and overall it left alot to be desired. not that i think all strippers should be busty, but isn't the point of stripping to take off your top??
#3 was another lesbian and she was pretty good. she had some great moves, got naked, did a good job.
#4 - male couple who were also doing it as an excuse to make out in front of a crowd, except they also simulated oral sex & they had briefs instead of boxers. the whole thing was performed to dolly parton's version of i will always love you. once again, more power to them, but thumbs down on the stripper act, fellas.
the fifth act, in my opinion, blew the rest of the competition out of the water. i would even venture to say that she might have even been a professional stripper in a past life. she was very cute, great dancer and even went along with the theme for the night, "PE class," by taking off her sweats. and the crowd loved her.
the last guy made me feel kinda sad. his moves were okay, i guess, and he also went along with the theme, wearing a jock strap. but he couldn't fill the jock strap out anymore than anorexic stripper #2 could fill out her training bra. but you have to give him props for getting out there.
then there was a bonus stripper, not up for judging - the host, who had been dressed like a PE coach all night. i find something incredibly disconcerting about a man in those tight polyester gym coach shorts and tight-fitting shirt with a whistle around his neck. maybe it reminds me of my slightly abusive 8th grade tennis coach, the person who turned me off tennis for eternity. anyway, he stripped down to his jock strap, which was better than the final contestant but still less than impressive. i wasn't sure why he was even doing it, but i imagine he just liked the attention. he also spent the rest of the night walking around the bar in his converse high tops, whistle, jock strap and nothing else.
at the door, everyone was given 3 tickets to vote for their favorite strip act. you could give one act all three or divide them any way you wanted. after the show, there were six cups on the dj booth to put the tickets into. i had my 3 and some guy sitting next to me left early & gave me his 3. my sis & amanda gave me theirs & told me who they wanted to vote for, since i was the one offering to fight the crowd to the dj booth. when i got there, #5's cup was overflowing with tickets. i put most of my votes in her cup, but gave some to the 3rd girl & the first couple (i spoke with them briefly in the restroom & they were very nice. i also had to give them credit for trying.) but it was clear that #5 was going to win.
we continued drinking and dancing and after awhile, they announced the winner. i didn't hear the name, but i saw ms. skinny no-boobs run up to the stage to claim her $100 prize. we were outraged! how? it must have been rigged!
the next day i realized that the cups must have been placed from left to right from the perspective of the dj, not the crowd. since the cups weren't labeled & most people probably assumed, like i did, that the order went from left to right from the audience perspective, #2 got #5's votes. so unfair. but whatever. like i really care.
we had to go.
so, the next day after a burrito & drinks at another dive (with ping-pong tables!), we drove over to porky's, only to find out that it was hours until the entertainment was to begin. we drank and drank, enjoying the excellent dj & half-watching bring it on on the big screen tv (not that bring it on is a good movie - dear god no!- but when a tv is on, i always end up staring at it.) eventually amanda & i could no longer resist the temptation of good hip hop & we got up & danced with the other laydeez.
finally, well after the promised midnight start time, the contest got started. there were six entrants, meeting the qualifications of being "male, female or whatever." the first act was a more buxom, curvy female couple, taking off each other's vintage gowns to a song with the lyrics "i'm a boy." one of them had her breasts held down with an ace bandage, which was then unwrapped & they both wore men's boxers under the dresses. yeah, it was a little confusing & as a strip act, it left a little to be desired. but whatever, it was really more of an excuse for them to get up there & make out in front of a hundred other people. more power to them.
act #2 was the most disappointing - a too-skinny girl with nonexistent breasts who gyrated and rubbed against her friends standing in the front row. she never even took off her bra (there was nothing to see anyway) and overall it left alot to be desired. not that i think all strippers should be busty, but isn't the point of stripping to take off your top??
#3 was another lesbian and she was pretty good. she had some great moves, got naked, did a good job.
#4 - male couple who were also doing it as an excuse to make out in front of a crowd, except they also simulated oral sex & they had briefs instead of boxers. the whole thing was performed to dolly parton's version of i will always love you. once again, more power to them, but thumbs down on the stripper act, fellas.
the fifth act, in my opinion, blew the rest of the competition out of the water. i would even venture to say that she might have even been a professional stripper in a past life. she was very cute, great dancer and even went along with the theme for the night, "PE class," by taking off her sweats. and the crowd loved her.
the last guy made me feel kinda sad. his moves were okay, i guess, and he also went along with the theme, wearing a jock strap. but he couldn't fill the jock strap out anymore than anorexic stripper #2 could fill out her training bra. but you have to give him props for getting out there.
then there was a bonus stripper, not up for judging - the host, who had been dressed like a PE coach all night. i find something incredibly disconcerting about a man in those tight polyester gym coach shorts and tight-fitting shirt with a whistle around his neck. maybe it reminds me of my slightly abusive 8th grade tennis coach, the person who turned me off tennis for eternity. anyway, he stripped down to his jock strap, which was better than the final contestant but still less than impressive. i wasn't sure why he was even doing it, but i imagine he just liked the attention. he also spent the rest of the night walking around the bar in his converse high tops, whistle, jock strap and nothing else.
at the door, everyone was given 3 tickets to vote for their favorite strip act. you could give one act all three or divide them any way you wanted. after the show, there were six cups on the dj booth to put the tickets into. i had my 3 and some guy sitting next to me left early & gave me his 3. my sis & amanda gave me theirs & told me who they wanted to vote for, since i was the one offering to fight the crowd to the dj booth. when i got there, #5's cup was overflowing with tickets. i put most of my votes in her cup, but gave some to the 3rd girl & the first couple (i spoke with them briefly in the restroom & they were very nice. i also had to give them credit for trying.) but it was clear that #5 was going to win.
we continued drinking and dancing and after awhile, they announced the winner. i didn't hear the name, but i saw ms. skinny no-boobs run up to the stage to claim her $100 prize. we were outraged! how? it must have been rigged!
the next day i realized that the cups must have been placed from left to right from the perspective of the dj, not the crowd. since the cups weren't labeled & most people probably assumed, like i did, that the order went from left to right from the audience perspective, #2 got #5's votes. so unfair. but whatever. like i really care.
terça-feira, julho 27, 2004
such a long wait
like a couple of my friends, i quite recently became a sopranos addict. andrew & i are almost through the fourth season, anxiously awaiting the release of last season on dvd. we rent at least two dvd's at a time, watch almost all of them in one sitting, and then want more. we've been slightly confused at times, having seen several of the season 5 episodes, but it's still quite enjoyable. now i read this and i'm completely bummed. it's going to be soooo long until we get another sopranos fix!
meanwhile, i'm slowly getting all of my shit taken care of. i can't believe that i'm moving on saturday. i've still got to sand and repaint a dresser, table and chairs. i have to go through my crap outside & decide what i'm taking, what i'm leaving and what i'm finally going to throw out. all my animals need to go to the vet. i have piles of laundry waiting to be washed, dried or folded. i have to repair my futon & fix the flat tires on my bike. i'm trying to make time to hang out with people i hardly ever see. i have several netflix movies to watch so i can return them & close out my account. and another 3 sopranos dvd's to get through. i have to change my address with all the various places. and i still have to finish reading that book about succeeding in law school. whew! would it be awful to call in sick on my last day of work, especially after i've taken the last 2 fridays off work? then would it be kosher or not to show up at my own happy hour after calling in sick? though i guess i should come to work anyway & pack up my desk and shit.
i guess i'll just have to forgo sleep in order to get some of this stuff done, which isn't an easy thing to do this week because i've been suffering from these goddamn allergies more than usual this week, so all i want to do is sleep! i wonder if the allergies will be as bad in houston & if i'll suffer quite as much. i'm sure i will, though, which is why i refilled my 3-month prescription to the zyrtec just before my benefits terminated. i'm about to be uninsured for an indefinite amount of time, so i better get used to doing my home remedies again. no more going to the doctor when i feel sick & need more drugs.
wow. this post is absolutely riveting. sorry - this will be the last time i whine about all the crap i have to do & how freaked out i am about all of it. on the other hand, i still have a couple more vacation stories to tell! maybe i'll get one of them done today...
meanwhile, i'm slowly getting all of my shit taken care of. i can't believe that i'm moving on saturday. i've still got to sand and repaint a dresser, table and chairs. i have to go through my crap outside & decide what i'm taking, what i'm leaving and what i'm finally going to throw out. all my animals need to go to the vet. i have piles of laundry waiting to be washed, dried or folded. i have to repair my futon & fix the flat tires on my bike. i'm trying to make time to hang out with people i hardly ever see. i have several netflix movies to watch so i can return them & close out my account. and another 3 sopranos dvd's to get through. i have to change my address with all the various places. and i still have to finish reading that book about succeeding in law school. whew! would it be awful to call in sick on my last day of work, especially after i've taken the last 2 fridays off work? then would it be kosher or not to show up at my own happy hour after calling in sick? though i guess i should come to work anyway & pack up my desk and shit.
i guess i'll just have to forgo sleep in order to get some of this stuff done, which isn't an easy thing to do this week because i've been suffering from these goddamn allergies more than usual this week, so all i want to do is sleep! i wonder if the allergies will be as bad in houston & if i'll suffer quite as much. i'm sure i will, though, which is why i refilled my 3-month prescription to the zyrtec just before my benefits terminated. i'm about to be uninsured for an indefinite amount of time, so i better get used to doing my home remedies again. no more going to the doctor when i feel sick & need more drugs.
wow. this post is absolutely riveting. sorry - this will be the last time i whine about all the crap i have to do & how freaked out i am about all of it. on the other hand, i still have a couple more vacation stories to tell! maybe i'll get one of them done today...
sábado, julho 24, 2004
that's enough hair on the floor to make a small creature
yesterday i had an appointment with doug to get my hair cut. i recently decided that in order to simplify my life, i needed to take a little hair off - a good amount of hair. i've always been grateful for my nice head of hair, but it's a little too much to manage. if it's going to look halfway decent, i have to wash and then blow dry it, which can take up to an hour, and then it only lasts for two days before it just looks like shit again. and half the time, i don't have the time/energy/motivation to go through the blow drying process, so i usually just pull it back into a pony tail or bun. it's thick and it's hot and i'm about to be mostly bike-bound, so it had to go.
i had only planned on getting an ear-length bob or something, but when i sat down in the chair, i said, "let's chop it all off." i was a little disturbed at first - the times in my life when i've had really short hair have been difficult ones, so when i see myself with short hair, i feel like i'm the heather i was during those times. but i'm getting used to it, especially after i just took a 5 minute shower and 5 minutes to completely blow dry my hair!
i'm sure i'll keep it up for a couple of months and then start growing it out again. i tend to get sick of short hair rather quickly. but it'll be nice for the time being, especially as august is only a week away!
i had only planned on getting an ear-length bob or something, but when i sat down in the chair, i said, "let's chop it all off." i was a little disturbed at first - the times in my life when i've had really short hair have been difficult ones, so when i see myself with short hair, i feel like i'm the heather i was during those times. but i'm getting used to it, especially after i just took a 5 minute shower and 5 minutes to completely blow dry my hair!
i'm sure i'll keep it up for a couple of months and then start growing it out again. i tend to get sick of short hair rather quickly. but it'll be nice for the time being, especially as august is only a week away!
quinta-feira, julho 22, 2004
vacation story: not every school sells beer...and has ghosts
after chris left, amanda and i made the 10-11 hour journey north to portland, oregon. this trip means that i've made the drive either up or down i-5 to or from oregon-california a total of five times in the last 10 years, 4 of those occurring within the last year. i suppose there are less beautiful long drives that i could take.
when we turned onto my sister's street, we easily found her house by looking for the neighbor's crazy yard art. he has covered his white picket fence, front porch and front yard with stuffed animals nailed to crosses, the side of the house, fence posts, you name it. there's a jar-jar binks (did i spell that right?), a gonzo doll, several naked barbies, teddy bears, american flags and miscellaneous toys and dolls assembled all over the yard. but perhaps the most puzzling are the milk jugs of water placed equidistant along the front lawn - simple jugs of water with no other decoration or accompanying stuffed animal companions. and he's quite a character, the unofficial "mayor" of the street, spending his free time mowing other people's yards, clipping their hedges and pulling out wild blackberry bushes.
that evening, shannon took us to the kennedy school, an old elementary school that was bought and converted into a hotel, restaurant, bar and brew 'n view movie theater. we ate/drank on the outside courtyard, but we could have embibed in the dention room or the honors bar. the restaurant was obviously the converted cafeteria and the hotel rooms were in the old classrooms. the halls still retained the look & feel of an elementary school, including signs to the gym, the boiler room and the portable buildings. the halls were lined with pictures from the buiding's days as a school, children's artwork and scholastic decor such as the ABC's.
as is natural when alcohol is involved, there are frequent trips to the bathroom, which was down the hall, past the detention room and the honors bar. the bathroom still looked very much like a bathroom in a very old school and the toilets and sinks were lower than regular adult toilets & sinks. when i went to the restroom, i picked up on a creepy vibe, almost like i could feel that horrible sorrow had occurred there. i chalked it up to the general vibe in a school bathroom, where most of the torture from peers occurs. however, after amanda went to the restroom, she came back and said she thought it was haunted and it really spooked her. the second time i had to pee, i was all alone in the bathroom and while it may have been the alcohol, i really sensed something not good in there.
in fact, the whole place had a decidedly haunted vibe to it. maybe it was just that school-at-night feeling, when there aren't children's voices and laughter filling the place. or maybe it was the strangeness of getting drunk in an elementary school. but the next morning, shannon's roommates both confirmed that the kennedy school is haunted, and in particular, the bathroom. and one website had this to say about it: "Possible suicide in former schoolroom. Another possible spirit haunts the ladies bathroom near the pub area." creep-eey.
a couple days later, amanda and i killed time while shannon was at work (and avoided the high 80's/low 90 degree weather, which amanda declared unbearable & i thought was just fine compared to texas in july) by seeing mean girls at the bagdad theater (another occurrance of an incorrect spelling that is not my mistake) . the bagdad is another mcmenamins property, an old vaudeville theatre converted into a brew & view movie theater. and, according to the website linked above, is also haunted: "Theater haunted by stage hand who may have committed suicide behind the movie screen." woooo-ooooo.
when we turned onto my sister's street, we easily found her house by looking for the neighbor's crazy yard art. he has covered his white picket fence, front porch and front yard with stuffed animals nailed to crosses, the side of the house, fence posts, you name it. there's a jar-jar binks (did i spell that right?), a gonzo doll, several naked barbies, teddy bears, american flags and miscellaneous toys and dolls assembled all over the yard. but perhaps the most puzzling are the milk jugs of water placed equidistant along the front lawn - simple jugs of water with no other decoration or accompanying stuffed animal companions. and he's quite a character, the unofficial "mayor" of the street, spending his free time mowing other people's yards, clipping their hedges and pulling out wild blackberry bushes.
that evening, shannon took us to the kennedy school, an old elementary school that was bought and converted into a hotel, restaurant, bar and brew 'n view movie theater. we ate/drank on the outside courtyard, but we could have embibed in the dention room or the honors bar. the restaurant was obviously the converted cafeteria and the hotel rooms were in the old classrooms. the halls still retained the look & feel of an elementary school, including signs to the gym, the boiler room and the portable buildings. the halls were lined with pictures from the buiding's days as a school, children's artwork and scholastic decor such as the ABC's.
as is natural when alcohol is involved, there are frequent trips to the bathroom, which was down the hall, past the detention room and the honors bar. the bathroom still looked very much like a bathroom in a very old school and the toilets and sinks were lower than regular adult toilets & sinks. when i went to the restroom, i picked up on a creepy vibe, almost like i could feel that horrible sorrow had occurred there. i chalked it up to the general vibe in a school bathroom, where most of the torture from peers occurs. however, after amanda went to the restroom, she came back and said she thought it was haunted and it really spooked her. the second time i had to pee, i was all alone in the bathroom and while it may have been the alcohol, i really sensed something not good in there.
in fact, the whole place had a decidedly haunted vibe to it. maybe it was just that school-at-night feeling, when there aren't children's voices and laughter filling the place. or maybe it was the strangeness of getting drunk in an elementary school. but the next morning, shannon's roommates both confirmed that the kennedy school is haunted, and in particular, the bathroom. and one website had this to say about it: "Possible suicide in former schoolroom. Another possible spirit haunts the ladies bathroom near the pub area." creep-eey.
a couple days later, amanda and i killed time while shannon was at work (and avoided the high 80's/low 90 degree weather, which amanda declared unbearable & i thought was just fine compared to texas in july) by seeing mean girls at the bagdad theater (another occurrance of an incorrect spelling that is not my mistake) . the bagdad is another mcmenamins property, an old vaudeville theatre converted into a brew & view movie theater. and, according to the website linked above, is also haunted: "Theater haunted by stage hand who may have committed suicide behind the movie screen." woooo-ooooo.
five days to go!
in twenty minutes i'm going to send an email to my supervisor, letting her know that i don't feel well & i'm going home. and it's true - i don't feel great, but i could probably battle it out for another hour, making it a full 8-hour day. but what the hell - if i can do it, why not? and tomorrow i'm taking a mental health day so i can finish packing/cleaning, get my oil changed & all my hair cut off & then drive down to victoria to price used items for a garage sale on saturday. i sort of feel bad for taking a day off so close to the end of my time here, but i've got some sick leave to use up & it's not like i have much to take care of tomorrow that couldn't be done in a matter of hours next week.
i'm loving the fact that they hired my replacement so far in advance of my leaving. instead of trying to get everything done, i can just ask her to do it because she needs to learn how anyway. and the beauty of it is that she's really smart & a fast learner, so i don't have to do much training at all! paperwork? she's grabbing it out of my hands. assembling group files? she's on it. dosage reports? no problem. lesson plans? she wants to do them. you'd think i'd be done cleaning up my desk & going through the crap in my "to be filed" stack, but no, as i'm sure any regular reader (all 2 or 3 of you) will have noticed, i've been spending my time writing or web surfing or just generally slacking. what do they call it? senioritis? whatever it is, i'm cherishing whatever down time i can scrounge up these days!
i'm loving the fact that they hired my replacement so far in advance of my leaving. instead of trying to get everything done, i can just ask her to do it because she needs to learn how anyway. and the beauty of it is that she's really smart & a fast learner, so i don't have to do much training at all! paperwork? she's grabbing it out of my hands. assembling group files? she's on it. dosage reports? no problem. lesson plans? she wants to do them. you'd think i'd be done cleaning up my desk & going through the crap in my "to be filed" stack, but no, as i'm sure any regular reader (all 2 or 3 of you) will have noticed, i've been spending my time writing or web surfing or just generally slacking. what do they call it? senioritis? whatever it is, i'm cherishing whatever down time i can scrounge up these days!
quarta-feira, julho 21, 2004
fyi
okay, this is mostly for the benefit of the one person i know checks this blog regularly & may need this info, but there's another post below the paralysis post that was actually posted after that post because i previously had it in draft mode when i posted the post that preceded it.
okay, i think i wanted to write this post so i could use the letter "p" as much as possible...and also to confuse everyone!
now comment, damn it, so i know you're reading! pressuring people with presumptious commands is always the prerogative of the redhotmamma, it's part of the power of her proud, pleasant pussy. (okay, that, i admit, goes too far, and was included for the purposes of gratuitous "p" use!)
okay, i think i wanted to write this post so i could use the letter "p" as much as possible...and also to confuse everyone!
now comment, damn it, so i know you're reading! pressuring people with presumptious commands is always the prerogative of the redhotmamma, it's part of the power of her proud, pleasant pussy. (okay, that, i admit, goes too far, and was included for the purposes of gratuitous "p" use!)
paralysis
lesson number one: if you're going to start packing in advance, don't start with your clothes! at least not the clothes you currently plan on wearing. now i have to live out of a bag for the next two weeks. smooth, heather, real smooth.
lesson number two: if you wake up at 6am feeling refreshed & ready to start the day, do not get back into bed because "it's just too early for a normal human to be awake and productive." be awake & productive because climbing back into bed only ensures that you'll spend the next three hours snoozing & staring at the wall instead of getting up and going to work.
and that's what i ended up doing. last night i packed up my closet & got overzealous, moving to the dresser drawers. granted, i needed to clear out the dresser in order to sand & repaint it before moving, but now i'm just screwed. it's not like it was easy to find something good to wear in the first place. and i spent this morning staring at the wall for about an hour, completely paralyzed by all the shit i have to do. um, folks, i don't think redhotmamma.com & the new and improved blog is going to happen anytime soon! or it may happen, but it won't be all that new or improved.
and if anyone is interested in buying my elliptical trainer, please let me know. i'm trying to get some woman who saw my craig's list ad to buy it for $125, even though i tried asking $200 for it. it's only been used twice by me! though my dad owned it for many years before that and i'm sure he used it once or twice. it makes a pretty snazzy place to hang wet towels or clothes. and if you wanted to work out for some reason, i'm sure it's great for that too.
and if you're in austin, i'm probably going to have a going away pool party on august 7th at luke, melissa & hanna's apartment complex, so mark your calendars. there's also a work-associated happy hour thing at the dog & duck on friday the 30th @ 5:30. friends, please come. i'm dreading the whole work associate forced social thing & need the buffer of people who already know me & i feel comfortable getting drunk around. please! i'm beggin you!
lesson number two: if you wake up at 6am feeling refreshed & ready to start the day, do not get back into bed because "it's just too early for a normal human to be awake and productive." be awake & productive because climbing back into bed only ensures that you'll spend the next three hours snoozing & staring at the wall instead of getting up and going to work.
and that's what i ended up doing. last night i packed up my closet & got overzealous, moving to the dresser drawers. granted, i needed to clear out the dresser in order to sand & repaint it before moving, but now i'm just screwed. it's not like it was easy to find something good to wear in the first place. and i spent this morning staring at the wall for about an hour, completely paralyzed by all the shit i have to do. um, folks, i don't think redhotmamma.com & the new and improved blog is going to happen anytime soon! or it may happen, but it won't be all that new or improved.
and if anyone is interested in buying my elliptical trainer, please let me know. i'm trying to get some woman who saw my craig's list ad to buy it for $125, even though i tried asking $200 for it. it's only been used twice by me! though my dad owned it for many years before that and i'm sure he used it once or twice. it makes a pretty snazzy place to hang wet towels or clothes. and if you wanted to work out for some reason, i'm sure it's great for that too.
and if you're in austin, i'm probably going to have a going away pool party on august 7th at luke, melissa & hanna's apartment complex, so mark your calendars. there's also a work-associated happy hour thing at the dog & duck on friday the 30th @ 5:30. friends, please come. i'm dreading the whole work associate forced social thing & need the buffer of people who already know me & i feel comfortable getting drunk around. please! i'm beggin you!
what i did on my summer vacation: labyrinthine fuck up
after i'd been in san francisco for a couple of days, i decided it was time to venture out on my own. i also thought that since chris was soon leaving for two weeks in france, it might be nice to give him and demanda a little time to get it on before he took off. (and they didn't even have to give me any code words!) oh, and i also wanted to play tourist for awhile rather than run errands with them. so, i took the BART downtown, walked to union square and then up, up, uphill to grace cathedral to check out the labyrinth.
i'd never walked a labyrinth before, but i was curious. i found the cathedral & walked inside, sneaking past the woman at the information desk so she wouldn't notice that i wasn't putting my suggested $5 donation in the box (in my defense, i didn't have cash on me). i spent some time reading the display about the labyrinth and instructions on how to walk it and then watched the half dozen or so people quietly making their way through it. i didn't plan on doing it, then thought, "oh, what the hell." i began to walk the path and immediately felt uneasy. i had this vague notion that i was just going through the motions and had an overwhelming impatience to finish already. every time i crossed paths with the woman just ahead of me, she would tense up and go out of her way to avoid even the slightest possibility of our arms brushing up against each other, which i found incredibly unnerving. i kept getting distracted by the high ceilings and the beautiful stained glass windows. the hushed atmosphere and soft organ music gave me the feeling of being a child punished for acting up in church.
suddenly i realized that i was exiting already, and i hadn't even made it to the center! i muttered, "what the hell?" out loud, a little louder than i would have liked, and then quickly grabbed my shoes and scurried past the information desk lady on my way out. geez? who fucks up a labyrinth? is that an easy thing to do or am i just a freak?
i walked outside into the sunshine, the cool breeze and the comforting sounds of a city (as opposed to a church, which is anything but comforting to me). i walked around the grounds, feeling like a dejected loser for not doing the labyrinth right, when i noticed some kids running around an identical outdoor labyrinth. i wasn't about to try it again with a bunch of noisy kids shuffling around me, but they soon left and i cautiously headed over.
this time i could keep my shoes on and i began to walk it, at first fairly quickly and eventually slowing down. i took in the sounds of the birds chirping, the roar of passing buses and cars and the ding-dings from the trolleys. i heard conversation, the wind blowing through the trees, children's laughter and birds chirping. yet, as i made my way through, my mind became quieter and quieter. i became aware of how my out-of-shape muscles, freshly sore after walking many blocks up a steep hill, felt with each step i took, how my feet seemed to become heavier and heavier. i felt the presence of two other women who had joined me on my walk. i felt the sun warming my face and my skin tightening, reminding me that i'd forgotten to apply sunscreen. finally, my movements became slower and slower, until i was barely taking a step. then i sped up and found myself at the center. i'd made it! i sat in the middle, closing my eyes and letting my mind clear, trying to be aware of nothing except the sensations in my body and the world around me. at some point, one of the other women made her way to the center and passed on, but i didn't realize this til after i got up to make my way out. i sat for what seemed like forever and an instant all at once. then i opened my eyes, got up, and started walking again.
on the way out, i thought about how i couldn't deal with another found years of the bush administration. maybe this came to mind because the day before i'd gone to see fahrenheit 911 with amanda & chris. i thought about the depression and political paralysis i've felt for almost three years now, how my thoughts are often hopeless and how i almost exclusively choose to avoid anything that will remind me of just how bad things are. then i realized that even if another four years of the president from hell happens, i'll deal with it, and the way i'll do that is to stop hiding my head in the sand and do something!
anyway, i finished the outside labyrinth and realized that i didn't have a problem (besides not caring much for churches). elated by this realization, i decided to walk down to the waterfront and then make my way to the golden gate bridge & walk on it. i'd never done that before and it really didn't look like it would be too far from ghiradelli square to the bridge.
fuck-up number two! it's a long freakin' way. and even longer when you a) have to pee; b) are completely tired; c) didn't bring a water bottle and d) forgot your sunscreen & are getting burnt. but i kept going, moving my legs forward and focusing my mind on seeing that bridge grow bigger and bigger as i moved closer and closer. i functioned in auto pilot, moving my legs for the sake of maintaining momentum, aware that if i stopped, i wouldn't be able to get going and i'd be stuck in a big park, far from any taxis or buses. i followed the trail through fort mason, along the beach, past the palace of fine arts and then the picnickers and sunbathers in crissy field. i walked up the stairs, over the hill and finally i was on the bridge!
okay, walking on a tall bridge with loud cars whizzing past isn't the best idea for someone with vertigo and extreme exhaustion. about a quarter of the way over, i decided that there was really no point in actually crossing the bridge, since the further i walked, the longer it would be back. hey, i said i'd walk to the golden gate bridge, not across it, right?
after that i found a restroom, water fountain and a bus. since the bus had the word "BART" in the name, i wrongly assumed that it would be headed in the vicinity of the subway. i settled into my seat in the back, not caring how long the ride was, how bad the traffic or how many stops. unfortunately, the bus took me as far as fort mason and then i was told to get off because it was the end of the line. then i had to walk further, including a jaunt uphill, to get to more public transport. i was then back where i started, ghiradelli square/fisherman's wharf, without a clue as to how i'd catch another bus. (i guess at some point i should have picked up a map, i know.) fortunately i remembered that the trolley stop was nearby & it would take me right to the powell street BART station, so i managed to avoid the ticket line by buying a ticket at a discount from a european tourist, waited in line, then did the super-touristy thing for awhile (come on, you all know it's always fun to ride the trolley!) and as the daylight started to become dusky, i walked my aching, blistered feet through the dirty streets of the mission, yummy shrimp burrito in hand, back to the montreuil home.
i was gone a long time. i sure hope the montreuils got it on while i was out!
i'd never walked a labyrinth before, but i was curious. i found the cathedral & walked inside, sneaking past the woman at the information desk so she wouldn't notice that i wasn't putting my suggested $5 donation in the box (in my defense, i didn't have cash on me). i spent some time reading the display about the labyrinth and instructions on how to walk it and then watched the half dozen or so people quietly making their way through it. i didn't plan on doing it, then thought, "oh, what the hell." i began to walk the path and immediately felt uneasy. i had this vague notion that i was just going through the motions and had an overwhelming impatience to finish already. every time i crossed paths with the woman just ahead of me, she would tense up and go out of her way to avoid even the slightest possibility of our arms brushing up against each other, which i found incredibly unnerving. i kept getting distracted by the high ceilings and the beautiful stained glass windows. the hushed atmosphere and soft organ music gave me the feeling of being a child punished for acting up in church.
suddenly i realized that i was exiting already, and i hadn't even made it to the center! i muttered, "what the hell?" out loud, a little louder than i would have liked, and then quickly grabbed my shoes and scurried past the information desk lady on my way out. geez? who fucks up a labyrinth? is that an easy thing to do or am i just a freak?
i walked outside into the sunshine, the cool breeze and the comforting sounds of a city (as opposed to a church, which is anything but comforting to me). i walked around the grounds, feeling like a dejected loser for not doing the labyrinth right, when i noticed some kids running around an identical outdoor labyrinth. i wasn't about to try it again with a bunch of noisy kids shuffling around me, but they soon left and i cautiously headed over.
this time i could keep my shoes on and i began to walk it, at first fairly quickly and eventually slowing down. i took in the sounds of the birds chirping, the roar of passing buses and cars and the ding-dings from the trolleys. i heard conversation, the wind blowing through the trees, children's laughter and birds chirping. yet, as i made my way through, my mind became quieter and quieter. i became aware of how my out-of-shape muscles, freshly sore after walking many blocks up a steep hill, felt with each step i took, how my feet seemed to become heavier and heavier. i felt the presence of two other women who had joined me on my walk. i felt the sun warming my face and my skin tightening, reminding me that i'd forgotten to apply sunscreen. finally, my movements became slower and slower, until i was barely taking a step. then i sped up and found myself at the center. i'd made it! i sat in the middle, closing my eyes and letting my mind clear, trying to be aware of nothing except the sensations in my body and the world around me. at some point, one of the other women made her way to the center and passed on, but i didn't realize this til after i got up to make my way out. i sat for what seemed like forever and an instant all at once. then i opened my eyes, got up, and started walking again.
on the way out, i thought about how i couldn't deal with another found years of the bush administration. maybe this came to mind because the day before i'd gone to see fahrenheit 911 with amanda & chris. i thought about the depression and political paralysis i've felt for almost three years now, how my thoughts are often hopeless and how i almost exclusively choose to avoid anything that will remind me of just how bad things are. then i realized that even if another four years of the president from hell happens, i'll deal with it, and the way i'll do that is to stop hiding my head in the sand and do something!
anyway, i finished the outside labyrinth and realized that i didn't have a problem (besides not caring much for churches). elated by this realization, i decided to walk down to the waterfront and then make my way to the golden gate bridge & walk on it. i'd never done that before and it really didn't look like it would be too far from ghiradelli square to the bridge.
fuck-up number two! it's a long freakin' way. and even longer when you a) have to pee; b) are completely tired; c) didn't bring a water bottle and d) forgot your sunscreen & are getting burnt. but i kept going, moving my legs forward and focusing my mind on seeing that bridge grow bigger and bigger as i moved closer and closer. i functioned in auto pilot, moving my legs for the sake of maintaining momentum, aware that if i stopped, i wouldn't be able to get going and i'd be stuck in a big park, far from any taxis or buses. i followed the trail through fort mason, along the beach, past the palace of fine arts and then the picnickers and sunbathers in crissy field. i walked up the stairs, over the hill and finally i was on the bridge!
okay, walking on a tall bridge with loud cars whizzing past isn't the best idea for someone with vertigo and extreme exhaustion. about a quarter of the way over, i decided that there was really no point in actually crossing the bridge, since the further i walked, the longer it would be back. hey, i said i'd walk to the golden gate bridge, not across it, right?
after that i found a restroom, water fountain and a bus. since the bus had the word "BART" in the name, i wrongly assumed that it would be headed in the vicinity of the subway. i settled into my seat in the back, not caring how long the ride was, how bad the traffic or how many stops. unfortunately, the bus took me as far as fort mason and then i was told to get off because it was the end of the line. then i had to walk further, including a jaunt uphill, to get to more public transport. i was then back where i started, ghiradelli square/fisherman's wharf, without a clue as to how i'd catch another bus. (i guess at some point i should have picked up a map, i know.) fortunately i remembered that the trolley stop was nearby & it would take me right to the powell street BART station, so i managed to avoid the ticket line by buying a ticket at a discount from a european tourist, waited in line, then did the super-touristy thing for awhile (come on, you all know it's always fun to ride the trolley!) and as the daylight started to become dusky, i walked my aching, blistered feet through the dirty streets of the mission, yummy shrimp burrito in hand, back to the montreuil home.
i was gone a long time. i sure hope the montreuils got it on while i was out!
terça-feira, julho 20, 2004
what i did on my summer vacation: "hi, i'm the one pissing off the waitstaff"
my recent trip to san francisco was intentionally timed to correspond to the annual gay pride festival. we talked about partying it up, going to the parade, etc. etc., but after my airport experience from hell, my gay pride energy balloon was somewhat deflated. we did manage to make it downtown for the "gay day" festival & i was very impressed that they close off so many blocks of the city center for pride. there was so much to take in and see, but two of my favorite highlights were watching a large group of men two-stepping to "it's rainin' men" and taking a picture with three very elaborately-dressed drag queens while one was grabbing my tits and another stood behind me, thrusting his crotch against my heinie.
that evening we headed over to the castro for dinner at the bagdad cafe (misspelling is intentional - that's how it was on the sign) and the tranny waitress hated me from the get-go. (it'd be easy to chalk it up to "vagina envy," but i suspect she's just a raging bitch.) first, it was obvious that she preferred the boyz at the table, greeting them with "sweeties" and "happy prides" and big smiles, while amanda and i only got growls. i ordered a cheeseburger with cheddar and a salad with vineagrette. right before she moved on to the person sitting next to me, i said, "you know, i'm going to be bad. can i change that dressing to bleu cheese?" she replied with a scowl and an exasperated, "gawd, everyone is doing that today." then i further pissed her off when i asked where i could find the restroom.
the cafe only had one tiny restroom and a long line, so by the time i got back to the table, my salad had arrived...with vineagrette. i shrugged it off, mostly out of fear of asking her for the correct dressing, and ate it. my thighs didn't really need that bleu cheese anyway! then my burger arrived with - you guessed it - bleu cheese instead of cheddar. uggg. i don't mind bleu cheese dressing, but stinky cheese on an otherwise yummy burger is just wrong. but hell if i was going to say anything! i scraped most of the cheese off, but the burger needed mayo. at this point, i was terrified of the waitress, so i asked bryan to request it for me. she plunked it down on the table & i had to scrape around the crusty, filmy parts (obviously the mayo had been sitting out for awhile) - wholly unappetizing. meanwhile, amanda's brocolli cheese soup arrived and it was so thick and congealed that she could literally eat it with a fork without any dripping down! needless to say, she wasn't dying to gulp it down. and, of course, bryan had to send it back for her, as she was also terrorized by the waitress.
about halfway through the meal, a friend of bryan & brian joined us & although we did introductions, it was loud in the cafe and let's face it, most people aren't good with names. i'm understanding of this, so i wasn't surprised when the friend's boyfriend joined us and as he was making introductions, i could tell he was struggling to remember my name. by this point, i had finished with my burger and i was turned to toward the other end of the table, about to offer up my name & introduce myself to the newcomer when i heard a bark behind me, "ya done wit that?"
"uh, yes," i said, startled, as i handed her the plate.
"excuse me, but do you know how you just looked at me?" our evil waitress accused.
"uh, no. i'm sorry?"
"you looked at me like i was your servant or something," and then she did an exaggerated imitation of me brushing the plate aside, "here, take it."
"i'm sorry. i didn't mean to. i'm just really tired." and was turned away from you, engrossed in conversation. and you're a server for chrissakes. get over it! what the fuck was i supposed to say - oh yes, i would be honored to have you take my plate, your highness. thank you so very much for offering. yeah, fuck you!
amanda and chris also made some fumbling excuses about my plane getting in late, etc., as she sashayed off. then we all looked at each other dumbfounded as my apologies melted into fuck you, bitches! then i turned to the guy at the end of the table and as amanda introduced me, i said, "uh, hi. i'm the one pissing off the waitstaff."
we spent the rest of the meal trying to figure out what happened, as we were all in shock that a waitress would do such a thing. i put in an extra buck for tip, which bryan promptly gave back to me, telling me that i was not tipping her. god, i'm such a wimp. i really wish i'd told her to fuck off right then & there, but naturally, i didn't.
but next time, man, the waitron that fucks with me is going to get it! i don't care about having former server solidarity and all that shit. i'm paying extra to have food brought to me, i expect the person bringing it to be at least civil!
that evening we headed over to the castro for dinner at the bagdad cafe (misspelling is intentional - that's how it was on the sign) and the tranny waitress hated me from the get-go. (it'd be easy to chalk it up to "vagina envy," but i suspect she's just a raging bitch.) first, it was obvious that she preferred the boyz at the table, greeting them with "sweeties" and "happy prides" and big smiles, while amanda and i only got growls. i ordered a cheeseburger with cheddar and a salad with vineagrette. right before she moved on to the person sitting next to me, i said, "you know, i'm going to be bad. can i change that dressing to bleu cheese?" she replied with a scowl and an exasperated, "gawd, everyone is doing that today." then i further pissed her off when i asked where i could find the restroom.
the cafe only had one tiny restroom and a long line, so by the time i got back to the table, my salad had arrived...with vineagrette. i shrugged it off, mostly out of fear of asking her for the correct dressing, and ate it. my thighs didn't really need that bleu cheese anyway! then my burger arrived with - you guessed it - bleu cheese instead of cheddar. uggg. i don't mind bleu cheese dressing, but stinky cheese on an otherwise yummy burger is just wrong. but hell if i was going to say anything! i scraped most of the cheese off, but the burger needed mayo. at this point, i was terrified of the waitress, so i asked bryan to request it for me. she plunked it down on the table & i had to scrape around the crusty, filmy parts (obviously the mayo had been sitting out for awhile) - wholly unappetizing. meanwhile, amanda's brocolli cheese soup arrived and it was so thick and congealed that she could literally eat it with a fork without any dripping down! needless to say, she wasn't dying to gulp it down. and, of course, bryan had to send it back for her, as she was also terrorized by the waitress.
about halfway through the meal, a friend of bryan & brian joined us & although we did introductions, it was loud in the cafe and let's face it, most people aren't good with names. i'm understanding of this, so i wasn't surprised when the friend's boyfriend joined us and as he was making introductions, i could tell he was struggling to remember my name. by this point, i had finished with my burger and i was turned to toward the other end of the table, about to offer up my name & introduce myself to the newcomer when i heard a bark behind me, "ya done wit that?"
"uh, yes," i said, startled, as i handed her the plate.
"excuse me, but do you know how you just looked at me?" our evil waitress accused.
"uh, no. i'm sorry?"
"you looked at me like i was your servant or something," and then she did an exaggerated imitation of me brushing the plate aside, "here, take it."
"i'm sorry. i didn't mean to. i'm just really tired." and was turned away from you, engrossed in conversation. and you're a server for chrissakes. get over it! what the fuck was i supposed to say - oh yes, i would be honored to have you take my plate, your highness. thank you so very much for offering. yeah, fuck you!
amanda and chris also made some fumbling excuses about my plane getting in late, etc., as she sashayed off. then we all looked at each other dumbfounded as my apologies melted into fuck you, bitches! then i turned to the guy at the end of the table and as amanda introduced me, i said, "uh, hi. i'm the one pissing off the waitstaff."
we spent the rest of the meal trying to figure out what happened, as we were all in shock that a waitress would do such a thing. i put in an extra buck for tip, which bryan promptly gave back to me, telling me that i was not tipping her. god, i'm such a wimp. i really wish i'd told her to fuck off right then & there, but naturally, i didn't.
but next time, man, the waitron that fucks with me is going to get it! i don't care about having former server solidarity and all that shit. i'm paying extra to have food brought to me, i expect the person bringing it to be at least civil!
segunda-feira, julho 19, 2004
swallowing my pride
okay, after some consideration, i've decided that maybe i was taking everything the wrong way, especially my mom's email. i know she didn't mean any harm by it and sometimes it's easy to misread someone's tone or intentions in an email. and, of course, now i feel guilty for feeling upset about what i perceived was someone else trying to make me feel guilty or control me. i'm a freak. i admit it. and i also don't like to feel like i'm not in control or not acting independently. some of the worst mistakes of my life were made because someone (like my parents) told me not to do something and i stubbornly insisted on doing it just because i couldn't stand to be told what to do. i'm a freak, and i can also be a total fool.
anyway, i've decided to swallow my pride and let them help me while still working to find other funding opportunities. hopefully i'll only need this much help during the first year, or maybe only the first semester. and in the meantime, i'll just have to work my ass off to prove that the money isn't wasted (and to hopefully help get some sort of scholarship or decent job in the future).
and for the record, i'd like to give my parents a little praise, because i don't do that enough. recently, i've come to recognize and truly appreciate the way my parents raised my siblings & i to be independent, strong people. we had a great deal of freedom as children and as teens, we often had to take care of many things on our own. i never realized how this helped us grow into capable adults until i saw the effects of overprotection or pampering on other adults. i've heard my mom tell stories about some of the young people she works with who don't know how to do basic things like take a letter to the post office (and these are 16, 17, 18 year olds!) and how she tries to get them to do these things at every opportunity. we used to joke about how we were often left to "fend for ourselves" when it came to things like dinner or whatnot and how we were sometimes left alone with me being "in charge" because i was the oldest at the ripe old age of 11 or 12 or so (but, for the record, if they were going out at night, they would have a sitter come stay with us - until i was a teen & taking care of other kids myself). sometimes all this freedom would backfire & there would be unfortunate results -- cooking experiments gone awry resulting in unidentified foodstuffs stuck to the ceiling, feet going through walls during a "downhill ski adventure" on the stairs, a broom handle rammed through a bedroom door, breaking & entering charges -- but overall, it's resulted in three only slightly dysfunctional adults who can take care of themselves no matter what (and do a pretty damn good job, if i don't say so myself!) and my parents always provided us with more than we deserved and gave us the best they had, making lots of sacrifices along the way. they always loved us and supported us (despite occasional lapses in judgement, aka "fuck ups") and most of the time, they're great to be around, especially now that they're older & not young parents under incredible stress. who knew that my dad's temper would one day give way to a light-hearted, jolly man that actually gets a big kick out of talking about sex with his adult children or that my mom would one day own up to accidentally forgetting to pick us up from school from time to time?
that said, now i have to focus on packing, cleaning, taking care of 15 million errands and obligations, work, finding time to exercise before my gym membership ends, taking care of health stuff before my insurance is gone and making time to see friends i hardly ever see and will almost never see once i move. and i only have two weeks to do it all in! to top it off, i'm going to victoria this weekend to work a garage sale. i have a little bit of crap to get rid of and my mom & grandmother have lots of crap to sell. they told me that if i did all the work, i'd collect part of the proceeds, which is fabulous. unfortunately, that also means another weekend will go by without my being able to spend it at home doing all the things i need to get done (or, heaven forbid, socializing) i haven't had a weekend at home since sometime in late may/early june - i've either had to go out of town or work almost every weekend & my unfolded laundry & the piles of crap in my closet are the unfortunate results. oh well, i gotta do what i gotta do.
i just can't believe that in two weeks i'll be moving. that reality has yet to sink in. wow.
anyway, i've decided to swallow my pride and let them help me while still working to find other funding opportunities. hopefully i'll only need this much help during the first year, or maybe only the first semester. and in the meantime, i'll just have to work my ass off to prove that the money isn't wasted (and to hopefully help get some sort of scholarship or decent job in the future).
and for the record, i'd like to give my parents a little praise, because i don't do that enough. recently, i've come to recognize and truly appreciate the way my parents raised my siblings & i to be independent, strong people. we had a great deal of freedom as children and as teens, we often had to take care of many things on our own. i never realized how this helped us grow into capable adults until i saw the effects of overprotection or pampering on other adults. i've heard my mom tell stories about some of the young people she works with who don't know how to do basic things like take a letter to the post office (and these are 16, 17, 18 year olds!) and how she tries to get them to do these things at every opportunity. we used to joke about how we were often left to "fend for ourselves" when it came to things like dinner or whatnot and how we were sometimes left alone with me being "in charge" because i was the oldest at the ripe old age of 11 or 12 or so (but, for the record, if they were going out at night, they would have a sitter come stay with us - until i was a teen & taking care of other kids myself). sometimes all this freedom would backfire & there would be unfortunate results -- cooking experiments gone awry resulting in unidentified foodstuffs stuck to the ceiling, feet going through walls during a "downhill ski adventure" on the stairs, a broom handle rammed through a bedroom door, breaking & entering charges -- but overall, it's resulted in three only slightly dysfunctional adults who can take care of themselves no matter what (and do a pretty damn good job, if i don't say so myself!) and my parents always provided us with more than we deserved and gave us the best they had, making lots of sacrifices along the way. they always loved us and supported us (despite occasional lapses in judgement, aka "fuck ups") and most of the time, they're great to be around, especially now that they're older & not young parents under incredible stress. who knew that my dad's temper would one day give way to a light-hearted, jolly man that actually gets a big kick out of talking about sex with his adult children or that my mom would one day own up to accidentally forgetting to pick us up from school from time to time?
that said, now i have to focus on packing, cleaning, taking care of 15 million errands and obligations, work, finding time to exercise before my gym membership ends, taking care of health stuff before my insurance is gone and making time to see friends i hardly ever see and will almost never see once i move. and i only have two weeks to do it all in! to top it off, i'm going to victoria this weekend to work a garage sale. i have a little bit of crap to get rid of and my mom & grandmother have lots of crap to sell. they told me that if i did all the work, i'd collect part of the proceeds, which is fabulous. unfortunately, that also means another weekend will go by without my being able to spend it at home doing all the things i need to get done (or, heaven forbid, socializing) i haven't had a weekend at home since sometime in late may/early june - i've either had to go out of town or work almost every weekend & my unfolded laundry & the piles of crap in my closet are the unfortunate results. oh well, i gotta do what i gotta do.
i just can't believe that in two weeks i'll be moving. that reality has yet to sink in. wow.
quinta-feira, julho 15, 2004
venting
i'm about to embark on a major scholastic adventure that will hopefully result in me actually having a career and eventually something known as "retirement savings" once i'm done. in the proces, i'm also going to take on a big, honkin' pile o' debt and that's just the reality of it. since i've been living most of my adult life under a big, honkin' pile o' debt, this causes me some anxiety, but nothing i can't deal with. my parents, on the other hand, don't seem to be dealing with it very well.
i'm an adult and i've made adult mistakes, financially, that i have been handling on my own. sometimes it's overwhelming & depressing, but i fully recognize the errors of my ways and am taking responsibility for them. for the past 3 years, i've managed to avoid disclosing the full picture of my credit card debt to the parents and have always managed to make my payments, support myself, pay for my car & the insurance, and everything else. there have been a small handful of times when i have asked for very minor assistance, mostly from my grandmother, when i wanted something like textbooks, money for a class or vacation. but that's always been in small amounts ($100 max) and infrequently. after i got my BA, my parents insisted on making my student loan payments, even after i made noise about taking them over myself. but they insisted & i finally just said, "fuck it. let 'em." it's less than $100/month anyway.
and i'd hoped to continue my stand for independence during law school. i knew they'd probably offer to help with some living expenses & i was resigned to taking whatever amount they felt they could give, even though i knew it meant i'd have to listen to passive/aggressive comments about how they're "supporting" me, because i knew i'd probably really need it - and i do. but unfortunately the school didn't follow up with their end of the bargain - namely giving me enough in student loans to cover what they estimate will be my need after my "family contribution" (don't even get me started on that - it's based on what i earned last year working full time, which obviously i won't be doing anymore!) unfortunately, the same adult mistakes that have saddled me with debt have also hindered me with a poor credit rating, so i was denied a private student loan.
so, i had no other choice but to call my parents to talk about money. first, my mom freaked out about the cost of law school, of which she claimed to have "no idea." my error might have been talking to her first, rather than my father, but she called me back before he did. i tried to make it clear that all i need is for them to sponsor me on the loans, but then they started getting into this whole thing about how they don't want me to be in so much debt, yadda yadda yadda, and they have to talk and figure out how much they can help me with, etc etc. then my dad called yesterday to find out how much i owed on my credit cards & the interest rate. i explained how i did the credit counseling thing & that i was handling it. and then i told him the estimated amount (i was driving and didn't have the paperwork in front of me). he said that it was more than he'd expected, so they wouldn't be able to pay them off.
what? i don't want them to do that! i'd never hear the end of it. and besides, he still has all this anxiety about the greedy corporation he works for "spinning off" into another corporation and now he doesn't know if he might be forced to retire before he can afford to or worse yet, get laid off. the last thing i want to do is add to that anxiety (once again, i'd never hear the end of it). my parents are doing well for themselves, but i have no illusions about them being "rich." i also know the full angst of the guilt that will be extracted and honestly, working and going to school is probably less stressful!
i've been considering just letting them do it & taking the seemingly easy route of not having to work for at least the first year. i thought maybe things would be different this time - my relationship with them has matured slightly since i was an undergrad, so maybe this time i wouldn't get my mom's check and want to rip it up with every fiber of my being, but unfortunately not have the financial freedom to do so. then i got a very forboding email from my mom.
in the past, a "loan" from my mom has usually meant "free money," as my sis commented on an earlier post. i usually send her my "payments," but i can only recall one time when she actually cashed the check, and that was for airline tickets that i needed a credit card to purchase & my check card wouldn't work. she recently helped me with the deposit & july rent on my apartment in houston & i promised to send her $200 at the first of july & another $200 in the middle of the month. she still hasn't cashed the first check, so i emailed her, asking if she was going to. her reply? "I have not deposited the check that you sent. We'll talk about where you could use that money to its best advantage."
arrrrrgggghhh!!! if you don't want or need the money, then just tell me that! but apparently, the control is already starting. the best advantage? how about i apply it toward my car payment? or my rent? if she's going to send me money for my living expenses, she can just deduct the $200 from that amount & call it even! but this whole "we'll talk..." bullshit just reeks of control issues and i'm thirty years old! i think i'm smart enough to know where it can be used to the best advantage, but apparently she thinks i need help figuring that out.
i hate this. now every time i decide to sacrifice some things or get creative with my budget to afford something enjoyable like a small trip or whatever, i'll feel like i have to hide it from them because they might not approve of how i'm using my money. i already feel like they probably think my california/oregon trip was frivilous or unnecessary because i should have been saving that money for school or whatever. uggg. and the condescending reaction i got to the admission that i basically have no savings! of course i don't have any savings. how the fuck are you supposed to save when you are living check to check? what the fuck would i be saving for? i'll tell you what - the next credit card payment or food! it's called budgeting & in a tight budget, there's often no room for savings. ten percent to set aside in a bank account for an even rainier day? yeah, that would be nice to have.
i admit i'm not the best with money, but that's just it. i admit it. so let me deal with it. i admitted it again in an email to my dad today & i clarified once again what i did & did not want from them. of course i'll never be able to tell my mom that what i don't want the most is this control bullshit, because that would only lead to some rather unpleasant family gatherings, and we have enough of those. it just makes me feel sick that it's adding to the list of what i already feel she disapproves of, which i feel like sometimes is just about everything - my weight, my appearance, my clothes, my job, my choices. i hate having to sugar-coat everything. i hate that when i was travelling in south america, i sometimes had to call my grandmother or one of my siblings & ask them to call the bank and transfer more money from my savings account into my checking account because i felt like my mother would disapprove of me spending my own money. and even though i knew that she was getting & reading my bank statements, at least i didn't have to hear that tone in her voice, questioning, judging. (thank god for online banking so i will never have to go back to those dark days!)
[sigh] i don't really know what to do. maybe i should have postponed graduate school until i had everything paid off & had some savings. that was the original plan, but i got anxious to get started. unfortunately i need their help and it's too late to not ask for it & ask my grandparents instead. i love it that when i called my grandmother to see if my parents were in town (i was going to stop by on my way back from refugio & i couldn't get a hold of them) and explained that i needed to talk to them about money, she said very cheerfully & without even questioning me, "just tell us what you need and we'll help you!" i know they will, but i don't want to ask unless i have no other choice. i also feel guilty accepting help from people who have the money and are overjoyed to give it to me. and the worst part about all this? i often find myself questioning or judging the way other people - friends, relatives, perfect strangers - are spending their money, even though i know it's none of my business! it's absurd & i hate it & i have more guilt over that, too. geez, why do middle class people do this to their children - instill this unhealthy attitude toward money in them? it's absolutely unbearable!
i'm an adult and i've made adult mistakes, financially, that i have been handling on my own. sometimes it's overwhelming & depressing, but i fully recognize the errors of my ways and am taking responsibility for them. for the past 3 years, i've managed to avoid disclosing the full picture of my credit card debt to the parents and have always managed to make my payments, support myself, pay for my car & the insurance, and everything else. there have been a small handful of times when i have asked for very minor assistance, mostly from my grandmother, when i wanted something like textbooks, money for a class or vacation. but that's always been in small amounts ($100 max) and infrequently. after i got my BA, my parents insisted on making my student loan payments, even after i made noise about taking them over myself. but they insisted & i finally just said, "fuck it. let 'em." it's less than $100/month anyway.
and i'd hoped to continue my stand for independence during law school. i knew they'd probably offer to help with some living expenses & i was resigned to taking whatever amount they felt they could give, even though i knew it meant i'd have to listen to passive/aggressive comments about how they're "supporting" me, because i knew i'd probably really need it - and i do. but unfortunately the school didn't follow up with their end of the bargain - namely giving me enough in student loans to cover what they estimate will be my need after my "family contribution" (don't even get me started on that - it's based on what i earned last year working full time, which obviously i won't be doing anymore!) unfortunately, the same adult mistakes that have saddled me with debt have also hindered me with a poor credit rating, so i was denied a private student loan.
so, i had no other choice but to call my parents to talk about money. first, my mom freaked out about the cost of law school, of which she claimed to have "no idea." my error might have been talking to her first, rather than my father, but she called me back before he did. i tried to make it clear that all i need is for them to sponsor me on the loans, but then they started getting into this whole thing about how they don't want me to be in so much debt, yadda yadda yadda, and they have to talk and figure out how much they can help me with, etc etc. then my dad called yesterday to find out how much i owed on my credit cards & the interest rate. i explained how i did the credit counseling thing & that i was handling it. and then i told him the estimated amount (i was driving and didn't have the paperwork in front of me). he said that it was more than he'd expected, so they wouldn't be able to pay them off.
what? i don't want them to do that! i'd never hear the end of it. and besides, he still has all this anxiety about the greedy corporation he works for "spinning off" into another corporation and now he doesn't know if he might be forced to retire before he can afford to or worse yet, get laid off. the last thing i want to do is add to that anxiety (once again, i'd never hear the end of it). my parents are doing well for themselves, but i have no illusions about them being "rich." i also know the full angst of the guilt that will be extracted and honestly, working and going to school is probably less stressful!
i've been considering just letting them do it & taking the seemingly easy route of not having to work for at least the first year. i thought maybe things would be different this time - my relationship with them has matured slightly since i was an undergrad, so maybe this time i wouldn't get my mom's check and want to rip it up with every fiber of my being, but unfortunately not have the financial freedom to do so. then i got a very forboding email from my mom.
in the past, a "loan" from my mom has usually meant "free money," as my sis commented on an earlier post. i usually send her my "payments," but i can only recall one time when she actually cashed the check, and that was for airline tickets that i needed a credit card to purchase & my check card wouldn't work. she recently helped me with the deposit & july rent on my apartment in houston & i promised to send her $200 at the first of july & another $200 in the middle of the month. she still hasn't cashed the first check, so i emailed her, asking if she was going to. her reply? "I have not deposited the check that you sent. We'll talk about where you could use that money to its best advantage."
arrrrrgggghhh!!! if you don't want or need the money, then just tell me that! but apparently, the control is already starting. the best advantage? how about i apply it toward my car payment? or my rent? if she's going to send me money for my living expenses, she can just deduct the $200 from that amount & call it even! but this whole "we'll talk..." bullshit just reeks of control issues and i'm thirty years old! i think i'm smart enough to know where it can be used to the best advantage, but apparently she thinks i need help figuring that out.
i hate this. now every time i decide to sacrifice some things or get creative with my budget to afford something enjoyable like a small trip or whatever, i'll feel like i have to hide it from them because they might not approve of how i'm using my money. i already feel like they probably think my california/oregon trip was frivilous or unnecessary because i should have been saving that money for school or whatever. uggg. and the condescending reaction i got to the admission that i basically have no savings! of course i don't have any savings. how the fuck are you supposed to save when you are living check to check? what the fuck would i be saving for? i'll tell you what - the next credit card payment or food! it's called budgeting & in a tight budget, there's often no room for savings. ten percent to set aside in a bank account for an even rainier day? yeah, that would be nice to have.
i admit i'm not the best with money, but that's just it. i admit it. so let me deal with it. i admitted it again in an email to my dad today & i clarified once again what i did & did not want from them. of course i'll never be able to tell my mom that what i don't want the most is this control bullshit, because that would only lead to some rather unpleasant family gatherings, and we have enough of those. it just makes me feel sick that it's adding to the list of what i already feel she disapproves of, which i feel like sometimes is just about everything - my weight, my appearance, my clothes, my job, my choices. i hate having to sugar-coat everything. i hate that when i was travelling in south america, i sometimes had to call my grandmother or one of my siblings & ask them to call the bank and transfer more money from my savings account into my checking account because i felt like my mother would disapprove of me spending my own money. and even though i knew that she was getting & reading my bank statements, at least i didn't have to hear that tone in her voice, questioning, judging. (thank god for online banking so i will never have to go back to those dark days!)
[sigh] i don't really know what to do. maybe i should have postponed graduate school until i had everything paid off & had some savings. that was the original plan, but i got anxious to get started. unfortunately i need their help and it's too late to not ask for it & ask my grandparents instead. i love it that when i called my grandmother to see if my parents were in town (i was going to stop by on my way back from refugio & i couldn't get a hold of them) and explained that i needed to talk to them about money, she said very cheerfully & without even questioning me, "just tell us what you need and we'll help you!" i know they will, but i don't want to ask unless i have no other choice. i also feel guilty accepting help from people who have the money and are overjoyed to give it to me. and the worst part about all this? i often find myself questioning or judging the way other people - friends, relatives, perfect strangers - are spending their money, even though i know it's none of my business! it's absurd & i hate it & i have more guilt over that, too. geez, why do middle class people do this to their children - instill this unhealthy attitude toward money in them? it's absolutely unbearable!
terça-feira, julho 13, 2004
correction...and the story about my little pony
okay. i'm a big dork for even doing this, but i have to correct myself. in last week's entry, i said i'd pet the "palomino" colt, but as a self-proclaimed "horse girl," i can't let this error slide. how can a palomino be black & white? then it wouldn't be a palomino! the colt is actual a paint - you know, the kind that are white with splotches of color (usually brown, but this one is a brownish-black) on them.
yes, i'm a big nerd and yes, when i was a little girl i was obsessed with horses - drawing them, writing and reading stories about them, collecting figurines, longing for one. i read every black beauty installment, could almost recite from memory the stories about the ponies on that island in new england (which of course i can't remember the name of now) and dreamed of one day riding bareback along the beach on my own proud black arabian stallion (okay, hold your snickers about the potential sexual innuendos here). we lived down the street from my maternal grandparents and i was often over there. every time i visited, i'd sit in my grandfather's lap and say, "pa, when are you going to buy me a horse?" the man had a farm with cows, after all, so a horse didn't really seem like such a stretch. and he loved to tell me all about the potential horses he'd seen in the paper, taunting me with stories of the gentle gelding mare for a good price or the mare with foal that he wasn't planning to buy. it was quite evil, actually & i hope it's been distorted in my childhood memory & i wasn't really being fucked with quite so badly. then, in the fourth grade, my grandparents bought me a pony - a shetland/welch mix. i loved it, though i really wanted a full-on horse & was already getting too long & lanky to ride a small pony. but we had fun with tumbleweed, playing a game called "psycho pony rodeo." you see, tumbleweed was only a yearling & not "broken" yet, so pony rides around the yard were out of the question. normally tumbleweed lived on the farm, but on the weekends we'd bring him into the city & keep him in our backyard (he wasn't too much larger than our german shepherd mix anyway). like most young, relatively untamed colts, he liked to nip and intentionally stomp on our feet and would chase us around, bucking and kicking. rather than try to be gentle with him, my siblings, the neighborhood kids and i would get him all riled up, chasing him around the backyard screaming and clapping our hands and then we'd run as fast as we could to the swing set and jump up on the slide or the monkey bars, out of his reach. some would call this cruelty to animals. we called it saturday afternoon at the busby's.
one particular rodeo stands out in my memory. at the time, my sickeningly adorable little sister with her pile of bright red curls couldn't have been more than three years old, yet like the rough & tumble girl she was, she was right there with us, playing psycho pony rodeo. unfortunately, little kids sometimes trip and fall, especially when they're trying to outrun a much larger mammal with four legs and hooves, and tumbleweed stomped right over my baby sis, presumably taking pleasure in finally getting to catch and take his revenge on one of us little hellions. this of course brought more screaming and tears and my mom came running out. she was angry and it was the early 80's, so she did what most angry young parents did during that era - she resorted to corporal punishment. no, not on any of us, but tumbleweed. she grabbed a branch and he got the switching of his life. he took it in stride though, ripping up the branch with his hooves and teeth after my mom had thrown it on the ground.
not long after that the psycho pony rodeos stopped and tumbleweed "disappeared." years later i found out that he'd been found dead, tangled in the neighbor's fence. apparently his adolescent hormones got the best of him and he died trying to jump the fence to get to a female horse. thus ended the short-lived time that i was "the girl with the pony" and i went back to my longing, even spending a week every summer at a fundamentalist christian camp simply because they offered an hour a day of horseback riding lessons. hell, i even fell for andrew's pick-up line the night we met, "want to go riding horses with me sometime?" i'm still waiting for us to go riding horses and i still want to own one myself someday. and i will.
yes, i'm a big nerd and yes, when i was a little girl i was obsessed with horses - drawing them, writing and reading stories about them, collecting figurines, longing for one. i read every black beauty installment, could almost recite from memory the stories about the ponies on that island in new england (which of course i can't remember the name of now) and dreamed of one day riding bareback along the beach on my own proud black arabian stallion (okay, hold your snickers about the potential sexual innuendos here). we lived down the street from my maternal grandparents and i was often over there. every time i visited, i'd sit in my grandfather's lap and say, "pa, when are you going to buy me a horse?" the man had a farm with cows, after all, so a horse didn't really seem like such a stretch. and he loved to tell me all about the potential horses he'd seen in the paper, taunting me with stories of the gentle gelding mare for a good price or the mare with foal that he wasn't planning to buy. it was quite evil, actually & i hope it's been distorted in my childhood memory & i wasn't really being fucked with quite so badly. then, in the fourth grade, my grandparents bought me a pony - a shetland/welch mix. i loved it, though i really wanted a full-on horse & was already getting too long & lanky to ride a small pony. but we had fun with tumbleweed, playing a game called "psycho pony rodeo." you see, tumbleweed was only a yearling & not "broken" yet, so pony rides around the yard were out of the question. normally tumbleweed lived on the farm, but on the weekends we'd bring him into the city & keep him in our backyard (he wasn't too much larger than our german shepherd mix anyway). like most young, relatively untamed colts, he liked to nip and intentionally stomp on our feet and would chase us around, bucking and kicking. rather than try to be gentle with him, my siblings, the neighborhood kids and i would get him all riled up, chasing him around the backyard screaming and clapping our hands and then we'd run as fast as we could to the swing set and jump up on the slide or the monkey bars, out of his reach. some would call this cruelty to animals. we called it saturday afternoon at the busby's.
one particular rodeo stands out in my memory. at the time, my sickeningly adorable little sister with her pile of bright red curls couldn't have been more than three years old, yet like the rough & tumble girl she was, she was right there with us, playing psycho pony rodeo. unfortunately, little kids sometimes trip and fall, especially when they're trying to outrun a much larger mammal with four legs and hooves, and tumbleweed stomped right over my baby sis, presumably taking pleasure in finally getting to catch and take his revenge on one of us little hellions. this of course brought more screaming and tears and my mom came running out. she was angry and it was the early 80's, so she did what most angry young parents did during that era - she resorted to corporal punishment. no, not on any of us, but tumbleweed. she grabbed a branch and he got the switching of his life. he took it in stride though, ripping up the branch with his hooves and teeth after my mom had thrown it on the ground.
not long after that the psycho pony rodeos stopped and tumbleweed "disappeared." years later i found out that he'd been found dead, tangled in the neighbor's fence. apparently his adolescent hormones got the best of him and he died trying to jump the fence to get to a female horse. thus ended the short-lived time that i was "the girl with the pony" and i went back to my longing, even spending a week every summer at a fundamentalist christian camp simply because they offered an hour a day of horseback riding lessons. hell, i even fell for andrew's pick-up line the night we met, "want to go riding horses with me sometime?" i'm still waiting for us to go riding horses and i still want to own one myself someday. and i will.
segunda-feira, julho 12, 2004
insomnia strikes
note: this entry was written in the wee hours of late friday night/super-early saturday morning (however you want to look at it). however, problems with the dial-up/AOL connection delayed its posting. needless to say, i'm happy to be back in the office, with my trusty little t-1 connection.
It’s 2am and I can’t sleep. I’ve been tossing and turning in bed for hours now and I finally got up to smoke a cigarette outside. As I swung gently back and forth on the porch swing out back, I began to realize what I knew on some deep, subconscious level the minute my little car emerged from the long expanse of nothingness known as the King Ranch into the palm trees and otherworldly feel of the Rio Grande Valley – that I was going to a place where I could no longer hide from myself. As I sat outside, taking long, slow drags off an American Spirit and listening to the rhythmic call of bugs wanting to mate in the night, I allowed myself to feel everything I’ve been repressing, all the doubts and insecurities I have about the steps I’m taking into my future. For so long I’ve been trucking along, moving towards my goals, that I haven’t stopped long enough to realize that I may fail and that this fear is taking away part of the joy and excitement I have about making the journey. I sat there, looking out at the mango tree heavily laden with fruit and the fireflies lighting up the sky against the shadow of the trees in the distance and the wild grass, tall enough to almost reach my shoulders. This is a place where I have experienced profound change, intense self-doubt and exhilarating discovery. It is a place where I learned what it means to be radical, to be thoughtful and to find peace among great despair and adversity. I’ve sat facing the pond on a chair beside growing palm trees, some of which I planted, and reflected on my life and the lives of others. It was in that spot that I married someone that is now a virtual stranger to me. I want this place to stay the same forever, even as I see it slowly changing over the years. I want Pio and Lisa to be here forever, even as I realize that they’re growing older as quickly as I am, even though they never really seem to age with each passing year. I make the 300-mile journey here at least annually and though I don’t stay for very long, each visit adds to the collective memory of what already feels like a lifetime. Refugio feels like such an intrinsic part of my being that the possibility of a day in the future when I will come here and find it gone or irrevocably changed is more than I can face without sinking into despair. In many ways, it’s like coming home, though without the underlying dysfunction of family feuds, because it’s the home I’ve chosen for my heart. No matter how old I get, I still feel very much like the confused 21-year old girl who came here with an unwanted pregnancy, naïve hope for a better world and various unsorted baggage to settle. As I suffered through my personal struggles and self-discovery, I emerged a changed person, one who realized for the first time that I could do what I wanted to do, yet this is something I often forget. And for the first time, I felt that I had mentors to look up to and really, truly respect – people who had opened my eyes and mind to things I never knew I was closed to. No matter how glorious and peaceful it is to be here, this is the one place where I will always be raw and I know that when I make the five hour drive north tomorrow, I’ll have more on my mind than when I came, and the miles will fly by while I reflect. When I return tomorrow, I will probably have retreated back into the numbing perseverance that is my daily life, but I’ll be doing it with my heart a little more open than before and a little better off having spent even such a short amount of time here. Now I hope that I can sleep because the unbalanced books await me bright and early in the morning – once again my optimism for a smooth bookkeeping session has faded into the realization that it’s all a mess. Hopefully with Lisa’s help we can sort it out, the delinquent figure revealing itself in a desperate moment of near-defeat and the balance sheet miraculously reflecting the correct numbers.
update: the drive home was hellish & the miles didn't fly by AT ALL. why? because i came down with a bladder infection & all the cranberry & vitamin C i took to ease the pain caused me major stomach/intestinal problems. so, uh, i had to stop at every rest stop possible & when you're driving through massive stretches of nothingness, it can get very unpleasant!
It’s 2am and I can’t sleep. I’ve been tossing and turning in bed for hours now and I finally got up to smoke a cigarette outside. As I swung gently back and forth on the porch swing out back, I began to realize what I knew on some deep, subconscious level the minute my little car emerged from the long expanse of nothingness known as the King Ranch into the palm trees and otherworldly feel of the Rio Grande Valley – that I was going to a place where I could no longer hide from myself. As I sat outside, taking long, slow drags off an American Spirit and listening to the rhythmic call of bugs wanting to mate in the night, I allowed myself to feel everything I’ve been repressing, all the doubts and insecurities I have about the steps I’m taking into my future. For so long I’ve been trucking along, moving towards my goals, that I haven’t stopped long enough to realize that I may fail and that this fear is taking away part of the joy and excitement I have about making the journey. I sat there, looking out at the mango tree heavily laden with fruit and the fireflies lighting up the sky against the shadow of the trees in the distance and the wild grass, tall enough to almost reach my shoulders. This is a place where I have experienced profound change, intense self-doubt and exhilarating discovery. It is a place where I learned what it means to be radical, to be thoughtful and to find peace among great despair and adversity. I’ve sat facing the pond on a chair beside growing palm trees, some of which I planted, and reflected on my life and the lives of others. It was in that spot that I married someone that is now a virtual stranger to me. I want this place to stay the same forever, even as I see it slowly changing over the years. I want Pio and Lisa to be here forever, even as I realize that they’re growing older as quickly as I am, even though they never really seem to age with each passing year. I make the 300-mile journey here at least annually and though I don’t stay for very long, each visit adds to the collective memory of what already feels like a lifetime. Refugio feels like such an intrinsic part of my being that the possibility of a day in the future when I will come here and find it gone or irrevocably changed is more than I can face without sinking into despair. In many ways, it’s like coming home, though without the underlying dysfunction of family feuds, because it’s the home I’ve chosen for my heart. No matter how old I get, I still feel very much like the confused 21-year old girl who came here with an unwanted pregnancy, naïve hope for a better world and various unsorted baggage to settle. As I suffered through my personal struggles and self-discovery, I emerged a changed person, one who realized for the first time that I could do what I wanted to do, yet this is something I often forget. And for the first time, I felt that I had mentors to look up to and really, truly respect – people who had opened my eyes and mind to things I never knew I was closed to. No matter how glorious and peaceful it is to be here, this is the one place where I will always be raw and I know that when I make the five hour drive north tomorrow, I’ll have more on my mind than when I came, and the miles will fly by while I reflect. When I return tomorrow, I will probably have retreated back into the numbing perseverance that is my daily life, but I’ll be doing it with my heart a little more open than before and a little better off having spent even such a short amount of time here. Now I hope that I can sleep because the unbalanced books await me bright and early in the morning – once again my optimism for a smooth bookkeeping session has faded into the realization that it’s all a mess. Hopefully with Lisa’s help we can sort it out, the delinquent figure revealing itself in a desperate moment of near-defeat and the balance sheet miraculously reflecting the correct numbers.
update: the drive home was hellish & the miles didn't fly by AT ALL. why? because i came down with a bladder infection & all the cranberry & vitamin C i took to ease the pain caused me major stomach/intestinal problems. so, uh, i had to stop at every rest stop possible & when you're driving through massive stretches of nothingness, it can get very unpleasant!
sexta-feira, julho 09, 2004
just hold your horses!
okay, i know it's been awhile since i've posted and i really do have some slightly more interesting things to write about from my recent trip to san francisco & portland. but these things will have to wait until i'm back from my latest journey & have something more than super-slow dial-up at my disposal. oh, and also when i'm not supposed to be working on non-profit accounting, rather than blogging. i'm hoping to get it all done today, which is a very ambitious goal, considering my poor bookkeeping skills and how i'd much rather be walking through the trees, playing with the beautiful black and white palomino colt, watching the chickens & emus, petting the llama, canoeing & birdwatching around the pond, feeding the holstein cows some hay or listening to pio's long-winded stories. yes, i'm back down at refugio del rio grande, just outside of harlingen, texas. i made the five-hour drive yesterday after flying in late wednesday night & the plan is to drive back tomorrow morning, depending on whether or not i get the books balanced. we shall see...
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