Catching Up

I'm very sad about the whole Barbaro thing, so I'm going to ignore it and write on happier topics.

I talked to Emily yesterday. It was funny. It was like the first time in over a year that we've talked, and I'd thought about calling her earlier, like last weekend. But there was the whole general malaise, and I was a bit worried that we wouldn't have anything to talk about. Ha. Um. Our short little call turned into a nearly two hour call. Apparently, I am somewhat responsible for her friend's (Jana? Something like that) addiction to the DC blog scene. J, as I shall call you because I'm pretty sure at least that your name starts with that letter (You may pretend to be from Men In Black if you'd like), please don't judge all of DC by the blogging scene. It's a bit crazed. Which, actually, is like DC and probably an accurate representation of teh populace. But there are some non-crazed people here, such as myself. So don't write us all off. It was also nice to get blogging validation. I kind of waver on what my blog should be, and wind up writing whatever pleases me. I feel my blog may have a bit of an identity crisis at times. But to hear that someone likes it enough to be sucked into the blog scene... Now that just gives me warm fuzzies.

Emily is, of course, doing lovely. We did have a possible insight into the lack of guys who dare to ask girls like us out, and we decided a good portion of it could be our age. See, early to mid-twenties is a time full of self-discovery, and figuring out who you are. A good deal of this involves going through crap where you doubt lots of stuff about yourself. Now, Emily and I and a good portion of my good friends are the type of girls who are strong in and of themselves. We don't need a guy to protect us or tell us what to do or think. We need guys who are as strong as we are, so they can be our partners, and we really won't accept anything else. These types of guys at our age are still figuring out who they are. They can't be strong enough for us yet because they aren't sure how much strength they've got. Now obviously there are exceptions to everything, blah, blah, blah. But the fact is that I think the world of most of my friends and I know that eventually they will all meet people who make them utterly happy and who fit them to a tee. Now I probably won't say that these eventual guys will be worthy of them. But I know that they are out there, being put through the fire, so that they will at least come close.

Plus One

Our society has an issue. Well, several issues, but one that the Today Show and Real Simple yet again brought to my attention. Showing real plus-size women is just anathema in today's media. Which is just ridiculous, especially since Americans are getting bigger and bigger. See, the Today show had a segment on what jeans people should wear to flatter their body types. Real Simple provided the jeans and the models. Their plus-size model can't have been over a size 12. Probably closer to 10. That's not plus-sized. Same with most of the plus-size models out there. Yes, it's great that they have women modeling who are in the double digits of sizes. But if you're a ten, you are not representative of the women who actually are plus-sized. It's like the Lane Bryant models. They cannot be wearing the clothes Lane Bryant makes without those clothes being modified. So, really. What's the point? You have plus-sized store but then show all the women who shop there that they aren't really pretty enough or sexy enough to represent the store? And smaller sizes then become stigmatized as well. So now a size 10-12 is big? What then is normal? 4-6? 2-6? 0-6? That seems like a great trend. Rather than encourage people to be healthy, whatever their body type, let's encourage them to strive to be as tiny as possible. That won't make everyone miserable, I promise...

Sticks and Stones

Apparently, Tijuana police now have a new weapon against crime... slingshots. This article, for those of you interested, describes how the police in Tijuana, a place known for its crime problems, have had their guns taken away and replaced with slingshots. This seems an interesting tactic. Now I'm anti-violence and don't particularly like guns. But this still is a bit odd. Let's take people who are already in danger (13 policemen, 300 people total were killed last year in Tijuana) and give them stones to whirl at people.

Along this same line, the protestors from opposing sides in Lebanon have apparently started throwing rocks at each other. I know the situation in Lebanon is very sad and very serious. And these incidents also involved road blockages, and burning cars. But picture this. Two groups of angry people, seperated by barriers and police, throwing ROCKS at each other across the distance? It's mildly amusing.

Outside of interesting news stories, my life has been pretty slow. I'm finally doing yoga again, with the goal of being ridiculously flexible, and it's actually helped me to sleep. SB being gone has made me much more productive, although it's made going to the gym much harder. My apartment is cleaner, I've been cooking, I've knit some. I'm reading Lolita. I went to see Martha Grimes speak at B&N. He keeps trying to convince himself that Cassie misses him, but I'm not sure that she does. She is sleeping with me at night, which is very cute. She all stretches out against my legs and keeps me warm. Though I think she must be going through yet another mad growth spurt, since she is eating like mad. And getting much more vocal. She begs for EVERYTHING. I look at the kitchen, she runs to the fridge and begs me to open it (She likes to jump in. I'm not particularly fond of that desire...). She begs for and tries to get on the table to eat my food. She begs for me to rehang up her mouse so she can play with it. It's kind of funny, since her begging is more clucking and less of a meow. Sigh. Some blogs have been highly derogatory about cat ladies, but I will freely admit that I love cats. Not enough to clean up after like a zillion of them. But enough to admit that they make me happy.

It's like a car crash

I think blogger may be messing with my mind. I just went to a blog that I know I checked on Friday. Friday, there was no new post. Today, there is one dated last Wednesday. Sigh. I just don't know. Then there is the whole DC blog-war of which I only recently became aware and which I can't figure out, primarily (I think) because a lot of it went down at a blogger happy hour, and I can't find out who one of the main offenders is. Not that I really care that much (not actually knowing any of these people). But it's kind of like a soap opera. And a car crash. You know you shouldn't watch/slow down to look, but you can't seem to drag yourself away.

Sigh. I'm trying not to be mad at SB. Because while I know him being gone isn't entirely his fault, it still kind of is. He did agree to go first, before trying to back out. If he had never agreed in the first place, it would have been a different story. And I TOLD him I wouldn't do well with this whole thing. I told him in a few different ways. He, being foolish, thought, "well, since we'd talked about it, I figured it was all okay." Dumbass. So now my stomach is bothering me, no big surprise since this weekend wasn't exactly full of rainbows and unicorns. (Why unicorns? I don't know. They seem happy. And I watched Dodgeball like three times and there's the scene in Melody's-not her real name, but her name from pre-skankhood and Hey Dude days-apartment with all the unicorns.) I kept thinking, "I should call so-and-so, I haven't talked to her in over a year" but then I would decide that I didn't really want to talk to people. And SB, who promised to text a lot, only sent one text. And there are no emails or phone calls from him on the weekend. So now I'm trying not to be vindictive and refuse to call him tonight.

If I don't call him tonight, though, there will be good reasons. To stave off my thoughts, I'm going to go to a Martha Grimes thing at the B&N near me. Ms Grimes is coming to speak and sign and, while I'm not a huge fan, I did highly enjoy the one book by her that I've read. And she's moderately famous, particularly in the mystery genre (not one I usually frequent, but whatever), and it'll get me out. Plus today's my mom's birthday, so of course I must call and chat. It's all about hte distraction, people.

See, I've decided my whole problem is that I'm too smart. I get bored and need something to think about. So I start analyzing myself. "Picking," as SB would call it, a term I usually find inaccurate unless I actually am trying to make myself cry or something. It's not good to spend hours analyzing yourself. It can make one a bit neurotic. How to avoid it, though, is something I'm still struggling with. I could write it out, yes, but that forces me to come face-to-face with everything in writing. I could read, but at such times, it can be hard to settle my brain down. I can watch tv, but I wind up not really paying attention. It's a dilemma, yes, and un cercle visceaux, one which is best stopped by avoiding it in the first place by doing something. So that is the plan. And if I happen to not have enough time to call SB, well too bad for him. That's what he gets for leaving.

Repressed dreams

I really had the best intentions of updating yesterday. Sadly for the great numbers of you who read this (and by great, I mean like 5), blogger was being a complete and utter pain and I was unable to. That and I was too lazy and tired later on to get back online at home on my stolen internet.

I had a dream a couple of nights about an old crush of mine. It was very bittersweet, a dream in which I knew that the crush and I could have had a good relationship, but I was with SB and I wasn't about to give up what I have with him. I of course told SB about it, since I tend to tell him most things, especially little things that might make him jealous. He, of course, was not thrilled about it. And to be perfectly honest, neither was I. Not because the dream "told" me anything in particular, but because I couldn't understand why this guy would keep resurfacing from my subconcious.

Bit of background info: This guy and I had a pretty decent flirtation going for several months. He, however, never actually asked me out, and I, for a number of personal and psychological reasons, refused to ask him out. Then I met SB, with whom things moved rather quickly, and that was that. Crush later started dating someone else, a girl of whom I was not fond. I always wondered why he could ask her out, but not me.

So, while thinking about my dream the other night, I had an epiphany. See, before SB, I never really dated much. I've been told that I can be intimidating to guys, which both bothers and frustrates me. I mean, really. Give me a break. Yes I am strong and intelligent and like to debate and I definitely don't wear my heart on my sleeve. But I am also funny and sweet and shy and fiercely loyal, some of which comes out after like five minutes of talking to me, and if a guy is so easily intimidated and can't see beyond that, then we probably wouldn't have a great relationship anyways. Knowing that in my head, though, doesn't mean that the lack of dates was not hard on me. As soon as I got upset or depressed or lonely, I started blaming myself, wondering why I wasn't worth the risk of rejection. SB has done his best to rid me of these types of thoughts, but they don't disappear that easily, much to his chagrin. So I think my former crush has come to represent all of those negative feelings and experiences. I don't want to be with anyone but SB, but I want other people to want to be with me.

Fashionistas

I think it's interesting that, for someone who so rarely looks polished and who so rarely looks fashionable, I have a highly developed sense of style. Now that might sound both strange and snotty. It's true, though. I know what I like, I know why I like it, and I can spot what's wrong with an outfit in under a minute. I blame/thank my mother, as a seamstress, and my college roommate for this ability. My college roommate used to challenge me. "What's wrong with that person's outfit?" she'd ask. "They're wearing two different types of plaid, one which is navy-based and the other which is black," I would quickly respond. (Not that anyone couldn't do this. I mean, really. Multiple plaids? How could you miss that?) My mom's teaching was more subtle and less purposeful. Mainly, if I wanted clothes that I liked, I had to learn what I liked and didn't like about how things fit. I blame my current lack of apparent fashion on this. Everything I try on, I think, "Wow. This would look great if the waist was half an inch higher." Or, "Man. This looks like crap. Look at how badly it fits me around the neck. If I'm paying x-amount of dollars for something, I want something that fits me correctly." So in despair, I wear whatever and aim for comfort rather than fashion. And I may or may not still be sabotaging myself. Whatever.

All this fashion-judgment came out with the Golden Globes. There were so few dresses that I didn't think, "Well, if this had been changed, it would be great." Jennifer Lopez's was one of those few. Man, she looked hot. But most... Well, they left something to be desired. And why is it that all strapless dresses look like they are about to fall off? If they were pulled up just one or two more inches, they'd look great. But NO. We have to show as much cleavage as possible, so we double-tape the dresses on and hope for the best. It's nearly as bad as the current "tuck your pants into your boots" craze, only beaten by the coulotte pants and knee-highs. I mean, really. What is the purpose? No one looks good in that combo. It makes you look like your legs are funny lengths. Give it up, people. Accept that the designers are crazy, stop buying so much into fads for the sake of fads, and buy clothes that actually look good on you. Now, if only I could find some that I can afford...

Apologies

Dear guy I may have glared at with hatred on the metro yesterday:

I'm sorry. I don't actually hate you. I know it was just extremely crowded and your hand accidentally got caught in the cord of my headphones. But I just felt someone pulling on my ipod and on my headphones and when the pressure released, although the music kept going, I wondered if maybe my ipod had been pulled out of my pocket and I was going to have to fight the masses in order to bend down and pick it up. Plus I was trying to get out of the way and there was just chaos. But I didn't really hate you, I was more annoyed with the whole situation. And the way you offered your hand to balance me was very sweet.

Sincerely,

Me

For all others, obviously my commute home was not great. I managed to cram onto the first train that pulled up, but then got pushed out at a subsequent stop, which is SO not kosher. Didn't really matter, though, since there was no way I could have made the bus I was trying to catch. Which then meant I would have a really hard time making choir, since I walked in the door at 7 and would have had to feed myself and get out the door by 7:30. Plus SB was going to try and call me and I knew he'd forget that I had choir and I didn't want to miss him. Though his phone didn't work and I wound up having to call him. So I stayed home and watched tv instead. And played with Cassie, which she enjoyed. I enjoy that, since my apartment is now colder, she has started sleeping with me more. She's very warm.

I'm a Big, Fat Liar

I said I was looking forward to him leaving, at least a little bit. I was such a liar. Well, that's not entirely true. I wasn't lying about getting to do all of that stuff. CW and I were commenting that having a significant other enables laziness. You don't really have to work to be around people because you're already around people. There is no need for effort-full socialization; just lie back and be lazy.

Anyways, I do miss SB. He was pretty sweet this weekend, although CW said at least some of it was too sweet. He just got all puppy-eyed on me. See, he had taken FIVE hours to run errands. It's not even like he had a lot of errands. He had to get his hair cut, pay his credit card, and run by his house to pick up the stuff he needed to pack. So he dropped me off at 5. I start playing "The Sims: Open for Business" (which is SOOOOOO fun, btw. I've started an at-home business, which is doing fairly well, although my employees keeping getting mad and quitting). At 8:30, he calls and says he thinks he's about done, so if I want to go ahead and order a pizza, that would probably be a good idea. Knowing him, I wait a bit (until 9) and then order a pizza. I wait for the pizza. The pizza comes. I wash a plate so I'll have a plate to eat off of. I get ready to eat. Finally, about 10, he shows up. He says he was working hard that whole time, and I believe him. I also think I could have been done with the same errands and more in maybe two hours. So I'm a bit peeved, just because the whole fact that he seems to run in his own time zone can be a bit annoying and because I had pictured a rather cuter last night together involving cuddling and drinking wine and being all couple-y. He comes and sits down next to me and is all, "I missed you..." I, refusing to be sweet or sappy, said, "It'll be good practice for the next six weeks." He then, puppy-eyes at the ready, turned to me and said, "I have had entirely too much practice missing you." All together now, "Aww..."

But yes. So he's gone for the next four weeks, back for less than one, and then gone for yet another, and I'm not happy about it.

Somethign else I'm not happy about (in a COMPLETELY random change of topic) is a study that just came out showing that the health benefits of drinking tea are negated by adding milk. Yes, that's right. Drinking tea is good, drinking milk is good, but somehow, put the two together, and it ALL gets cancelled out. Bastards. I like milk in my tea. It's a lovely addition. Maybe I'll just add more wine to get more antioxidants.

A State of Unproductivity

I really have had a thoroughly unproductive day. I had plans to be productive, really, I did. But then I got in to work and half the office wasn't here and I had a bad commute and it's rainy and my brain just melted away. Plus I didn't sleep well last night. In fact, I haven't slept well for the past three nights. I'm fairly tired, I must say. And then last night, I drug my sorry ass to the gym (which was WAY too difficult, btw, and involved another horrific commute) and then promptly developed a sickening headache after dinner. THEN I got home to no note from my apartment building, so I didn't know whether they were definitely cancelling the replacement of my windows (supposed to happen today) due to rain, so I still had to move all my furniture three feet away from said window. That might not seem like a huge deal to those of you in multi-room places, but I live in a studio. A studio, I might add, that is completely packed with furniture. Then the leg of my dresser broke, so SB and I had to take all the drawers out of it, even though several of the drawers seemed desperate to be stuck. Remember the throbbing headache, people.

It was at this point that I may or may not have yelled out, "I hate my life!" When SB asked why, I answered that "EVERYTHING IS ALL FUCKED UP." He then told me I should sit down and he could do it all for me. Which was sweet, but not feasible, as I had a plan in my mind for where the furniture would be most out of the way. I then started a mad rampage about hating 30 Rock. And I don't really hate it. I don't like it. It annoys me that everyone acts like it is such a great show, when the whole premise of it irritates me. But hate it? I mean, actively hate enough for a mad rampage? I don't think so.

Then, when I did attempt to sleep, eye pillow strapped around my head, I couldn't. Cassie kept jumping on and off the bed, I couldn't get comfortable, and my head still hurt. Cassie decided that running around madly at 4 am would be LOADS of fun, particularly the part where she jumps on paper bags to make lots of noise. I had to get up early to ensure that I was dressed by the time the hypothetical window people showed up to take down my blinds. Luckily they didn't, since the building claims that if they take down the blinds on a Friday, the blinds will not be put back up until the following Monday. And again, to those multi-roomed of you, this is a big deal when you have no other room to escape into. I would have to retreat into my bathroom for EVERYTHING, including putting on sweatpants and pj's. My apartment is high enough that random street people couldn't see me; there are, however, many balconies around me and at least one of them belongs to a family with a small child who is prone to wandering out (supervised) in order to enjoy being outside.

So, needless to say, I arrived to work today exhausted and with coffee in hand. The coffee, while enjoyable, only managed to keep me awake. Productivity had long since flown the coup... Oh well, though. I guess there is always Monday...

Pluses and Minuses

In the past 24 hours, I have eaten entirely too much. I have also, however, had enough water to drink for the first time in months. I am shamed by the food, redeemed by the water. I think I'll declare it a wash.

So the days until SB leaves are becomign fewer and fewer. Stupid boy. The sad thing is, a part of me is looking forward to it. Not really, but kind of. I'll miss him, yes, but I'll also have so much more time. I can read again. The idea! Reading!! I can go to bed at 10:30 if I'm tired, I can knit my lovely shawl. I mean, really. This shawl is going to be gorgeous. I can play the Sims 2 for hours (I think SB might be getting me "Open for Business" as well, as I've decided I must have it and would be willing to not eat a meal or two in order to afford it), and not feel guilty. I can watch hours of tv and not care about whether or not he likes the show. I can do yoga and try out the belly dancing video on OnDemand.

I'm not saying it won't be hard and I won't be sad. But I haven't had to be independent since I graduated from college. Which is a little strange, I know, but hey. Of course, I also won't really be able to eat, and that's no fun. But oh well. I'm sure I'll make it.

I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy....... [where?]

Well, after nearly two lovely weeks off, I have returned again to the belly of the beast. Okay, that may be a BIT extreme, but whatever. I thought on the way in this morning that I was actually kind of glad to be returning to my usual routine, but now not so much.

I was listening to my old Christian music cd's. And I know that everyone, my mother included, thinks that Christian music automatically equals sappy crap, but some of it is actually good music. And I'm tired of feeling like I have to defend my faith. Which I know is me, but it's also the radical right-wings with whom I don't want to be affiliated. So when I mention CSF, I'm always like, "It wasn't one of those kind of groups." But thinking about it, I don't even know what "those" kind of groups would be or how any Christian group I've been involved in wouldn't be one. Because really, every Christian group I tested out, even if I ultimately didn't go there, was pretty darn nice and welcoming. Why is there such a stigma? Even the groups where I disagreed with 90% of what they believed went out of their way to make me feel welcome. This isn't to say that these groups don't have the problems lots of groups have. CSF was notoriously clique-y. The houses got into HUGE spats. People were judgemental. But if you really needed help and let them know, they'd do a lot to be there for you. So yes. I'm going try and stop saying Christian groups are not "that type of group." And I'm going to stop feeling like I have to say, "Oh, I'm not THAT kind of Christian." People who know me should know that I'm not a crazy right-winger, and the ones who dismiss me that easily for my faith are probably not people I want to know anyways. And I've been realizing more and more how important that faith is to me, and I want to have joy (not necessarily happiness, but joy), and thinking that all this will work out for something good is all that is keeping me from going nuts at work, so...

CW just told me that Austin Grill is participating in Restaurant Week. What?! Who is going Austin Grill (or Hard Rock Cafe) for RW? Seriously, people. Spend your money better.

Back to DC.

Well, I'm back in DC. I didn't really want to go. I never do. My mom has declared that I need to come home for long enough to want to leave. I was glad to get back to Cassie and SB. SB was jealous because he stopped in to check on Cassie yesterday and she hissed at him and then didn't care that he was there. Then, when I got home, she ran over to me, and then got so excited, she ran around the apartment. It was pretty cute. She now is sleeping by my feet.

The whole Christmas time was fun, but insanely busy. I did get to see a plethora of high school friends. It was so bizarre. We all went to eat after picking up my brother and sil and ran into my dad's old partner's daughter. I went to elementary school with her, and then didn't really see her again except at her dad's funeral (he died from complications with a bone marrow transplant) in high school. Then I ran into another girl I hadn't seen since elementary school at the movie theater. Then, of course, there were the people I made an effort to see. There are really only three of them, two who are sisters, which isn't a huge number of people. But then there is Haley, WHO GOT ENGAGED FOR CHRISTMAS!!! I am so incredibly happy for her. She had a little party that I tagged along to, where I met her fiance (so strange to say) and got to see Jules, whom I haven't seen since hte summer after I graduated from college, and Molly (same), and caught up on news of others I haven't seen in forever. Oh, and Haley's going to be supporting herself and totally rocks, so go buy her cd. It was a little strange being there at the party. These people all stayed close to home for college, so they stayed in touch. So they're all like, remember that time a week ago, and I'm all like, remember in seventh grade... And I forget that people who stay around my hometown tend to have a different worldview. I love them and they are some of the most genuinely nice people I have met. But it's so incredibly different than people around DC. One of my friends was talking about this girl's jerky boyfriend and how he's had sex with other girls. This part was whispered, like sex was a bad word or something. It was funny. And a little confusing. I was never sure if he was cheating on her because she wouldn't sleep with him, which would be horrible and ridiculous, or if he had just had sex before in her life.

A and D, the sisters, are funny and doing well, as always, though A doesn't like her job, so we commiserated together. Even though she makes like two-and-a-half times what I do... D has a child in her class who claims (and his mom agrees) that he's possessed by the devil. He, obviously, is a bit of a handful and making her second year of teaching not so great.

Sigh. I was just looking at Haley's myspace. I'm so happy for her. I can't wait for the wedding, which will be LOADS of fun. And her ring is HUGE. Her fiance freaking found the diamond for it on the sidewalk when he was six. How crazy is that? Where is my diamond on the street?!

Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays!!!

Well, I realize I've been a bad blogger and not updated for nearly 10 days. It's hard running a blog, a social life, an office, and a grad school application process. And then getting sick. Twice. Luckily, I am now done with the grad school applications! (YAY!!!!) Except for mailing in one hard copy that is waiting on getting my last recommendation in the mail. And I'm basically well, though I felt AWFUL on Thursday. Luckily, I made it home and probably infected everyone on both my planes, but what else is Christmas about?

Last weekend was my sister-in-law's brother's wedding. He lives around DC and they are the nicest family ever, so SB and I were invited to everything. It was just lovely. The wedding was beautiful, even if the music was a little hokey. But the hokey music was done by long-time family friends of the bride, so it was all good. The reception was GORGEOUS. Thousands of twinkle lights everywhere, very classy centerpieces. The only bad part about the whole thing was the catering service was not good. At one point, the brother of the bride was going around to the tables and picking up dirty dishes... Not good. The other, me-related issue was all underwear related. I had on one of those bra/slip/stomach-suck-iny things and it either peeked through the neck of my dress, or slid down until stuff was poking out the top and I had those horrible strapless bra lines. The groom's aunt totally saw me trying to heave it up, but oh well. I think it entertained her.

And I got to hang out some with Erik, who is an English PhD student, so that was fun, and Jonathan, my brother's giant college roommate who is now dating a girl still in undergrad. The girlfriend was also nice, just very young... And, as promised, there was ethnic dancing. It was all just fun.

Now I am home. My brother and SIL are here, too, and my grandma gets here today and my grandparents here tomorrow. My mom is on complete overkill mode and we have to bake everything today. The only dark spots are that I miss my cat... and that I found out that SB is indeed going to have to go abroad for a month, leaving less than a week after we get back from the holidays. He tried to get out of it for a number of reasons, but it looks like they really want him to go. Poop. But we shall not think about that. Instead, we shall concentrate on Christmas and family and not having to be back at work for over a week!

Since I probably won't have time to write tomorrow, merry Christmas, everyone!!

Yes, Virginia...

So I've decided I'm going to believe in Santa again. I remember believing in Santa. I remember how magical everything was. I remember sitting up Christmas Eve, straining to hear hooves on the roof. I remember being SO excited I could hardly sleep. And I'm going back to that model.

Some of you may be asking yourselves, "How is she going to go back to a previous period in her life?" Well, I realize that I can't become a child again. I can act like a child, though. And I know that I can't unlearn knowledge. But I can forget about it if I want to. And I feel my life could use a little magic right now. (I got the maximum raise my boss's structure will allow!!! Which is miniscule and I got that raise because she pities my small salary and I still make a tiny amount and can't afford food or clothing and can't rent an apartment without my parents or put any money into savings for grad school...) So magic is good.

What else is good? The hot cider at Gadsby's Tavern is AMAZING. I liked it with rum. The carolers there during the holidays, also very nice. Walking down King Street when the lights are up and there is a nice crisp feel to the air? Very holiday-y. Finding the PERFECT present for my mom was great. Being knocked on my ass for the past five days and sleeping basically the whole day before doing any of those things was not so great. In fact, I can say that being sick at the holidays definitely sucks. Luckily, after missing two days of work and sleeping INSANE numbers of hours, I am getting well.

Also, Cassie is no longer Coney (she doesn't have to wear her cone anymore. SB called her Coney while she did), and she seems very glad of that fact. Now I just have to figure out what to do with her over the holidays...

Prudes beware

I do not feel well at all. CW has already left. She heard someone else on our floor throwing up in the bathroow. I think there may be something going around. And the worst part is that today is horribly cold. Well, not horribly, but when you've had no period of acclimation and have had the ambient temperature drop 40 degrees in one week, it seems freezing. Plus the wind whips over the water near my office and makes it feel much worse than it is. When you add to all that illness... AND SB, whom I'm mad at anyways, can't even pick me up from the metro, meaning I get to add a climb up a steep hill to all my time in the outdoors. And my rib hurts. Just the one on my right, but it's an occasional throbbing and I don't enjoy it. I will, however, survive.

Luckily, I can space for the few remaining minutes of the day and sign our Holiday cards. Because New Guy, who we don't like much, decided we should personally sign all the cards we send out. Nevermind that last year we didn't even send any out. And since he picked out dark cards, we had to buy silver pens to use. He made me call the paper store near him and ask if they had them. What decent paper store doesn't have silver pens? I mean, come on... The people at the paper store laughed at me for even calling and asking.

Plus on [redacted] (the new Daily Dump blog), there is a guest poster who complained because one of his exes wanted him to go down on her so much. I realize this is a sensitive topic for some. But the whole thing frustrates me, mainly because I'm SURE this guy and several other blog-guys I know would throw a hissyfit if their girlfriend/random girl they picked up at a bar/on a corner wouldn't go down on them. I mean, really. If you listen to these guys, they talk about how giving head is "cleaner," somehow "more sanitary." Um... why? If you think about it, the same kinds of issues are going on in each region. We all pee down there, people! (Pee, by the way, is an antiseptic.) I think the real reason is that guys are selfish and squeamish. Well, I say no more of it! Tit for tat, everyone!! I'm calling on all girls who are involved in such activities to demand equality in such arenas. Stop being prudish! And men, suck it up. Both literally and figuratively.

Cone Kitty

My roses are opening very nicely. I'm going to take them home tomorrow so I can enjoy them over the weekend.

I made the mistake of looking to see whether or not I can safely take Cassie's cone off early. I can't let her run around freely because I'm worried she'll get stuck somewhere with it (she's already nearly gotten stuck under the bed and actually got stuck on the window ledge). So she's crazy every night and morning when I free her from the closet. Plus she can't groom properly (she tries, but just winds up grooming the cone as if it were her) and I can only do so much. I'd really like to take it off her, at least for a bit. BUT I googled to try and find out if cats actually will try to tear out their stitches, especially this far in the healing process, and I came across the most horrible story that makes me want to run home and make sure she's okay and cuddle her. This family adopted a cat and had her spayed. She tore out her stitches (this seems to be the only real example I've found of a cat tearing them out), so they put her in a cone. I don't really think the cone has anything to do with the rest of it, but the writer mentioned it as if it had something to do with it. One night, their beloved kitty starts crying and meowing like mad. Later the kitten's intestines explode out somehow and the poor thing had to be put to sleep. I know this has to be extremely rare and I know that Cassie's fine, but still. And EWWW...

Beyond the massive wildness and the dealing with the cone, Cassie seems to have adjusted quite well to her changed state. She's actually even friendlier than she was before. We did have another incident with her bed. I made the mistake of giving it back to her and she then had an accident on the floor. So I threw it out. No bed for you!

Four years and counting

Four years. Today is my and SB's four year anniversary. He already sent me lovely roses at work, which seemed to strangely surprise my boss. We have no big plans for tonight, but this weekend, we're going to Gadsby's. They're having carolers during the holiday on Friday and Saturday nights. It shall be tres cute.

It's weird thinking that it's been four years. Not just because it means SB and I have been together FOREVER (Who would have thought that I'd date someone four years and still not be married or engaged or planning to do either in the near future?), but because that semester doesn't seem like that long ago. I was in college, living in Collins with all my friends around me. That was the year that everyone lived in college. We had the Michelles in a room, Emily not too far, Whitney down the hall. I was still friends with Peggy and Clare. This would be the time of year for the Dicken's dinner, although junior year was the year the dinner kept being postponed until it was a weak copy of what it should have been. I was so happy then.

And now it's been four years. Poor SB has seen me go through SO much crap, enough that it really has screwed up my health. I lived in England for a while (I missed that year's Dicken's dinner, but exchanged it for a Christmas dinner in Hall where we all stood on our chairs and sang "Teddy Bears' Picnic"), finished school, graduated, tried to find my identity outside of being a student, moved home, moved away from home, got a job, hated my job, got another job, hated that job, too. And I am slowly learning to be happy anyways, even in circumstances that I hate. It's like we talked about in CSF once or twice (during the "fruit of the Spirit" session), joy is not dependent upon happiness. It's good that I'm learning this, because SB tends to feel that he SHOULD be able to make me happy, no matter what else is going on.

He has been with me through all of that and he is so sweet and tries so hard. And really. What more could you ask?

Poor kitty

Well my little kitty can have kittens no longer. She came through surgery and was up trying to play last night. It is pretty pathetic, though. They're making her wear one of those cones on her head. Not only does she have to wear it, she has to wear it for a whole TEN days. She keeps hitting it on stuff and then it scares her. This morning, I let her out of the closet for a bit. She hit it on my suitcase and then literally hopped across the room. She made it in only a few bounds, too. It would have been impressive/funny if I weren't worried about the state of her stitches. And she walks funny because it's there.

CW and I have been looking for engagement rings. Not because either of us want to get engaged, but because we want the rings.

Beyond turkey

It's funny how even my body doesn't want me to go to work. Yesterday, I had a slight fever and now my stomach's being all funny. Sigh. More reasons to leave. As if I needed any.

The whole time at home was lovely. My parents are entertaining. I read two books and finished a hat, which my mom then took pictures of to show her knitting club. It was rather nice, if I do say so myself. I did a lace pattern at the bottom and the yarn itself was so pretty. And my mom bought be really nice yarn (100% silk) for the next project, which is a shawl. I'm moving on to bigger things! My dad was funny, too. Insisted on buying a really expensive tree because he wanted me to be there to pick it out. See, Thursday we went to our usual tree farm. It's about a 30-minute drive, a place where you can cut the trees yourself, though we don't because they actually ship in the ones we like (Frasier firs). But, SADNESS of SADNESS. The tree place is closing!! Not only will they not be there next year, but they didn't even ship in our trees this year! So they only had little puny ones. It was depressing. So my dad had to work on Friday and I was leaving on Saturday, but we stopped at one nursery before I left and found a big, beautiful tree. The only thing? It was $100 MORE than the ones we got from the old place. A little bigger, a little fresher yes. But $100 more?! My parents were aghast, but I had to leave for DC and my dad wanted me to pick out the tree, so... We now own a hugely expensive tree.

I also got to see my glorious friends from high school and found out a highly entertaining story about one of our classmates (she's apparently pretending she was 'most popular' and a cheerleader when she was in high school, while currently coaching cheerleading and trying to get underage boys to let her wear their jerseys).

The only-not-so-fun thing was coming back to a crazy Cassie who may be going into heat and who is supposed to get spayed on Wednesday...

Happy Thanksgiving

The one bad thing about owning a cat is that now I'm conflicted about going home. See, I love being home. My parents are entertaining, the house is so soothing it's practically a vacation home, there are no street noises, no outside lights. Only peace and a lake and trees. But now, I miss Cassie. She's just so cute and adorable and I hate having to leave her by herself. I am going to be the most protective parent ever. And the night before I left, she slept all curled up in my arm. And then she got all frantic when I was leaving, like she knew I was going to be gone for a while.

My parents' cats, though? OMG, I think Felix is the biggest cat I have ever seen. He is HUGE! Which he was last time I was home. He weighed 21 pounds in June and he has gained weight. So he's long, muscular, and has a big belly. I keep making fun of him. Because, let's face it, a cat waddling is just entertaining. Particularly a waddling cat who keeps trying to run or jump.

SB is visiting Catholic couple who is, unsurpisingly but unwisely, now pregnant. I seriously question the wisdom of this, but I guess when you don't believe in birth control... See, the problem is Catholic husband is a vet who recently quit his practice to start his own. So he is currently out of work and trying ot start a business. She's a school teacher, so she'll at least have good health insurance, but not a large salary. It's just not a situation I'd like to be in.

Anyways, I'm off to finish my hat. I have to finish it so I can start on my new project that my mom bought me to day! Yay for knitting!!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

So I've about had it with this community's/city's/country's obsession with size. I've read a few too many blogger entries with lines such as, "ew... she's such a cow," and "what a bloated whale carcus" (last one's word for word). Yet a woman in Brazil DIES from being too skinny, and I don't think anyone would have made fun of the way she looks. In fact, I was frightened by the fact that I didn't think she looked that bad in the pictures I saw of her. Her BMI was 13, she weighed as much as a 12-year-old girl should, but societally? Looked normal. You know what, DC? I would rather be overweight than starving myself to fit your stupid, superficial ideas of what a woman should look like. Grow up and expand your mind like a centimeter...

Dar, How I Love Thee

Last night was the much anticipated, if not really talked about, Dar Williams' concert. Seriously, I love that woman. After the concert, I turned to SB and told him that if I were going to turn gay for any woman, it would be for her. Strangely enough, he was okay with that, as long as it was only with Dar. She did have a cold last night, so her voice was a bit raspy and by the end, you could tell it was shot. She kept coughing and had to pop some cough drops, moving her drug use from backstage to front. At the end, you felt like not applauding insanely just so she wouldn't have to do an encore. She did. Two. And called us pitiless. I was not pitiless, Dar! There was pity! The woman opening for her, Caroline someone, had an amazing voice, too. She kind of enraptured you. Very dark musical choices, but really good. And she just looked so nice. She did give me the skunk eye, as SB would say, while signing my cd's. I'm have mixed emotions about autographs, but opening the one I got for my dad for Christmas to get autographed means I can burn it onto my computer now. Whee! Then last night, I dreamt that I was friends with Dar. It was lovely. So yes, good times were had by all.

I was also greatly entertained by the three flaming gay guys sitting next to me, plus one girl. Though they were all too skinny, particularly the one next to SB, and I just wanted to force them to eat something. Like some bread pudding, which came [gasp] without ice cream or whipped cream. I was disappointed, although the pudding itself was nice. Would be better without the raisins. I am very anti-raisin, particularly in desserts. Let's not pretend they are healthy, people. Embrace the unhealthiness and don't ruin it by adding little chewy things! DOWN WITH RAISINS!!!

Frustration

So some of you may have noticed that I vanished recently. This was for a few reasons. One, last Friday was a holiday. Two, I realized Thursday that my boss would be back on Monday and therefore would expect several things to be done. Most of which she has not asked for, except for the one that I KNOW she thinks should be quick, but actually takes a bit of time, and so was not completely finished when she got back. So yes, Thursday was a little frantic. Three, I have had some kind of bug that has knocked me completely on my ass. Seriously, I spent like 80% of this weekend sleeping AND had to miss a birthday party last night out of sheer exhaustion.

I did read through some of my old writing this weekend. It was highly entertaining. See, I apparently am very good at starting stories. I mean, funny starts, highly entertaining writing style (if I do say so myself). The only thing is that I never get passed the first two or three pages. Mainly because my story ideas are not so much plotlines as character ideas. So I have all these characters that I love, but no idea what to do with them...

Also, my boredom has gotten so bad at work that the thought of banging my head against my desk doesn't sound so bad. I mean, the pain would be a distraction, the noise mildly entertaining. And it might relieve some frustration.

I'm also frustrated with SB for one main reason. He is going out of the country for work for a month or so in January. I'm not thrilled about this, but I do kind of understand. I still wish he would tell them no, because I'm not sure what this will do to our relationship and it'd be nice if he put us first, but I know he hasn't quite figured out how to tell work no, particularly when they really want him to do something. So that irks me, but not really. The real reason I'm upset is that he wants to get back to the States and IMMEDIATELY leave again to go to Florida to see his family. I mean like fly out again two or three days later for a week and a half. I know he loves his family, but still. I did the exact opposite thing when I got home from England because I wanted to spend time with him. I immediately left home to come to Indiana. He's all, "but I want to fly you out for the weekend," but we all know that that's different.

In happier thoughts, it is gingerbread latte season. Sadly, the two I have had so far have been a bit disappointing. I'm hoping it's the coffee shop I got them from and not a sign of my getting tired of gingerbread lattes... Because, seriously people. That would be a real tragedy.

Go vote!

I am highly amused by the fact that everyone in my office who actually has voted (all but two of us) is actually wearing the "I voted!" sticker. I'm wearing mine because I wanted to make sure my boss knew that that was why I was late. Why she's wearing one, I don't know. Maybe she genuinely wants the world to know that she voted.

This is the first mid-term election I've voted in. (Don't yell! It's the first one I've been eligible to, except for the one in 2002 and I wasn't registered then because I was a lazy college student.) It definitely is the first election I've felt like my vote counted. Voting in 2004 in Tennessee was kind of a protest vote. I still did it, but I knew Bush was going to win the state no matter what I did. Funny how I moved from one of the most competitive states now to another. I'm glad. I can't be hitting myself in the head for changing my voter registration from Tennessee to Virginia because either state could be swayed by my vote. I HAVE THE POWER!!!

Testy Goodness

So the test... It's just a load of crap. I mean, honestly, admission people. Do you really think you are learning ANYTHING about me from my scores on this test? Because, really, you're not. Instead, you are learning how good I am at taking tests. And guessing. I guessed a lot. Luckily, most of them were educated guesses. There were definitely some random, "I feel like the answer must be x" guesses, but most I could eliminate at least one or two options. The good thing is, though, I walked out of there thinking that I could not have studied more and done any better than I did. The majority of the questions were based on identification and unless you had read those exact novels by the authors, you probably weren't going to know the right answer for sure. So I did how I did and it's just going to have to be good enough.

It was very sweet, though. SB drove me down to the test on Saturday morning and waited on me while I took it. Which meant that I got that much more time to review what exactly an alexandrine is (a line of iambic hexameter) and who used it the most (Spencer). And it means he had to get up MUCH earlier than he usually does on Saturdays. Afterwards we went to Cracker Barrel, where my beloved apple dumpling was not on the menu... Stupid seasonally switching over to pies. Cracker Barrel, pie does NOT equal dumpling. The dumpling has so much more lovely crust and cinnamon goo and struesel... It's just delicious. And now I have to wait for January. Hmph.

Stupid people...

Well, it is now the 11th hour. Tomorrow is the day, people. Tomorrow I shall attack the test from hell!!! I'm not worried... not worried at all... even though my studying plans totally failed and I'm going to spend a good portion of the night curled up with my Norton and my dictionary of literary terms. It'll be great...

I have decided that living in a big city might have been a bad step. Why? Because I used to be nice. I used to always give people the benefit of the doubt. And now? Now I hate them all. HATE. Woman who shoved her arm into my waist so she could push by me and get to the metro stairs an eighth of a second faster? Hate her. Almost hit her with my paper. Stupid people who won't move on the metro? Hate them. The numerous men who are complete snots and push in front of me constantly? They are horrible and I hope they die a bitter, lonely death. I mean, I'm not saying they have to let me go first. That would be chivalrous, but I understand that the metro is crowded at rush hour and people have places to go. I'm just saying that they should not shove in front of me when it is clearly. my. turn. I do have to say, though, that ethnic men around here are much more likely to be courteous than white guys. Shame on you, white men!

I'm also not so sure anymore that I really want to be a full member of the DC blogging community. I keep trying to find bloggers that I really like and there are only a few. And I read some of the rest, but they are so full of drama and snobbery and hate. It just seems like so many of them are sitting there, thinking they are so cool and judging everyone else. It's just not my bag, baby...

Secretly Crazy

Oi. I may be saying that because Emily used to all the time and she and I joined a bookclub together last night in my dream. Or I could be saying it because I have spent the whole day running around, trying to get things set for the next couple of days for my boss and coworkers. Or I could be saying it because Cassie decided to wake me up at 2:45 crying (I think her stomach hurt. She later used the litterbox and then promptly fell asleep.) and again at 6 (I think she just wanted me to get up and play with her). On top of which, I didn't get to bed until later because SB's friend from home was in town and we wound up chatting at an ice cream place in Old Town until late. But I shall still be good and go to the gym!

SB's friend and I did have an interesting conversation about blogs. He was talking about how he and his friend found the blogs of two of the girls in his small group. He was amused by how the crazy came out in their blogs, as opposed to the calm, collected girls they usually were. I only kind of understand trying to hide the crazy. Like there was that episode of Scrubs where Eliott was trying to pretend she was normal for the guy she was dating. And she almost exploded and then, when she did act like herself, it was a big turn-on for him because she was finally letting him into her. I can honestly say, I never really tried to hide those things from SB. Because let's face it. I can only hide it for so long. If he's going to find out eventually, why not get it over with? It's like my weirdness. The only thing that hides my weirdness is my shyness. It took my former coworkers several months to find out how strange I am. And then they realized and were entertained. I do try not to be TOO weird at work. Which, actually, I kind of miss. There aren't that many people I'm comfortable being truly weird around here. And it's fun. I find myself highly entertaining.

Family friendly

Sigh. This weekend reminded me of many things. The first being that I love my family. You have gone so long without an update from me courtesy of my family reunion. My mom's side of the family (minus our two internationals - my two aunts, one of whom I have never met) all joined up in this huge condo in Myrtle Beach. This place was freaking crazy. We had 11 people there. We had two queen-size beds empty AND two pull-out couches. There was a tv in every room. There was a game room with an arcade style game, where my brother spent hours trying to get the top score on Ms. Pacman. Seriously. He was crazy-good at it. Didn't get it, but still. My mom brought me and my sister-in-law kits to knit baby hats. And no, that was not a clue, though my s.i.l. thought it was at first. There is a knitting campaign because apparently thousands of babies who die every year could be saved if they had a warm hat to wear. Her kit was cute. She had those plastic envelopes and inside was a box with sewing needles (to finish the hats), scissors, and a tape measure. She also had three sizes of knitting needles and printed instructions for three different hats. It was all very organized. And I did teach SB how to knit, so now, as soon as he learns how to purl, he has to knit a baby hat. And my family in general is just hilarious. I about died during our rounds of Catchphrase, mainly because sometimes, people were just SO bad at it.

I also remembered how much I love the ocean. It's so soothing and relaxing. You look at it and it makes you feel small. And it was late enough so there weren't tons of people. I should visit the sea more.

Kids and stuff

You know it's sad when a five-year-old starts hinting that it's time for you to get married. So, this weekend was family overload. My brother, sister-in-law, and s-i-l's family was all in town, as was SB's sister, niece, nephew, and mom. So I got to juggle all of them. Nearly literally in some cases, as his niece is 5 and his nephew is 2 and they decided I was their new toy. They were cute and I didn't mind, but by the end of Saturday, I was so tired I could hardly move. PLUS this weekend was Cassie's vaccination and therefore, I got ot be worried that she was having a reaction while running around town.

SB's mom also bothers me, in that she states things entirely too bluntly. Such as telling me and SB that if we got married, SB's sister would make us the guardians for the kids rather than her and SB's dad. I know that she is where the five-year-old got the idea to question me about when I was going to get married. It just harkens back to the first time I met all his family and they were all welcoming me. We'd only been dating like 4 months. Totally freaked me out.

I was entertained, though, by the fact that both SB and I decided, due to the madness of this weekend, that we don't want to have kids for a very long time. And my S-i-L and I talked about having kids someday (obviously NOT together), and that was a little weird, too. It was interesting to see her going through the same type of thigns I went through when she and my brother got engaged. Because I like her, I really do, and I'm glad that I was in the wedding. On the other hand, though, I didn't know her THAT well, and it's kind of awkward because she's becoming a part of your family and you want to make her feel welcome, but it's still all weird. Also the mother of the bride gave the bride feathery sex shoes, and I thought that was weird, too. NOT the relationship I have with my family, I can tell you that...

It's Almost Done.

So today was random coincidence in the blog world day. I found this one blog that is much more like this one would be if I were actually open about what I was going through. But let's face it. That's not going to happen. It's like my secret blog. I could hardly stand to have a secret blog because if I'm not willing to say something where the whole world can read it, I'm not comfortable being upfront about it even with my good friends. But yes. So she's got cats, she's close to my age, she's a former english major...

Then I found another blog (work was slow today. Can you tell?) that is written by a girl who's from my hometown (or close enough) and who works in a non-profit. Craziness.

And while I haven't been very productive at work, I have been productive in other ways. For example, I worked on graduate applications. I'm nearly done with my personal statement. I'm pretty happy with it. I think my voice comes through fairly well. I only hope Georgetown likes it. I think they are still at the top of my list, though I've heard they are stingy with funding. Crazy when they are charging $30,000+ per year for tuition. I'd just be happy to get my tuition funded. I think I can handle the debt for the rest, what with parental help and all. Without them covering tuition, though... That's like $100,000 in debt with living expenses AND I'll have an english degree, so it's not like med students who eventually make much more money. I did email a friend about how he likes NYU. He's not emailed back. My friends have developed a conspiracy theory for this fact.

I also applied for a new job today, and looked for others. It's funny how before I would consider something that was part personal assistant, but now I won't. It might be better with a different boss, but I don't care. The work irks me and I don't like people thinking my life (or at least my work life) should be spent making someone else's life as easy as possible. Again, maybe if I were working for someone I really supported, it might be different because then I would want to make their life easier. Either way, it's not worth the risk to me.

And now it's off to "Crazy insane family weekend," in which my brother, his wife, his in-laws, SB's sister, mom, niece and nephew all come on the same weekend. Plus Cassie has a vet appointment. She's not going to be happy...

Lack of Communication

I rediscovered the link to the Love Cave. Sigh. Even looking at the pictures make my shoulders want to relax some.

So the rest of this post I feel the need to say, but I'm a little afraid. People get vehement and stubborn and close-minded on all sides, and I really feel no need to have people yelling at me on my blog. With that said, I'm writing it anyways, because I want to and because when have I ever shrunk from a challenge?

And the controversial topic is... the student strike at Gallaudet. For those of you not in the area, Gallaudet is the main college for people with hearing disabilities in the country, if not the world. The old president is stepping down at the end of December. The board went through a search procedure, and picked someone who already worked for the school. The students went nuts. Really, really angry about the fact that this woman was chosen. This was all in the spring of last year. Now there has been a sudden resurgence in the anger, the students protested and shut the school down for three days, and the only thing they'll accept is the soon-to-be president's resignation.

Now I'm not going to say much about the protest. I tend to think most protests can be pointless, since frequently the protesters don't seem to know what they want to accomplish. In this case, the students seem to be claiming that they are primarily upset about the way the new president was chosen. They feel they had no voice, although there were students on the selection committee. But when the administration offered to have outsiders audit the selection process, the students refused. I have no contacts there, I haven't talked to any students, but that confuses me. Other people have pointed out that very few students have a voice on university presidential selection committees. Maybe all university students should care so much who is in charge of the university.

One of the more interesting issues that has come up, though, and one that confuses me the most is that one of the main problems students have with the incoming president is that she supports children having cochlear implants implanted. Apparently, this is a kind of betrayal in the deaf community. Now I understand that there is a deaf community. These people have faced a lot of difficulty in their lives and I admire them for their fortitude. But why would they want children to not be able to hear? People have argued that parents should wait and let the children decide for themselves, that the parents are being selfish because raising a deaf child is more complicated. But no one really complains about children who have physical deformities having them fixed. No one would tell the parents of a child missing a leg not to let him have a prothestic. I haven't heard any blind people arguing that someone who's blind shouldn't have surgery that could repair their sight. They might argue against it. I've never heard anyone, but how many blind people do I know whom I can ask? I can't think of one. Maybe they have the same arguments as the deaf community. Either way, it doesn't make sense to me. Am I missing something? To me, not having a sense makes life more challenging. I want my kids to be able to hear Beethoven's 5th, Christmas carols. I love music so much, and nature sounds, and talking, and listening, and a million other things. Why shouldn't I want my kids to have the opportunity to experience those things? When did being deaf go from being a disability to being a form of diversity?

Beauty, part deux

The Today show mentioned a new Dove video which shows how advertising companies modify the model's normal appearance so she looks like what we see in ads. It was a little crazy. Not only did they put a ton of make-up on her and make her hair big, they also electronically modified her appearance, making her hair even bigger and her neck longer. I have thus decided that Today show editors obviously read my entry on beauty earlier this week. Though when you throw the whole using computers to modify picture thing into the mix, it makes our concept of beauty all the more complicated, since now we are striving to look like people who don't exist in real life. No wonder people are so screwed up.

There is this online "What famous person do you look like" thing, where you input your picture and they scan it and compare your features to those of celebrities. I put in two different pictures and got Deborah Messing and Drew Barrymore. And it's funny. When you put my picture next to theirs, I can see some resemblance. Only in the face in Deborah Messing's case. I mean, she's so skinny, her clavical could be a weapon. It reminds me of that woman on "Last Comic Standing" who claimed having sex with her was like doing a hanger. She was funny. I was sad to see her get kicked off.

Speaking of tv and sex, Paula Deen on her new show, "Paula's Party," is a dirty little flirt. I mean, I thought the whole conversation with the French guy about her breasts on the show on her European vacation was bad. But the one episode of "Paula's Party" I've seen, she sat on a guy's lap, fed him brownie off of a wooden spoon, and licked the spoon while he was eating off it. It was highly suggestive. And a bit disturbing.

Testing, One, Two, Three

I got my official gre scores yesterday. It's one of those things that even though the score pops up on the screen before you leave, I somehow start to doubt if I saw things correctly. So I was glad to see that I did indeed remember my scores correctly, and did as well on the writing as I thought I would. My mom was very excited. Though she went to see David Sedaris yesterday, so she was just in an excited mood yesterday anyways. And my gre literature books should get in today, so that test won't entirely kick my ass. Just partly. I mean, really. I looked at some of the suggested vocab lists. Words I had never even heard of. Terms that describe word play that I'm familiar with in practice, but didn't know there was a term for. Things I cannot even pronounce. Besides the fact that Paradise Lost is the most sited work on the whole test and I haven't read any of that since high school. What makes me mad about this whole thing is that the academy is in the midst of an argument about whether or not the Canon as we know it even really exists. No one reads the same books any ,ore. I'm sure Jessica Hagedorn's Dogeaters won't be on there, though I read that for a class.

So here is my question. What is the point of this test? I'm sending these people a writing sample, recommendations from professors, my transcript from 4 years of study. How is knowing whether I can identify a passage from The Faerie Queene really going to show admissions how I'll deal with studying modern lit in grad school? Should I not get funding because I thought a passage by Shakespeare was from A Midsummer Night's Dream rather than Twelfth Night? It all seems a little ridiculous.

I did get into a fight today on DC Bachelor. Surprisingly enough not with DCB, but with some other guys who decided that all women secretly want to be dominated, and that no relationship in which the woman earns more than the man will succeed. I'm annoyed, though, because the stupid site is not letting me post my next comment (the guy claims that career women make bad moms, and that I would never marry a poor, short dude) and I really want to comment. Grr...

Only Skin Deep

"Beauty is only skin deep," will forever remind me of my friend Emily from high school. My french teacher quoted it to us. Emily paused for a minute, looked up, and asked, in all seriousness, "How deep is skin?" It made us all laugh, and my teacher looked at her askance.

So I was looking through old pictures today, and I noticed how my face has changed. I'm not entirely sure why. Change of weight, getting older, whatever. But I looked and I thought, "Wow, my skin looked great, and look at that," blah, blah, blah. And I know at the time I wasn't any more comfortable with my appearance than I am now, which is a frequent discussion with SB. I have wished before that I could somehow see myself through his eyes. Or anyone's eyes, for that matter. Just to see what I look like to everyone else.

Now this is not to say that I am all that obsessed with my appearance or that I really think it matters all that much. I know, I know, studies show that more attractive people do better in life, but I think there is really a limit to that. Because think about it. If someone is super-attractive, are people going to want to be around them? Are less attractive people going to feel anything but jealousy for the more attractive?

All of this made me think, though, not about my own insecurities. Because let's face it. Been there, done that. It bores me now. Instead I started to think about the role and history of beauty in our society. The concept of beauty has changed so much over the past centuries. Beauty once was more a symbol of wealth. Bigger was better because it meant you could afford not to work. Now beauty has been tied into cultural hegemony. As women have gained power, the concept of beauty has gotten smaller for them. As if society is telling women that they must pay for their increased power by taking up less space. The opposite is true for men.

So how much of beauty is anything beyond societal concepts? How much do we read into beauty signs of other things? That man can't be evil; he's too pretty. That woman must be dumb because of how she looks. Is beauty anything beyond a way to sort the world? To pretend like we know something about people we have no contact with?

An unraveling rug

There was a really interesting article in Slate today, called "Welcome to the Age of the MySpace Novel." The article was about the future of literature, and whether or not authors can survive in a culture as inundated with new media as we are. The authors posited that we are now living almost settingless lives. How can writing encompass the new reality that we live in?

A subtext of the article was the question of identity, a topic that very much interests me and one that I believe I will base my graduate study around. Identity formation has become a very chic topic in the past few decades, mainly because it seems to have become more complex as the world goes stronger. Whom do we identify with, and why? Am I a woman first, an American, a resident of DC, a Southerner? If I am asked to indentify with a woman from India or a man from Georgia, who will I pick? What makes that portion of my identity stronger than the other? And now we are forming new, even more nefarious identities. How many people go online and create a different persona? We have now added another dimension to our social interaction. And social interaction is crucial to identity. A person frequently doesn't associate herself wiht one group until another group is opposed to it. (Those of you familiar with Said's Orientalism will recognize this argument.) This flows into Butler's argument that by setting yourself against something, you are in fact helping to perpetuate it by helping to define it. But how does this all play out online? The rules are still there, but slightly different. It's like in space. Gravity exists, the rules still work up there, but nothing acts quite as you're used to. People have genuine relationships, real friendships online. People do have real interactions. I know that I feel it can be easier to open up in an electronic medium, because you don't have to see facial expressions. You are more seperated from the reactions. But you are also more vulnerable. Once you have typed something to someone, it's documented. Look at Foley. If he had only called pages? His case would be much different. Not only that, when you communicate electronically, you are limiting your ability to influence reactions to your words. How many bloggers have been incredibly frustrated by commenters who just don't get it? If you type something that was meant to be a joke, but the other person thinks is mean, you can't see their reaction and try and fix it. And they're more likely to misinterpret what you are saying as well. How is all this electronic communication going to effect the next generations?

Cranky? Never...

So I've realized that my main problem with my job just might be the work. Well, not the main, but at least half of it. I HATE being an assistant. It grates at my soul. Everytime I even think it, a part of me goes, "Really? YOU? Are you serious?" But beyond the pride part, it's just boring. Make files, make trip arrangements, input data. This is all stuff I could have done right out of high school.

Between the job-hatred, the boyfriend gone, and the supreme heat of my apartment (Seriously. Yesterday it was 82 when I got home. They turned off the air and THEN it gets back up to 80.), I've developed a bit of crankiness. And it's so hot that I can't sleep, which only makes things worse, or cook anything. Which reminds me that I don't know what to eat for dinner. The only good thing about the heat is that it calms down Cassie, so she sleeps a lot more. SB does get home tomorrow, so at least two problems will be gone. (since he feeds me, too.)

With that said, I'm taking my crankiness and going home.

A Bit of Yarn

Sigh. No more holiday weekends until Thanksgiving. (How weird is that?! I can't believe it's almost Thanksgiving again.) I did totally go outside my budget this past week. And by outside, I mean I spent any money at all beyond the like $10 per day for food I'm allowed. See, here's my problem with severe budgeting. I do really well, until I explode and then I spend a ton of money. I'm currently logging into my credit card bill... Be afraid, be very afraid. Though I did support small artists at the Arts on the Avenue fair in Del Ray. And I got ideas for possible Christmas presents. Maybe. We'll see. And I do really like the pictures I got, even thoguh I was thinking of giving one to my brother and sister-in-law. Yeah, I changed my mind on that. And then I had to go to AC Moore because they were having a sale on knitting needles. I'm really surprised by the popularity of knitting these days. And then there was homespun yarn on sale, too, and while it's a bitch to knit, it looks so pretty. So I've started SB another scarf. When I told him about it (He's still out of pocket), he was kind of sulky, though. Actually, he was just sulky in general. He's sick and he got tired of the food and his room is crap, even though he is totally milking the per diem thing. CW is convinced that it's just because he misses me. Now, I'm not saying that he doesn't miss me. I'm just staying that he gets whiny even when he's with me if he doesn't feel well and is tired. Like on the ski trip, where he got mad the last day and blamed the snow for not being good to ski on. But yes. He wants me to finish his OTHER scarf (aka the scarf that will not die) first. Yeah right. I knit that thing on size 6 needles with WAY too many stitches. It takes forever just to do a row. I've been working on that since we started dating. (Ie nearly 4 years now.) Who knows if I'll ever finish it? And this one will be more versatile since it has flecks of gray and cream and brown. He can wear it with anything! And I got me some yarn in brown. Now I just need to chug a bottle of Chianti, and I can be like Jordan Baker . It'll be great...

Sunny Days

All of the schools today in Culpepper County were closed because of a vague bomb threat. I'm not going to make a judgement on that call. I mean, if something did happen and school officials had known of a potential threat, everyone involved would be fired. Not to mention the tragedy of kids dying. And, with all the recent occurences, everyone is a bit on edge.

It does, however, remind me of my high school days. Sophomore year, someone at school began calling in bomb threats. One of my teachers thought she knew who it was, but refused to turn him in. I don't know if she thought it was funny or she was trying to be cool or whatever. I think he just wanted to get out of school because of a test or something. Because the thing with our bomb threats is that the school officials wouldn't let us leave. See, the parking lot was right next to the school and if the school blew up, the lot would go as well. So we were all shepherded out into the football stadium where we would seek out our friends and chat for the next few hours. Or be chased by bees, as frequently happened, causing many of my friends to scream and me to roll my eyes. (I am conviently not afraid of bees. Now if there had been a tornado... hmm. I wonder what they would have done if there had been a tornado watch AND a bomb threat.) Another fun fact about the whole bomb scare thing is that my town had no bomb squad and we had to call in one from another town. This all took a fair amount of time. The bomb squad had to drive up (45 minutes) and then scan the entire school and then they could let us in. I never was really scared. It was all a novelty. I did think, though, that if there really were a bomb, we'd probably all get hurt. I mean, we really weren't THAT far from the building. We all did kind of enjoy it, though. It was a chance to get outside, the days it happened were pretty, we all liked to chat. I wonder what would happen now, though, if something like that happened at my school. I mean, at the time they tried to find the person, but never had any luck. Maybe they have video and thus could prove who was using the phone when the threat was made.

This little storytime is in no way, shape, or form meant to trivialize the horrible shootings that have occurred recently. Violence at school is no joke.

Also, welcome Wonkettereaders! Now the pressure is on...

Issues of Invasion

So my coworkers and I were having a discussion about rape today. It all started with a discussion of former Rep. Foley and went from there. It was kind of interesting. I posited my theory that rapists, paticularly repeat offenders, should be castrated so they can't commit that crime again. My supervisor (a male) thought that violent rape and rape that occurs while the woman is alseep or drugged or otherwise mentally impared should have different punishments, with the punishment for violent rape being more severe. I thought otherwise. He said that with violent rape, the victim is more likely to be physically injured. Now this part I agreed with. I, however, think that I would almost rather be violently raped than date raped. At least with the violent rape, you have a chance to fight, to do something. It's probably a stranger. I mean, think of all the mental issues involved with date rape. Someone you at least quasi-trust has not only invaded your body, but also your mind. You wouldn't have the horrible fight memories or (possibly) the physical scars. I think, though, that the emotional scars from date rape might balance the scales. CW (also a female) somewhat agreed. Is this a girl versus guy thing? Is it that my supervisor will never be put in either situation, but might be attacked and so understands that side better?

But Mommy... I wanna be a hobo...

I would like you to note the ugly yellow tile in this shot. I really, REALLY hate my bathroom...

So I know I've been pretty whiny about work. Well, too bad. It's my party and I'll whine if I want to. Plus there is very little else going on with me. Work and grad school apps. Those are my two concentrations. Especially with SB on his trip. And nothing hugely funny has happened, so... It was funny yesterday because I was spreading the whining to include my friends at church. It's mroe that this other girl and I both hate the atmosphere of our jobs and would like to quit, so we complain loudly to each other in front of other people. So we were talking about how miserable things have gotten and I mentioned something to her. I said that when I walk by this homeless guy on the way into work, I look at him and think, "that doesn't look like such a bad lifestyle." And then they all yelled at me and told me I am not allowed to be homeless or earn my money by being a prostitute. It made me giggle a little.

And I did talk to my parents this weekend about stuff. Well, I had promised my mom that I would call and let her know how I did on the GRE's. (Which was pretty well, btw. Now we just have to see if someone will fund me. And I told my mom about all the work drama and now she's mad at my boss. She also said that she and my dad would help support me if I wanted to go back to retail or something, just to make ends meet until grad school. She kind of hesitated, though, before she said it, which makes me think that the offer is not whole-hearted. Not that they wouldn't do it, but they've got fiscal responsibilities of their own and I know they want to get the house paid off before my dad retires, and they're building this expansion... I just don't want to burden them with it.

I'm also greatly entertained by teh fact that someone got to my blog by asking if sex kills brain cells. While it might explain some things about some people, I do highly doubt it. So, Michigan, sleep well tonight. You are not going to kill cells through sex. You might get a disease. But the cell-killing will remain up to the drugs and alcohol.

Mood Swingy

So I stayed home from work yesterday, primarily because I didn't feel well, haven't felt well for quite some time, and yesterday was the first day I could freely miss without messing something up. As angry as I am today about work, it's a good thing I missed yesterday when all the shit hit the fan and my boss showed her crazy colors. I'm not going to go into details, but I will say this. It has been a long time since I have been this angry. Angry enough that talking about how angry I am makes me want to scream or cry or both. Let's just say that this has cemented my need to get the hell out of here. I don't need to put up with this shit. I just have to decide how to finance all of this.

Sadly, I didn't get to see Haley last night. Seriously, go buy her music. It's great. And I know her, which makes her even cooler. But yes. Her dad was playing down in Fredricksburg and I tried, I really did. But she would pick the one night we have a storm. I mean, it took me an hour to get from Del Ray to Old Town. There was no way I could have gotten to Fredricksburg before the concert was nearly over and then I'd just have to turn around and come back. I did get to chat with her on Wednesday, though, and that was nice. It's funny how different we are and that we're still friends. And we are very different. She did say that she wasn't surprised I was getting ready to go back to school, that she'd been thinking recently that it was time to go back for me. It was good to hear. And she and all her family are doing well, and that makes me happy.

Haley and I go back to 7th grade. We were always strange together. I mean, really strange. She and Julie and I were good friends in 7th grade; for my birthday that year, we had a sleep-over and did makeup which devolved down to smearing it all over and seeing who would look the funniest. We were in the talent show together. It was so unfair, though. She had her professional guitar-playing father accompany her; I had a tape. I still can't hear "When You Say Nothing at All" without thinking of her. In high school, we went to Disney World with the choir and made up our own dance. We then performed that for a group of our friends. They were not impressed. (It was very strange. We thought it was funny.) I would post a picture, but I only have one and it's not online. Haley is one of those rare people who accepts everyone as they are, and who is freely who she is without reservation. She looked like a hobo last time I saw her (her mom's words, not mine) and a random woman gave her money. And she talked about that as a sign of God on her website. I might be a little embarrassed about that. Not her. She thought it was funny/a miracle.

She's great and you should all go buy her cd. Seriously. Do it now... or else...

Tried and True

So for my job, I was forced to go onto the Republican National Committee's website. (And still couldn't find what I was looking for. What, are the Republicans anti-find buttons?) It was frightening, in the "Dear God, are people really that crazy about their party affiliation?" "Democrats will run us into the ground. Democrats hate babies. Democrats love terrorists."* On and on and on. Which reminded me of a quote in the Post today. Basically, the article was discussing the chances of Democrats winning a Republican seat in this one district in Ohio. People in Ohio are kind of mad right now at the ruling party. There have been several cases of corruption in office, mainly by Republicans. (I'm not saying Republicans in general are more corrupt. But they are the party currently in power in Ohio and they've been caught doing some nasty stuff.) So anyways, the Post went and interviewed the common folk to see what they thought of the upcoming midterms. Some people said they were still thinking about it, some people said that they were angry enough to vote Democrat, some people were just mad in general at politicians. All understandable. The quote that really struck me was from a couple (I feel like they are old, married, and white. I have no proof of that, though.) Their quote was basically "We will vote Republican no matter what happens." Now, that just strikes me as dumb. I hate this whole concept of "party loyalty." I vote for the person I agree with most, be they Republican or Democrat or Independent or whatever. If there is a Democrat up for election who disagrees with everything I believe the most strongly in? I'm not voting for him. I'll write myself in if I have to, sent a protest vote. And if a Republican I agree with runs, I may very well vote for him. Like I would consider voting for McCain, whose main obstacle to getting my vote is his base. Why would I blindly go along with a party, just because they're "my" party? Screw that. I swear, some of the people would vote Republican even if Jesus himself came down and told them that voting Republican led straight to hell. **

*Okay, those of you in the area may have seen these. But the political campaigns using puppies? Crack me up. The first is the guy himself saying, "they may make crazy claims, like I hate puppies. Well I love puppies." The new one from his opponent is now "He may love puppies, but what do puppies have to do with government?" It's just all so random.
**Apparently Orbitz has a disclaimer on their ad with Snoop saying that chewing Orbitz does not get you into heaven.

Am I Funny to You? Am I a Clown, Here for Your Amusement?

I put this picture up in honor of Cassie having it taken away. That's right, I took away her bed. Why did I do this? Because she apparently decided that it was more fun to poop in her bed than in the litter box. And I am not letting that get to be a habit. So I put her bed in the closet she's not allowed in, and this morning she used the litter box. I was much relieved. It was kind of funny yesterday, because I put my foot in my shoe and thought, "Oh, no" when I felt something, but it was just her little play mouse. Which she oh so sweetly brought me last night and put on my back. (I was lying on my stomach.)

So SB leaves for far-off lands tonight. I know I said he was leaving last week, but part of his trip was cancelled. Now he's gone for two weeks and I am sad. And more broke, as he pays for a good portion of my food. I know he'll have fun, though.

I was reading an article in Slate today about why we need to be funny. Apparently, even IBM staff is trying to make humorous clips about need-to-know issues. It made me think. Because it seems like everyone wants to date someone "who can make them laugh," everyone wants to be friends with the funny guy or girl. I've even seen job postings that require a sense of humor. When did being funny get so important? Not that I don't like to laugh. Because who doesn't? But I also like to think and have intelligent discussions. I don't want to be around someone who tries to make everything funny. Let's face it. Some things aren't funny. And people trying to be funny when they aren't is also not funny. But since our culture seems to have made humor the crucial part to having friends, more people seem to feel the need to be funny. Just look at the blogging world. Or at least the comments. The favorite blogs are the ones that are funny, and the comments are always, "OMG, that was so funny! I just died. You are teh funniest EVAH." Not to denegrate these blogs or those commenters. (Though I feel those comments don't always add to the conversation. Except for the one I read this morning about someone snorting out coffee at a staff meeting while reading a blog. That one gave me an amusing mental picture.) Is it that we, as a culture, as a generation, whatever, are so inundated with depressing things, we don't want to think? We need to laugh to keep from crying? Or are we trying to escape from reality? I'm all for using humor as a coping mechanism. I loved White Noise, which is a book all about the humor in horrible situations. But I feel that all this emphasis on humor and being funny and able to laugh at everything might be blinding us as a society to other qualities that are important, as well as creating pressure on those who aren't funny to be something they are not. So relax, non-funny people. Feel no obligation to make me laugh, or entertain me! Instead, why don't we have a deep discussion? Or we can just sit in silence doing Sudoku and crossword puzzles. Whatever you would like.

Murkiness

I miss my bloggers. So many quit (okay, like two and I swear I'll change the sidebar sometime to reflect those and the ones I've added. Then again, my new big project is to practice HTML by reworking the whole layout... It'd be great! But we'll see) and now, every morning, I have so few I want to read. I know I've found more that I liked, but then I forget which ones and they vanish into the murky recesses of my mind.

Speaking of murky recesses, I have been having the most BIZARRE dreams lately. And, now that I think about it, snakes have featured fairly prominently in at least two. And in both, the snakes were trying to bite me (one dream, they were venomous, the other they weren't). The venomous snakes were in a strange dream about a video game/amusement park/pirate skelatons. The good guy was a pirate and had a certain number of lives, but we weren't sure how many and so the snakes were very perilous. I should go see an analyst who can interpret how everything in the dream represents an aspect of myself or sex (a la Freud). I also had one last night that featured the K family, best friends of my family while we were in the military and for a good few years after both families got out. Actually, my dad still sees Dr. K every once in a while and Dr and Mrs. K came to my brother's wedding. Anyways, they apparently (inside my mind) live in a giant house propped up on two sets of two slabs, one of which is angled on top of the other. Kind of like a bug, actually, with long legs. There was also something about Christmas and me being excited... And maybe some Halloween in there, too. It's all a bit fuzzy. At least, I didn't dream about weddings or my teeth. Those were both topics for a while.

Also, as MSN informs me, necrophilia is currently not a crime in Wisconsin. They found this out when tryign to charge 3 men with digging up a five-day-old corpse and trying to have sex with it. Which brings one word to mind... EWWWW... That and that boys are strange. As CW and I discussed, if one were that desperate for sex, why wouldn't you get a prostitute? Or a blow-up doll? CW thought the blow-up doll would be the most appropriate, since it would even seem lifeless. No matter what, though, it's gross. I mean, I was into Spike on Buffy, mainly because he was British, brooding, and HOT, but he at least was of the undead. The actually dead? [shudders] What can be the appeal? Honestly. The whole thing is beyond my comprehension. How many of these people are out there? Doesn't it all smell? I thought about googling it to see if I could find some numbers and if they wear jewelry like pedophils do, but I don't want that in my google search record.

My head hurts. I'm going home. And by going home, I mean run home to eat quickly before going to choir.

Not as bad as expected

So the dreaded day was not nearly so dreaded as imagined. Why was today dreaded? WEll, mainly because the boss came back today from vacation. Now you might say, "Oh, she's just come back from vacation, she'll be all nice and relaxed." Which might have been true if she had gone on vacation during a normal time. But she decided to go on vacation when we have massive goings on, when 18 things are being completed and sent out, and when we're in the middle of hiring. So she comes back to 37 things that should have been done yesterday, but couldn't because she wasn't here and she must approve everything. Luckily, she's been pretty busy on calls and such and therefore has not been such a terror. And I think she's a little afraid of hurting my feelings (I think she thinks I'm young and fragile... HA!) so she's relatively nice to me even when she's upset. I thank the blushing. Because everytime she's tried to be mean or upset with me, I started blushing and we all know that the blushing is adorable. It may become my secret weapon. "I screwed up? I'll take full blame. [blushing begins] Ha! Now you can't be really mad at me!!!" Plus if she went crazy on me today, I may have snapped. I'm tired and cranky and beware. Because, again, if it's my fault, I'll take the blame. It's being blamed for things that I have no control over that drives me mad.

I also figured today wouldn't be great because of all the mishaps. Yesterday, for example, my doorknob broke. Meaning I got home from work and couldn't get in. Poor Cassie heard my keys and started crying. It was heart-wrenching. The building maintenance guy had to cut off my doorknob. This is the second time. I was not amused. So Cassie had to be locked in my closet/bathroom/changing area today so she wouldn't escape out the door while they put in a new doorknob. So I leave work this morning, feeling all guilty for locking her in a small room, and catch the bus and get to the metro. Where the metro card I had stolen from SB (he had left over cards from when his family was here) chose not to work. To get it replaced, I have to go somewhere "to the right and upstairs" at the Pentagon. I don't really know where the guy was talking about. Oh well. So I missed my train because I had to go and ask the manager and then walk back to the machines and put money on my smartrip. Then my muffin did not have the sugar on top that I enjoy so much. It was still a good muffin, and reduced fat, but I really like the sugar. It makes it so nice and crispy... But the day is almost over and then I can go home and let my poor kitten out. And I finally dealt with some insurance thing that I've been meaning to deal with forever. Mmm... and I have cold watermelon at home. I might have to go home and ball me some melon... :-D

Like Disneyland, only weirder

So this weekend. This weekend was SB family time. And I like his family. I do. They're a bit rural, but nice enough. I actually really like bits and pieces. Like his dad's sister. Really like her. And one of his cousins. And his grandparents on one side. But yes. But the family visiting consisted of: SB mom, SB dad, SB grandparents on his dad's side, and SB aunt on dad's side. Now his grandparents decided that everyone should drive out there. So rather than a quick 2-hour flight, they had a 12-hour drive. This created some under the hidden resentment on the part of aunt and mom, as they then lost several hours of tourist/shopping time. Plus the grandparents weren't planning on going in the first place and aren't incredibly mobile, so what they can do is somewhat limited. Then the grandparents decided they wanted to see their friends up in Baltimore. SB suggested that we meet them in Annapolis, because Annapolis is cute and that way, people not caring so much about the friends could still enjoy the day. This was overriden by the grandfather. Not that he really cared THAT much, as long as he got to see his friends. But I don't think he likes planning and he can't hear very well, so I think the cell phone is hard on him. And since no one complained, we all went up to Baltimore. Lovely, lovely Baltimore which is not lovely. Not lovely at all.

But before the joyous Baltimore trip was the trip to the Masonic temple in Alexandria. Now those of you in the area will recognize it. For those of you not in the area, the beginning of Old Town is this ginormous building that is a combination of a lighthouse (in size and shape) and a cathedral. It's all imposing and remeniscent of the Washington Monument (I say that because my brother once thought it was...). I am not a Mason. I am not particularly fond of the Masons. I think it is a strange, strange group and I'm not a big fan of a group that claims to be powerful, is full of "alternate" history theories, and does not allow women. So I wasn't in a respectful mood anyways. SB's family, however, does have Masons, including SB, SB's dad, and SB's grandfather. So snarkiness had to be ruled in. The first thing that struck me was the strangeness of having stained glass of the Founders. They even had little small stained glass around the edges that showed specific events. My favorite was the small one showing John Adams being inoculated. Because when I think stained glass, I think protection from disease. Also, there is a giant, frightening statue of Washington wearing Masonic garb.

Then we moved on to the tour. The tour covers the tower portion of the temple. And the tower tries to steal several different histories, most notably those of hte Jews, the Egyptians, and all Christians. The tour itself consists of the guide pressing the button, the lights going down with spotlights on the area currently being discussed, and the booming voice telling us that the menorah is an important symbol to the Masons. They even have a replica of the Ark of the Covenant, but you are only allowed to see it for the 15 seconds that the curtains open. They also have icons showing the Masons putting Masonic symbols into the Ark of the Covenant. Impressive, since no one really knows where it is and no one could touch it without dying. They have a temple for the Knights Templar (not the real ones, whihc the Masons probably have no real connection to), a replica of King Solomon's throne room, and many pictures in the Egyptian style showing Jewish stories. Our guide claimed you only had to believe in a higher deity to be a Mason, but I have a REALLY hard time imagining anyone of any religion besides Christianity being comfortable there. I don't know. I walked out of there feeling annoyed with the whole group. I know that now it is mainly an organization where older men get together and hang out. But they were trying to claim parts of history that they have no right to. I was expecting them to start claiming that the builders of every wonder of the world were big M Masons. (Obviously they were actually little m masons, as they were stoneworkers.) But I wasn't allowed to complain or make comments because SB's grandfather is very proud that he has been a Mason for 62 years. I think I deserve a lollipop. Or something.

I don't have time for a real entry, but stay tuned for tomorrow's. There shall be much snarkiness about many topics, including the Masons. (Apologies to any Masons out there.)