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.)

More than Missionary

Why has Cassie shoved her head inside a box? I don't know. There was a plastic bag in there and she does love her some plastic bags. Plastic bags and paper are like the two things that make her happiest. Though her new happy thing is to jump on things that make loud noises. Like a box or a paper bag. Which she decided to do at 6:00 this morning, making me not very happy. It didn't help that SB decided he wanted to chat last night after he left his family and thus kept me up until entirely too late. Which I later spazzed out on him for, since I wasn't feeling great and CW is horribly ill and I don't want to get whatever she has and thus I wanted to sleep a lot. And while it's very sweet that he wants to cuddle/be with me and talk, I'd rather he paid attention to the time and the fact that, while he is off today, I am not and need to get stuff done. Between the two of them, I think I got maybe 6 hours of sleep last night which is totally not enough for me.

It looks like I have to say farewell to another blog I read. Liberal Banana apparently is jumping ship, too. I would start to think it had something to do with me ("Man, I love blogging, but Rebecca's comments... They just drive me nuts!"), but I think it's blogosphere-wide and several people I don't read have quit as well. Even bloggers who haven't quit have cut back and seem to be suffering writer's block. I know that I am... Even coming up with comments on posts that I like has been difficult. I go, I pull up the screen, I start to write something. And then I close out the page.

Though MSN tends to save me, having funny articles that make me want to post. Like...this. This article is about a preacher who is trying to encourage Christians to be more experimental with their sex lives. And I mean, he is REALLY detailed in some of it. For example. He gives tips to guys on how to make their cum taste better. He thinks anal is fine, as long as there is no physical damage. A position in the Kama Sutra intrigue you? Go for it. Now, all these things are supposed to take in a married relationship, you aren't supposed to lust after others besides your spouse (thus, no porn), and no outsiders should be involved (no threesomes). So there are limits. But the limits kind of make sense. Loving, committed relationships are crucial to opening up to someone else, and I've heard that threesomes rarely work out well for the couple, even if both partners were all about it. The fact that he is encouraging the Christian community to talk about sexuality is great. Christians can be so repressed and are taught so frequently to think that sex is evil and a sin. Hello? God wouldn't have made it feel so good if He/She didn't want us to do it. I mean, procreation is important and all, but only like three species have sex for fun (us, dolphins, and I believe monkeys). Why shouldn't we revel in that? Enjoy sex for its creation of closeness? Be comfortable in our own skins? Have fun getting to know ourselves and someone we love?

I also enjoyed that article because it reminds me of my small group in college. Emily's parents had sent her a taped sermon on the same topic, focusing on "Song of Solomon." In the Song of Solomon, the male compares his love's breasts to fawns. Which led to "fawns are fun. They're bouncy." Seriously, there are some strange similes in that book. Sigh. The number of sex-related conversations I remember with that group is a bit ridiculous. It was a fun group, though...

Rainy Day Blues

I'm feeling a bit melancholy today. I blame the weather. And something in the air. And the fact that SB is going away for 3 weeks next week and I'm trying not to be horribly jealous of him (I love traveling... especially abroad. It's not fair.) or mean to him because he's leaving me. I know he's not really leaving me and it's his work and he has to go. But he's excited about it and I want him to be excited about it. But it's going to be sad not having him here.

And then KassyK wrote an entry about people dying young. Which made me think of Bethany. Those of you who don't know, Bethany was the little sister of Emily, one of my high school friends. I remember watching Bethany grow up a bit. Not that I knew her that well, but she went on a couple of trips with the French classes and choir. She was just a funny kid, quirky and individualistic and not caring what anybody thought of her. I hadn't seen either Emily or Bethany in a few years (basically since I graduated high school) when Bethany died. She went for a hike with her friends at a camp she was working at. It was a few days before the camp ended. And she tripped and fell over a cliff. My friends and I went to the viewing to support Emily. It was sad that that was what finally brought us all together again.

Then I read that Ann Richards died. Now, Ann Richards has not had much of an impact on my life. Except for her famous quote, "Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels," which makes me think of the Rent song, "The Tango Maureen." But I was reading the article and it mentioned that she had a drinking problem, caused mainly because she had such high expectations of herself, that she could never live up to them. SB has always said that I am too hard on myself and expect too much. I've always replied that that is because I know what I am capable of, I know what I should be able to do. Maybe I'm falling into the same trap she did. But then it raises the question of whether or not that's a bad thing. Because I feel like I do know what I am capable of and it's not that I expect myself to be perfect. It's that I know that I need to be pushed and I know that very few things have ever REALLY challenged me. That's not to say that things haven't been hard or I've done well on everything I've tried. But I know when things are my fault and I know when they aren't. I can accept that there are some things I'm just not good at (ultimate comes to mind, although I probably could be decent at that if I tried and were willing to look stupid in front of many people). And I'm learning that the more I'm challenged, the better work I do. Which is something I feel I've known inherently for a while. (Hence the need to do a semester abroad or go to college where I don't know anyone, even though I desperately hate change.) So where is the line? When does it go from challenging myself to punishing myself? Do I cross that line more than I think I do? And should I even be constantly pushing myself to do better, be better?

I have to say, though, if it is unhealthy to push myself so much, these past two jobs have really sucked that will out of me. To a point, anyways. But not being able to challenge myself bothers me as well. I don't know. It's all a big mush.