Just a little bit more locally, this past weekend saw the seventh annual Reacting to the Past Conference here at Barnard College. Reacting to the Past originated back in the mid 1990s in a single classroom on the 4th floor of Lehman as a new concept of teaching history, the brain child of Professor Mark C. Carnes. Mark Carnes was one of the best professors I had in my four years at Barnard, and this is saying a lot for a place so overflowing with brilliant and amazing faculty. Not that I'm remotely biased or anything, mind you. But Mark truly is an incredible individual, entertaining and yet full to the brim with a deep understanding of history; passionate about his students, about sharing his enthusiasm with his students. I was lucky to have him as a professor, a friend, and advisor, and it's great to see that what started as one lone first-year seminar has grown to include more than thirty universities and colleges.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
in the news
First, Judge Pearson, of the infamous $67.3 million law suit against Custom Dry Cleaners, is in court this week not on the bench but rather representing himself in what he calls the worst case in D.C. history of "egregious or willful conduct." He has, apparently out of the goodness of his heart, reduced his lawsuit to a mere $54 million. Maybe he's slowly recovering from the emotional anguish and trauma induced by losing a pair of pants.
Just a little bit more locally, this past weekend saw the seventh annual Reacting to the Past Conference here at Barnard College. Reacting to the Past originated back in the mid 1990s in a single classroom on the 4th floor of Lehman as a new concept of teaching history, the brain child of Professor Mark C. Carnes. Mark Carnes was one of the best professors I had in my four years at Barnard, and this is saying a lot for a place so overflowing with brilliant and amazing faculty. Not that I'm remotely biased or anything, mind you. But Mark truly is an incredible individual, entertaining and yet full to the brim with a deep understanding of history; passionate about his students, about sharing his enthusiasm with his students. I was lucky to have him as a professor, a friend, and advisor, and it's great to see that what started as one lone first-year seminar has grown to include more than thirty universities and colleges.
Just a little bit more locally, this past weekend saw the seventh annual Reacting to the Past Conference here at Barnard College. Reacting to the Past originated back in the mid 1990s in a single classroom on the 4th floor of Lehman as a new concept of teaching history, the brain child of Professor Mark C. Carnes. Mark Carnes was one of the best professors I had in my four years at Barnard, and this is saying a lot for a place so overflowing with brilliant and amazing faculty. Not that I'm remotely biased or anything, mind you. But Mark truly is an incredible individual, entertaining and yet full to the brim with a deep understanding of history; passionate about his students, about sharing his enthusiasm with his students. I was lucky to have him as a professor, a friend, and advisor, and it's great to see that what started as one lone first-year seminar has grown to include more than thirty universities and colleges.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
homophobia so awful it's almost funny
Apparently researchers in the U.S. Air Force, back in 1994, proposed funding a $7,500,000 project to make a "gay bomb." I kid you not. This potential chemical weapon, while not lethal, would merely turn the enemy gay, and make all those guys in the other uniform want to have sex with each other instead of fighting. This idea was eventually quashed, or so they say.
Also in the news this week, a paper written back in 1991 by the very man Bush has recently nominated to be Surgeon General of the United States, one James W. Holsinger. While he seems a little bit obsessed with the ins and outs, so to speak, of sex between men, he doesn't seem to have a problem with sex between women. While he was Chancellor of the University of Kentucky Medical Center in 2002, he vocally supported including a session on lesbian health issues in the fifth Women's Health in Kentucky conference. You've sure come a long way, baby.
Also in the news this week, a paper written back in 1991 by the very man Bush has recently nominated to be Surgeon General of the United States, one James W. Holsinger. While he seems a little bit obsessed with the ins and outs, so to speak, of sex between men, he doesn't seem to have a problem with sex between women. While he was Chancellor of the University of Kentucky Medical Center in 2002, he vocally supported including a session on lesbian health issues in the fifth Women's Health in Kentucky conference. You've sure come a long way, baby.
Monday, June 11, 2007
and we wonder what's wrong with justice
This directly from Sandra Day O'Connor's opinion in some case I can't remember the name of:
Hardy indicated that seven of the jurors drank alcohol during the noon recess. Four jurors, including Hardy, consumed between them "a pitcher to three pitchers" of beer during various recesses.Id. , at 212. Of the three other jurors who were alleged to have consumed alcohol, Hardy stated that on several occasions he observed two jurors having one or two mixed drinks during the lunch recess, and one other juror, who was also the foreperson, having a liter of wine on each of three occasions. Id. , at 213-215. Juror Hardy also stated that he and three other jurors smoked marijuana quite regularly during the trial. Id. , at 216-223. Moreover, Hardy stated that during the trial he observed one juror ingest cocaine five times and another [*116] juror ingest cocaine two or three times. Id. , at 227. One juror sold a quarter pound of marijuana to another juror during the trial, and took marijuana, cocaine, and drug paraphernalia into the courthouse. Id. , at 234-235. Hardy noted that some of the jurors were falling asleep during the trial, and that one of the jurors described himself to Hardy as "flying."
Makes me wonder why I was so damned grateful to not be chosen to serve on a jury two years ago...
Hardy indicated that seven of the jurors drank alcohol during the noon recess. Four jurors, including Hardy, consumed between them "a pitcher to three pitchers" of beer during various recesses.
Makes me wonder why I was so damned grateful to not be chosen to serve on a jury two years ago...
Sunday, June 10, 2007
sunday
I got home this morning to a very irate cat howling at the door, after spending the night at Chris & Andrew's apartment. I headed on down to Hell's Kitchen yesterday evening to join them for dinner at Druids, a kind-of-Irish-though-not-really pub not far from their apartment, and then we watched Children of Men, Alfonso Cuaron's newest movie now out on DVD. The boys didn't seem overly impressed, but I found it disturbingly haunting and beautiful, in its way, and have since added the novel upon which it is based to my Amazon wish list. I use my Amazon wish list more as a a way of keeping track of books I've heard or read about and might want to read some day, helpful when you have a brain as swiss-cheesey as mine. Anyway, I thought it was an excellent movie and am glad the boys were willing to indulge my fondness for dystopian, post-apocalyptic, or at least post-normal, fantasy.
Last week, I accidentally bought a half gallon of whole milk instead of my usual 1%. I don't think I've drunk whole milk since I was a kid, when my parents encouraged us to order a glass of milk with our meals on the rare occasions when we ate out in restaurants, for some reason most memorably at the Gateway in Harrison, Idaho. It's thick and rich, delicious in coffee or tea, and I've even been eating my morning bowl of cold cereal with it, and making chocolate milk (one of my all-time favorite things, only defeated in the best-drink-ever department by chocolate malted milk) with it. I can't even begin to describe the luxuriousness, the decadence of drinking a glass of chocolate milk made with whole milk. Oh my god. It's going to be hard to return to that 1% milk, even if it is healthier. Maybe in another twenty years or so I'll make this same "mistake" again.
A filly won the Belmont Stakes yesterday afternoon, for the first time in over a hundred years. Andrew and I were making fun of CNN stories on his new computer, but when I saw the Belmont Stakes headline I started shrieking a little. Chris and Andrew kind of looked at me funny. It took me a minute to realize that they didn't know what a filly was, and couldn't understand why I'd care. I don't care about the Belmont Stakes particularly, but The Black Stallion's Filly (and all the other Walter Farley books, for that matter) was amongst my favorite books as a child. It's not every day that a filly takes on and defeats the big boys in these races, and I guess I just got a little carried away.
This morning I read about a movie called The Dead Girl, which looks pretty interesting. So I went to Netflix, did a title search, and added the movie to my list. But then I couldn't help but peruse the other movies with similar titles that came up. My favorites?
Dead Girl Walking (2005), "about Sayuri, a girl who unexpectedly 'dies.' Her body starts to decompose but won't quit working, and Sayuri is fated to continue walking the earth. When her sight and stench become unbearable, her family tries to kill her for good. Sayuri escapes and runs away, only to be abducted by a mysterious stranger who forces her to perform in a freak show for other strangely clad men. Is this her destiny?"
Revenge of the Living Dead Girls (1987), "a gore fest from France, this chiller combines horror, sex and environmental disaster. Deadly waste contaminates the milk supply in a small town, and the tainted milk kills three teenage girls who drink it. When more chemical waste accidentally falls on their graves, the girls' corpses rise from the dead. Now, the zombie sexpots are determined to destroy those responsible for the corrupted milk -- along with anyone who gets in the way."
Last week, I accidentally bought a half gallon of whole milk instead of my usual 1%. I don't think I've drunk whole milk since I was a kid, when my parents encouraged us to order a glass of milk with our meals on the rare occasions when we ate out in restaurants, for some reason most memorably at the Gateway in Harrison, Idaho. It's thick and rich, delicious in coffee or tea, and I've even been eating my morning bowl of cold cereal with it, and making chocolate milk (one of my all-time favorite things, only defeated in the best-drink-ever department by chocolate malted milk) with it. I can't even begin to describe the luxuriousness, the decadence of drinking a glass of chocolate milk made with whole milk. Oh my god. It's going to be hard to return to that 1% milk, even if it is healthier. Maybe in another twenty years or so I'll make this same "mistake" again.
A filly won the Belmont Stakes yesterday afternoon, for the first time in over a hundred years. Andrew and I were making fun of CNN stories on his new computer, but when I saw the Belmont Stakes headline I started shrieking a little. Chris and Andrew kind of looked at me funny. It took me a minute to realize that they didn't know what a filly was, and couldn't understand why I'd care. I don't care about the Belmont Stakes particularly, but The Black Stallion's Filly (and all the other Walter Farley books, for that matter) was amongst my favorite books as a child. It's not every day that a filly takes on and defeats the big boys in these races, and I guess I just got a little carried away.
This morning I read about a movie called The Dead Girl, which looks pretty interesting. So I went to Netflix, did a title search, and added the movie to my list. But then I couldn't help but peruse the other movies with similar titles that came up. My favorites?
Dead Girl Walking (2005), "about Sayuri, a girl who unexpectedly 'dies.' Her body starts to decompose but won't quit working, and Sayuri is fated to continue walking the earth. When her sight and stench become unbearable, her family tries to kill her for good. Sayuri escapes and runs away, only to be abducted by a mysterious stranger who forces her to perform in a freak show for other strangely clad men. Is this her destiny?"
Revenge of the Living Dead Girls (1987), "a gore fest from France, this chiller combines horror, sex and environmental disaster. Deadly waste contaminates the milk supply in a small town, and the tainted milk kills three teenage girls who drink it. When more chemical waste accidentally falls on their graves, the girls' corpses rise from the dead. Now, the zombie sexpots are determined to destroy those responsible for the corrupted milk -- along with anyone who gets in the way."
Saturday, June 09, 2007
oliphants
In January of 2006, Chris and I had the pleasure of visiting our friend Maia for a week in Anchorage, Alaska. One of the most amazing things, in a week filled with amazing things, was visiting with Maggie the Elephant in the humid, heated enclosure separating her from the arctic weather at the Alaska Zoo. Apparently Maggie is on her way to a location more suited to her climatic temperament.
Also I just finished reading a lovely novel, Water for Elephants, about a young man who drops out of veterinary school in the early 1930s and jumps a train, ending up in the midst of a traveling circus trying to keep it together during the Great Depression. And Richard, who is working with me here at the library again today, just gave me a piece of dark chocolate embossed with... an elephant. I guess things really do happen in threes.
Alaska: She'll Need a Plane With Leg Room
Also I just finished reading a lovely novel, Water for Elephants, about a young man who drops out of veterinary school in the early 1930s and jumps a train, ending up in the midst of a traveling circus trying to keep it together during the Great Depression. And Richard, who is working with me here at the library again today, just gave me a piece of dark chocolate embossed with... an elephant. I guess things really do happen in threes.
Alaska: She'll Need a Plane With Leg Room
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published: June 8, 2007
The Alaska Zoo board has decided to relocate the state’s only elephant to another state under certain conditions, the board president said Wednesday. Advocates want the elephant, Maggie, moved to a warmer location, preferably to a sanctuary where she can roam with other elephants. The board voted late Tuesday on the relocation, citing various conditions to be met, including enlisting independent veterinarians to ensure that Maggie is healthy enough to move. Possible sites must also be selected by zoo staff members and approved by the board. Air travel is the only form of transportation acceptable to the board for moving Maggie, who was put on a regimen that included having a $100,000 treadmill built.
Friday, June 08, 2007
but i hate maureen dowd
Maureen Dowd is a giantess among men on the New York Times Op-Ed Page, always on hand with a pithy comment, a scathing put-down, and sometimes even a relevant point. She wears the mantle of a liberal and routinely trashes the Right, and when I started reading the Times years ago she was a kind of hero of mine. But eventually I noticed, not being overly quick on the uptake sometimes, that she trashes the Left too. She regularly lambasted Gore and Kerry during those abysmal election years of 2000 and 2004, perhaps even more viciously than she lambasted Bush. She devoted an entire column to the fact that Wesley Clark, while still in the race, wore an argyle sweater. She went after Howard Dean's wife. She went after Kerry's wife. She reinforced John Edwards' Breck Girl nickname. She mocked Kerry for his macho posturing. More recently, she's devoted entire columns to the fact that Edwards got an expensive haircut and that Barak Obama, or Obambi, as she has taken to calling him, is emasculated by his whip-smart, beautiful, successful wife. These are not the issues that effect our lives, and these are not the reasons to trash our politicians. Now I'm not a big fan of politicians in general, and I'm sure there are innumerable valid reasons to dislike any and all of them. But their choice of hair, sweater, sports, or spouse should generally not be among them. Maureen Dowd does more to encourage the ridiculous stereotypes of the weak, if liberal, emasculated male and the shrill, if liberal, shrewish woman than anyone I can think of, and she's on our side?
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
i heart mike huckabee
Best quote from the third coming of the troupe of rich white men vying for the Republican nomination:
In a discussion about evolution, Huckabee said, "If anybody wants to believe that they are the descendants of a primate, they are certainly welcome to do it." For the love of God.
Read this for even more entertainment from this venerable stable of wise men.
In a discussion about evolution, Huckabee said, "If anybody wants to believe that they are the descendants of a primate, they are certainly welcome to do it." For the love of God.
Read this for even more entertainment from this venerable stable of wise men.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
further knitting on a sunny tuesday afternoon
I keep thinking I'll try to sell some of my projects somewhere, a holiday craft fair, some little boutique. I have big fantasies about this. But then I keep going and giving everything away, can't quite accumulate enough finished projects to bother trying to sell them anywhere. Oh well.



What I want for Christmas this year: George W. Bush Voodoo Doll
Planned Parenthood called me this afternoon and I gave them $25. Not much, I know, but I can't ever seem to just say no to them, despite the fact that I give them $10 every month already anyway. More oh well.
Planned Parenthood called me this afternoon and I gave them $25. Not much, I know, but I can't ever seem to just say no to them, despite the fact that I give them $10 every month already anyway. More oh well.
alan
New York Magazine is a pretty ridiculous publication, I'll grant you, but Chris's grandma Jean bought a subscription to it for us years ago, when we first moved in to this apartment, and I continue to get it in the mail every Monday. I flip through it every week, read the restaurant reviews religiously for some reason, and every so often will read through a particularly scandalous cover story. This week, one of these cover stories hits a little close to home.
A few months back, a friend of mine, a strong, healthy, thirty-one year old man, was diagnosed with cancer. Bone cancer. Multiple myeloma, to be exact, a cancer that predominantly attacks old people. He and his wife live in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. One of this week's cover stories? The Toxic Lake Under Brooklyn. I tend to read the news on a semi-regular basis, and yet until Alan started talking about this pollution in Brooklyn over the last few months, I'd never heard of it. Maybe I just missed it over the years, which is not by any means impossible, or maybe it's just finally breaking in to the collective consciousness.
It broke my heart to learn of Alan's cancer, Alan who is truly one of the kindest people in this world. We became friends in high school, even went to the junior prom together. Over the years our friendship developed into a deep affection for each other. He, being all of four months older than me, became something of a big brother to me. He was always willing, without a second's hesitation, to drive me to or from one of the Westchester train stations or the airport, or make the trip down to Barnard to cook me a delicious dinner of chicken parmesan. He and Ben were with me the night that I found out about a friend's suicide, back in 1997, made sure I was alright, got me back to school the next day. He has never missed any of my birthday gatherings if he was in town, despite often having to be at work later than night. He has paid for the lion's share of our many lunches and dinners together over the years, not only because he is bigger and stronger and less ticklish than I am, but because his generosity knows no bounds, is not easily contained by himself or anyone else.
Who knows if there will ever be any proof that there is a connection between this extreme pollution and the various cancers and other diseases in the area. All I know is that, as with everyone who suffers through something like this, it should not be happening to Alan, and my heart goes out to him.
A few months back, a friend of mine, a strong, healthy, thirty-one year old man, was diagnosed with cancer. Bone cancer. Multiple myeloma, to be exact, a cancer that predominantly attacks old people. He and his wife live in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. One of this week's cover stories? The Toxic Lake Under Brooklyn. I tend to read the news on a semi-regular basis, and yet until Alan started talking about this pollution in Brooklyn over the last few months, I'd never heard of it. Maybe I just missed it over the years, which is not by any means impossible, or maybe it's just finally breaking in to the collective consciousness.
It broke my heart to learn of Alan's cancer, Alan who is truly one of the kindest people in this world. We became friends in high school, even went to the junior prom together. Over the years our friendship developed into a deep affection for each other. He, being all of four months older than me, became something of a big brother to me. He was always willing, without a second's hesitation, to drive me to or from one of the Westchester train stations or the airport, or make the trip down to Barnard to cook me a delicious dinner of chicken parmesan. He and Ben were with me the night that I found out about a friend's suicide, back in 1997, made sure I was alright, got me back to school the next day. He has never missed any of my birthday gatherings if he was in town, despite often having to be at work later than night. He has paid for the lion's share of our many lunches and dinners together over the years, not only because he is bigger and stronger and less ticklish than I am, but because his generosity knows no bounds, is not easily contained by himself or anyone else.
Who knows if there will ever be any proof that there is a connection between this extreme pollution and the various cancers and other diseases in the area. All I know is that, as with everyone who suffers through something like this, it should not be happening to Alan, and my heart goes out to him.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
odds & ends III
Patti, owner of the wonderful Watermark Book Company in Anacortes, Washington, was in town this past week for the annual Book Expo America, mecca of the American publishing industry. I put her up for the four days she was in town, much to my, and hopefully her, delight. Though I've, for the most part, comfortably reacclimated myself to living alone, it's nice to have visitors now and then, people to chat with over a cup of coffee in the morning or a glass of wine in the evening. Nova seemed pleased by the extra attention, too. Pictures below.
One of the nicest things about hosting Patti for a few days, other than the lovely hours of talk and the delicious meals, was that she left me a sizable chunk of Cougar Gold cheese. You probably haven't heard of Cougar Gold, but let me tell you, it's the best cheese in the world. My parents were alums of Washington State University, in Pullman, Washington, and my grandfather was a professor there for many, many years. And WSU, as you may or may not know, has amazing agricultur
al and food science programs. And part of this program is the Washington State University Creamery, and the creamery makes Cougar Cheese, sold there, but also at the Bookie and Ferdinand's Ice Cream Shoppe, on the WSU campus. When Nate and I were growing up, we spent every single summer in Idaho at our grandparents' summer cabin on Lake Coeur d'Alene, specifically the town of Harrison. Pullman was a two hour drive from the cabin, and at least once every summer we'd make the trek around the lake, over the Palouse (one of the most beautiful areas in the world, in my humble opinion), and in to Pullman for a couple days. And always, always, our favorite thing was to get huge cones of ice cream or chocolate malts at Ferdinand's. And always, always, we'd have to get several tins of cheese (yes, that's right, Cougar cheese always comes in a tin) for ourselves and various friends back on the East Coast. These days, it's also available for order online.
I had to work yesterday, but then met up with a few friends for dinner before heading over to Nate and Shanna's lovely new place for an apartment warming party. Pictures also below.
There's a brand new exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History that I'm dying to go see, even more exciting than last year's Darwin exhibit: Mythic Creatures. I was a firm believer in mermaids and unicorns as a child, created entire worlds with my friend Amy Crow, and read L. Frank Baum's biography of Santa Claus every Christmas for years. So this sounds just about perfect, with intriguing little tidbits and historical origins of imaginary animals. Just one example, did you know that the plural of cyclops is cyclopes, pronounced sigh-KLO-peez??
"Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many wondrous and secret cell
Unnumber'd and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the lumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die."
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson
One of the nicest things about hosting Patti for a few days, other than the lovely hours of talk and the delicious meals, was that she left me a sizable chunk of Cougar Gold cheese. You probably haven't heard of Cougar Gold, but let me tell you, it's the best cheese in the world. My parents were alums of Washington State University, in Pullman, Washington, and my grandfather was a professor there for many, many years. And WSU, as you may or may not know, has amazing agricultur
al and food science programs. And part of this program is the Washington State University Creamery, and the creamery makes Cougar Cheese, sold there, but also at the Bookie and Ferdinand's Ice Cream Shoppe, on the WSU campus. When Nate and I were growing up, we spent every single summer in Idaho at our grandparents' summer cabin on Lake Coeur d'Alene, specifically the town of Harrison. Pullman was a two hour drive from the cabin, and at least once every summer we'd make the trek around the lake, over the Palouse (one of the most beautiful areas in the world, in my humble opinion), and in to Pullman for a couple days. And always, always, our favorite thing was to get huge cones of ice cream or chocolate malts at Ferdinand's. And always, always, we'd have to get several tins of cheese (yes, that's right, Cougar cheese always comes in a tin) for ourselves and various friends back on the East Coast. These days, it's also available for order online.I had to work yesterday, but then met up with a few friends for dinner before heading over to Nate and Shanna's lovely new place for an apartment warming party. Pictures also below.
There's a brand new exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History that I'm dying to go see, even more exciting than last year's Darwin exhibit: Mythic Creatures. I was a firm believer in mermaids and unicorns as a child, created entire worlds with my friend Amy Crow, and read L. Frank Baum's biography of Santa Claus every Christmas for years. So this sounds just about perfect, with intriguing little tidbits and historical origins of imaginary animals. Just one example, did you know that the plural of cyclops is cyclopes, pronounced sigh-KLO-peez??
"Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many wondrous and secret cell
Unnumber'd and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the lumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die."
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson
This past February, I joined the millions of Americans partaking in perfectly legal happy pills, specifically fluoxetine, more popularly known as Prozac. Reading the little information sheet that comes with my new orange bottle every month is a study in the ambiguity of psychiatry. Not only is fluoxetine helpful for your run-of-the-mill Depression, but it can also help with Premenstrual Tension Syndromes (that would be the pathologized version of PMS), Obsessive- Compulsive Disorders, Binge-Eating and Vomiting Behaviors, and Panic Disorder Without Agoraphobia. A veritable cornucopia of medicatable predicaments. Any possible side effects? "Shortness of breath; fast or irregular breathing; fever; joint pain; fast pulse; lightheadedness or fainting; swelling of face; hives; & itching. Also skin rash; unusual movements of eye, face limb. Also diarrhea; delayed ejaculation in males; dry mouth; decreased sexual desire; drowsiness; unusual, painful & prolonged erection (gender unspecified); headache; difficulty falling asleep; nausea; nervousness; clenched jaw and teeth grinding; visual disturbances; decreased appetite; constipation; dizziness; unusual tiredness or weakness; sweating; shakiness. " Luckily for me, I have not noticed any of these side effects, at least no more than in my pre-medicated days. The only thing I've noticed is that I yawn. A lot. It's kind of weird, and slightly embarrassing, especially during staff meetings or meaningful conversations.
Lastly, dearest Andy who stayed at my apartment a couple weekends ago left me a little thank you gift, one of the oddest and cutest things I have ever seen. It was sitting on my desk at work for a few days (left at Nate's apartment, brought to SIPA by Shanna, transferred to my office, and eventually home), but finally this morning I opened it, watered it, placed it on my window sill. Hopefully, God willing and forgiving my lack of a green thumb, I will soon have an adorable egg full of mint. How did Andy know that was just what I needed in my life? Pictures also below.
Lastly, dearest Andy who stayed at my apartment a couple weekends ago left me a little thank you gift, one of the oddest and cutest things I have ever seen. It was sitting on my desk at work for a few days (left at Nate's apartment, brought to SIPA by Shanna, transferred to my office, and eventually home), but finally this morning I opened it, watered it, placed it on my window sill. Hopefully, God willing and forgiving my lack of a green thumb, I will soon have an adorable egg full of mint. How did Andy know that was just what I needed in my life? Pictures also below.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
excerpts
"My movements are calculated now, instead of flailing; I move like liquid, like someone who has always known how to get up and walk away. This was not always the case. In the moments, the days, weeks after he left, I was still bed-ridden. Remarkable, I thought at the time, how love and pain leave you in the same place, prostrate and desperate, arching your back to the sky."
"Morning: open your eyes, move. Stretch, check that your limbs are still working. Open your mouth, close it. Inhale. Check that the rainbows haven't fallen off the ceiling. I forced myself, day after day, to get out of bed, walk to the bathroom, the kitchen. To pull a book from the shelf and sit on the couch. To walk outside, to the corner, to get milk. It is easy to compare this to addiction, but it is nothing like addiction. The pain that comes after is not even anything like love. With that easy plague of love you benefit, in some tiny way, a single exhalation or a smile on his face. In this, the slow recovery, there is no benefit, only the stark horror at what you have become and how much you have lost. I try to get lost in books, like before, but it doesn't work the same way."
"Today, a breakthrough. I walk across the street; drop a letter in the mailbox."
-Erica, April 2007
new favorite thing: Kiss My Face Mango Ginger Lip Balm SPF 15
"Morning: open your eyes, move. Stretch, check that your limbs are still working. Open your mouth, close it. Inhale. Check that the rainbows haven't fallen off the ceiling. I forced myself, day after day, to get out of bed, walk to the bathroom, the kitchen. To pull a book from the shelf and sit on the couch. To walk outside, to the corner, to get milk. It is easy to compare this to addiction, but it is nothing like addiction. The pain that comes after is not even anything like love. With that easy plague of love you benefit, in some tiny way, a single exhalation or a smile on his face. In this, the slow recovery, there is no benefit, only the stark horror at what you have become and how much you have lost. I try to get lost in books, like before, but it doesn't work the same way."
"Today, a breakthrough. I walk across the street; drop a letter in the mailbox."
-Erica, April 2007
new favorite thing: Kiss My Face Mango Ginger Lip Balm SPF 15
Friday, June 01, 2007
lazy friday afternoon
I've been listening to Vic Thrill this afternoon, feeling nostalgic for a few years back, I suppose.
circus of enlightenment
nobody's watching the radar
hummingbird pneumonia
afrological
suddenly (with the bogmen)
smear
A truck driver destroyed his truck last night, not to mention part of the Lincoln Tunnel. Check out the article, if only to see an amazing picture of the truck, peeled back like a can of sardines.
New Hampshire approves civil unions!
circus of enlightenment
nobody's watching the radar
hummingbird pneumonia
afrological
suddenly (with the bogmen)
smear
A truck driver destroyed his truck last night, not to mention part of the Lincoln Tunnel. Check out the article, if only to see an amazing picture of the truck, peeled back like a can of sardines.
New Hampshire approves civil unions!
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