i think i mentioned this before: unmarried women are a huge source of political power for progressives.
In 2000, there were 16 million unmarried unregistered women and 21,725,000 unmarried women who were eligible to vote who did not. These women, with their vote, could dramatically change the political landscape in America.
we won the vote only in 1920 - we shouldn't take it for granted.
so this is to remedy that.
it's easy and online.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Thursday, March 25, 2004
winning
thoughts are generally muddled this morning (whoops - overslept) but just to hold my place, there's this from a friedman column today:
If Mr. Zapatero goes through with his troop withdrawal from Iraq, Islamist terrorists will attribute it to the Madrid bombing. This big picture will absolutely encourage them to try this tactic, perfected in Israel and now imported to Spain, in other European or U.S. elections — to tilt the vote one way or another.
"The Spanish Civil War tested only weapons," said the Israeli political theorist Yaron Ezrahi. "The terrorism we have seen in Israel, and may soon see more of in Europe, is testing the fabric of democratic societies. What is being tested in Spain is this question: Does it pay for terrorists to try to hijack democratic elections? We have a clear-cut challenge here, and it must be met with an equally clear-cut response. Are leaders of Western nations going to reward the terrorists in their attempt to hijack democratic elections in a major European state or make them fail?"
still trying to figure out where my thinking is on this...
If Mr. Zapatero goes through with his troop withdrawal from Iraq, Islamist terrorists will attribute it to the Madrid bombing. This big picture will absolutely encourage them to try this tactic, perfected in Israel and now imported to Spain, in other European or U.S. elections — to tilt the vote one way or another.
"The Spanish Civil War tested only weapons," said the Israeli political theorist Yaron Ezrahi. "The terrorism we have seen in Israel, and may soon see more of in Europe, is testing the fabric of democratic societies. What is being tested in Spain is this question: Does it pay for terrorists to try to hijack democratic elections? We have a clear-cut challenge here, and it must be met with an equally clear-cut response. Are leaders of Western nations going to reward the terrorists in their attempt to hijack democratic elections in a major European state or make them fail?"
still trying to figure out where my thinking is on this...
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
the news is depressing.
south texas town loses last factory jobs...shrub administration tries to rewrite history...us forest service discards public accountability for the sake of, um, streamlining - and hires a swank PR firm to spin itself in the process...stupid court case about 'in God we trust'...
and only 8 more months to go of ugly campaigning.
south texas town loses last factory jobs...shrub administration tries to rewrite history...us forest service discards public accountability for the sake of, um, streamlining - and hires a swank PR firm to spin itself in the process...stupid court case about 'in God we trust'...
and only 8 more months to go of ugly campaigning.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
ASS.
it was a lovely morning - woke up early, dressed in a cute outfit, actually
combed my hair, felt all perky and happy (can't you tell something is
about to change this?) when i read an email from online museum guy who said he thought i was great, but wasn't expecting me to be so ... curvy.
he felt duped. (despite my ad and photos describing me as 'zaftig' . who the hell doesn't know what this means??)
you punk-rock posing-foucault reading-sawdust smelling-breadstick-bike riding arsehole.
mood is now murderous and dangerous.
reading of his weird offended feelings was like reading the sex & the city equivalent to the iraq WMD scandal: why was the intel so bad during the run up to their date with destiny??
because who knew that one's porportions would have to be disclosed like the warning label on a side view mirror: "Beware: Ass may be bigger than previously thought."
combed my hair, felt all perky and happy (can't you tell something is
about to change this?) when i read an email from online museum guy who said he thought i was great, but wasn't expecting me to be so ... curvy.
he felt duped. (despite my ad and photos describing me as 'zaftig' . who the hell doesn't know what this means??)
you punk-rock posing-foucault reading-sawdust smelling-breadstick-bike riding arsehole.
mood is now murderous and dangerous.
reading of his weird offended feelings was like reading the sex & the city equivalent to the iraq WMD scandal: why was the intel so bad during the run up to their date with destiny??
because who knew that one's porportions would have to be disclosed like the warning label on a side view mirror: "Beware: Ass may be bigger than previously thought."
Thursday, March 18, 2004
a new internet mag debuts this week: the gadflyer. progressives kicking ass without sounding lame and pretentious. (though i've never had a problem with the whole 'snob' label, myself.) already it's a fave. check it out.
...
oh, god, this week. so long. so lengthy. so interminable. so unending. so bleahhh. not even a pile of comic books could revive my ennui. yes, i've turned to comics, those crinkly leaves leftover from adolescence. no, they aren't preserved in plastic or arranged chronologically on a special shelf all their own. they're jumbled next to the latest phil rickman, trashy romance novel, victorian erotica and stanley elkin on my night table. that table is a symbol of my brain.
the elkin is taking some time to wade through - it's fun, but it's a hard-won fun. it's like the fun of drinking a bottle of whiskey on an empty stomach and then eating warm sushi. the drunken reeling is thrilling at first, but then the wet gurgle starts and, well, you know the rest.
...
life coach update:
i can't meditate for more than 5 minutes without falling asleep on the toilet.
another discovery - i'm too hung up on page count (thanks, grad school) and should really throw that over and just achieve getting some good words on the page. even if it's just five. it seems when i started treating writing like a job, i wanted to control it, instead of just letting it strike; i've been trying to apply the model from grad school and it doesn't fit my current schedule or temperament anymore, and so i've been stuck. and since i don't like my real life feeling like work, i'm avoiding writing because i've turned it into work.
thank god this is all free.
the coach said to me, "What's more important: writing or being a writer?"
and i didn't really have an answer to that.
(edited 3.23.04)
...
oh, god, this week. so long. so lengthy. so interminable. so unending. so bleahhh. not even a pile of comic books could revive my ennui. yes, i've turned to comics, those crinkly leaves leftover from adolescence. no, they aren't preserved in plastic or arranged chronologically on a special shelf all their own. they're jumbled next to the latest phil rickman, trashy romance novel, victorian erotica and stanley elkin on my night table. that table is a symbol of my brain.
the elkin is taking some time to wade through - it's fun, but it's a hard-won fun. it's like the fun of drinking a bottle of whiskey on an empty stomach and then eating warm sushi. the drunken reeling is thrilling at first, but then the wet gurgle starts and, well, you know the rest.
...
life coach update:
i can't meditate for more than 5 minutes without falling asleep on the toilet.
another discovery - i'm too hung up on page count (thanks, grad school) and should really throw that over and just achieve getting some good words on the page. even if it's just five. it seems when i started treating writing like a job, i wanted to control it, instead of just letting it strike; i've been trying to apply the model from grad school and it doesn't fit my current schedule or temperament anymore, and so i've been stuck. and since i don't like my real life feeling like work, i'm avoiding writing because i've turned it into work.
thank god this is all free.
the coach said to me, "What's more important: writing or being a writer?"
and i didn't really have an answer to that.
(edited 3.23.04)
Monday, March 15, 2004
they always come back
when your past comes back it's a bit of a kick in the pants - one of those kicks that miss the meaty part of your ass and gets you right on the tailbone. and then the pain goes straight up and down your spine making your knees buckle. that kind of kick.
and when people talk about their past, it's always an ex-someone they're talking about, really. ex-lover, ex-fling, ex-boyfriend, ex-drunken reason why you don't go to a certain bar anymore. you think you know how to deal with it, even when you tell yourself they were inconsequential, but you don't really. how does one prepare themselves for a hard boot to the tailbone?
blah-di-blah-di-blah: yeah, a couple of old ones came back, fingering me over email, leaving voicemail messages that make my hands shake or rear back from the computer screen in horror - no!! i thought you were gone, buried in a cask behind a brick wall, chained and dumped in the north branch of the river! incognito latino found me on nerve again, despite my blocks, my deletions and refusals to be drawn back in to his lonely intensity. i immediately deleted his message without reading it; his is a place i don't want to revisit. i didn't behave particularly well and i regret that slightly.
i don't get particularly mushy-hearted over exes. they become such for a reason, and those reasons are usually good ones: boredom, sudden dislike, boredom, or the gradual dawning realization that this person will never be as fun as your girlfriends. and once you realize any or all of these things, you make a decision as soon as you can and extricate yourself as humanely as possible. (everyone has every right to leave everyone else, but it's not cool to be deliberately cruel.) once extrication has been achieved, whether neatly or sloppily, i don't think one should look back. the loop has been closed, the circle completed.
one girlfriend of mine was dumped years ago by a small-souled man named michael. it cracked her core and she took 2 years to recover. during those two years, she constantly asked, Why? i refrained from answering, Because. and during those 2 years she badgered him for an answer she could accept, tearing at him like a thistle. she said she was doing this in the service of some future closure but i disagreed: closure had already been achieved when he said those two words, 'it's over.' one might take issue with his timing and tact, but i'm pretty sure michael thought the door of that relationship firmly closed.
and even when those magical words aren't spoken, but acted, it's the same thing: someone suddenly disappears, drops from sight so quickly and thoroughly, you expect to see his face on a carton of milk. and so it was with MR. he's not technically an ex, but he is a past...someone. one day we looked around and we each weren't there. the loss was so clean, so fast, i barely registered it.
but now...he's back, even if it's just for a 3 hour stopover on his way to Korea in two weeks. this reappearance is more ... i don't know. bittersweet? no, not bitter.
it's more like...reading a novel, turning the last page and seeing a little epilogue where you find out what happened after all the main action's done. you see it, exclaim 'yay!' and when you're finished taking everything in, sighing, you put the book on the shelf until you need to read your favorite bits all over again.
and when people talk about their past, it's always an ex-someone they're talking about, really. ex-lover, ex-fling, ex-boyfriend, ex-drunken reason why you don't go to a certain bar anymore. you think you know how to deal with it, even when you tell yourself they were inconsequential, but you don't really. how does one prepare themselves for a hard boot to the tailbone?
blah-di-blah-di-blah: yeah, a couple of old ones came back, fingering me over email, leaving voicemail messages that make my hands shake or rear back from the computer screen in horror - no!! i thought you were gone, buried in a cask behind a brick wall, chained and dumped in the north branch of the river! incognito latino found me on nerve again, despite my blocks, my deletions and refusals to be drawn back in to his lonely intensity. i immediately deleted his message without reading it; his is a place i don't want to revisit. i didn't behave particularly well and i regret that slightly.
i don't get particularly mushy-hearted over exes. they become such for a reason, and those reasons are usually good ones: boredom, sudden dislike, boredom, or the gradual dawning realization that this person will never be as fun as your girlfriends. and once you realize any or all of these things, you make a decision as soon as you can and extricate yourself as humanely as possible. (everyone has every right to leave everyone else, but it's not cool to be deliberately cruel.) once extrication has been achieved, whether neatly or sloppily, i don't think one should look back. the loop has been closed, the circle completed.
one girlfriend of mine was dumped years ago by a small-souled man named michael. it cracked her core and she took 2 years to recover. during those two years, she constantly asked, Why? i refrained from answering, Because. and during those 2 years she badgered him for an answer she could accept, tearing at him like a thistle. she said she was doing this in the service of some future closure but i disagreed: closure had already been achieved when he said those two words, 'it's over.' one might take issue with his timing and tact, but i'm pretty sure michael thought the door of that relationship firmly closed.
and even when those magical words aren't spoken, but acted, it's the same thing: someone suddenly disappears, drops from sight so quickly and thoroughly, you expect to see his face on a carton of milk. and so it was with MR. he's not technically an ex, but he is a past...someone. one day we looked around and we each weren't there. the loss was so clean, so fast, i barely registered it.
but now...he's back, even if it's just for a 3 hour stopover on his way to Korea in two weeks. this reappearance is more ... i don't know. bittersweet? no, not bitter.
it's more like...reading a novel, turning the last page and seeing a little epilogue where you find out what happened after all the main action's done. you see it, exclaim 'yay!' and when you're finished taking everything in, sighing, you put the book on the shelf until you need to read your favorite bits all over again.
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Well. The wheels will start turning on writing discrimination into the Constitution for the first time. Nice, Shrub.
Good display of compassion there.
I have yet to read a coherent argument how allowing homosexuals to marry and enjoy the legal rights everyone else gets to have will endanger straights' access to marriage.
Good display of compassion there.
I have yet to read a coherent argument how allowing homosexuals to marry and enjoy the legal rights everyone else gets to have will endanger straights' access to marriage.
Monday, February 23, 2004
Monday, February 16, 2004
trolling the blogs tonight...
i love the blogs, i really do. some are more rigorous than others, but there's always a fact or a question that makes me pause for a moment and actually cogitate (unlike this little thing which is merely another stalling tactic...damn you, little unfinished poem, i am ignoring you!)
however, the overwhelming testosterone-laden pontificating and the 'i was a philosophy, greek history and poli sci triple threat in college' posturing of most of them makes me wonder what they're really like away from the blue fizzing glare of their laptops. like, tacitus, for instance. fabulous, you're incredibly intelligent. wonderful, you're a conservative who doesn't make most progressives vomit. huzzah, you have fantastic critical thinking skills and wield a knowledge of the ancient world like a truncheon.
but, darling tacitus (or eschaton, orcinus, talking points guy or any of the mysterious guys who blog like fiends and make me wonder what they do to pay their rent), for the love of god -- grow a sense of humor.
blather, blather, drone drone, zzz zzzz zzz.
i love the blogs, i really do. some are more rigorous than others, but there's always a fact or a question that makes me pause for a moment and actually cogitate (unlike this little thing which is merely another stalling tactic...damn you, little unfinished poem, i am ignoring you!)
however, the overwhelming testosterone-laden pontificating and the 'i was a philosophy, greek history and poli sci triple threat in college' posturing of most of them makes me wonder what they're really like away from the blue fizzing glare of their laptops. like, tacitus, for instance. fabulous, you're incredibly intelligent. wonderful, you're a conservative who doesn't make most progressives vomit. huzzah, you have fantastic critical thinking skills and wield a knowledge of the ancient world like a truncheon.
but, darling tacitus (or eschaton, orcinus, talking points guy or any of the mysterious guys who blog like fiends and make me wonder what they do to pay their rent), for the love of god -- grow a sense of humor.
blather, blather, drone drone, zzz zzzz zzz.
yearrg!
so this is what it's like to have a life coach: for the next two months we shall delve into my ... whatever... bullshit to discover why i'm not writing and what exactly i can do to change that. apparently, this will happen through 'active journaling', self-assessments, practices (??) and lots and lots of talking. so much talking i anticipate my vocal chords spasming.
the Coach is a very sweet woman. she's small and blond, with quick blue eyes, sensible shoes and a kind of nordic steeliness that i find a little intimidating. she's in her late 40's or early 50's, so i'm expecting a LOT of wisdom here. she's already suggested that in order to affect change i may have to change some of my habits; i've warned her i don't own athletic gear and hate sweating.
we talked for over two hours last week in our first intake session and i was alarmed at her page of notes. so far we have discussed my family (love them, had to move 2000 miles away from them), my faith (got it, but please don't be a bible-banger), my friends (no comment) and my ... indiscretions (no comment.) while others pay thousands of dollars to be this self-indulgent, i get to explore and expose my inner recesses for free.
...
valentine's day was a non-event. friday night, spent all night drinking champagne, smoking and playing scrabble with the girls. i lost steadily the entire evening, even after throwing down words like 'nexus' (ok, i only used it once and every other word was something like 'fob' or 'gob' or 'mucal'.) is mucal a word? who knows? i bluffed and it landed me 18 points.
yes--i cheat at scrabble.
saturday was spent helping a. with her new coffee table and watching 'american splendor'--the most genius movie i've seen this year. yes, even more genius than LOTR.
...
i go to new haven in 3 weeks. the librarian awaits. yearrg, indeed.
the Coach is a very sweet woman. she's small and blond, with quick blue eyes, sensible shoes and a kind of nordic steeliness that i find a little intimidating. she's in her late 40's or early 50's, so i'm expecting a LOT of wisdom here. she's already suggested that in order to affect change i may have to change some of my habits; i've warned her i don't own athletic gear and hate sweating.
we talked for over two hours last week in our first intake session and i was alarmed at her page of notes. so far we have discussed my family (love them, had to move 2000 miles away from them), my faith (got it, but please don't be a bible-banger), my friends (no comment) and my ... indiscretions (no comment.) while others pay thousands of dollars to be this self-indulgent, i get to explore and expose my inner recesses for free.
...
valentine's day was a non-event. friday night, spent all night drinking champagne, smoking and playing scrabble with the girls. i lost steadily the entire evening, even after throwing down words like 'nexus' (ok, i only used it once and every other word was something like 'fob' or 'gob' or 'mucal'.) is mucal a word? who knows? i bluffed and it landed me 18 points.
yes--i cheat at scrabble.
saturday was spent helping a. with her new coffee table and watching 'american splendor'--the most genius movie i've seen this year. yes, even more genius than LOTR.
...
i go to new haven in 3 weeks. the librarian awaits. yearrg, indeed.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Will the snow EVER melt? Chicago is in the grip of the yuckiet weather I can remember in a long time and I'm ready for some warmth. Any kind - body, sun, a hot brick ... anything.
A friend passed this on, a plea to Ralph Nader not to run. Weird to see how the 2000 election came down to a few electoral votes.
...
Complaining about corporate wenchdom is so boring, but I can't help it. The week has been ass-clenchingly busy and it's only Tuesday; Madame has been tapped to be acting VP for our client and while that's great, that's insane--for me (since everything has to circle back to me). So this means that I'm onsite for half the week and this could kill my already reed-thin social life. Friday I found myself catching a cab to pick up our client's birthday gift for her daughter at American Girl Place; I rewarded myself with a sweater, a new purse and a box of bao buns. Anything for the client...and now the Firm has been voted Best Corporate Skinner Box to Work For 2004.
I blather. All this to say I need to get out of town for a weekend to see my librarian. Soon.
A friend passed this on, a plea to Ralph Nader not to run. Weird to see how the 2000 election came down to a few electoral votes.
...
Complaining about corporate wenchdom is so boring, but I can't help it. The week has been ass-clenchingly busy and it's only Tuesday; Madame has been tapped to be acting VP for our client and while that's great, that's insane--for me (since everything has to circle back to me). So this means that I'm onsite for half the week and this could kill my already reed-thin social life. Friday I found myself catching a cab to pick up our client's birthday gift for her daughter at American Girl Place; I rewarded myself with a sweater, a new purse and a box of bao buns. Anything for the client...and now the Firm has been voted Best Corporate Skinner Box to Work For 2004.
I blather. All this to say I need to get out of town for a weekend to see my librarian. Soon.
Monday, February 09, 2004
i went out saturday with a friend and he asked if i was doing much writing. i dropped my gaze to my sushi and hemmed and hawed.
busy...undisciplined...daunting pile of paper...some thoughts kicking around...blah blah.
then i looked up and said, 'let's face it. i'm lazy. it's too hard and i don't know what i'm doing.'
so this week, i'm meeting with a LIFE COACH. so bourgeois. so oprah.
pathetic.
busy...undisciplined...daunting pile of paper...some thoughts kicking around...blah blah.
then i looked up and said, 'let's face it. i'm lazy. it's too hard and i don't know what i'm doing.'
so this week, i'm meeting with a LIFE COACH. so bourgeois. so oprah.
pathetic.
A very cool breakdown of Shrub's appearance on Meet the Press yesterday.
(I should feel guilty over the glee I feel, but I don't...)
Travelling soon to New Haven...giddy, giddy, giddy.
(I should feel guilty over the glee I feel, but I don't...)
Travelling soon to New Haven...giddy, giddy, giddy.
Thursday, February 05, 2004
pocketbook activism
call it an emotional imbalance or just knee-jerk reactionary liberalism, but reading the papers tends to make my blood pressure shoot out the roof and my jaw ache from all my teeth-gritting.
the office was a little slow, i hadn't taken my vitamin, so i was desultorily scrolling through my morning editions - talkingpointsmemo, nytimes, atrios, salon, tompaine.com. you know, the usual. then one link led to another and i found myself at opensecrets.org, a non-profit that researches connections between money and politics--basically, who gives it and who gets it.
reading how private industry, through PACs and trade associations, lobby the political parties shamelessly and pour millions into their coffers made me take out my checkbook for the first time ever and write a series of checks: to NARAL, Planned Parenthood, the DNC, and an obscure congressional race in Kentucky that could be the first step in taking back the House from the RePoobs. they weren't large checks, because i don't have large pockets, but that was unimportant.
if our political process is important to us, then it is equally important for us ordinary citizens to participate through volunteering, through injecting our voices into public debate (yes, write that nutbag letter to the editor), and through our paltry dollars. on opensecrets, i read that out of all the dollars contributed to various politicians, organizations or issues, only a teeny-tiny-teeny come from individuals like you and me. the rest, the vast majority of buying power comes from special interest groups. aren't we an interest group?
the checks i wrote yesterday were the equivalent of two really great dinners (with wine) in chicago or one hormonal shopping trip on a weekend at nordstrom's.
i think our political future is worth a pair of shoes.
the office was a little slow, i hadn't taken my vitamin, so i was desultorily scrolling through my morning editions - talkingpointsmemo, nytimes, atrios, salon, tompaine.com. you know, the usual. then one link led to another and i found myself at opensecrets.org, a non-profit that researches connections between money and politics--basically, who gives it and who gets it.
reading how private industry, through PACs and trade associations, lobby the political parties shamelessly and pour millions into their coffers made me take out my checkbook for the first time ever and write a series of checks: to NARAL, Planned Parenthood, the DNC, and an obscure congressional race in Kentucky that could be the first step in taking back the House from the RePoobs. they weren't large checks, because i don't have large pockets, but that was unimportant.
if our political process is important to us, then it is equally important for us ordinary citizens to participate through volunteering, through injecting our voices into public debate (yes, write that nutbag letter to the editor), and through our paltry dollars. on opensecrets, i read that out of all the dollars contributed to various politicians, organizations or issues, only a teeny-tiny-teeny come from individuals like you and me. the rest, the vast majority of buying power comes from special interest groups. aren't we an interest group?
the checks i wrote yesterday were the equivalent of two really great dinners (with wine) in chicago or one hormonal shopping trip on a weekend at nordstrom's.
i think our political future is worth a pair of shoes.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
it's been a while (thanks, corporate wenchdom) but i'm back. reading the morning papers and all the feisty bloggers out there i'm convinced that if i ran my personal finances the way this administration is proposing to run our nation's, i'd be living in a cardboard box under the train tracks on racine.
where is the outrage? where is the anger over this administration's mendacity?
it makes me wanna holler.
where is the outrage? where is the anger over this administration's mendacity?
it makes me wanna holler.
Friday, January 23, 2004
Selective Blindnesses
Have been stupidly busy at corporate wenchdom, but here's an interesting blog about a pro-democracy demonstration in Iraq that took place in December but didn't get a lot of press here in the West.
It's amazing how selective our eye is.
I'll post more later when Madame isn't making me re-hang the moon. ("A little more to the left, dear!")
It's amazing how selective our eye is.
I'll post more later when Madame isn't making me re-hang the moon. ("A little more to the left, dear!")
Saturday, January 17, 2004
huzzah!
it has only taken me 4 months to figure out how to link my email address. my technical dimness knows no bounds.
Thursday, January 15, 2004
MoDo
yet another inane, dumb, and useless column from maureen dowd in this morning's nytimes.
So...after all this time, a woman is *still* required to be the reflection, and magnification, of her husband's ambitions. (No matter her own professional obligations, of course.) I'm an intelligent woman whose responses are a bit more articulate than this, but what utter crap.
And even worse is how otiose this column has become: first she subjects us to the semiotics of Clark's sweater and now this toothless column about Dean's wife avoiding the stump (which only shows her good sense.)
Brooks may infuriate me with his intellectual disingenuity, but at least he doesn't give smart women everywhere a bad name.
So...after all this time, a woman is *still* required to be the reflection, and magnification, of her husband's ambitions. (No matter her own professional obligations, of course.) I'm an intelligent woman whose responses are a bit more articulate than this, but what utter crap.
And even worse is how otiose this column has become: first she subjects us to the semiotics of Clark's sweater and now this toothless column about Dean's wife avoiding the stump (which only shows her good sense.)
Brooks may infuriate me with his intellectual disingenuity, but at least he doesn't give smart women everywhere a bad name.
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