needless to say, since this is Doom Week, i woke up a little stressed this morning.
but.
i put on my work out clothes and took my first morning walk in a month. (hellacious work schedule and spending the night at M-'s place on sunday nights has put a crimp in my routine.) but now that DOOM is impending i can't afford to slouch into my naturally inactive default position. so i walked this morning.
i walked and i thought about the meaning of my current employment upheaval; i thought about M-, saturday night and sunday morning (heh); i thought about how nice it is not to sweat; i thought about hating humidity; i thought about the proper way to align ones posture when exercise/walking; i thought about how having a dude in your life translates into extra hours of grooming; i thought about how big my butt is in my Nike pants but how cute my Puma shoes are; i thought about how i've survived two other layoffs. and then i thought about the pint of ice cream i should not have eaten all in one sitting yesterday.
and i walked harder.
...
planning for the fall of civilization, saturday night, at an old guy bar with M- and his friend D-:
M-: so if society collapsed like in Mad Max, you know what I'd do?
Ding: what would you do?
M-: D- would get his family on the south side, he'd meet me on the north side and we'd swing by to get you and get the hell out.
Ding: what if i have my own escape route?
M-: like how?
Ding: my girls! after 9/11, we planned to leave the city and head north to minnesota
M-: well, i'm heading south. underground.
Ding: underground?
D-: like the Morlocks.
Ding: uh, i like going north better. why don't we swing by and pick you up and head north.
M-: (stubborn) i'm coming to get you.
Ding: (just as stubborn) i have my own escape route. being in minnesota seems cleaner than living like mole people.
so, if civilization collapses, i anticipate spending some time arguing about which route to take - north with my friends, or south to the tunnels.
(on the other hand, it was sort of endearing. he included me in his post-apocalyptic tribe!)
...
saturday night, in a bad yuppie bar:
M-: so i got you something.
Ding: yeah?
M-: dealer passes to Wizard. both days.
Ding: (gasp) really??
M-: you said you wanted to go, so i got a couple of passes. you and Roomie can go right in.
Ding: really?? it wasn't a problem, was it?
M-: nah. i just said to the guys my girl wanted to go and i was going to use the passes.
Ding: and how often does one of the guys ask for dealer passes to Wizard for 'his girl'?
M-: never.
(this is Wizard.)
Monday, June 29, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
asshats: the Illinois legislature
1. our state legislature is a collection of ignorant, do-nothing boobs who'd rather protect their election prospects than actually get some work done. unfair characterization? perhaps. but when you have a budget crisis and only spend ONE frakking day during an emergency session at the capitol and you STILL haven't come to a resolution, then you're frakking useless and incompetent.
(i'm looking at y'all, governor quinn, speaker madigan, leaders cullerton, cross and radogno! swear to god, they all deserve a flaming bag of poo.)
2. when they're tired, elected officials can be alarmingly candid. from a GOP legislator: 'every organization in the state could call us but it still wouldn't matter. people who work in social services vote Democrat; people who use their services tend to vote Democrat. what's in it for us to go your way?' niiiiice. frakking useless.
3. the women i work with are awesome. for a month, i've been holed up in our 'situation' room, hammering out implementation strategies to save our agency with two other women who are, frankly, awesome. they're smart, feisty, no bullshit and when we disagree we always find a workable compromise. (i'm more for the 'scorched earth' strategy and they're more for the 'let's work this out' strategy.) we swing wildly from hope that all this work will bear fruit and we will successfully lobby our legislators to get off their asses to do the right thing to despair that everything we're doing still isn't enough to counteract the massive amount of apathy and partisan bullshit in Springfield. we are not pros at grassroots organizing but i find it amusing to see us suddenly adopting some of its practices.
our COO worked on the Obama campaign and she comes into the situation room at least a couple of times a day to give us some coaching, some encouragement and tell us stories from the campaign to inspire us - and it works. she rocks. i've already told her, 'when i lose my job, i will need your advice on what to do next and how to get in someone's office.'
she said, 'when folks hear you're on the market, you won't need my help.'
if we're all laid off in the next week or so, we've all promised to convene regularly as Ladies of the Day - slightly bitter, exhausted, depressed, over-educated women who kick ass while being momentarily at loose ends.
4. the people who inhabit our political process are the worst things about it. this isn't some fake cynicism i'm trying to display here. this is what i've honestly seen during the past few months. i used to love watching politics; i loved the drama, the snark, the 'gotcha'-ness. but it's only when you connect the dots, and see that what happens in the political arena actually trickles down and materially impacts a life (or hundreds of thousands of lives,) that you realize the people we have elected have cheapened the whole process.
it's a wonderful thing when a farmer downstate can walk into his state rep's office and say his piece and that aide or rep will listen to him. this is the beauty of our state political machine. it really is that down home. (by the way, how many of y'all have visited the district office of your local rep?)
but there's another side to it that infuriates me. in Illinois, at issue is a now $9.2 billion deficit budget that the general assembly has chosen not to address. instead, at the end of the regular session it ignored its responsibility and chose to send a 50% lump sum budget to the governor that basically decimated all of human services. the budget solves nothing, except to put the governor in the uncomfortable position of signing a budget that will turn Illinois into Mississippi.
here's the infuriating part: they know that.
they know the 50% lump sum budget is a bad idea. they know it doesn't solve the deficit; they know that without revenue, the deficit gets worse, they know the impact of a decimated human services sector on their districts. they know there are structural problems that need to be fixed in this budget and still no one is making a move. for some reason, they think the veto session will bring a magical Resolution Fairy and then they'll find the money to solve the problem.
what they're really doing is keeping their eyes on the 2010 elections and hoping to do nothing that will endanger their seats.
ask each side what they're going to do about this crisis and they shrug and say the same thing. 'We have ideas,' they say. 'But the other guys don't want to hear them.'
they know the human collateral this budget will cause and they look at you without blinking and say, 'there's nothing i can do. you all will have to call my colleagues and convince them.'
at which point someone grabs my wrist and i clamp down on my tongue so i don't scream, 'Swinging your colleagues is YOUR FUCKING JOB! WHY CAN'T YOU DO YOUR FUCKING JOB?!'
this is an abdication of responsibility that is unacceptable. and i'm not talking about the GOP here, either. it's the Dems, too. they act like giving a Yes vote was the height of their duty. like voting Yes was a shining gift to the people of Illinois.
cynthia soto, my rep, was in a budget briefing last week the governor's office had invited us to and she stood up and said, 'I voted yes to raise revenue! I did my part! Now do your homework - it's your turn to make those calls to the No votes and get this thing turned around!'
i turned to the woman standing next to me and whispered, 'this is bullshit. what the fuck does she think we've been doing for the past month? when is she going to get off her ass and do her fucking job?'
the woman whispered, 'unbelievable, isn't it?'
you wanna give us a gift, elected officials of Illinois?
we, the people of Illinois, would love to see you take your jobs seriously and work as hard as we do. really. we would. earn your paycheck, you apathetic motherfuckers.
(i'm looking at y'all, governor quinn, speaker madigan, leaders cullerton, cross and radogno! swear to god, they all deserve a flaming bag of poo.)
2. when they're tired, elected officials can be alarmingly candid. from a GOP legislator: 'every organization in the state could call us but it still wouldn't matter. people who work in social services vote Democrat; people who use their services tend to vote Democrat. what's in it for us to go your way?' niiiiice. frakking useless.
3. the women i work with are awesome. for a month, i've been holed up in our 'situation' room, hammering out implementation strategies to save our agency with two other women who are, frankly, awesome. they're smart, feisty, no bullshit and when we disagree we always find a workable compromise. (i'm more for the 'scorched earth' strategy and they're more for the 'let's work this out' strategy.) we swing wildly from hope that all this work will bear fruit and we will successfully lobby our legislators to get off their asses to do the right thing to despair that everything we're doing still isn't enough to counteract the massive amount of apathy and partisan bullshit in Springfield. we are not pros at grassroots organizing but i find it amusing to see us suddenly adopting some of its practices.
our COO worked on the Obama campaign and she comes into the situation room at least a couple of times a day to give us some coaching, some encouragement and tell us stories from the campaign to inspire us - and it works. she rocks. i've already told her, 'when i lose my job, i will need your advice on what to do next and how to get in someone's office.'
she said, 'when folks hear you're on the market, you won't need my help.'
if we're all laid off in the next week or so, we've all promised to convene regularly as Ladies of the Day - slightly bitter, exhausted, depressed, over-educated women who kick ass while being momentarily at loose ends.
4. the people who inhabit our political process are the worst things about it. this isn't some fake cynicism i'm trying to display here. this is what i've honestly seen during the past few months. i used to love watching politics; i loved the drama, the snark, the 'gotcha'-ness. but it's only when you connect the dots, and see that what happens in the political arena actually trickles down and materially impacts a life (or hundreds of thousands of lives,) that you realize the people we have elected have cheapened the whole process.
it's a wonderful thing when a farmer downstate can walk into his state rep's office and say his piece and that aide or rep will listen to him. this is the beauty of our state political machine. it really is that down home. (by the way, how many of y'all have visited the district office of your local rep?)
but there's another side to it that infuriates me. in Illinois, at issue is a now $9.2 billion deficit budget that the general assembly has chosen not to address. instead, at the end of the regular session it ignored its responsibility and chose to send a 50% lump sum budget to the governor that basically decimated all of human services. the budget solves nothing, except to put the governor in the uncomfortable position of signing a budget that will turn Illinois into Mississippi.
here's the infuriating part: they know that.
they know the 50% lump sum budget is a bad idea. they know it doesn't solve the deficit; they know that without revenue, the deficit gets worse, they know the impact of a decimated human services sector on their districts. they know there are structural problems that need to be fixed in this budget and still no one is making a move. for some reason, they think the veto session will bring a magical Resolution Fairy and then they'll find the money to solve the problem.
what they're really doing is keeping their eyes on the 2010 elections and hoping to do nothing that will endanger their seats.
ask each side what they're going to do about this crisis and they shrug and say the same thing. 'We have ideas,' they say. 'But the other guys don't want to hear them.'
they know the human collateral this budget will cause and they look at you without blinking and say, 'there's nothing i can do. you all will have to call my colleagues and convince them.'
at which point someone grabs my wrist and i clamp down on my tongue so i don't scream, 'Swinging your colleagues is YOUR FUCKING JOB! WHY CAN'T YOU DO YOUR FUCKING JOB?!'
this is an abdication of responsibility that is unacceptable. and i'm not talking about the GOP here, either. it's the Dems, too. they act like giving a Yes vote was the height of their duty. like voting Yes was a shining gift to the people of Illinois.
cynthia soto, my rep, was in a budget briefing last week the governor's office had invited us to and she stood up and said, 'I voted yes to raise revenue! I did my part! Now do your homework - it's your turn to make those calls to the No votes and get this thing turned around!'
i turned to the woman standing next to me and whispered, 'this is bullshit. what the fuck does she think we've been doing for the past month? when is she going to get off her ass and do her fucking job?'
the woman whispered, 'unbelievable, isn't it?'
you wanna give us a gift, elected officials of Illinois?
we, the people of Illinois, would love to see you take your jobs seriously and work as hard as we do. really. we would. earn your paycheck, you apathetic motherfuckers.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
wrap up: the wedding
note to self - starting off the day at 9.30 am with a glass of champagne may seem like a good idea (and it is so '4 Weddings') but then it just opens a gate for more drinking until, by 2 pm, you are plastered, hot, and just a bit queasy.
(and, when you go home to rest before the reception/party, you're not really laying down for a nap. you are passing out.)
so this was the foundation that was laid saturday evening before M- arrived at the party. throw in some heat and humidity and you have a Ding who was wrung out. basically, by the time M- arrived, i was mentally done.
M- tenaciously hung out with my friends, congratulated the married couple, and hung on until the party wound down and we took it to a friend's back porch where we had more beer, chatted more and i floated in and out of coherence. somewhere in the vicinity of 2 am, my brain had turned off. (but after a shower and some rolling around, a second wind was gained. funny how that works.)
perhaps i should have been more 'on' to keep M- entertained, but he seemed to entertain himself. eventually, i'll become more comfortable with having my worlds blend; but getting rid of the compartments i used to separate my friends from my lovers is going to take time.
(and, when you go home to rest before the reception/party, you're not really laying down for a nap. you are passing out.)
so this was the foundation that was laid saturday evening before M- arrived at the party. throw in some heat and humidity and you have a Ding who was wrung out. basically, by the time M- arrived, i was mentally done.
M- tenaciously hung out with my friends, congratulated the married couple, and hung on until the party wound down and we took it to a friend's back porch where we had more beer, chatted more and i floated in and out of coherence. somewhere in the vicinity of 2 am, my brain had turned off. (but after a shower and some rolling around, a second wind was gained. funny how that works.)
perhaps i should have been more 'on' to keep M- entertained, but he seemed to entertain himself. eventually, i'll become more comfortable with having my worlds blend; but getting rid of the compartments i used to separate my friends from my lovers is going to take time.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
it's DateNight with M- tonight.
(see how's he's graduated from being NewGuy to just having a simple initial?)
a little bit later, i'll give all 8 of my readers the scoop on the weekend wedding, the epiphane experienced during vampire date night on sunday and why politics is the purview of the mentally infirm.
oh, and on receiving 60 days' notice at my organization.
(see how's he's graduated from being NewGuy to just having a simple initial?)
a little bit later, i'll give all 8 of my readers the scoop on the weekend wedding, the epiphane experienced during vampire date night on sunday and why politics is the purview of the mentally infirm.
oh, and on receiving 60 days' notice at my organization.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
pillow talk, 2
(after dinner, two bottles of wine, talking all night on the front stoop and other activities)
Ding: you are quite possibly the nicest guy i've ever gone out with.
NewGuy: ok, you are drunk.
Ding: you are quite possibly the nicest guy i've ever gone out with.
NewGuy: ok, you are drunk.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
pillow talk
NewGuy: so what's your week looking like? like last week?
Ding: god, no. there's nothing planned but i don't know what could happen.
NG: mine has slowed down. i'm open.
Ding: (drowsy) that's great.
NG: X wanted to hang out but I'm putting him off and then Y wanted to do something. but naah. i'm all yours.
Ding: i don't want to take you away from your life. you have friends and stuff. you can hang out with them, you know.
NG: (giving slight annoyed look) going almost two weeks not seeing each other sucked. when you're going out with someone you should see them more than once a week. otherwise, what's the point??
Ding: uh, yeah. what's the point?
(note to future self: the mere suggestion of 'space' might have some negative blowback.)
Ding: god, no. there's nothing planned but i don't know what could happen.
NG: mine has slowed down. i'm open.
Ding: (drowsy) that's great.
NG: X wanted to hang out but I'm putting him off and then Y wanted to do something. but naah. i'm all yours.
Ding: i don't want to take you away from your life. you have friends and stuff. you can hang out with them, you know.
NG: (giving slight annoyed look) going almost two weeks not seeing each other sucked. when you're going out with someone you should see them more than once a week. otherwise, what's the point??
Ding: uh, yeah. what's the point?
(note to future self: the mere suggestion of 'space' might have some negative blowback.)
Monday, June 15, 2009
i'm liquid, baby. kinda.
Talking to my FinanceGuy at Large National Conservative Finance Company:
FinanceGuy: Yeah, Ding. So sorry to hear about your situation.
Ding: So what are my options? I need to know how much I can float while I look for a job without becoming homeless over the next few months.
FG: What do you have?
Ding: That Rollover ROTH, the money market acct, some savings and unemployment. That might give me about....X dollars.
FG: (tapping on a calculator) Hm. If your expenses are as small as they were the last time we talked, then you could probably last a year.
Ding: Shut up. A year??
FG: Yeah. But you'd have to pay yourself a very small amount each month.
Ding: How small?
FG: (giving incredibly small number)
Ding: Shut up!!
FG: It's doable. If you cut out all extras and really stick to the budget, you could last. Definitely through the summer.
Ding: (imagining a summer of ramen and cigs, just like grad school) Dude.
FG: Don't worry about taxes for early withdrawals; we can worry about that later. Or your accountant can.
Ding: Yeah, my accountant named HR Block.
FG: (laughing) You are so funny.
Ding: Uh-huh. Well, thanks, FG. I know I'm not one of your big clients who can really liquidate things and actually live on it, but I appreciate your time.
FG: Well, I know that things are tough all over. I've actually been buying lottery tickets.
Ding: Uh, does your firm know you're telling clients you're playing the lotto?
FG: (laughing) I can barely understand how to buy one.
Ding: Me, too!! I think we're too bougie for lotto tickets. It takes some special knowledge to know how to buy them.
FG: Then your only hope is to marry for it.
Ding: Dammit.
FinanceGuy: Yeah, Ding. So sorry to hear about your situation.
Ding: So what are my options? I need to know how much I can float while I look for a job without becoming homeless over the next few months.
FG: What do you have?
Ding: That Rollover ROTH, the money market acct, some savings and unemployment. That might give me about....X dollars.
FG: (tapping on a calculator) Hm. If your expenses are as small as they were the last time we talked, then you could probably last a year.
Ding: Shut up. A year??
FG: Yeah. But you'd have to pay yourself a very small amount each month.
Ding: How small?
FG: (giving incredibly small number)
Ding: Shut up!!
FG: It's doable. If you cut out all extras and really stick to the budget, you could last. Definitely through the summer.
Ding: (imagining a summer of ramen and cigs, just like grad school) Dude.
FG: Don't worry about taxes for early withdrawals; we can worry about that later. Or your accountant can.
Ding: Yeah, my accountant named HR Block.
FG: (laughing) You are so funny.
Ding: Uh-huh. Well, thanks, FG. I know I'm not one of your big clients who can really liquidate things and actually live on it, but I appreciate your time.
FG: Well, I know that things are tough all over. I've actually been buying lottery tickets.
Ding: Uh, does your firm know you're telling clients you're playing the lotto?
FG: (laughing) I can barely understand how to buy one.
Ding: Me, too!! I think we're too bougie for lotto tickets. It takes some special knowledge to know how to buy them.
FG: Then your only hope is to marry for it.
Ding: Dammit.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
guess where i am?
i know you're tired of hearing it (or reading my Tweets about it,) but i'm at WORK right now.
one would get the impression, reading this blog, that my career is very important to me and that i am a Career Woman. one would be partially correct. i actually enjoy earning my keep and i love doing something at which i excel and which contributes to the general Good.
but i do not like having stomach aches, stress headaches, heart palpitations and general feelings of free-floating panic and fear.
i also do not like having to deal with the prospect of updating my resume and finding another job at which i excel, will pay me enough to cover expenses, allow contributions to my savings, and which would also contributes to Goodness - all in an economic environment in which barista jobs have become highly coveted.
you know??
(not that there's anything wrong with being a barista - i'm just not that service oriented and, in general, am not made for jobs that require touching food or money.)
i also do not like not having seen NewGuy for more than two days in the past 2.5 weeks and this is...different. LTF could've incinerated himself in his own apartment and i wouldn't have noticed for weeks.
(i'm sure these comparisons between NewGuy and LTF are boring but it's an interesting exercise for me.)
this week was so bad at work i'd wake up in the middle of the night with my heart pounding and stomach cramps. the only way i could get to sleep was to, uh, imagine NG was hogging the comforter and snoring next to me.
huh. i just made myself uncomfortable admitting that.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
i suppose i should try and care about what's happening in the world of politics, reproductive justice and feminism but i'm fighting for the survival of my agency, my job and my sector.
and trying to fit in some NewGuy time.
(he's been incredibly laid back and empathetic, listening to me freak out for the past three weeks. we have a movie date planned for tonight and i said that it felt like forever since we saw each other last. he said, 'you are going through the worst possible time ever at your office. it would be really selfish to demand more of your time while this is happening.')
so talk amongst yourselves.
and trying to fit in some NewGuy time.
(he's been incredibly laid back and empathetic, listening to me freak out for the past three weeks. we have a movie date planned for tonight and i said that it felt like forever since we saw each other last. he said, 'you are going through the worst possible time ever at your office. it would be really selfish to demand more of your time while this is happening.')
so talk amongst yourselves.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
so last night, after walking all the way to humboldt park from my east village 'hood, and ending up at the Black Beetle for beer and wings, we walk back to my place and...crash.
that's it.
change into jammies, mumble goodnight and hit the sack.
no rolling around, no frolicking, not even cozy making out. just heads hitting pillows and, isntantly, snoring. (him, not me!)
a month in and already the sex disappears?!
grumble grumble grumble.
that's it.
change into jammies, mumble goodnight and hit the sack.
no rolling around, no frolicking, not even cozy making out. just heads hitting pillows and, isntantly, snoring. (him, not me!)
a month in and already the sex disappears?!
grumble grumble grumble.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
ding overthinks things
work was hell last week. this is not an exaggeration. it was def-con 5, Red alert bad. i was not feeling in the best mood for couple-hood, so i dropped out of sight.i compartmentalized things pretty quickly. work, here; NewGuy, just below that. he seemed cool about it ('I figured things were rough and you'd call when you were able,' he said) but i am crap when it comes to reading any guy's moods.
we made up for it by having the longest date ever on saturday (note to self: staying out until 3 am is just not physically possible anymore) but this is another big/crappy week and how the hell am i supposed to juggle all this?
(this - as if i'm juggling the weight of the world here. it's only one guy and one stressful job.)
he's cooking dinner for me at his place tomorrow night and i could only thank the gods that i'm working from home the next morning so i don't have to rush home, change and stumble into the office looking slightly frazzled and undone. yes, that's my first thought instead of getting all dewy and thinking 'aww, romantic dinner for two at his place.'
...
clearly, i'm having a slightly rough time adjusting to the idea of being One of Two. i can't compute it in my head. i am One. not Two.
the shift to thinking in Twos is not happening smoothly. i forget what we were talking about last night but he said something that stuck with me and that i automatically protested (in my head.) i think it was about the memorial day cookout and how there were only 3 couples - us included.
that startled me. i am One, not Two!, i said in my head.
if i was still seeing Dr. C- she would ask me why it's so important for me to see myself as One and i'd tell her, 'because it's easier being responsible for only One, not Two. and habit. and i like being One.'
though, there are things i like about being Two, too.
we were walking to dinner saturday night and as we were crossing the street, i said (in the interest of honesty and putting things out there), 'you know how hard it is for me to think of myself being in a couple? my brain just doesn't go there.'
he said, 'i know. we'll take things slow.'
but are we really? taking things slow. i think NewGuy is already facing in one direction, his feet planted solidly on I Am SO In A Relationship Road and i'm dawdling back on I Guess He's My Boyfriend? Yes. Maybe. Yes? Lane. i have this vague feeling that there are plans being spun in NewGuy's head - far reaching, future-sounding plans - and i want to reel him in and say, 'let's just see if we still like each other on Friday. or tomorrow.'
we were talking about tomorrow night's dinner (he's big on planning and logistics) and i was mumbling something about what time to leave the next morning, which train to catch, etc. and he said, 'well, if you're working from home, maybe you can sleep in. i'll leave you a key.'
and my eyes bugged out a little. a key?? to your house?
to my credit, i did not have a panic attack, something which would have happened a while ago if some other dude said that to me. i merely noted it and tucked it away for later thinking. (like now!)
it's like gender roles have been reversed between us, which isn't all together too bad. i'm wary and non-commital and he's already handing me keys and making room for my shampoo on his shower stall. i'm just hyper-conscious of it, that's all.
so yeah. this is what i'm thinking about this morning.
maybe i should be thinking about batshit crazy doctor killers and the deep ideological divide between social conservatives who want to control women's lives and bodies and those of us who don't. maybe i should be thinking about the predictable and repetitive contours of white supremacy in this country and the laws and statutes in place that have historically worked to keep asian immigrants and early generations of asian americans away from citizenship and assets.
(y'all really should read The Color of Wealth. it will make you so very very angry.)
instead, i'm thinking about this stupid, girly crap.
Friday, May 29, 2009
why the story matters
This is my parents' story:
One of my parents was an immigrant; my other parent grew up in a Compton project. One of my parents never earned a college degree and worked as a secretary her whole life; my other parent earned his college degree at night school while working in a warehouse and then earned his Masters at the same time i was entering college. Both of my parents were poor, abused, refused housing, worked blue collar jobs or civil servant jobs and yet still managed to buy a home, send two daughters to college and have a good life - all while living in south central L.A.
If we're honest, their stories weren't supposed to end this way. Their stories were supposed to end in the projects or somewhere back in the Philippines.
But their story becomes my story and follows me to grad school, corporate America and it's here with me now.
Why my story (and the story of Ursula Burns or Sonia Sotomayor or my parents) matters:
Because it gives the lie to the story that this world is only for powerful white men. It is a powerful middle finger to the socially constructed, and supported, narrative that women and people of color have a 'place' they need to stay in.
You can call us affirmative action babies; you can say that we aren't qualified or that we stole a job from some long-suffering, more qualified white dude, but who the fuck cares what you say?
(And this is why I love the 'cool' of President Obama. You call him an affirmative action baby? Were you the editor of the Yale law review? Are you the President of the United States? Didn't think so.)
We're going to keep fighting to be in your board rooms, your courtrooms, your senate floors and your offices. And who cares how you say we got there. We got there.
And once we're there, our presence will be a reminder that the story of our 'place' is a lie. It is a horrible, hateful, disgusting lie and we proved it's a lie. Those places you claim as your own will become our places, too. Maybe this is the truth you can't stand. Maybe this is the thing that makes your batshit crazy racist rhetoric so batshit crazy.
The old story of where people like me belong will eventually be chipped away, erased. And even if it won't disappear completely, if it takes another 400 years or so, what gurgling satisfaction there will be when one more of us with a story stands in a room we were never meant to enter.
Our stories don't matter to you?
Our stories aren't for you.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
our budget mess explained.
why does raising the income tax matter? because our tax structure is frakked up.
does fixing (yes, that means raising) the income tax thing help the budget? yes, among other things.
does fixing (yes, that means raising) the income tax thing help the budget? yes, among other things.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
you have the right to...nothing
Justices Ease Rules on Questioning Suspects - NYTimes.com
you know, folks i know who are big fans of the Roberts Court had better contort themselves into little pretzels if they want me to go along with the idea that a Roberts court is 'reasonable' and 'not so bad.'
what the fuck is this?!
(we now return to our regularly programmed swooning over NewGuy.)
you know, folks i know who are big fans of the Roberts Court had better contort themselves into little pretzels if they want me to go along with the idea that a Roberts court is 'reasonable' and 'not so bad.'
what the fuck is this?!
(we now return to our regularly programmed swooning over NewGuy.)
don't you love long holiday weekends?
the fun, the grilling, the sunburns, the over-indulgence of various alcoholic beverages, the realization that one has a boyfriend...
yes, memorial days are fun.
(beat)
and how about that supreme court nomination?
...
snapshots:
the next morning, catching him carefully fold and pocket the scribbled note i wrote with my 1 a.m. food order on it from saturday night.
sunday morning, having coffee on my front stoop with NewGuy, as a friend slowly walks up and meets NewGuy way before i planned.
running the clock down, knowing we have to scoot, but wanting to hang out more on my couch, feet up, listening to the radio and making fun of terry hemmert. (he can't stand Breakfast With the Beatles.)
waiting for NewGuy before the bbq and he walks up, handing me a dunkin' donuts bag because he knows i haven't eaten anything yet.
hanging back, watching my friends slowly adjust to him - some faster than others - and fielding silent text messages of 'thumbs up.'
catching the last bits of some kind of heated conversation with NewGuy, XRoomie and another friend, and walking away. (we're all adults and he can handle himself - and the friends can deal. but note to self - no politics, maybe.)
debriefing on the day at home while we're brushing our teeth (!!) and i realize i'm brushing my teeth in front of a guy, in my bathroom, in my so not hot jammies, sorta drunk and what the hell just happened??
being asked, in his corny, goofball way if i wanna be his girl and i say yes.
so there you go.
Ding's going steady.
the fun, the grilling, the sunburns, the over-indulgence of various alcoholic beverages, the realization that one has a boyfriend...
yes, memorial days are fun.
(beat)
and how about that supreme court nomination?
...
snapshots:
the next morning, catching him carefully fold and pocket the scribbled note i wrote with my 1 a.m. food order on it from saturday night.
sunday morning, having coffee on my front stoop with NewGuy, as a friend slowly walks up and meets NewGuy way before i planned.
running the clock down, knowing we have to scoot, but wanting to hang out more on my couch, feet up, listening to the radio and making fun of terry hemmert. (he can't stand Breakfast With the Beatles.)
waiting for NewGuy before the bbq and he walks up, handing me a dunkin' donuts bag because he knows i haven't eaten anything yet.
hanging back, watching my friends slowly adjust to him - some faster than others - and fielding silent text messages of 'thumbs up.'
catching the last bits of some kind of heated conversation with NewGuy, XRoomie and another friend, and walking away. (we're all adults and he can handle himself - and the friends can deal. but note to self - no politics, maybe.)
debriefing on the day at home while we're brushing our teeth (!!) and i realize i'm brushing my teeth in front of a guy, in my bathroom, in my so not hot jammies, sorta drunk and what the hell just happened??
being asked, in his corny, goofball way if i wanna be his girl and i say yes.
so there you go.
Ding's going steady.
Friday, May 22, 2009
spines of jelly-like substance
amen, Rich Miller:
Legislators are worried sick that if they vote to raise taxes to balance the budget they'll get the same treatment as the hapless Cook County Board President Todd Stroger.
Understandably, nobody wants to be roasted alive. But their job sometimes requires them to do what's right, not what's easy or popular. And sometimes that means doing things that nobody appreciates, like making sure the government doesn't collapse, even though a furious public doesn't believe a collapse is imminent.
when i was down in springfield earlier this month, i was in a meeting with a state senator, pitching her (which it is) on our issues and testing the budget waters. the waters were mad.
'you know,' she said. 'you all always ask for money but where are you when we need to vote for a tax hike and we need the cover? you all want something but no one is out there willing to take the heat for us.'
i murmured something conciliatory and understanding but in my head i asked, 'but that's not my job, is it? to take your heat when you need to make a difficult decision that you're being paid to make for the benefit of the state.'
i'm sorry; i work for an organization that has been taking the 'heat' of a bad state fiscal situation for decades, now. we've taken the 'heat,' Madame Senator. we've laid off people, cut services, closed centers, tightened belts, frozen salaries - what more heat do these frakking people expect us to take??
i love my job but there are times when i want to be honest when i speak with elected officials. i can understand the need for pragmatism and i understand that there are bigger priorities in the queue in front of me. but is that really all they're concerned about? making it through the next election cycle? not angering their clearly ignorant constituents who can't get a grasp on the fact that Illinois is sinking into the tar pits??
there is NO other plan, people!
we have NO revenue coming into this state - we have a $12 billion state deficit that needs to be resolved. where do people think revenue comes from? the Revenue Fairy (who's been on vacation for the past 8 years)??
grr. folks need to pay attention and politicians need to get off their duff and speak to their districts in a bluntly honest way.
then *my* job gets easier. shit.
Legislators are worried sick that if they vote to raise taxes to balance the budget they'll get the same treatment as the hapless Cook County Board President Todd Stroger.
Understandably, nobody wants to be roasted alive. But their job sometimes requires them to do what's right, not what's easy or popular. And sometimes that means doing things that nobody appreciates, like making sure the government doesn't collapse, even though a furious public doesn't believe a collapse is imminent.
when i was down in springfield earlier this month, i was in a meeting with a state senator, pitching her (which it is) on our issues and testing the budget waters. the waters were mad.
'you know,' she said. 'you all always ask for money but where are you when we need to vote for a tax hike and we need the cover? you all want something but no one is out there willing to take the heat for us.'
i murmured something conciliatory and understanding but in my head i asked, 'but that's not my job, is it? to take your heat when you need to make a difficult decision that you're being paid to make for the benefit of the state.'
i'm sorry; i work for an organization that has been taking the 'heat' of a bad state fiscal situation for decades, now. we've taken the 'heat,' Madame Senator. we've laid off people, cut services, closed centers, tightened belts, frozen salaries - what more heat do these frakking people expect us to take??
i love my job but there are times when i want to be honest when i speak with elected officials. i can understand the need for pragmatism and i understand that there are bigger priorities in the queue in front of me. but is that really all they're concerned about? making it through the next election cycle? not angering their clearly ignorant constituents who can't get a grasp on the fact that Illinois is sinking into the tar pits??
there is NO other plan, people!
we have NO revenue coming into this state - we have a $12 billion state deficit that needs to be resolved. where do people think revenue comes from? the Revenue Fairy (who's been on vacation for the past 8 years)??
grr. folks need to pay attention and politicians need to get off their duff and speak to their districts in a bluntly honest way.
then *my* job gets easier. shit.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
squee!
oh. in addition to spock, robert downey jr is *also* my boyfriend.
...
speaking of which, a historic first is about to achieved: i am bringing NewGuy to a bbq on sunday to meet my friends. after hanging out at Happy Village last night, we sat on my tiny stoop (but at least i have one!) and continued our conversation about the comic books i was missing.
NG: you know, you've got a connection now.
Ding: who?
NG: me! i can bring you anything you need. if they stopped pulling for you, just make your list and let me know. you'll have 'em in a month.
Ding: but i like supporting my local.
NG: do. but i can still get you what you need.
(Ding, frantically reading subtext into everything before she tells her brain to STFU. it's only comic books.)
Ding: um...what are you doing this weekend?
NG: i'm on the roof! with you.
Ding: really! you've got no plans. no parties, cookouts, whatever.
NG: nah. i'm all yours.
Ding: uh, well, my friends are having a thing on sunday, a friend's brother is in town, it's super casual -
NG: i'm there.
(let's stop here. if you trawl the B- archives you will inevitably notice that the world he and i inhabited consisted solely of his rinky-dink apartment on the northside. that's it. every invitation i made to hang out - meet some friends for a beer, watch the soccer finals, come to an election party, spend christmas holiday together - was met with a lame rebuff: 'nah, i'm not really in the mood to be around other people right now.' for. 8. years. NewGuy? he ponies up in 4 weeks.)
NG: i'll be at your place on saturday night so i'll go to my place, change clothes and come back here. we can go together.
Ding: yeah...i thought this would be harder.
NG: Ding, i'm there. what kind of beer do your friends drink? will they like me?
Ding: you're bringing beer. they'll love you.
if he makes everything this easy maybe i won't have to be such a freak about liking him so much.
...
*sploosh*
i'm sorry. what was that sound?
that was the sound of Screed jumping the shark to become the online diary of a 14-yr old girl.
sigh.
oh. in addition to spock, robert downey jr is *also* my boyfriend.
...
speaking of which, a historic first is about to achieved: i am bringing NewGuy to a bbq on sunday to meet my friends. after hanging out at Happy Village last night, we sat on my tiny stoop (but at least i have one!) and continued our conversation about the comic books i was missing.
NG: you know, you've got a connection now.
Ding: who?
NG: me! i can bring you anything you need. if they stopped pulling for you, just make your list and let me know. you'll have 'em in a month.
Ding: but i like supporting my local.
NG: do. but i can still get you what you need.
(Ding, frantically reading subtext into everything before she tells her brain to STFU. it's only comic books.)
Ding: um...what are you doing this weekend?
NG: i'm on the roof! with you.
Ding: really! you've got no plans. no parties, cookouts, whatever.
NG: nah. i'm all yours.
Ding: uh, well, my friends are having a thing on sunday, a friend's brother is in town, it's super casual -
NG: i'm there.
(let's stop here. if you trawl the B- archives you will inevitably notice that the world he and i inhabited consisted solely of his rinky-dink apartment on the northside. that's it. every invitation i made to hang out - meet some friends for a beer, watch the soccer finals, come to an election party, spend christmas holiday together - was met with a lame rebuff: 'nah, i'm not really in the mood to be around other people right now.' for. 8. years. NewGuy? he ponies up in 4 weeks.)
NG: i'll be at your place on saturday night so i'll go to my place, change clothes and come back here. we can go together.
Ding: yeah...i thought this would be harder.
NG: Ding, i'm there. what kind of beer do your friends drink? will they like me?
Ding: you're bringing beer. they'll love you.
if he makes everything this easy maybe i won't have to be such a freak about liking him so much.
...
*sploosh*
i'm sorry. what was that sound?
that was the sound of Screed jumping the shark to become the online diary of a 14-yr old girl.
sigh.
Monday, May 18, 2009
something new
i have a new 25 Things post almost ready to go but i'm going to delay it to gaze at my navel a little bit.
in 2nd grade i had a massive crush on ivan e., a blond egyptian kid with long surfer hair whose father was a professor at USC.
in 3rd grade i crushed out on stephen t., another teutonic youth, who shared my table and encouraged me to sneak books under the table during our math lesson.
in 6th grade, i returned to my crush on ivan e., who was then a minor god at our school.
in 7th, 8th and 9th grade, bobby b. became my obsession.
in high school, my crushes were several: john m. (the quarterback), dana j. (the tennis star), as well as andrew the punk rocker, whose parents taught at UCLA (and who once asked me out but i totally thought he was joking.)
i didn't care they didn't know about me - weird looking, chubby and with the kind of eyebrows only a russian dictator would love. it was enough that they simply walked the playgrounds or the quad. i was glad to peer at them from behind a book in the library, from behind a shelf, from under a bleacher or perhaps through a crack in our shared school counselor's door.
ah, shadowy, nerdy, and unrequited love. the journals from that period still make me cringe.
you'd think i would have outgrown this, but then, you'd be dead wrong. in grad school, my virginal infatuations were longer lived and became a team endeavor. i enlisted spies of my own who kept me apprised of teaching schedules, office hours, gym visits as well as important sartorial changes. (if you haven't fallen into limerance with a creamy-skinned white guy in a kilt then you haven't lived, my friends.) these journal entries are, in the rereading, comic and farcical.
what ties all these objects of my affection, from elementary to grad school, together is the process by which i fell for them and then began to hate them.
Stage 1: The Thunderbolt. It usually happened at the beginning of the semester, during roll call or picking squads for PE. Or the first day of new TA orientation or perhaps while impatiently showing him how to use the copier and you happen to glance up. That first choking gasp. The dazed stare. The flush at first sight of The Beloved. It's devastating, isn't it? I have made elaborate mental meals of reliving the first moments of charged non-contact.
(And before you all start thinking I'm some delusional psychopath, I knew this was wholly one-sided. It was delicious anyway.)
Stage 2: The Thread. In Jane Eyre, which I love, Rochester says to Jane they are connected by a string, one that binds them across distance, mental illness, locked up wives and Britain's social crevasses. Such was my feeling. In this stage, I'd connect everything about them to me, until our 'relationship' map resembled a nutty god's-eye. 'Ivan likes OP shorts! Me, too!' 'Bobby is in my creative writing class! We're perfect!' (Though he wasn't very good at all.) 'Knightley reads Neruda! See??!!'
The Thread was enduring and, depending on the enabling antics of friends, could last for at least a year or two. But one can't really sustain that kind of one-sided intensity without some strain.
Stage 3: Threats. Oh, not verbal threats from me to my Object of Affection, but external threats to the infatuation I had built up. In other words, Reality. Friends, tired of being on stakeout, would slowly begin to sabotage the fantasy. One friend put it to me bluntly: "He is a tool. An Irish sweater-wearing tool who fakes a Scottish accent. You are being ridiculous." Or, as a result of friends' machinations, one realizes their Beloved can only clap on the 1-3 instead of the 2-4. Such knowledge is a killer.
(Of course, the rumor that the Beloved already has an out of state girlfriend as well as a girlfriend in another department is just another rotten cherry on my sundae of disappointment.)
Stage 4: Disdain. Where once I listed their virtues I now canvassed every one of their shortcomings. 'He's not in AP English.' 'His Spanish pronunciation is so gringo.' 'He has no rhythm.' 'Gymnastics is stupid.' 'He's sort of a paranoid freak, isn't he?' 'Only retirees wear cable knit sweaters!' Love, or limerance, is on the wane. Where once my Beloved walked with a golden nimbus of divinity, now he is a duffer who won't dare to eat a peach and wears his trouser bottoms rolled.
...
so in this richter scale of infatuation, where am i with NewGuy? am i in the Thunderbolt stage? am i frantically weaving threads to tie us to one another, no matter how fragile? or is the golden halo already growing dim?
i don't know. it's an odd feeling, being requited.
if desire is lack, then what is it when you already feel full?
in 2nd grade i had a massive crush on ivan e., a blond egyptian kid with long surfer hair whose father was a professor at USC.
in 3rd grade i crushed out on stephen t., another teutonic youth, who shared my table and encouraged me to sneak books under the table during our math lesson.
in 6th grade, i returned to my crush on ivan e., who was then a minor god at our school.
in 7th, 8th and 9th grade, bobby b. became my obsession.
in high school, my crushes were several: john m. (the quarterback), dana j. (the tennis star), as well as andrew the punk rocker, whose parents taught at UCLA (and who once asked me out but i totally thought he was joking.)
i didn't care they didn't know about me - weird looking, chubby and with the kind of eyebrows only a russian dictator would love. it was enough that they simply walked the playgrounds or the quad. i was glad to peer at them from behind a book in the library, from behind a shelf, from under a bleacher or perhaps through a crack in our shared school counselor's door.
ah, shadowy, nerdy, and unrequited love. the journals from that period still make me cringe.
you'd think i would have outgrown this, but then, you'd be dead wrong. in grad school, my virginal infatuations were longer lived and became a team endeavor. i enlisted spies of my own who kept me apprised of teaching schedules, office hours, gym visits as well as important sartorial changes. (if you haven't fallen into limerance with a creamy-skinned white guy in a kilt then you haven't lived, my friends.) these journal entries are, in the rereading, comic and farcical.
what ties all these objects of my affection, from elementary to grad school, together is the process by which i fell for them and then began to hate them.
Stage 1: The Thunderbolt. It usually happened at the beginning of the semester, during roll call or picking squads for PE. Or the first day of new TA orientation or perhaps while impatiently showing him how to use the copier and you happen to glance up. That first choking gasp. The dazed stare. The flush at first sight of The Beloved. It's devastating, isn't it? I have made elaborate mental meals of reliving the first moments of charged non-contact.
(And before you all start thinking I'm some delusional psychopath, I knew this was wholly one-sided. It was delicious anyway.)
Stage 2: The Thread. In Jane Eyre, which I love, Rochester says to Jane they are connected by a string, one that binds them across distance, mental illness, locked up wives and Britain's social crevasses. Such was my feeling. In this stage, I'd connect everything about them to me, until our 'relationship' map resembled a nutty god's-eye. 'Ivan likes OP shorts! Me, too!' 'Bobby is in my creative writing class! We're perfect!' (Though he wasn't very good at all.) 'Knightley reads Neruda! See??!!'
The Thread was enduring and, depending on the enabling antics of friends, could last for at least a year or two. But one can't really sustain that kind of one-sided intensity without some strain.
Stage 3: Threats. Oh, not verbal threats from me to my Object of Affection, but external threats to the infatuation I had built up. In other words, Reality. Friends, tired of being on stakeout, would slowly begin to sabotage the fantasy. One friend put it to me bluntly: "He is a tool. An Irish sweater-wearing tool who fakes a Scottish accent. You are being ridiculous." Or, as a result of friends' machinations, one realizes their Beloved can only clap on the 1-3 instead of the 2-4. Such knowledge is a killer.
(Of course, the rumor that the Beloved already has an out of state girlfriend as well as a girlfriend in another department is just another rotten cherry on my sundae of disappointment.)
Stage 4: Disdain. Where once I listed their virtues I now canvassed every one of their shortcomings. 'He's not in AP English.' 'His Spanish pronunciation is so gringo.' 'He has no rhythm.' 'Gymnastics is stupid.' 'He's sort of a paranoid freak, isn't he?' 'Only retirees wear cable knit sweaters!' Love, or limerance, is on the wane. Where once my Beloved walked with a golden nimbus of divinity, now he is a duffer who won't dare to eat a peach and wears his trouser bottoms rolled.
...
so in this richter scale of infatuation, where am i with NewGuy? am i in the Thunderbolt stage? am i frantically weaving threads to tie us to one another, no matter how fragile? or is the golden halo already growing dim?
i don't know. it's an odd feeling, being requited.
if desire is lack, then what is it when you already feel full?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
hee!
spock is my boyfriend. sorry, NewGuy.
...
i haven't written anything substantial in a while for the following reasons:
work
moving
stress
work
nothing's caught my eye or mind
no interwebs at home
news avoidance
but things will be coming. i'm just a little wrung out right now.
spock is my boyfriend. sorry, NewGuy.
...
i haven't written anything substantial in a while for the following reasons:
work
moving
stress
work
nothing's caught my eye or mind
no interwebs at home
news avoidance
but things will be coming. i'm just a little wrung out right now.
not holding my breath
that David Mamet’s ‘Race’ will be anything more than an 'N-word'-filled 90 minutes of macho, sexist race baiting. unless he's suddenly going to pull off a play based on Todorov's 'How the Irish Became White.'
i'd totally pay to see that.
i'd totally pay to see that.
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