Quodlibets

I'm reading Kick Me by

I'm reading Kick Me by Paul Feig now. It's wonderful in that universal way that books about kids can be. All the experiences contained in it are things you probably remember from your childhood: the kid that puked that sat behind you, the mean nickname someone gave you, the boneheaded things your parents did to humiliate you. Everyone has elementary school stories. Feig is just really good at presenting them in a humorous way. And in the spirit of Kick Me, here is my elementary school story, the way I remember it:

I wanted to be a strawberry for Halloween when I was in first grade. It's not the most normal request; most kids probably said, "Mom, I want to be a scary witch." Nonetheless, my mom was a good sport, and at that point, made both my and my sister's costumes, so she decided to make me a strawberry. I remember going to the fabric store with her to get a pattern (which I think was hard to find). I also remember the costume vividly. I think it was felt; I think there was a green cap to go with the outfit. Anyway, I loved it, and I still give my mom tons of credit for making a strawberry costume for her quirky little girl. And here's how I know I was quirky:

There was an all school costume parade in the main gym. An announcer would say, "All the ghosts now!", and all the little ghosts would walk in a big circle with everyone watching. Well, the announcer went through everything: cheerleaders, vampires, ghosts, poodle-skirt girls, animals, etc etc. And I still hadn't paraded. As a first-grader, this was traumatic. I was different. And boy was I, because when the announcer finally called me, it was like this: "Okay, anyone who hasn't been called yet, come up now." And this was me. And probably about 20 other kids. Now, in a school where there are 7 first grade classes alone, this is bad. 20 kids or so, and me. I don't remember how I felt at the time, but now I have some thoughts about it.

Part of me is really proud of the fact that I was different than everyone. I like the fact that I decided to go my own way. But another, smaller part of me feels saddened that I wasn't a part of the general camaraderie of the classes. This is probably me just being melodramatic, but I do feel, still, proud of the strawberry that I was. And frankly, I'd consider being a strawberry again for Halloween. I would just have to get Sam to be a shortcake.

Today is a laundry day.

Today is a laundry day. This means hours of time to "think about what it all means". One of the things I love about reading blogs is how fantastically they promote thought. I read feminist blogs, political blogs, star blogs, and even a couple of wildly entertaining blogs written by gay men. I'll say it right now: I'm a fag-hag. But that's another topic altogether.

This morning, I read Bitch. Ph.D, and was immediately drawn into her thoughtful and interesting discussion of her open marriage. Now, I'm 100% for monogamy, let me just say that right now. But I find discussions of open marriages a bit like a candy bar sitting on my lap: impossible to resist. I just could never do it, and I'm baffled by people who can. And I find myself agreeing with much of what is said about it--the idea of sexuality that it includes, the idea of intimacy that it promotes--but that said, I cannot even imagine that sort of relationship. And frankly, if anyone in my family had that sort of relationship, I'd be immediately worried about them. I think it might be a failing of my intelligence, that my mind cannot leap intellectually to that level. Some people can, I guess.

Anyway, this is what I like about blogs. I like being challenged on a near constant basis. It's why I like being in school, really, and blogs provide an intellectual challenge that even books can't reach right now. I guess my brain is just bored.

The perplexing business of trying

The perplexing business of trying to find something to wear to my cousin's wedding is finally done. I still need to get a brooch, but it won't be that one, or any one from this site.
Sadly, they're too expensive. But so many of them are so beautiful. I'd love to get one for Christmas or my birthday, but how unfun is that? Because I'd have to pick it out, and then it's not fun and suprisy. But I got a pair of shoes I absolutely love.
Actually, I basically got a whole new outfit. Just when I had given up on finding something new, and resigned myself to what was in my closet, I found something new. Just goes to show you, start expecting the worst and good things will happen.
Maybe that's what we all should do, liberals: Expect the worst, and something good will happen. But then if you do expect the worst, and the worst does happen, well, then you made it happen by thinking it would happen. It's a damn CATCH-22! And frankly, expecting the best only makes it certain that you'll be disappointed. I think I've just decided on an attitude of cautious hopefulness. I'm one of those people that can never quite let go of hope, no matter how dire things seem. But I talk a really, really good hopeless game. Never forget that. I might sound defeated, but in the back of my head, I think that triumph is possible. About shoes, about outfits, about elections.
Or I'm just naively stupid. You decide.

Check out my sister's friend

Check out my sister's friend Janet's blog. Her latest entry is very clever (the one about football) and I added her to my list of curious blogs, in case you're interested in a med student's life. I do read her blog every day; she's literate and funny, and very thoughtful.

I woke up at five

I woke up at five a.m. and had to go to the bathroom, and for some reason, I became convinced that I could smell fire. I nudged Sam and asked him if he smelled it, but he said no. All the same, convinced we were about to have to evacuate, I had to think of an escape plan. I decided that it was imperative that I get out the accordian file we keep all important info in, my purse, and my computer. I thought Sam should take his computer and his new camera; at this point, I realized there was so much that was important in this apartment, and started to panic. It wasn't full-blown panic, but just the mild knowledge that this would be disastrous. Anyway, it kept me awake until six-ish, when Sam had to wake up for work. I realized then that if I had smelled fire, it probably would have engulfed us already. That's when I went back to sleep.

I do have these occasional episodes where I freak out about fire, and I've had various nightmares about being in fires. My most vivid one (this dream is at least a couple of years old) took place in my grandparents old house in Palatine. I was there with my sister and four of my cousins. Fire was everywhere in the kitchen, but everyone was just unconcerned. I was trying to get them out of the house, but no one would listen to me. It was terrifying. When I woke up I was convinced my own house was on fire, and had to wander through it to make sure it wasn't.

But at least there was really no fire. I'll probably be more worried about it for a little while, and then the fear subside. Because who isn't afraid of fire, really?

I'm re-reading one of my

I'm re-reading one of my favorite books, Lonesome Dove. Lately, when I try to re-read books, I lose steam in the middle of the book. Probably because I know what's going to happen. All the same, I'm bored with the other books I'm reading too. I like all of them, I just don't feel like reading them. Six Wives is excellent, but I'm getting pretty sick of the Anne Boleyn divorce situation. I've read/watched so much about that specific wife, and that specific time period in Henry's life that I find it boring as hell. I really want to read about Jane Seymour. Supposedly Sam is related to her through her brother. Someone on his mom's side is descended distantly from Edward Seymour. At least I think so, though Sam couldn't quite give me the details--he doesn't know them.
Anyway, I still have like, 40 pages of Anne Boleyn left, which leaves me a little slight of the requisite motivation. Hence, Lonesome Dove. Also, I'd really like to watch the movie again, but my local Blockbuster didn't have it. So instead, we rented 13 Going on 30, and Chris Rock's latest stand-up. (Which was very disappointing.) What I really want to do is learn HTML, but Sam has to take me to Borders for that to happen, and he's glued to his recliner, and his hand is glued to his new Canon 20D. (It's pretty damn cool, even I have to admit that.) Oh well.

Do you remember where you

Do you remember where you were on Sept. 11, 2001? Probably, if you're like the rest of us, you do. It was a strange and surreal day--my parents had only just flown home from Ireland on the day before, and I remember that morning thinking how glad I was that they had gotten home, because I didn't know how I could possibly explain to my little brother what had happened, and why mom and dad were still in Ireland. And then I immediately thought of my two close friends in New York, and placed calls--that didn't go through.
My dad kept saying, "It's Pearl Harbor, it's Pearl Harbor."

The truth is, it was nothing like Pearl Harbor. Pearl Harbor pulled this country together, and every American soon became part of the massive war effort. Perhaps it's that Americans are too selfish now to make sacrifices like that generation did, but I personally think that there is another reason we didn't pull together as a nation. We don't have a leader that made it important--our leadership took us to war in a country that had virtually nothing to do with the "Pearl Harbor" of Sept. 11th. It'd be like FDR making war in South America after the actual Pearl Harbor, concluding that the danger was much greater closer to home.

No, sorry, Mr. Bush, but the job should have been to get the people who perpetrated the attack. But clearly, that was a job that was just too hard for the government to undertake. I believe that the plan to go to war in Iraq was concieved shortly after the attacks on Sept. 11th, and frankly, I still don't understand why. Was it a personal thing--revenge against the man who tried to kill your daddy? Was Cheney begging you to do it so Halliburton could make millions? Did you want the oil? Because it seems to me that the real WMD reside in Afghanistan (and I guess the Pakistani/Afghani border) with the men who planned and trained for that attack three years ago. Those men won't stop until they're made to, or until they succeed in creating an entirely Muslim world. But of course, that threat was never your concern, was it? And frankly, letting Osama run around those hills serves your purposes really well now, doesn't it? Being that you're the only man who can stop him--even though you've failed since Sept 11th to do so.

Just a thought.

Well, I can't lie. I

Well, I can't lie. I loved every minute of his performance--though I did turn to my boyfriend at one point and say "Hey, this is just like a rally for John Kerry!"--and I thought he was remarkably intelligent. The crowd LOVED him--lots of clapping and lots of laughter. The guy's a comedian, but he's doing hardcore political material. It was some of the smartest criticism I've heard of the current regime, and there was a slight bit of Kerry criticism. He didn't stick to the election, but it's obviously hard for issues not to come back to the election. It's on everyone's mind.
I was heartened by the diversity of crowd. It was mostly white, but there was a very interesting cross-section of ages and even probably economic circumstances. The gentlemen next to us were, well, drunk, but also what you might refer to as rednecks, which you might associate with Bush, but no. These guys seemed to love Maher, and the only time I thought they seemed uncomfortable was when Maher delved into the gay marriage debate. It was refreshing to remember that not everybody in a cut off black tee-shirt and a FDNY cap wants Bush back in office.
Like I said, I enjoyed it very much. It's great to hear the arguments you want to make being cheered by 1500 people. If only more people would listen.
Maher said at the beginning of the show that he was pissed, and one of the things he was pissed at was that more people weren't pissed. Me too. Why don't more people see through Bush?

I'm going to see Bill

I'm going to see Bill Maher tonight. I'm greatly anticipating the skewering of our fantastic! political parties and politicians. I sometimes feel that Bill Maher is one of the only people speaking intelligently about anything.

Here is the Bill Maher article in the Tribune from the 8th. He's right about Lewis Black too. Lewis Black is so ridiculously funny it hurts.

More on the show later.

I'm not really sure what

I'm not really sure what they were saying, because I just saw footage of the event on CNN, but apparently some protesters infiltrated a Bush campaign event in Pennsylvania. He was obviously quickly hustled out of the event by the Secret Service (and she--a protester said they dragged her out by her hair.) and quieted immediately.

I just liked the footage of the frat boys yelling at the protester (who, might I add, looked bookish and had longish hair--though maybe that was the woman). Is there anything more powerful than a gigantic t-shirted goon yelling "Four more years!"? Ick ick ick. But that just goes to show some of the...uh, shall we say....I can't say this nicely. They're stupid. but then....look who they're supporting.