Quodlibets

Not related to S at all

Why can't I just want what I have?

Me Vs. S

Okay internets, I need some help.  S insists on keeping EVERY SINGLE CD case from every CD he's ever purchased (or acquired in other ways).  Probably 500 CDs.  Maybe more.  However, he keeps most of his CDs in books. 

I personally divested myself of all my CD cases years ago.  The question is, am I right to insist that S start getting rid of CD cases?  He insists that he must keep them all; I think he needs to get rid of all but the most important ones (such as, duh, Pearl Jam).  He says that they don't take up too much room, but I think that as he collects more CDs (and more and more CDs) it's going to get OUT OF HAND.  I think he should begin now, so he doesn't get overwhelmed by the task in a few years.

Who is right?  Should S begin the process of getting rid of CD cases?  Or should I just say fuck it, and accept the ever-growing collection of cases? 

(I don't mind, of course, if he keeps the liner notes and art from the CDs.  It's the cases I object to.)

YEEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAAA

Well!  It's been quite a day.  Yesterday, I had a job interview, which was exhausting but went okay.  And that's all I'm going to say about it.

As if to reward me for my hard work (at job-acquiring) the universe (and two men that I know) has conspired to present me with some things that I really, really wanted. 

S called me from work and said he was bringing home a present.  I thought maybe he's bought me a new copy of Jennifer Weiner's new book, but he resolutely refused to tell me.  So here I sat, at home, waiting for S to come home and present me with my new book (because duh, he works at a bookstore; there was never any doubt that it was a book).  As part of my waiting, I check my email incessantly; about ten minutes before S got home, I got a wonderful email giving me the gift of an Amazon gift certificate. 

As I was processing this wondrous news (that would allow me to buy so many books that I could have another bookapalooza), S walked up to the patio doors cradling a book that I instantaneously knew wasn't Goodnight Nobody.  In fact, S brought me an ARC of Diana Gabaldon's new book, which comes out next Tuesday.  Need I say that I did a stupid Manogirl-happy-dance all around the living room?  And the CD he brought me, a promo copy of the new Ryan Adams and the Cardinals CD, is taking a sad third seat behind the gift certificate and the book. 

I'm not sure that this day could get any better.  Seriously.  I'm going to bury my nose in a book.  It'll be terrifically hard for me to tear myself away for basic things like eating and sleeping, let alone sewing and blogging, so if I'm quiet, well, you know why. 

So--thanks Poodge, and thanks S.  It's a happy, happy day in the Mano/S house.

Of Diamonds and Silk

I'm deeply ambivalent about marriage; though I've said on more than one occasion that I'd like to marry S (and like to scare him by saying the scary "m" word), I'm still not convinced.  It's not that I'm not convinced about S, it's that I'm not convinced about marriage in general.  Don't get me wrong--for the majority of my life, I've been marketed the concept of the "fairy-tale" wedding.  If Princess Diana's wedding started the craze, then I've been living through the craze.  I had no pre-wedding craze life; I was two when Diana and Charles got married.

In high school, I looked through those Bride magazines when I went to Borders, because Oh! the dresses are so pretty, and Wow! the rings are so brilliantly beautiful.  I probably did some adolescent dreaming about my wedding--some of that dreaming holds through even now; I've always known that if I got married someday, I'd like to have bridesmaids in pale yellow dresses carrying daffodils.  It's only within the last four years or so that the IF has gotten bigger and bigger. 

It's not that I don't want to share my life with someone (S) or that I don't believe in forevers, because I do.  In fact, my uneasy relationship to the institution of marriage started when I dated a woman; when most of the people I associated with were lesbians.  And even after that first, horrible relationship fell apart, I was still uneasy about that fact that some of the people that I loved most in the world for some strange reason weren't allowed the same rights that I would (if I dated a man at some point) be allowed.  That uneasiness only increased as I started dating S, because now I WAS dating a man, and now I was privy to rights that these friends wouldn't be. 

But.  I can feel within myself the pull to be married.  So many people that I know seem to be inching that way; or have already inched that way.  I (hate to say) like the idea of a rock (tasteful, of course) on my finger, something I feel deeply ashamed about.  I can't justify a blood trade; I shouldn't buy into the shameful marketing ploy that diamonds are to be valued.  Regardless.  I feel these things within me.

I do know that I would have an unconventional marriage (and wedding) were it to occur.  I don't understand anymore much of what a wedding (not the marriage part of it) comprises.  The individual elements are all things that I don't believe in or have problems with.  I'm not religious, so there goes that part of the wedding.  I HATE HATE HATE the idea that I am to be given away, from one man to another, and would absolutely refuse that part of a ceremony.  I'm my own person, not a piece of property to be transferred from one man to another; if I choose to enter into a partnership with someone, that's fine.  In fact, the whole walk down the aisle seems pretty lame to me.  As if S was waiting for me; also, the drama of me "giving myself away" even seems wrong.  I'm not giving anything away; S will never possess me, as I will never be able to possess him.  Of course, I think the vows are ridiculous; I would insist on my own vows, as I could never say the traditional vows with a straight (HA!) face.  Frankly, what this sounds like, to me, is me and someone else getting up in front of a crowd and saying "I love you" to one another.  I'd rather not pay thousands of dollars for that; I wouldn't mind the world knowing I love S, but do I need a ceremony for that?  Maybe some people think so.

Furthermore, there are parts of a traditional marriage that I can't live with.  I would never, ever change my name.  I've lived with this name for 26 years, and I don't want another one.  I like this one.  I suppose that if S wanted to take my name, it would be okay, but I would 100% understand if he didn't.  I don't want that for myself; how can I expect him to want it?  And what about all the things that the word wife conjures up?  It's hard to think of myself as a wife, because all the things that the word wife mean to me are not too attractive.  I know that there are women out there who remain independent of the connotations of the word "wife" after they marry, but I have such a hard time thinking that I could do that.  I don't want to be S's wife, ever.  I want to be his partner, point blank.  Wife, I'm sorry to say, hardly reminds one of equality.

Because let's face it, marriage has hardly been an institution that is about women.  It's long been about property and money; about people trading something (a woman) for another (land?  cows?  goats?  money?  dry goods?  power?  prestige?).  I'd hate to be thought of as a "something", even if marriage is not necessarily about those things any longer.  (Though I don't fool myself into thinking that some marriages aren't still based on those very things.  Could it be said that the Clinton marriage was about power?  I don't know; only Bill and Hillary know that.)  In fact, I hate the role that wives are often forced to play in our society.  Men in power need to have "traditional" wives: content to sit in the background and smile and bake cookies.  It's fucked up, and it just goes to show how much of America is still looking at the woman in a marriage as a subservient figure to the male.  The SECOND sex.  Why do I want to buy into that power structure, even if my own marriage is completely removed from that?

The truth is, I'm not sure that I do want to.  Like I said at the beginning of this post, I'm deeply ambivalent about marriage, and I'm not sure that's going to change anytime soon.  I'm okay with it, and I'm pretty sure S is too, if his reaction to the "m" word is any clue.....

(This post was inspired by Anne Kingston's book, The Meaning of Wife, which is a very interesting read.  I'd especially recommend it to any woman who is unsure about marriage, or even any unmarried woman, relationship or not.)

Classic Emmy Moments

Even without watching the rest of the show, I declare that the best part of the show was the Conan O'Brien bit during the nominations for best writing on a comedy or variety program.  Though Jon Stewart comes in a close second.  The rest of the show will pale in comparison, I'm quite sure.

Renewal

I think the only way that I can keep myself on the diet is to use the damn points tracker again.  (Those of you who use WW will know what I'm saying.  And if you don't--suffice it to say that it's annoying, but works.)  And today, my first day of using it, I'm doing great.  I feel like I did back in January, which is really good, because I lost the most weight the first three months.  Anyway, it doesn't hurt that I've discovered a wonder-food.

Lately, I've been going to Trader Joe's a bit more often, because I like the frozen pizzas there, and S loooooves the TJ organic milk.  (I insist on organic milk, because the FrankenMilk that comes out of hormone-laden cows scares the be-jesus out of me.  And I rarely drink milk, but when I do, I like it to be organic.)  When I go, I always try to suss out cheap new alternatives to what S and I like to eat, but usually with little luck.  No longer, my friends.  I think I've found another winner.  We sampled the frozen gnocchi sorrentino (it should be sorrentini, but that's a small quibble), which you throw in a skillet with a small amount of water and cook for seven minutes.  Super-easy, and not so bad.  You know, it's not gourmet, but when your daily dinner consists of something you can bake in an oven and don't have to prepare (such as chicken patties and tater tots, or frozen pizza) or something that you throw on the grill and is cheap (such as hot dogs) or even something you can nuke for quick satisfaction (Annie-O's or canned soup, or perhaps a frozen dinner of some sort), well, let's just say that this was a nice alternative.

The gnocchi wasn't as gummy as I thought it would be, and it certainly wasn't oversauced (S's only complaint about it was that he would enjoy a bit more sauce, though I thought it was okay.).  Again, it's not the greatest thing ever, but in the scheme of things, if it's one more easily-cooked, cheap meal to add to our roster of common eats, well, it's damn good.  It's also very low point, which is one more reason to like it, and, none of it went to waste because it's the perfect amount for me to have my smaller serving, and S to have his slightly bigger serving.

So yeah.  I'm going to make a renewed effort in the diet, because I have to.  Otherwise I'll be maffrable. 

(And S and I are going to try other frozen TJ pasta products.  Why not?  If they're not all hits, that's okay.  As we learned during the Acorn Squash Experiment of 2005, you have to try things to like them.)

ANTM Madness

Whenever there is an America's Next Top Model marathon on Vh1, I have to watch.  I pretend not to want to, but the truth is, I'll reject any show that is far better than it just to watch the dishy goodness.  I nonchalantly flip through the guide, pretending to consider something on the travel channel, or the history channel, but inside, I know I'm going straight back to Vh1.  I think I've seen these episodes three million times, and yet, I can't stop watching.  The only season that I really haven't seen is the second, because I always miss those episodes in the marathon.  Right now, the last season is on, the one that Naima won.  I liked Naima, even if it was cliche to like her.

Furthermore, this season starts this week, on Tuesday and Wednesday.  I think that the first night is a sort of "Where are they now?" thingy, and Wednesday is the actual premiere.  I'm very excited.  Almost more excited than I was for the OC, and that's saying something.  How pathetic.

Friday Random Ten (and a Goodnight Story)

1. Something's Always Wrong -- Toad the Wet Sprocket
2. Neon -- John Mayer
3. It's Oh So Quiet -- Bjork
4. First Cut Is The Deepest -- Sheryl Crow
5. St. Robinson and his Cadillac Dream -- Counting Crows
6. City Love -- John Mayer
7. Come On Home -- Indigo Girls
8. The Look of Love -- Dusty Springfield
9. Trouble Me (Live) -- 10000 Maniacs
10. Modal Mile -- Koop

It's interesting to note that I actively dislike one of these songs, yet it is on my iPod.  Also, I've never heard two them.  Seriously. 

As for the goodnight story, let's just start off with the statement that I went to bed disgruntled.  It's not a good goodnight story.  S and I had a discussion/fight last night, which was bad.  But we seemed to resolve it in some way, because by the time he was ready to go to sleep, I felt better about things, and I think he did too.  So that's not the disgruntlement.  See, I was prepared to go to sleep relaxed (but for the cramps) and relieved.  But no.

Before I went to sleep, I decided to read, because I really like the book I'm reading (Jasper Fforde's The Big Over Easy).  When I started, I was on page 167.  On page 181, there was a horrible big sticker on the page (in the corner by the binding) and here's what is even wierder:  there were two pages missing.  I know this because just the very bottom inch of the page was left--the inch of the page where I could see the numbers.  I have no idea if I am missing anything, because page 181 was the end of a chapter, and page 184 was the beginning of one.  Isn't that so strange????  I want a copy of the book that's right!  Which meant (and those of you who know me well will realize that the sticker made this waaaaay worse) that I didn't want to read on.  So a scant five to eight minutes after starting to read, I had to stop.  GRRRRRRRR.

The Great Acorn Squash Experiment of 2005

I saw an acorn squash recipe at Simply Recipes this morning, but didn't give it a second thought, because I've never had it, and I rather doubt that I like it.  However, I went to a farmstand (an long haul) this afternoon and surprise! they had acorn squash.  And they were very cheap.  So I bought one, and as I type this, it's in the oven.

The question is, will I like it?  I'm still leaning towards no, but if you've read the recipe, you know that it's drenched in generous quanitities of butter, brown sugar and maple syrup (although, it's not too many points, actually.).  And I tend to think that anything drenched in butter and sugar can taste good.  I suppose it could go either way.  I'll update later, after dinner, because I know you're all waiting attentively to find out.

Also, do you think the president's address to the nation will push the OC back?  I suspect yes, which makes me very, very, very UNHAPPY.

Update:  How did it turn out????

Reading Habits

I've been devouring non-fiction lately, probably because I've not been challenged by work or school.  I think that reading non-fiction somehow keeps my brain alive, because I crave non-fiction.  Any work of fiction I read right now I read quickly, so as to move onto the non-fiction.  This is, of course, directly oppositional to how I normally read, which is to tear through non-fiction, so that I can get to the next work of fiction--genre or not.  Anyway, this desire to read non-fiction extends to my magazine habits as well.  S and I have a lot of magazine subscriptions to a diverse range of magazines, and two of those are Newsweek and Time (because why would you read one or the other?).  Because of the non-fiction jones, I've been reading those magazines almost cover to cover--which is definitely not normal.

Anyway, if you're up on the news, you know that Newsweek this week has an account of Bush's response to Katrina that sort of characterizes him as ignorant, willfully so.  I don't find it hard to believe; I also don't think it's a stretch to think that Bush's advisors don't want to give him bad news.  It seems to very much fit with everything else about him that led to this.  I'm not trying to be flip, but he's just NOT a great man (or leader, for that matter).  It seems like we're such a long way removed from the times when men were great, or became great, due to the pressures of that office.  I suspect that it is partly because the press impedes greatness by publishing every detail of everyone's lives, but I also think that it's more complicated than that. 

I'm not suggesting, either, that Clinton was a great man.  In fact, I can't think of a man that was great at the presidency, at least recently.  I do think that Jimmy Carter is a great man, but he was a terrible president (at least if I'm accurately interpreting history).  The thing is, I don't think that Bush is even close to that.  I think he's a terrible president and a weak man.  I think that he doesn't have a clue what empathy and understanding are.  He's never been forced to be a better man--not by his wife, or his mother and father, and certainly not by himself.  And sadly, he's raised daughters that seem to have his same disregard for humanity.  I can't remember who I was talking to about this, but it's pretty telling to look at the Bush girls in contrast to Chelsea Clinton, you can learn a lot about the man running our country.  It's hard to argue that Chelsea Clinton turned out badly; it's pretty easy to make the case that Jenna and Barbara Bush were looking for a good time, just like their daddy. 

Nevertheless, the point is--did anyone really expect better from Bush, regarding Katrina?  He has proven time and again that he doesn't have the capabilities to understand anyone besides his rich cronies, and yet people act surprised that he didn't seem to care (or want to care) about Katrina victims.  Of course he didn't care--he gains nothing from caring.  And I think that unfortunately for the American people, that's the kind of man George Bush is.  He's not a great man, or a good man even.  He's the coddled son of indifferent parents; husband to a woman who has had to deal with his antics for years, and the father to two girls who are chips off the old block.  He's just smirking his way through life, because he knows someone somewhere will rescue him eventually.

I just hope that there's no rescue this time.