I think I'm going to enjoy my looks in my thirties. For a while I held onto this kind of coltish teenagery image. (I still have a lack of style and poise that is sometimes attributed to youth.) But I think I am transitioning to a more solid, serviceable image. Less tentative, more reliable. It's the sitting on the front steps in the autumn sunlight, wearing plaid flannel and jeans, holding a gardening spade, look.
The best beauty tip I ever got was from my boyfriend, who told me to stop washing my face with Crisco and just use water. After that, my skin cleared right up. Kidding. I was using some elaborate regimen of skin-care products. But it might as well have been Crisco. My skin has been very happy ever since I stopped messing with it.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
If Pigs Could Swim
I read an interesting article about animal cruelty today, called "If Pigs Could Swim." The overall gist was that animals, particularly farm animals, are treated a lot better in Europe, where farmers are legally required to give chickens enough space to stretch their wings and pigs hay to root around in (by comparison, in the U.S., chickens are crammed into tiny cages too small for them to stretch, and pigs are kept on bare concrete floors). The European Union will outlaw veal crates in 2007, and battery egg production in 2012. This is really good to hear. But it's frustrating that we're so far behind. Most Americans don't seem to care about animal welfare, and most of our laws are geared towards insulating businesses from having to comply with any regulations, regardless of how little it is to ask (enough room to stretch, for Pete's sake!) or how much difference in the quality of life it would make for the animals.
The article goes on to make the interesting point that in the U.S., we tend to believe in the basic decency of our fellow Americans, and so the general feeling is that livestock producers aren't cruel to their animals, or at least "no more than necessary". The horrible conditions under which farm animals live, and the routine nature of violence against animals by the workers who are supposed to care for them (usually resulting from boredom), show that this belief is misguided. In Europe, however, people typically believe that their fellows are capable of appalling cruelty, and so laws to protect animals are seen as universally necessary. This attitude has benefited people as well as animals - the end of slavery and the women's suffrage movement came much sooner in Europe than in the U.S.
I think there are two lessons here: First, don't be naive about people's capacity for evil. Believe the worst, prepare for it, and guard against it. Second, do what you can to prevent boredom among farm workers. Their jobs may be awful, but they could be structured to provide the variety and the occasional rewards that people need to keep from turning to destructiveness. I wonder if anyone is working on this.
The article goes on to make the interesting point that in the U.S., we tend to believe in the basic decency of our fellow Americans, and so the general feeling is that livestock producers aren't cruel to their animals, or at least "no more than necessary". The horrible conditions under which farm animals live, and the routine nature of violence against animals by the workers who are supposed to care for them (usually resulting from boredom), show that this belief is misguided. In Europe, however, people typically believe that their fellows are capable of appalling cruelty, and so laws to protect animals are seen as universally necessary. This attitude has benefited people as well as animals - the end of slavery and the women's suffrage movement came much sooner in Europe than in the U.S.
I think there are two lessons here: First, don't be naive about people's capacity for evil. Believe the worst, prepare for it, and guard against it. Second, do what you can to prevent boredom among farm workers. Their jobs may be awful, but they could be structured to provide the variety and the occasional rewards that people need to keep from turning to destructiveness. I wonder if anyone is working on this.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Self-Improvement Takes a Back Seat
There's never enough time. I'm under pressure to get to work earlier these days (my boss noticed I've been slinking into the office late), so I leap out of bed as soon as the alarm goes off, skip breakfast, and race to the bus - then fret and pace as it doesn't come for half an hour. In the afternoons, there's grocery shopping or other errands to run on the way home, then nearly every night there's something going on. Cooking dinner, eating dinner, and tidying up fill up the rest of the evening. Most nights I pass out unintentionally on the sofa, wake bleary-eyed at midnight, and stumble to bed knowing I'll have to get up early again the next day.
I shouldn't complain. I have it so easy, compared to most of the people in the world and throughout history. But when, when will I learn Spanish? do yoga? go to the gym? finish my origami project? practice my sketching? volunteer with kids? work in my garden, if I get a plot in the community garden next year? There are so many things I am supposed to be doing on a daily basis, that just never get done.
I shouldn't complain. I have it so easy, compared to most of the people in the world and throughout history. But when, when will I learn Spanish? do yoga? go to the gym? finish my origami project? practice my sketching? volunteer with kids? work in my garden, if I get a plot in the community garden next year? There are so many things I am supposed to be doing on a daily basis, that just never get done.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Si, Se Puede!
I put a picture up on the wall above my computer today. It's a photo of a young sort of Peruvian looking woman with a baby tied to her back, gazing at the camera with an expression of such warmth and friendliness that the first time I saw it, I could hardly look away. I just stared at her, captivated. She seems to be saying to me, "You can do it." I'm not sure what she's reassuring me I can do - that I will have the strength someday to have a baby, like her? That I will be happy in my life, despite uncertainties and dangers? That I will be loved? Her eyes have a kind of timeless peacefulness. They project love, the way the famous green eyes of the refugee girl on the National Geographic cover projected fear, and the eyes of the little girl trapped in the mudslide in the Life photo projected misery. It's almost like she's reaching across the miles to give me a hug. I'll never meet this woman, but I wish she was my friend.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Global Warming and Anarchy
People who are in the know say that as global warming advances, severe storms like Katrina are going to be more frequent. We're taking the resiliency out of the system. The extremes are just going to batter us - in fact they'll become the norm. It worries me to think about experiencing more than one disaster a year on the scale of Katrina, or the tsunami last winter. Katrina really strained our resources and capacity for organization - despite our affluence, our foreknowledge of the hurricane, and an emergency-response system that should have been primed after 9-11. People starved in their attics and died in droves at the Superdome. Diabetics went without insulin. A woman in the throes of a life-threatening breech birth labor was alone, without help. Survivors were raped, rescuers were shot. I think it's the anarchy that scares me most of all.
The whole thing just seems to be a wake-up call that when things get bad, they are going to get really bad. The horror stories that we are used to hearing about in impoverished, politically volatile countries could happen here, to Americans. Our children might grow up in a society that's very different from the one we have known - much more primitive, dangerous, and unstable.
This is another reason I wish I was husky and strong. If I find myself in a kind of martial-law anarchy riot situation, I don't want to be a victim.
The whole thing just seems to be a wake-up call that when things get bad, they are going to get really bad. The horror stories that we are used to hearing about in impoverished, politically volatile countries could happen here, to Americans. Our children might grow up in a society that's very different from the one we have known - much more primitive, dangerous, and unstable.
This is another reason I wish I was husky and strong. If I find myself in a kind of martial-law anarchy riot situation, I don't want to be a victim.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Laughing At Work
I read two quotes today that made me laugh out loud.
Here's the first one:
"Buddhism and motherhood may be a tough fit; it's hard to imagine today's white-knuckled uber-moms adopting a non-Western, Zenlike detachment from their parenting: 'Will Dylan be admitted to the summer-session AP English preparation course and then get in early admission to Brown? Maybe yes, maybe no. I leave it open to the winds.'"
And the other:
"She's America's just-past-jailbait superfox."
Here's the first one:
"Buddhism and motherhood may be a tough fit; it's hard to imagine today's white-knuckled uber-moms adopting a non-Western, Zenlike detachment from their parenting: 'Will Dylan be admitted to the summer-session AP English preparation course and then get in early admission to Brown? Maybe yes, maybe no. I leave it open to the winds.'"
And the other:
"She's America's just-past-jailbait superfox."
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Binder Clips
Today I visited the U.S. Senate in Washington, D.C. The Hart building was my favorite - they have a beautiful airy atrium with a sort of Calderesque black sculpture in it, and all the hallways are open like little bridges crossing back and forth across the gulf of space. They're lined with plants, so there's greenery everywhere. I bet the senators fight over who gets to have an office in Hart. The other two buildings, Dirksen and Russell, are quite a bit more somber, with long dimly-lit hallways that look subterranean even when they're not.
I think I saw Cindy Sheehan, but I could be wrong.
I'm very tired now. I visited every single office in the whole Senate. My feet feel broken, they hurt so much. I'm glad it's over - and also inwardly feeling punchy because only I know that I walked around all day with binder clips holding up my underpants (the elastic broke).
I think I saw Cindy Sheehan, but I could be wrong.
I'm very tired now. I visited every single office in the whole Senate. My feet feel broken, they hurt so much. I'm glad it's over - and also inwardly feeling punchy because only I know that I walked around all day with binder clips holding up my underpants (the elastic broke).
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Thank Goodness for Pigeons
I know these posts sound a little bipolar. I'm heartbroken about what happened to the pets abandoned in New Orleans, and exuberant about having all my limbs. I'm breaking up. No wait, I'm getting engaged.
When I take the large view of things, I feel slammed by the misery of existence - the incredible suffering in the world. My mind reels with things to worry about: eroding riverbanks, political prisoners, starving polar bears, women in labor with no one to help them, parrots suffocating in smugglers' suitcases, child prostitutes, veal calves aching in their tiny crates, and everything else that is wrong. I realize the world my children grow up in will be radically different from the one I know today, and that the change will be for the worse. While life on earth will always find a way, the beauty and richness and complexity that we know today is going to suffer - we're heading for a pinch, and it's going to be bad. I feel helpless and crazy at the thought of the immeasurable loss. At the same time, perhaps mercifully, I can't hang onto those thoughts for long. I take solace in the flight of pigeons wheeling around the park (I know! They're invasive - and I know! The park is full of homeless men sleeping on benches. But still, I love watching the pigeons.), or the affection in the eyes of a friend, or even, ridiculously, the pleasure of eating more potato chips than are good for me. As small and meaningless as these things are, they keep out the darkness. And they come up, again and again, irresistably. Jane Kenyon had it right with "Happiness":
Happiness
There's just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.
And how can you not forgive?
You make a feast in honor of what
was lost, and take from its place the finest
garment, which you saved for an occasion
you could not imagine, and you weep night and day
to know that you were not abandoned,
that happiness saved its most extreme form
for you alone.
No, happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who flies a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your despair.
It comes to the monk in his cell.
It comes to the woman sweeping the street
with a birch broom, to the child
whose mother has passed out from drink.
It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing
a sock, to the pusher, to the basket maker,
and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots
in the night.
It even comes to the boulder
in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,
to rain falling on the open sea,
to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.
-Jane Kenyon
When I take the large view of things, I feel slammed by the misery of existence - the incredible suffering in the world. My mind reels with things to worry about: eroding riverbanks, political prisoners, starving polar bears, women in labor with no one to help them, parrots suffocating in smugglers' suitcases, child prostitutes, veal calves aching in their tiny crates, and everything else that is wrong. I realize the world my children grow up in will be radically different from the one I know today, and that the change will be for the worse. While life on earth will always find a way, the beauty and richness and complexity that we know today is going to suffer - we're heading for a pinch, and it's going to be bad. I feel helpless and crazy at the thought of the immeasurable loss. At the same time, perhaps mercifully, I can't hang onto those thoughts for long. I take solace in the flight of pigeons wheeling around the park (I know! They're invasive - and I know! The park is full of homeless men sleeping on benches. But still, I love watching the pigeons.), or the affection in the eyes of a friend, or even, ridiculously, the pleasure of eating more potato chips than are good for me. As small and meaningless as these things are, they keep out the darkness. And they come up, again and again, irresistably. Jane Kenyon had it right with "Happiness":
Happiness
There's just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.
And how can you not forgive?
You make a feast in honor of what
was lost, and take from its place the finest
garment, which you saved for an occasion
you could not imagine, and you weep night and day
to know that you were not abandoned,
that happiness saved its most extreme form
for you alone.
No, happiness is the uncle you never
knew about, who flies a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your despair.
It comes to the monk in his cell.
It comes to the woman sweeping the street
with a birch broom, to the child
whose mother has passed out from drink.
It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing
a sock, to the pusher, to the basket maker,
and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots
in the night.
It even comes to the boulder
in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,
to rain falling on the open sea,
to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.
-Jane Kenyon
Monday, September 19, 2005
Engaged...I Think
Last week was skating on ice - I wasn't even sure where we stood, and though we treated one another with a kind of grateful, eager affection, I still didn't feel sure of him. I didn't want to push.
On Saturday, someone asked him, "So, what have you guys been up to?" and he answered cheerfully, "Well, we got engaged." I felt a surge of happiness and relief. Hearing him say the words to someone else makes them real. Yesterday, when the two of us were having dinner with my family, I told them. Smiles all around - my mom hugged me, and my dad shook his hand. I don't feel eager to tell a bunch of other people, like friends and coworkers. I know the girl is supposed to be excited and bubbly about her new status, but I don't feel excited that way, just relieved and mildly anticipatory. I don't think being married will feel much different - I will just be more sure of him, and we can finally start planning for the future. It's like I've been walking with a black curtain hanging always two feet in front of me, receding as I walk forward, and now suddenly the curtain has parted and I can see further ahead.
There are still hurdles. His reticence with my family. They'd be happier for me if he made more of an effort to be friendly with them, instead of eating dinner in silence, and if he participated more in family conversations, instead of hiding behind The New Yorker whenever he comes over. I know they don't know how sparky and fun he is, because they only see him when he's dour/serious. Perhaps the friendliness and ease will come with time. My atheism will be an issue for his family, too. I think they like me, but they'll probably fuss when they find out I don't want to have a Catholic church wedding. I hope he'll be willing to stand up for me - since that's not something he wants either.
On Saturday, someone asked him, "So, what have you guys been up to?" and he answered cheerfully, "Well, we got engaged." I felt a surge of happiness and relief. Hearing him say the words to someone else makes them real. Yesterday, when the two of us were having dinner with my family, I told them. Smiles all around - my mom hugged me, and my dad shook his hand. I don't feel eager to tell a bunch of other people, like friends and coworkers. I know the girl is supposed to be excited and bubbly about her new status, but I don't feel excited that way, just relieved and mildly anticipatory. I don't think being married will feel much different - I will just be more sure of him, and we can finally start planning for the future. It's like I've been walking with a black curtain hanging always two feet in front of me, receding as I walk forward, and now suddenly the curtain has parted and I can see further ahead.
There are still hurdles. His reticence with my family. They'd be happier for me if he made more of an effort to be friendly with them, instead of eating dinner in silence, and if he participated more in family conversations, instead of hiding behind The New Yorker whenever he comes over. I know they don't know how sparky and fun he is, because they only see him when he's dour/serious. Perhaps the friendliness and ease will come with time. My atheism will be an issue for his family, too. I think they like me, but they'll probably fuss when they find out I don't want to have a Catholic church wedding. I hope he'll be willing to stand up for me - since that's not something he wants either.
Friday, September 16, 2005
The Happiness Equation
A wise man once said, happiness is achievement divided by expectations. To be happier, either increase the numerator or reduce the denominator.
I think a lot of us habitually believe we deserve things - a good job, friends who love and respect us, health, marriage, a family, a home. Just because everyone around us has them, and ever since we were little kids, we assumed that when we grew up we'd have them. Marriage especially. Everyone assumes they'll have the opportunity to marry. But none of that is guaranteed, and deserving it or not has nothing to do with whether you actually get it. Today, I'm feeling so freakin grateful that I'm just walking around and breathing. That Katrina didn't tear my family apart. That I didn't get paralyzed in a car accident when I was 10. That I don't have Crohn's disease.
If you don't believe me, go see Murderball. It's a documentary. It'll profoundly reduce your denominator and leave you feeling lucky to be who you are.
I think a lot of us habitually believe we deserve things - a good job, friends who love and respect us, health, marriage, a family, a home. Just because everyone around us has them, and ever since we were little kids, we assumed that when we grew up we'd have them. Marriage especially. Everyone assumes they'll have the opportunity to marry. But none of that is guaranteed, and deserving it or not has nothing to do with whether you actually get it. Today, I'm feeling so freakin grateful that I'm just walking around and breathing. That Katrina didn't tear my family apart. That I didn't get paralyzed in a car accident when I was 10. That I don't have Crohn's disease.
If you don't believe me, go see Murderball. It's a documentary. It'll profoundly reduce your denominator and leave you feeling lucky to be who you are.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
The Bacon Sandwich Dilemma
What to do when morals conflict?
Today I was fixing my lunch in the kitchen at work and saw that there was a leftover platter of sandwiches from a meeting up for grabs. They all had bacon on them, and I'm vegetarian, so I passed. Although it took me an embarrassingly long time to become vegetarian (considering my long-time interest in environmental and animal welfare issues), I haven't had any regrets since I made the switch. There are just so many good reasons not to eat meat - environmental, humane, and health - and I don't really miss meat. I also don't blame people who eat meat. After all, it DID take me many years to make the switch. But I hope they'll think about becoming vegetarian.
Anyway, I realized looking at the sandwiches that no one else was going to eat them either - they were kind of falling apart, and the lettuce was all wilted, and it was the end of the day (yes, I was eating lunch around 5 pm). Plus, 80% of the people at my office are vegetarian. It seemed a shame that the food would go to waste. I thought of the pigs talking to me in their high squealy voices, "Don't waste me!" Cause what's worse than harvesting a resource you shouldn't? Harvesting it and then throwing it out.
It would be easier to just declare, "I don't eat meat!" or "I don't waste food!" and have done with it, but I honestly don't know which is more important, in the grand scheme of things.
I think it's one of the perils of being liberal. The world is full of grays.
Today I was fixing my lunch in the kitchen at work and saw that there was a leftover platter of sandwiches from a meeting up for grabs. They all had bacon on them, and I'm vegetarian, so I passed. Although it took me an embarrassingly long time to become vegetarian (considering my long-time interest in environmental and animal welfare issues), I haven't had any regrets since I made the switch. There are just so many good reasons not to eat meat - environmental, humane, and health - and I don't really miss meat. I also don't blame people who eat meat. After all, it DID take me many years to make the switch. But I hope they'll think about becoming vegetarian.
Anyway, I realized looking at the sandwiches that no one else was going to eat them either - they were kind of falling apart, and the lettuce was all wilted, and it was the end of the day (yes, I was eating lunch around 5 pm). Plus, 80% of the people at my office are vegetarian. It seemed a shame that the food would go to waste. I thought of the pigs talking to me in their high squealy voices, "Don't waste me!" Cause what's worse than harvesting a resource you shouldn't? Harvesting it and then throwing it out.
It would be easier to just declare, "I don't eat meat!" or "I don't waste food!" and have done with it, but I honestly don't know which is more important, in the grand scheme of things.
I think it's one of the perils of being liberal. The world is full of grays.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Numchuck Skills, Bow Hunting Skills...
So, do decisions made out of desperation still count? Are they like acts of passion, that you can get out of later by pleading temporary insanity? or like those tattoos that you get when you're blind drunk - 'yes, it was rash, but now I do have a permanent giant iguana tattooed across my face, and I will just have to live with it.'
Anyway.
Skills I would like to spend time improving:
Piano playing. I'd like to be good enough to sit down at random pianos in malls and just play something off the top of my head.
Tennis - at least understanding the rules and scoring for pete's sake.
Running.
Spanish competency. This is a laugh because I don't know any Spanish yet.
Drawing and painting.
Yoga and flexibility in general.
Dancing - the cool kind.
Science knowledge. Basic chemistry, math, and physics - all the stuff I learned in high school but didn't have the time and energy to appreciate back then, and now have forgotten.
Literature knowledge. I haven't read a lot of the classics.
Competency with babies and small, fretful children.
Skills I don't especially want to spend time practicing but I should:
Ice-skating - so I can keep up.
Cooking.
Real estate savoir-faire.
Knowledge of database, graphics and web design programs - bleah.
Relationship communication skills, probably.
What I really don't have these days:
Time.
Anyway.
Skills I would like to spend time improving:
Piano playing. I'd like to be good enough to sit down at random pianos in malls and just play something off the top of my head.
Tennis - at least understanding the rules and scoring for pete's sake.
Running.
Spanish competency. This is a laugh because I don't know any Spanish yet.
Drawing and painting.
Yoga and flexibility in general.
Dancing - the cool kind.
Science knowledge. Basic chemistry, math, and physics - all the stuff I learned in high school but didn't have the time and energy to appreciate back then, and now have forgotten.
Literature knowledge. I haven't read a lot of the classics.
Competency with babies and small, fretful children.
Skills I don't especially want to spend time practicing but I should:
Ice-skating - so I can keep up.
Cooking.
Real estate savoir-faire.
Knowledge of database, graphics and web design programs - bleah.
Relationship communication skills, probably.
What I really don't have these days:
Time.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Cautiously Happy
The weekend in review: Miserable, awkward silence. Even the car radio turned up couldn't drown it. A series of social outings with friends that I longed to enjoy with him; instead, we experienced them side by side like strangers. Sunday night, our "last night together", our saddest ever. Monday morning, I packed my bags. My plan, which was pretty half-baked, was to camp out at my office until I could find an apartment of my own; I had food and blankets, enough to get me through the next few days when I could return and pick up more. I couldn't think where else to go. I knew that leaving would feel awful, but it felt so much more awful than even I expected. Those last few steps to the door were like walking through cement.
He saved me at the door - pulled me back in and we cried and covered each other's faces with kisses.
Will it be okay? Roses on the table and tearful promises say it will. I'm hopeful. I can't put my faith in anything yet though. If he was anxious and cold-footy before, I know he'll be even more so now, feeling (perhaps even subconsciously) that he was forced into this, that he chose it merely as an alternative to desperate pain. I wish I could fill him up with confidence that the affection we have for one another will be enough to overcome anything. Now there's one for the "What do you believe, but can't prove?" survey.
He saved me at the door - pulled me back in and we cried and covered each other's faces with kisses.
Will it be okay? Roses on the table and tearful promises say it will. I'm hopeful. I can't put my faith in anything yet though. If he was anxious and cold-footy before, I know he'll be even more so now, feeling (perhaps even subconsciously) that he was forced into this, that he chose it merely as an alternative to desperate pain. I wish I could fill him up with confidence that the affection we have for one another will be enough to overcome anything. Now there's one for the "What do you believe, but can't prove?" survey.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Near the End
Today I feel like leaving. I'm tired of supplication, and of hoping. I don't understand why I have been refused, but I feel like I should accept the refusal with dignity and grace, and move on. It's pride that kept me from acknowledging it was a refusal, all this time.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
New Orleans Animals
There's a great story on the Humane Society website about people smuggling their pets to Houston when they were told they couldn't bring them on the buses. I'm behind them 100%. I would not have gotten on a bus without my pets.
The Humane Society is working in the area right now, rescuing animals that have been trapped and starving for more than a week, but they're pretty desperate for funds. If you can afford to donate anything, please do. I sent them $50.
The Humane Society is working in the area right now, rescuing animals that have been trapped and starving for more than a week, but they're pretty desperate for funds. If you can afford to donate anything, please do. I sent them $50.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
What Would a Migrant Worker Do?
This week I was very grateful not to be an eighteenth-century mine worker, modern-day migrant farm worker, sweatshop seamstress, or any other occupation where I could get fired for being too sick to work. I came down with a cold over Labor Day weekend and took a day off work to recover. Almost all day I lay in bed, feeling dizzy and nauseated, occasionally hacking up phlegm. A few times I crept out to the kitchen for a snack, and immediately got a vigorous headache that chased me back to bed. I kept thinking, what if I had to work today? Lots of people aren't allowed any sick leave. What the heck do they do when they feel the way I do - or worse? if they have an injury? Do they just soldier through, with sheer force of willpower? Are most of those people just naturally tougher than I am and more accustomed to discomfort - have they learned, through years of practice, how to override feelings of sickness or pain? Am I just a wimp?
Sometimes I do feel like I'm more fragile than other people I know - and I wish I wasn't. In my mind's eye, I'm fierce and strong, like Xena. I'd like to be the sort of vigorous, energetic woman that people think will have no problem with mountain-climbing, childbirth, or whatever else comes her way. But in real life I have small bones, I'm slender, I shiver when the temperature drops below 80, and I catch colds a lot. When I do get sick, it seems to take me longer to recover than other people. It's not unusual for me to have to take the day off work when I get a cold. And lots of times I'm playing blood-sugar guessing games, trying to decide if that vague feeling of nausea means I'm hungry, or not. This frustrates me. I almost feel like it's a moral weakness.
Grrr. Next time around, I want to be reincarnated as someone strong.
Sometimes I do feel like I'm more fragile than other people I know - and I wish I wasn't. In my mind's eye, I'm fierce and strong, like Xena. I'd like to be the sort of vigorous, energetic woman that people think will have no problem with mountain-climbing, childbirth, or whatever else comes her way. But in real life I have small bones, I'm slender, I shiver when the temperature drops below 80, and I catch colds a lot. When I do get sick, it seems to take me longer to recover than other people. It's not unusual for me to have to take the day off work when I get a cold. And lots of times I'm playing blood-sugar guessing games, trying to decide if that vague feeling of nausea means I'm hungry, or not. This frustrates me. I almost feel like it's a moral weakness.
Grrr. Next time around, I want to be reincarnated as someone strong.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Tears for Katrina
As I passed a coworker of mine in the hall - a tough, hard-bitten woman I've never known to waver before - she turned to me, and I thought at first she was smiling, but realized she was struggling not to cry. Her voice was breaking as she told me, "I just heard something I don't think I can stand. At one of the hospitals in New Orleans, the doctors don't have any food, so they're giving each other IVs to stay alive. The doctors!"
The tragedy of Katrina just goes on and on. I read that babies are being airlifted without their parents to hospitals in other states. Imagine the fear of not knowing where your child is being taken or how to find her again. How will all those shattered families ever reunite? And another article today said that many people getting on buses to be evacuated out of the Superdome had pets with them, but weren't allowed to take them. When a police officer took a dog away from one little boy, the boy "cried until he vomited. The policeman told a reporter he didn't know what would happen to the dog." The immensity of the larger tragedy doesn't diminish the misery of the little ones.
The tragedy of Katrina just goes on and on. I read that babies are being airlifted without their parents to hospitals in other states. Imagine the fear of not knowing where your child is being taken or how to find her again. How will all those shattered families ever reunite? And another article today said that many people getting on buses to be evacuated out of the Superdome had pets with them, but weren't allowed to take them. When a police officer took a dog away from one little boy, the boy "cried until he vomited. The policeman told a reporter he didn't know what would happen to the dog." The immensity of the larger tragedy doesn't diminish the misery of the little ones.
How I Lost My Therapy Virginity
I had my first brush with therapy a couple days ago. Made the appointment to see a counselor along with my boyfriend, so we can figure out what the heck we're doing. I was pretty apprehensive as we were driving over there. After all, it's not like we have anger-management problems or unresolved validation issues with our parents, so I thought a counselor would basically sit us down and say, "Well, do you want to get married or not? This is something you have to decide for yourselves."
I have to say though, I was happily surprised. The guy we chose was very straightforward and direct. No mucking about with "Tell me about your mother," or, "Sooo, have you had any dreams about penises lately?" Instead he asked us what our expectations were for one another, how we envisioned married life, why we were hesitating, and how we expected it to feel when we found "the one." Actually most of the questions were directed at my boyfriend since he is the hesitator in question. It's odd how protective I suddenly felt of him. Watching him in the hot seat, getting hit with one question after another, I wanted to leap to his rescue, "No, it's reasonable for him to have these doubts, I AM crazy like a fox," but fortunately kept my mouth shut and let it play out. I hardly talked at all during the session, since the therapist seemed to be going to bat for me and saying all the things I wanted to say.
Three good things: He came with me willingly. He was pretty open about his feelings throughout the session. On the way down the stairs afterwards, the first thing he did was turn to me and kiss me. I am grateful for that.
I have to say though, I was happily surprised. The guy we chose was very straightforward and direct. No mucking about with "Tell me about your mother," or, "Sooo, have you had any dreams about penises lately?" Instead he asked us what our expectations were for one another, how we envisioned married life, why we were hesitating, and how we expected it to feel when we found "the one." Actually most of the questions were directed at my boyfriend since he is the hesitator in question. It's odd how protective I suddenly felt of him. Watching him in the hot seat, getting hit with one question after another, I wanted to leap to his rescue, "No, it's reasonable for him to have these doubts, I AM crazy like a fox," but fortunately kept my mouth shut and let it play out. I hardly talked at all during the session, since the therapist seemed to be going to bat for me and saying all the things I wanted to say.
Three good things: He came with me willingly. He was pretty open about his feelings throughout the session. On the way down the stairs afterwards, the first thing he did was turn to me and kiss me. I am grateful for that.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Feeling Petty
Went out to lunch today to celebrate a friend's last day in the office. It was a fun lunch, but at the end, of course someone suggested (well, insisted) we split the bill evenly, which came to $15 apiece. I'd ordered one of the cheapest things on the menu, a $6 sandwich, no drink. I hate it when groups do that. It always seems so unfair. It makes me feel, as a person with a low-end salary, that I have to carry the weight of people earning more, who are accustomed to ordering more expensive food. I spoke up, but the group wasn't too responsive, so in the end I put in $10 and let it go. I also hate having to speak up, because everyone glares at me like I'm a total cheapskate. Which I probably am. I just don't like spending a lot of money on food - to me, it's not worth it - and something in me rebels at paying for my coworkers' lunches. So my choices are: skip the farewell lunch, suck it up and pay, or reveal my cheapskateness, none of which is too attractive.
Gah, there are bigger fish to fry. It's so petty that I'm even thinking about this when there are people starving, drowning, or stranded on rooftops in New Orleans. The devastation there is horrible. Given the scale of the human tragedy, I'm sure the loss of life for animals, pets and wildlife, is extreme as well. I wish the evacuation efforts had been better organized - seems like a lot of people didn't realize they should leave until it was too late. And obviously trains and buses out of the city should have been running for free. It seems like the people who got out were the ones who had access to good information and realized how bad the storm would be, who owned cars, and who had friends and relatives in the area who offered them housing. I really feel for the people who weren't lucky enough to have those things.
Gah, there are bigger fish to fry. It's so petty that I'm even thinking about this when there are people starving, drowning, or stranded on rooftops in New Orleans. The devastation there is horrible. Given the scale of the human tragedy, I'm sure the loss of life for animals, pets and wildlife, is extreme as well. I wish the evacuation efforts had been better organized - seems like a lot of people didn't realize they should leave until it was too late. And obviously trains and buses out of the city should have been running for free. It seems like the people who got out were the ones who had access to good information and realized how bad the storm would be, who owned cars, and who had friends and relatives in the area who offered them housing. I really feel for the people who weren't lucky enough to have those things.
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