The Iraqi elections have concluded; the results have yet to be certified, but I think everyone is breathing a sigh of relief that the voting was largely untainted by the widespread violence that was expected, and this country that we thrust into the democratic process may surprise us after all.
There were some instances of violence, one disturbing in particular was the use of a handicapped child to carry out a suicide bomb, but in a country where for so long, they've only known one candidate who always won 100% of the vote, or people died, I take no small degree of comfort that the Iraqis seemed to have embraced their empowerment in the voting booths.
The thing that strikes me most about this election is this. Fifty-seven percent of the Iraqi population voted in this election. Now there is some talk that the Sunnis might not be as well represented because their turnout was low, but 57% of this country's population voted.
Do you know that 60% of Americans voted in this past November's presidential election, and that was the highest percentage since 1968? That is absolutely pathetic. The percentage is typically between 45 to 50%.
What a sobering thought.
This country of ours, the bedrock of democracy, this place that is supposed to be an example for other countries' conduct, our citizens can't be bothered to cast their voices on what affects them; meanwhile, Iraqi citizens didn't ask for this, a large majority of them didn't want this. The candidates were so afraid of being killed, their names weren't released, and these people, despite all of these odds, turned out in record numbers to show that they weren't scared of what could happen, that they want to make their voices heard and make them count after so many years of being silenced and threatened and coerced.
I maintain that I don't agree with the reasons we went into Iraq, but I admire these people we know so little about for standing up and beginning to reassert control of their country, despite what they may think about the American occupation.
I feel sure that Bush will get a cramp in his arm patting himself on the back for what I'm sure he views as a personal victory, but I think this is more about the resilience of the human spirit than the triumph of a particular man's ideals forced upon a country. And we're not out of the woods yet. This is only the beginning of a long process for Iraq.
I think we could learn a thing or two about what it means to stand for something from them. And we could learn more than a thing or two about the sacrifices people make in the name of democracy.
Forty-four people died in attacks aimed at curtailing the vote.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Friday, January 28, 2005
Would Scarlett O'Hara like Philly?
Until August of 2004, I have lived in the Deep South my entire life. I was born in Macon, MS, a town comprised of about 2,500 people, I went to high school in Columbus,MS, a city of about 35,000, and I went to college in Huntsville, AL, a city of about 158,000.
I was not accustomed to living in big cities, with big traffic and high crime, but also with museums, free libraries, good restaurants and a diverse populace that I could experience for the first time.
But, I've always known that I would not spend my life in the South. I love the South, don't get me wrong. The food is sublime, places like New Orleans and Beale Street in Memphis are unparalleled in their charm, and the people can envelop you like a warm embrace, such is their hospitality.
But, there is also the racism, the ignorance of things not understood, the sub-standard education, the poverty and the small-town mentality (even in a big town) that people think affords them the right to judge everyone else, and those are the parts of the South I was happy to leave.
So, I got a job with Grassroots Campaigns Inc. to help elect John Kerry, and I was placed in Philadelphia, PA, where I knew no one except for my soon-to-be co-workers, and that was only via phone, and I began the business of packing my entire life into my car, leaving a job that I had been with for almost four years and leaving behind my family and all the friends that had been my constant source of support.
It was hard. I was so freaked out by the speed with which I had to accomplish so much, I didn't have much time to get truly upset, for which I am thankful.
Flash forward to my mother and I driving 20 hours to Philadelphia, with my car packed to the brim with everything that I now own. I had to get rid of countless clothes and shoes, my fairly new DVD player and my own personal bowling ball and shoes (which really hurt), but I rationalized that I couldn't have all of my stuff weighing me down should I have to move again in a hurry because of the election.
So, I found an apartment relatively quickly and set about the actual business of getting myself in and out of the city for work.
This is where the real fun begins. Philadelphia traffic is insane. Anyone who's driven here knows that, but imagine if you have never driven in real traffic in your life and suddenly you are it for getting yourself anywhere. Wow.
My favorite experience in traffic would have to be the cab driver that I accidentally cut off in a roundabout when I realized I needed to be in a different lane. He motioned for me to roll my window down, and like a total dumbass, I did. I said, "Yes?" He yelled, "Go back to fucking Mississippi! You cut me off!" I was horrified that not only did he impugn my driving skills, but my state as well, and my clever, shocked response was, "That was mean!" That Gaither wit triumphs again.
My first three weeks of work, I got lost every other day. I ended up in Chinatown a lot, which is a cool area, but when I'm late for work, and all the shop signs are in Chinese, it does not bode well for how my day will go.
I spent about five weeks feeling completely out of my depth all the time. I never knew where I was going or really how I would get there. Parking was a nightmare, I had my car towed once, and I've received about seven tickets.
But eventually, I began to find my way and recognize familiar areas, I started to feel like the city wasn't out to crush me, and I noticed myself feeling a kinship with Philadelphia.
It was around that time I decided to stay here and see what I could do after the election, because as much as I miss people back in the South, I knew that my sense of accomplishment was not yet satisfied.
I will end this by saying, I am still massively homesick. The snow and freezing ass temperatures have not helped this feeling much at all. I wish I could hop in my car and drive to Bourbon Street or to the Gulf of Mexico just to watch the sunset and walk down one of the piers on Orange Beach.
But I have met people here who make it easier and easier to brave the cold in the air and the feelings I sometimes have that make it seem as though I am in a holding pattern and way out of my league, and they make me laugh and get me drunk, and there's not a thing wrong with that.
In addition, I have a support system of family and amazing friends that peel me off the ceiling when I'm freaking out as well.
I don't know what I would do without any of you. Thank you.
I was not accustomed to living in big cities, with big traffic and high crime, but also with museums, free libraries, good restaurants and a diverse populace that I could experience for the first time.
But, I've always known that I would not spend my life in the South. I love the South, don't get me wrong. The food is sublime, places like New Orleans and Beale Street in Memphis are unparalleled in their charm, and the people can envelop you like a warm embrace, such is their hospitality.
But, there is also the racism, the ignorance of things not understood, the sub-standard education, the poverty and the small-town mentality (even in a big town) that people think affords them the right to judge everyone else, and those are the parts of the South I was happy to leave.
So, I got a job with Grassroots Campaigns Inc. to help elect John Kerry, and I was placed in Philadelphia, PA, where I knew no one except for my soon-to-be co-workers, and that was only via phone, and I began the business of packing my entire life into my car, leaving a job that I had been with for almost four years and leaving behind my family and all the friends that had been my constant source of support.
It was hard. I was so freaked out by the speed with which I had to accomplish so much, I didn't have much time to get truly upset, for which I am thankful.
Flash forward to my mother and I driving 20 hours to Philadelphia, with my car packed to the brim with everything that I now own. I had to get rid of countless clothes and shoes, my fairly new DVD player and my own personal bowling ball and shoes (which really hurt), but I rationalized that I couldn't have all of my stuff weighing me down should I have to move again in a hurry because of the election.
So, I found an apartment relatively quickly and set about the actual business of getting myself in and out of the city for work.
This is where the real fun begins. Philadelphia traffic is insane. Anyone who's driven here knows that, but imagine if you have never driven in real traffic in your life and suddenly you are it for getting yourself anywhere. Wow.
My favorite experience in traffic would have to be the cab driver that I accidentally cut off in a roundabout when I realized I needed to be in a different lane. He motioned for me to roll my window down, and like a total dumbass, I did. I said, "Yes?" He yelled, "Go back to fucking Mississippi! You cut me off!" I was horrified that not only did he impugn my driving skills, but my state as well, and my clever, shocked response was, "That was mean!" That Gaither wit triumphs again.
My first three weeks of work, I got lost every other day. I ended up in Chinatown a lot, which is a cool area, but when I'm late for work, and all the shop signs are in Chinese, it does not bode well for how my day will go.
I spent about five weeks feeling completely out of my depth all the time. I never knew where I was going or really how I would get there. Parking was a nightmare, I had my car towed once, and I've received about seven tickets.
But eventually, I began to find my way and recognize familiar areas, I started to feel like the city wasn't out to crush me, and I noticed myself feeling a kinship with Philadelphia.
It was around that time I decided to stay here and see what I could do after the election, because as much as I miss people back in the South, I knew that my sense of accomplishment was not yet satisfied.
I will end this by saying, I am still massively homesick. The snow and freezing ass temperatures have not helped this feeling much at all. I wish I could hop in my car and drive to Bourbon Street or to the Gulf of Mexico just to watch the sunset and walk down one of the piers on Orange Beach.
But I have met people here who make it easier and easier to brave the cold in the air and the feelings I sometimes have that make it seem as though I am in a holding pattern and way out of my league, and they make me laugh and get me drunk, and there's not a thing wrong with that.
In addition, I have a support system of family and amazing friends that peel me off the ceiling when I'm freaking out as well.
I don't know what I would do without any of you. Thank you.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Blue state, red state, one fish, two fish
I'm a Democrat, and I'm pissed off. You say to yourself, of course, because George Bush is implausibly in the early stages of a second term, and the Republicans basically control everything at the moment. But, that's not really why I'm angry.
There's a trend happening in politics and society, in fact that same trend strongly colored the outcome of this past election, and it's becoming apparent that it's more than a trend; it's here to stay.
I'm referring of course to the sudden emergence of values and morality dictating the landscape of American politics.
We have all heard how the godless Democrats lost the election because clearly "W" has personal conversations with God, while the Democrats are obviously trying to hijack the morals of every Evangelical Christian who can vote or might be willing to change a position on abortion or gay marriage.
I will be the first to admit that the Democratic Party dropped the ball on appealing to the average voter. This was our election to lose, and that's just what we did. Kerry wasn't the most accessible candidate, his advisers took many wrong turns in the campaign, and the Democrats absolutely must form a cohesive message if we expect to make any progress in years to come, but even with all of that, I fully believe that a majority of people that voted for Bush did so out of fear of the unknown rather than supreme confidence in his ability to lead.
And Bush has that affability that allows him to identify with the common voter, like say, those in Ohio. Which makes no real sense logically, because Bush has about as much in common with destitute farmers in the heartland as, say someone who married a ketchup heiress, but it's all about perception.
Okay, in a roundabout fashion, this brings me back to my point. I am a Democrat, and I am a Christian. I don't regularly attend church, but that has little impact on my belief in God, my prayers and my knowledge that God and I are cool with each other. That being said, I don't feel the need to go around espousing my views on religion to anyone who will listen, and I shouldn't. Religion is a personal view that has no place in government.
Someone pointed out to me recently that nowhere in the Constitution do the actual words "separation of church and state" exist, and that's true. But in the First Amendment, here is an excerpt of what does appear, "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof."
Now, Republicans will tell you that the latter part of this wording allows them to exercise their Christianity freely, wantonly and without impediment, and they're right. But the part I pay the most attention to is the beginning. There can be no national establishment of religion, so why are we seemingly disregarding the notions of the founding fathers to invoke the name of God at every turn, in every speech, in every debate and every press conference.
And it's purely a "you're with us or you're going to hell," mentality, and I'm sick of it.
If Bush is so in tune with Christian values and the tenets of the Bible, why are millions of Americans dying because of inadequate health care, children suffering because of laughable education funding, and tolerance of anyone's religion, sexual preferences or any other quality that makes a person different than the country club crowd in Crawford, Texas, gets minimal attention under this administration?
Those are not the Christian values that I subscribe to, but you would never know it because I don't wear my religion like an ostentatious badge of honor, and I never will.
There's a trend happening in politics and society, in fact that same trend strongly colored the outcome of this past election, and it's becoming apparent that it's more than a trend; it's here to stay.
I'm referring of course to the sudden emergence of values and morality dictating the landscape of American politics.
We have all heard how the godless Democrats lost the election because clearly "W" has personal conversations with God, while the Democrats are obviously trying to hijack the morals of every Evangelical Christian who can vote or might be willing to change a position on abortion or gay marriage.
I will be the first to admit that the Democratic Party dropped the ball on appealing to the average voter. This was our election to lose, and that's just what we did. Kerry wasn't the most accessible candidate, his advisers took many wrong turns in the campaign, and the Democrats absolutely must form a cohesive message if we expect to make any progress in years to come, but even with all of that, I fully believe that a majority of people that voted for Bush did so out of fear of the unknown rather than supreme confidence in his ability to lead.
And Bush has that affability that allows him to identify with the common voter, like say, those in Ohio. Which makes no real sense logically, because Bush has about as much in common with destitute farmers in the heartland as, say someone who married a ketchup heiress, but it's all about perception.
Okay, in a roundabout fashion, this brings me back to my point. I am a Democrat, and I am a Christian. I don't regularly attend church, but that has little impact on my belief in God, my prayers and my knowledge that God and I are cool with each other. That being said, I don't feel the need to go around espousing my views on religion to anyone who will listen, and I shouldn't. Religion is a personal view that has no place in government.
Someone pointed out to me recently that nowhere in the Constitution do the actual words "separation of church and state" exist, and that's true. But in the First Amendment, here is an excerpt of what does appear, "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof."
Now, Republicans will tell you that the latter part of this wording allows them to exercise their Christianity freely, wantonly and without impediment, and they're right. But the part I pay the most attention to is the beginning. There can be no national establishment of religion, so why are we seemingly disregarding the notions of the founding fathers to invoke the name of God at every turn, in every speech, in every debate and every press conference.
And it's purely a "you're with us or you're going to hell," mentality, and I'm sick of it.
If Bush is so in tune with Christian values and the tenets of the Bible, why are millions of Americans dying because of inadequate health care, children suffering because of laughable education funding, and tolerance of anyone's religion, sexual preferences or any other quality that makes a person different than the country club crowd in Crawford, Texas, gets minimal attention under this administration?
Those are not the Christian values that I subscribe to, but you would never know it because I don't wear my religion like an ostentatious badge of honor, and I never will.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
I'm qualified for nothing...
I think I can finally admit that I'm having some form of a quarter-life crisis. I realize this is a trendy term that does sound quite silly on the face of it, but I fully understand what it means.
I am 27 years old, college-educated, had a typical middle-class upbringing, and yet I have virtually no clue as to what I want to do with the rest of my life.
After I graduated from college, I went to work at a newspaper for almost four years. The less said about that job, the better.
Following that soul-sucking endeavor, I went to work for John Kerry, who I believed in, thinking that being involved in something bigger than myself might point me toward some career path that sparked passion within me.
Well, three months later, I am employed with a temp agency and currently answering phones at a company that never gets any calls. I won't even get into how little I'm making. It's enough to survive, but that's about all.
I feel like my generation has so many opportunities at their fingertips that it's hard for us to settle into one thing.
My problem seems to suggest that. I am interested in so many different things, I'm almost scared to commit to one, because somehow I've convinced myself that there's only one path.
I realize that's not true, but I want so badly to have a job that makes me feel as though I'm doing some small shred of good in this world that is so disheartening at times, that I overanalyze every potential career path to death.
I feel sure that the answer will come to me, and in the mean time, I shall be content to drive myself crazy with possibilities.
So, I can settle in the knowledge that I will one day be any of the following: writer, college professor, elementary school teacher, magazine editor, politico, professional singer or circus freak.
Well, that makes it easier.
I am 27 years old, college-educated, had a typical middle-class upbringing, and yet I have virtually no clue as to what I want to do with the rest of my life.
After I graduated from college, I went to work at a newspaper for almost four years. The less said about that job, the better.
Following that soul-sucking endeavor, I went to work for John Kerry, who I believed in, thinking that being involved in something bigger than myself might point me toward some career path that sparked passion within me.
Well, three months later, I am employed with a temp agency and currently answering phones at a company that never gets any calls. I won't even get into how little I'm making. It's enough to survive, but that's about all.
I feel like my generation has so many opportunities at their fingertips that it's hard for us to settle into one thing.
My problem seems to suggest that. I am interested in so many different things, I'm almost scared to commit to one, because somehow I've convinced myself that there's only one path.
I realize that's not true, but I want so badly to have a job that makes me feel as though I'm doing some small shred of good in this world that is so disheartening at times, that I overanalyze every potential career path to death.
I feel sure that the answer will come to me, and in the mean time, I shall be content to drive myself crazy with possibilities.
So, I can settle in the knowledge that I will one day be any of the following: writer, college professor, elementary school teacher, magazine editor, politico, professional singer or circus freak.
Well, that makes it easier.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
One of the worst things I've ever done
I've done some fairly bad things in my life, cheated on boyfriends, sneaked out of my house at 16 and just been a general bitch sometimes, but there are only a few instances where I've been truly evil, and this, my friends, is one of those times.
When I was 16 years old, my sister, who is six years older than I, got engaged. This was fine; I was happy for her and had no problem..that is, until she turned into the original Bridezilla. God help me, I love my sister, but she was out of control. Incidentally, she may not be all that thrilled at my telling this story, but I figure the people in my life better toughen up before my memoirs are written.
Anyway, every conversation, every family event was colored with "wedding talk." The caterers, the florist, the harpist, the transgendered videographer (don't ask). Everything in our lives was about this wedding.
Let me say, yes, I was jealous at the attention she was receiving, but because I'm the youngest, I was always afforded a certain amount of doting, which was lacking while the wedding of the century was planned.
I can be quite petty, I'm not proud of that, plus I was a teenager, for God's sake. There's a line in my favorite book: "Teenagers, by definition, are not fit for society." So very true.
Alright, so during this time, she was living at home planning the nuptials, and she and I had some, shall we say, friction.
The culmination of this was arguing over the shower in the morning. Either I was shafted with absolutely no hot water, or I had 15 minutes to make myself look good, which, in high school terms, is not nearly enough time. My only saving grace was going through the "grunge period," which I actually cheated on, because I refused to go out without make-up. Had I been an actual Nirvana groupie, I could've compromised, but I was in Macon, MS for God's sake. There was only so far I was willing to go with the look du jour.
Anyway, we argued constantly, finally having this exchange. She said, "Emily, I know you're jealous, but this is my time. You really should just accept that and understand that this is all about me and get over it."
That was a BIG mistake.
I went into the bathroom, fuming, and began to compile a list of things I could do to her to exact my revenge.
What I came up with was really quite something, and this is the part that curdles some people's blood.
I grabbed her favorite shampoo, positioned it over the toilet and urinated an amount I deemed sufficient enough to taint it; I took her toothbrush and ran it inside the toilet bowl, and I put super glue in her mascara tube.
A number of things happened. A few days later, she stopped using aforementioned shampoo, complaining that it didn't seem to clean her hair, a few weeks later, a guy that I was seeing at the time used the shampoo because I forgot to tell him not to, and I had to handwash his hair while enduring his ruminations about what a terrible person I was, and finally, she didn't find out about my actions until three years later when another ex-boyfriend mentioned the incident, thinking she already knew.
She didn't speak to me for half a day, and I honestly don't blame her.
So, I wrote this for two reasons. One, to share this shameful story with others, and two, to publicly apologize to my sister.
I'm glad we don't have that kind of relationship anymore, and I love you. I'm sorry I was a huge brat when we were growing up.
When I was 16 years old, my sister, who is six years older than I, got engaged. This was fine; I was happy for her and had no problem..that is, until she turned into the original Bridezilla. God help me, I love my sister, but she was out of control. Incidentally, she may not be all that thrilled at my telling this story, but I figure the people in my life better toughen up before my memoirs are written.
Anyway, every conversation, every family event was colored with "wedding talk." The caterers, the florist, the harpist, the transgendered videographer (don't ask). Everything in our lives was about this wedding.
Let me say, yes, I was jealous at the attention she was receiving, but because I'm the youngest, I was always afforded a certain amount of doting, which was lacking while the wedding of the century was planned.
I can be quite petty, I'm not proud of that, plus I was a teenager, for God's sake. There's a line in my favorite book: "Teenagers, by definition, are not fit for society." So very true.
Alright, so during this time, she was living at home planning the nuptials, and she and I had some, shall we say, friction.
The culmination of this was arguing over the shower in the morning. Either I was shafted with absolutely no hot water, or I had 15 minutes to make myself look good, which, in high school terms, is not nearly enough time. My only saving grace was going through the "grunge period," which I actually cheated on, because I refused to go out without make-up. Had I been an actual Nirvana groupie, I could've compromised, but I was in Macon, MS for God's sake. There was only so far I was willing to go with the look du jour.
Anyway, we argued constantly, finally having this exchange. She said, "Emily, I know you're jealous, but this is my time. You really should just accept that and understand that this is all about me and get over it."
That was a BIG mistake.
I went into the bathroom, fuming, and began to compile a list of things I could do to her to exact my revenge.
What I came up with was really quite something, and this is the part that curdles some people's blood.
I grabbed her favorite shampoo, positioned it over the toilet and urinated an amount I deemed sufficient enough to taint it; I took her toothbrush and ran it inside the toilet bowl, and I put super glue in her mascara tube.
A number of things happened. A few days later, she stopped using aforementioned shampoo, complaining that it didn't seem to clean her hair, a few weeks later, a guy that I was seeing at the time used the shampoo because I forgot to tell him not to, and I had to handwash his hair while enduring his ruminations about what a terrible person I was, and finally, she didn't find out about my actions until three years later when another ex-boyfriend mentioned the incident, thinking she already knew.
She didn't speak to me for half a day, and I honestly don't blame her.
So, I wrote this for two reasons. One, to share this shameful story with others, and two, to publicly apologize to my sister.
I'm glad we don't have that kind of relationship anymore, and I love you. I'm sorry I was a huge brat when we were growing up.
Monday, January 24, 2005
So totally over the snow now
Okay; apparently it snows in Pennsylvania. No shock there; everyone talked about it for months. "Emily, you'll never survive the Yankee winter. You won't know how to drive in the snow. You have the wrong clothes. Etc..."
So, yeah, it snowed about 13 inches over the weekend, making it impossible to do anything that wasn't within walking distance of my apartment. That was fine; it was nice to have an excuse for being slightly worthless over the weekend. Did a little drinking and mischief-making, no problem.
Okay, then yesterday, I spent a good two hours digging my car out of the ridiculous amount of snow amassed around it, and, yeah, I was cold, but I thought, "Cool. I've just shoveled my first snow, a job well done." Then, this morning, snow inexplicably appeared around the car, presumably from a snowplow, and I had to do the whole exercise over again.
Then, driving in the snow was a real treat, as some streets are completely clear, and some have fair amounts of ice on them. Add to that, it's supposed to snow some more today, it's cold as shit, and at this point I'm starting to find it hard to imagine a life without snow on my feet.
I sincerely hope spring in Pennsylvania has some serious redeeming qualities, or I am, as they say, out of here. The crawfish are calling..
So, yeah, it snowed about 13 inches over the weekend, making it impossible to do anything that wasn't within walking distance of my apartment. That was fine; it was nice to have an excuse for being slightly worthless over the weekend. Did a little drinking and mischief-making, no problem.
Okay, then yesterday, I spent a good two hours digging my car out of the ridiculous amount of snow amassed around it, and, yeah, I was cold, but I thought, "Cool. I've just shoveled my first snow, a job well done." Then, this morning, snow inexplicably appeared around the car, presumably from a snowplow, and I had to do the whole exercise over again.
Then, driving in the snow was a real treat, as some streets are completely clear, and some have fair amounts of ice on them. Add to that, it's supposed to snow some more today, it's cold as shit, and at this point I'm starting to find it hard to imagine a life without snow on my feet.
I sincerely hope spring in Pennsylvania has some serious redeeming qualities, or I am, as they say, out of here. The crawfish are calling..
Friday, January 21, 2005
Things that I am grateful to enjoy
Men who wear pocket watches, felt hats and really good cologne, kissing for two hours, being able to play with little children with absolutely no inhibitions, really deep hugs, singing in the shower and the car without a care as to who hears or sees me doing it, watching any movie with Molly Ringwald or Judd Nelson (bonus if they're both in it), being okay with not being married past 23 (and really meaning it), hitting the snooze button as many times as possibe, taking a fiendish delight in the early "American Idol" contestants, being vocal about not agreeing with the government, a truly great cup of coffee, Bill Clinton, laughing so hard a snort comes out, having people that I can talk on the phone with for hours at a time, Diet Coke, my amazing 2-year-old niece Jillian who I'm convinced is a total genius and will be President someday, sleeping in my childhood bed, snow, David Gray and "The Simpsons."
Just one stupid thing I have done
Okay, originally, I was going to write about something else, but since my most recent act of utter clumsiness is driving me to distraction at the moment, I decided to let everyone who doesn't already know in on what a klutz I am.
I don't know how I grew up with a total lack of grace. I took dance lessons for about eight years, but I tend to think taking dance lessons in Mississippi is really just an excuse to stay off the mean streets. Clearly, I gleaned no grace from years of arabesques and pink tutus.
I digress; last night, as I was literally hopping into bed (I dunno, sometimes the prospect of going to sleep is more than I can handle), I proceeded to bounce right off the bed onto the rather large radiator that occupies the space to the right of my bed. The right side of my butt hit it directly, as well as my left knee. A stream of expletives that would surely rival George Carlin's "words you can't say" came out of my mouth in such a torrent that at one point, I thought I might be speaking in tongues.
After I slowly realized that nothing appeared to be broken, I ambled to my feet to lie prostrate on the bed and recover. After the initial pain subsided, I thought, "Hmm. Maybe I didn't really do any damage. That's really odd."
Fast forward to this morning. My right elbow is scraped and bruised, I have a bruised knot the size of a grapefruit on my ass, there are scrapes all over my hand where I tried to shield myself, and the real beauty is that my left knee hurts so much to turn in any direction that I either have to walk like Frankenstein or limp. That's hot, right?
In later days, I will describe how I broke my ankle, didn't know it was broken and went to a party with said broken ankle....
I don't know how I grew up with a total lack of grace. I took dance lessons for about eight years, but I tend to think taking dance lessons in Mississippi is really just an excuse to stay off the mean streets. Clearly, I gleaned no grace from years of arabesques and pink tutus.
I digress; last night, as I was literally hopping into bed (I dunno, sometimes the prospect of going to sleep is more than I can handle), I proceeded to bounce right off the bed onto the rather large radiator that occupies the space to the right of my bed. The right side of my butt hit it directly, as well as my left knee. A stream of expletives that would surely rival George Carlin's "words you can't say" came out of my mouth in such a torrent that at one point, I thought I might be speaking in tongues.
After I slowly realized that nothing appeared to be broken, I ambled to my feet to lie prostrate on the bed and recover. After the initial pain subsided, I thought, "Hmm. Maybe I didn't really do any damage. That's really odd."
Fast forward to this morning. My right elbow is scraped and bruised, I have a bruised knot the size of a grapefruit on my ass, there are scrapes all over my hand where I tried to shield myself, and the real beauty is that my left knee hurts so much to turn in any direction that I either have to walk like Frankenstein or limp. That's hot, right?
In later days, I will describe how I broke my ankle, didn't know it was broken and went to a party with said broken ankle....
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Inauguration of disgust
Okay; I told myself a long time ago that I would never allow my sheer vanity to override common sense, but either I'm more vain than I thought, or blogs are just the most amazing inventions for people flung far and wide to use for communication.
Either way, I've been listening to NPR all day, to the coverage of George W. Bush's second inauguration, and it's making me physically ill.
To backtrack a bit, I moved to Philadelphia, PA roughly five months ago to work for the campaign to elect one John F. Kerry.
Clearly, the day that "W" is sworn in to office for the second time might be a difficult day for me to accept without a modicum of whining and irritability, so I suppose this is to be expected.
As I listened to his speech, I was struck, once again, at how amazing it is that the leader of the free world can use such inspiring words like "liberty" and "freedom" to say so very little.
I'm reminded of a quote, from whom I can't remember, that I saw shortly after Sept. 11.
"It's not so much that George Bush rose to meet history, rather that history fell to meet him."
Indeed.
Either way, I've been listening to NPR all day, to the coverage of George W. Bush's second inauguration, and it's making me physically ill.
To backtrack a bit, I moved to Philadelphia, PA roughly five months ago to work for the campaign to elect one John F. Kerry.
Clearly, the day that "W" is sworn in to office for the second time might be a difficult day for me to accept without a modicum of whining and irritability, so I suppose this is to be expected.
As I listened to his speech, I was struck, once again, at how amazing it is that the leader of the free world can use such inspiring words like "liberty" and "freedom" to say so very little.
I'm reminded of a quote, from whom I can't remember, that I saw shortly after Sept. 11.
"It's not so much that George Bush rose to meet history, rather that history fell to meet him."
Indeed.
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