THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL ISSUE!!!!! Why are we discussing this? Why is this a headline story in the Washington Post? Why are we getting angry about a mis-pronounced name, instead of ridiculous budgeting, tax breaks that are crushing our economy, dangerous deregulation, disgusting political dishonesty, crippling "education" initiatives, and on and on and on.

There are much bigger problems facing us now than whether the Packers play at Lambeau or Lambert field. If anyone casts their vote based on this meaningless factor, I will be ashamed to consider myself an American.

$3 Trillion Price Tag Left Out As Bush Details His Agenda (washingtonpost.com): "A staple of Bush's stump speech is his claim that his Democratic challenger, John F. Kerry, has proposed $2 trillion in long-term spending, a figure the Massachusetts senator's campaign calls exaggerated. But the cost of the new tax breaks and spending outlined by Bush at the GOP convention far eclipses that of the Kerry plan. "

Basic economics lesson for Mr. Bush: without income (uh, taxes, moron) there can be no outcome. You can't spend money you don't have. Why do I have to balance my budget, if Bush doesn't have to balance his.

Oh wait, I meant to say "if Bush doesn't have to balance ours." Because it's NOT his money he's fooling around with here. It's ours. And he's giving it away to his friends.

I just finished reading Bushwhacked, by Molly Ivins and Lou Dubose. It's excellent. Read it. Get mad. Then GO VOTE!

" 'When it comes to Iraq, my opponent has more different positions than all his colleagues in the Senate combined,' Mr. Bush said. 'If he had his way, Saddam Hussein would still be in power and would still be a threat to the security and to the world.' " (Reported in NYTimes.org)

This kind of rhetoric makes me so mad. What does this even mean? What's even more frustrating is that this hyperbolic, ridiculous talk increases Bushie's lead over Kerry. He's not saying anything. He can't back up what he's talking about. It's big, ugly, empty talk, and it's going to help him win.

I hate politics.

Everytime I read that Bush's lead is growing, I feel sick to my stomach. And I feel even more sick when I read things like this:

"Pollsters suggested that the change was a result of a month of attacks on Mr. Kerry's war record by a group of Vietnam veterans, combined with the Republican convention, which featured searing attacks on Mr. Kerry and staging designed to portray Mr. Bush as strong and forward-looking." (Also from NYTimes.org)

Essentially, Bush's numbers are rising based on attacks that were proved unfounded, and on what is pointedly and unabashedly called convention "staging."

I think I'm going to throw up. And start making plans to emigrate.

Why?! For the love of buddha, why?!

I'm still in the dark as to how anyone can support Bush, especially how anyone can be "pro-Bush all the way." (Notwithstanding the fact that this woman seems not to understand "all the way," when she later expresses reservations about the war on Iraq, and wants to know "what Bush was thinking." I'll tell you what Bush was thinking: Money and Control.)

I feel nauseated. Revulsed. Terrified.

The double plusgood duckspeaking is, apparently, working for them.

In the "very well said" category:

"We can only end the threat of terrorism by addressing constructively the routine violence of poverty, hunger, and exploitation which characterizes the daily existence of several billion people on this planet."
-Manning Marable, The Failure of U.S. Foreign Policies (from Znet)

Ahh, New York. I'm enamored. Any doubts I had that I want to move there after I finish my master's have been dispelled. This book store did much of the dispelling. I now know what heaven looks like.

I just finished read The Age of Innocence, and I think Edith Wharton has made her way into the pantheon of my all-time favorite authors.

I don't want to go back to work.

"To announce that there must be no criticism of the President or that we are to stand by the President, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but morally treasonable to the American public."
-President Theodore Roosevelt

I wonder if Dubya knows what "morally treasonable" means? That's an awfully big word...

For the past week, I've been going through the most recent revision to our Composition Reader project: an addition of about 80 new articles and short stories, many by "women of color." And I keep noticing, over and over, something that has me a little disturbed.

It seems that "women of color" only ever write about being women of color. I think, though, it has more to do with the fact that the only black and hispanic women writers who get any recognition do so because they write about being black and hispanic women. It's a niche. The industry of words has a place for them, and it's a limited place. But we sure are opening up the canon!

Your mission (or mine) if it should be accepted: to find black women, and hispanic women, and asian women whose writing is published without being contained to the limited scope of their identities.

The Republican Women's Forum held a little gathering last night. It was called "W Stands for Women."

Who thinks these things up?

(You can watch video of this gathering here. Just scroll down and look for it under the C-SPAN video heading in the left hand column. I'm not sure how long it's going to be here, but hey.)

In related news, a federal district judge in New York ruled last Thursday, in National Abortion Federation v. Ashcroft, to permanently block the 2003 law banning Intact D&E abortions (more commonly called partial-birth). It was ruled unconstitutional because there was no exception allowing for the health of the woman. NONE!

Because W stands for women.

Just something to keep in mind:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among men, deriving their powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of Government becomes destructive of those ends, it is the right of the People to alter or abolish it, and to institute a new Goverment..."

"This American government,--what is it but a tradition, though a recent one, endeavoring to transmit itself unimpaired to posterity, but each instant losing some of its integrity? It has not the vitality and force of a single living man; for a single man can bend it to his will. It is a sort of wooden gun to the people themselves. But it is not the less necessary for this; for the people must have some complicated machinery or other, and hear its din, to satisfy that idea of government which they have. Governments show thus how successfully men can be imposed on, even impose on themselves, for their own advantage...Yet this government never of itself furthered any enterprise, but by the alacrity with which it got out of its way. It does not keep the country free. It does not settle the West. It does not educate. The character inherent in the American people has done all that has been accomplished; and it would have done somewhat more, if the government had not sometimes got in its way."

-Henry David Thoreau, "Civil Disobedience"

Hey, thanks to whatever anonymous person told me the link to True Majority's online voter registration stuffy stuff was not working. That's what I get for not double checking. It should work now.

True Majority has an online voter registration toolkit. I didn't know you could register to vote online, but it's about time. If you haven't done this yet, do it immediately. And then vote. Don't be stupid.

The dangers of television news. Lazy journalism, sensationalism winning out over reportage, sound bites sound bites sound bites.

Ugh.

Why are we anti-Castro, again?

Chomsky's Hegemony or Survival has some very thorough, very interesting background to US interventions in Cuba, and the reasoning behind our anti-Castro actions. There aren't many.

Willful ignorance. Dana Milbank's column points out how Bush's campaign consistently distorts and manipulates other people's words for its own benefit. They hear what they want to hear, simplify complicated statements, and mislead the American people. It's Orwellian in the extreme. They have perfected Newspeak in ways Orwell himself could never have imagined.

Reading Forbes

As a raving liberal living in the city of Boston, it's not often that I come across Bush supporters, and I've had many occasions to ask myself in the past year who in their right mind would vote for Bush this November. I don't get many opportunities to sit down with right-wing Bushites and pick their brains, and I tend to avoid ultra-conservative publications.

That's why I decided to start reading Forbes. It's good to get some kind of idea of what the opposition thinks, right? Reading nothing but Noam Chomsky can only serve to isolate me in my liberal ideas, and further convince me that no sane people could possibly be Republican.

I'm still not sure Republicans are sane, but I am fully convinced that they excel at the art of willful ignorance. I'll take just one column from the September 6 issue of Forbes: Current Events, by Paul Johnson.

Johnson is "keen" to see Bush in the White House because he was "revolted by Bill Clinton's lies and reassured by George Bush's straight talk." I'm not going to say Clinton didn't lie. Of course he did. He's a politician. But "George Bush's straight talk?" Giving the appearance of being a straight-shooting man of integrity does not actually make the words that come out of his mouth true. The tenacious belief in Bush as an honest man reveals how firmly image and illusion play into our politics.

Johnson, further, is "suspicious" of Kerry because he enjoys French support. He asks why the French are "so keen to see Kerry in the White House," but nowhere does he attempt to answer his own question. His distate for Kerry, in this regard, seems to stem mostly from what it appears Chirac expects from the US if Kerry should take office in January. A perfect example of right-wing use of inflated suspicions and rhetoric to paint a picture of something that doesn't, actually, exist.

Johnson then moves on to Kerry's supporters, namely Michael Moore and Goerge Soros.

I'll let Johnson's own words speak for his ignorance re: Moore:

"I haven't seen Michael Moore's anti-Bush movie. But all I have to do is to mentally line up Moore alonside Bush to decide whom I prefer...Bush looks to be a man who keeps himself trim through self-discipline, while Moore is a gross, shapeless, unshaven monument to self-indulgence and gobbling."

Way to judge the issues on their merits.

And finally, in a beautiful bit of irony worthy only of a hard-line fiscal Republican, Johnson complains about Soros's donations to the Democratic party and liberal think tanks. He writes, "No other financier of modern times has made such abusive use of his money to exercise power." Riiight.

Johnson sees in the Democratic campaign "a species of conspiracy by money men, showbiz celebrities, and other self-important pseudo-idealists to hijack the presidential election." He trusts that "ordinary American voters will recognize what is happening and vote accordingly."

So do I.

I'm starting to understand why all my friends are leaving the country.

Is Florida on the way to becoming the next Florida? Here's some stuff.

This is not in the least big surprising, but it is frightening.

I've been waiting for this since the beginning of the "war on terror," wondering when they were going to start including domestic political activists in the definition of potential terrorists.

I don't know what to say.

And something I haven't done in awhile...

What I've been reading: Under the Banner of Heaven by John Krakauer, Gulliver's Travels by Jonathon Swift, The Ambassadors by Henry James, The Probable Future by Alice Hoffman, All He Ever Wanted by Anita Shreve, The Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde, Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion.

I attempted to calculate how many books I've read since I learned to read. I came up with 4,160. In the "I'm slightly obsessive" category: I wish I'd kept track of every book I ever read since the day I read my first book. That'd be interesting, wouldn't it...

Alright, alright. I'm horrifically embarrassed to admit that I even thought of watching this moving, much less having spent an hour and a half actually doing so, but man. The Mandy Moore phenomenon that is "How To Deal" shored up almost every point I made in my thesis so perfectly, how can I not mention it?

I knew this movie would be bad, but I had no idea just how bad it would really be. I thought bad in a "Clueless" kind of way. Maybe even in a "Freaky Friday" kind of way. Oh no. It was bad in a "why am I watching this shlocky badness?" kind of way. The screenwriters seemed to never have met a teenage person ever in their lives. The predictability factor was off the charts. For the love of buddha, it was bloody awful.

But here's why I'm writing about it anyway: there are some very basic themes that prevade in "female coming-of-age stories written in the past decade." These include divorced, inept parents, who can't teach their daughters how to truly love another person; young girls learning how to trust other people; young girls tormented by popular, bitchy other girls; young girls with fathers who aren't willing to grow up; young girls whose mothers are experiencing the same dating/relationship things (and hence are not much in the way of role models); on and on ad nauseum.

My god, this movie fit into my thesis perfectly. How can I not write about it, despite it's inherent, unacceptable, painful badness?

(And as an aside: After having spent the past few years examining female coming-of-age stories in the past decade in literature, might it be worthwhile to study it in real life, too?)

In the "Completely Pointless Thoughts" category:
Y'know when someone wins a big monetary prize, or donates a lot of money to a foundation, how the exchange of very large fake cardboard checks is often involved? Um, why? Where did this bizarre symb0lic ritual originate? Does the size of the piece of cardboard ever correspond to the monetary value of the donation? Whose idea was this?

Wow. Everything you ever wanted to know about food safety. And crossing the border with meat and poulty.

(Yes, it's USDA day. I'm that bored.)

And in the "Bureaucracy is Confusing" category: the USDA administers food stamps, WIC, the school lunch program, and several other similar programs. Wouldn't you think programs like these would be under the auspices of the Department of Health and Human Services? I would. The USDA also deals with housing and telecommunications issues in rural America, something I would, were I in charge of these things, likely assign to, oh, say the Department of Housing and Urban Development.

No wonder it's so hard to get anything done.

Hm. Another fun fact: South Dakota has more cattle than people.

Some interesting statistics from the 2002 USDA Census of Agriculture:

"Ninety percent of farms are operated by an individual or family. The number of corporate farms declined by 18.4 percent from 1997 to 2002, which reverses a trend that has continued without interruption since 1974.

Direct sales to consumers increased 37 percent from 1997, totaling $812.2 million in 2002.

The value of organically produced commodities reached $392.8 million in 2002. "

I have been thinking a lot lately about agriculture (call it a side effect of my trip to Iowa), and specifically about sustainable agriculture. I started wondering whether recent moves toward organic farming, and greater publicity of CSAs and farmers' markets, were making an impact on agriculture trends of the past decade. Reading Fast Food Nation a few times certainly instilled in me the desire to know better where my food is coming from. And after eating locally-grown organic produce, and realizing that the difference really is tremendous, I thought a transition away from corporate farms was inevitable.

It looks like maybe, for once, I was right.

(The USDA website is kind of interesting. But maybe only t0 me...)

From Washingtonpost.com:

"While local police were providing security for the candidates at the morning events [in Davenport, Iowa], three nearby banks were robbed within a one-hour period. Authorities provided few details of the holdups and declined to say how much money was taken."

Hee hee hee.

I'm always a sucker for a funny quote:

From The New York Times Online:

'"This shows that unless we do something now - or it may very well be too late - Florida is headed toward being the next Florida," said Lida Rodriguez-Taseff, a lawyer who is the chairwoman of the coalition.'
 

Ok, I haven't written anything here in a long, long time. I guess I just haven't had much to say.

I'm pleased with the selection of John Edwards as Kerry's running mate. I think they've made a very balanced ticket, and the choice definitely increased the likelihood of a Democratic win this November.

I was out in the midwest this weekend, for a family reunion (I'll put some fun soybean field pictures up somewhere shortly), and, of course, started talking politics with my dad. My parents live in San Diego, a highly conservative city, which is a huge contrast from where I live, in Boston. I think we've been entertaining opposite feelings about the upcoming election, largely because of the kinds of politics with which we're surrounded: Dad's almost certain Bush will win again, and I'm almost certain he'll go down in flames (ok, I don't really think he'll lose that badly, but I feel sure he'll lose). Of course, our prophesies about this election have a lot to do with the people we're around, and I've long been aware that those in Massachusetts might not represent the rest of the country. I was curious to see what people in Sioux Falls, South Dakota think about Bush, and where they're planning on throwing their votes.

Both my Dad and I were surprised to discover that many, many people in South Dakota (usually a Republican state, despite Daschle's long tenure as Senator) are almost as rabidly anti-Bush as we are. My uncle Paul, an ex-Army man and ROTC teacher, vehemently decried Bush as "dumb as a rock." In fact, my dad told me the only person he spoke to who was planning on voting Republican was a crazy pro-life woman wandering the streets at midnight, shouting about Jesus and the dead babies.

This gives me great hope.

Boston's not nearly as hectic with the DNC as I was expecting. I was even early to work this morning, because no one was on the trains. It's empty around here. A comedian at the MW last night said to check out this website, showing the streets of Boston, to see what it will be like here after the zombies come.

I'm tired and I'm going home.

I'm in love with T.S. Eliot. It sucks being in love with a dead guy.

He was only 23 when he wrote 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.'

I'm not one to say "vast right-wing conspiracy," but...

From Washingtonpost.com:

"While drafted in terms applicable mainly to the case before it, the opinion [of the court, regarding Cheney's 2001 energy task force and the request for documents regarding that task force to be turned over,] revealed a court now sympathetic to the White House's need to insulate itself from lawsuits. In 1997, the court ruled 9 to 0 that President Bill Clinton would not be unduly hampered by Paula Jones's lawsuit for sexual harassment he had allegedly committed while governor of Arkansas; yesterday, the court warned of 'meritless claims against the executive branch.'"

(Oh, ok, I am one to say "vast right-wing conspiracy.")

We went to see the new HP this weekend, and, as usual, the empress and I had entirely opposite reactions. Where I thought it was lovely and more visually, hmm, stimulating than the first two, I found there to be more gaps in the narration, more holes, the story moving too quickly, not as compelling. It's as though there was simply too much story to put into a movie, so they decided to focus on making it very, very pretty. And of course C thought that narratively, it was the best of the three. I will never understand how we can walk out of a theater together feeling as though we'd seen two completely different movies.

I really wanted to go down to the MW afterwards, but curses! They were having some silly Hyde Park Community fund raiser and everyone was wearing hula shirts and leis. No thank you. We ended up sitting in the arboretum until 2:30 in the morning, drinking beer and talking about every random thing. Despite the plethora of bugbites I now find myself covered with, we had a spectacular night. It's our new summer night hang out. Who needs crowded, noisy bars when there's the arboretum right there?

I've been reading Nancy Mitford the past few days, and am finding myself thinking like a turn-of-the-century British aristocrat. These novels are actually pretty fun to read. It's like stepping into a world completely different from my own, but in the opposite way from reading Mahfouz. It's all landed gentry and coming-out balls and marriage marriage marriage (but only the right and proper kind). Very fascinating. And Mitford writes with the most subtle, quiet wit, I absolutely adore it. It all feels very frivolous and fun, in the way "The Nanny Diaries" was supposed to be last weekend. Instead, "The Nanny Diaries" just made me sad (there are people in this world who should never give birth). Nancy Mitford is perfect summer reading.

Hmmm. Burnt coffee...it smells like hot dogs. Has anyone ever noticed this? Why is this? What is the connection between burnt coffee and processed pork products? Discuss.

In the "oh, so that's who our vice president is" files:

From Washingtonpost.com:

"You know who the White House thinks should pay for their deficit? They think it ought to be children in Head Start, women with young babies who need nutritional help, veterans who need health care. . . . And if you think that's compassionate conservatism, then Dick Cheney is Mr. Rogers." - John F. Kerry

Heh. Heh heh.

From Washingtonpost.com:

"During the Clinton years, Jeremy Tuck said he had been selling mobile homes in Tuscaloosa, Ala., and, at $45,000 a year, making good money. Last year, he was assembling mobile homes, earning $15,000 and living hand-to-mouth. But Bush has his vote this November. Had Gore been elected in 2000, Tuck said, 'we would've been taken over by Saddam Hussein or [Osama] bin Laden.' "

Yup. Definitely would have been taken over by Saddam Hussein. It was soley the aegis of Dubya that prevented us from becoming A-rabs. If them stinkin' liberals had been in power, the United States of America would have been left unprotected. Hell! those stinkin' liberals prolly woulda LET them A-rabs in. They woulda INVITED 'em! We'd all be worshippin' Allah and sendin' our kids to Israel with bombs strapped to their chests.

Should one laugh at these kinds of sentiments, or just feel supremely sorrowful?

Alright, curse me if you will for being irreverant in the face of a man's death, but, truth be told, I never had much love for Mr. Reagan, anyway.

I can't help but reflect on the irony of the false security alert that occurred just before Reagan's service in Washington. Todd Purdum, in the New York Times, describes it like this:

In a vivid sign of the intense anxiety over security, a little more than two hours before the service was to begin the entire Capitol and adjoining offices were hastily evacuated in what turned out to be a false alarm. The Federal Aviation Administration said a radio transmitter had malfunctioned on a Beech King aircraft belonging to the Kentucky State Police as it neared Washington airspace. The device is supposed to identify the craft to air controllers, but it failed intermittently, prompting a heightened alert.

Capitol police officers, shouting "Airborne threat, four minutes out!" ordered an evacuation as loud alarms sounded, and dozens of dignitaries and former Reagan aides gathered in a reception room near the Senate floor went running down the north steps of the Senate wing. In dark suits and black dresses, mourners including former Attorney General Edwin Meese III, former Vice President Dan Quayle and Jeane J. Kirkpatrick, the former ambassador to the United Nations, hustled into the muggy late afternoon sunshine, with men shucking their jackets and women under orders to remove high heels if they could not run in them.

"They came in screaming at us like you can't believe," said Margaret D. Tutwiler, the former State Department spokeswoman, who with the others returned to the building when the alert was lifted after several minutes. "They said, 'you can't walk, you have to run.'"

The irony's not immediately clear?

Reagan's administration was responsible for some of the worse foreign policy offenses, especially in the Middle East. I'm not saying the intense hatred for America in Islamic countries is the fault of Reagan and his ilk; the reasons for that go much farther back and are the fault of far more than one person. But Reagan sure didn't help, and I do think that the "war on terror" we're currently facing likely wouldn't be happening were it not for some of the decisions and movements made during his administration.

Now we live in a state of constant alert, constant fear, seeing danger in every malfunctioning state police aircraft. It seems fitting that this fear should disrupt the funereal atmosphere of a man who helped make it so.

Maybe I just haven't had enough coffee this morning, and am making random, unfeasible connections here. Whatever. I thought it was funny.

I have been immersed in all things Islam lately. Well, literarally, anyway. I just finished reading Naguib Mahfouz's Palace Walk, the first book in the Cairo Trilogy. Reading this book sent me into culture shock, just sitting on my couch. I got so sucked into the story, the characters, and the strangeness of the traditional Islamic culture, that I would look up and forget that I was allowed to leave the house, despite being a woman.

Palace Walk was written in 1956, and maybe it's just the translation, but the formality of the prose really contributes to the sense of antiquity, of stepping backward into another world, one I could not imagine being part of. It made me wonder, over and over, whether life in places like Iran, or Afghanistan, is still as stifled, as repressive, as the life depicted by Mahfouz in Cairo at the turn of the century.

To follow up on my foray into Islamic studies, I started Reading Lolita in Tehran, by Azar Nafisi. I've been looking foward to reading this book for months, and thus far, it's living up to all my expectations. Nafisi relates what is was like living in Iran during the revolution, contextualizing her memories in her story about a clandestine reading group she led in the early 1990s. It's fascinating.

All I ever hear about Islam, though, are these stories about fundamentalism, about its repressive side, its traditional side. I want a broader picture. I want to see the side that would make a Western woman, someone I've known since childhood, convert. I want to see the good things. I'm sure they exist.

Why is this what election campaigns are all about? Why the the Bush administration the biggest lyingest liars in the history of liars? Why isn't everyone as terrified of them as I am? Why hasn't Bush been impeached? What is wrong with this country!?!?!?

I love this picture. I love the idea of little old ladies as "hellraisers." Yeah!

Making the world safe for democracy...

I just watched A Decade Under the Influence, a documentary about the cinematic revolutions of the 1970s. Aside from capturing a very exciting period in film history, in a decidedly non-stuffy boring documentary way, it made me think about a similar period in more recent film history: the "independent revolution" of the early 90s.

There was the same realization, catalyzed by one film ("Easy Rider" in the 70s, "Pulp Fiction" in the 90s), that the big studio system was failing, unable to produce movies people wanted to see. There was suddenly something new and different and fresh, and thus are revoutions born.

However, revolutions also die. After the mind-opening films of the 70s came "Weekend at Bernie's" and "The Big Chill." After Richard Linklater and Tarantino came "Titanic."

My question: are we going to come soon upon another revolution in filmmaking? Or did the big studios finally co-opt revolutionary cinema when Disney bought Miramax and Fox opened their own "independent" imprint? Can we reclaim the real meaning of independent, instead of mistakenly linking it to anything that doesn't star Kate and Ashley Olsen?

Whatever. I'm still excited for "Harry Potter." Whoot whoot!

Mmm. Stepford Wives and tuna casserole last night. What more could a girl ask for? Since hearing about the soon-to-be-released Stepford Wives remake, I've become obsessed with the film, so we had a little screening last night.

The first thing I thought was how much it reminded me of Rosemary's Baby. It has the same themes: paranoia, the war between the sexes, and a husband who has (inexplicably) turned against his wife for his own selfish reasons. Well, duh. They are both based on novels by Ira Levin.

A stellar film, and I have a new cinematic hero: Paula Prentiss, who plays the feisty best friend, Bobby. Not only is she super saucy, she's fashionable to boot (in a hot, hot pants kind of way). How can you not admire a character who says, "Two things I always carry with me: Tampax and Ring Dings." Awww yeah.

So. I'm officially gainfully employed. After a year and a half, I finally got the job I moved to this weather-challenged city to find. I will start my new position as Editorial Assistant for Pearson Custom Publishing in 3 days. I am simulateously thrilled and terrified. I had a panic attack about twenty minutes after accepting the job.

My whole life is going to change. Admittedly, this is what I have been praying for for the past few weeks. Things at the Bella Luna have become...um...a bit unbearable. But I've never been so good with change. And the very structure of my life will be entirely different. The people I see, the places I inhabit, the times I wake up and go to bed, the nights I go out and don't go out (and I'm sure I will be going out much less frequently, which is probably a good thing). Everything will change.

In other news, California was spectacular. I am now tan. My brother's graduation was amusing and entertaining. Seeing my family was interesting, as always (we are all crazy). The drive up the coast was stunning, making me ponder again and again why I'm in Massachusetts.

The real killer, though, was being in San Francisco again. I probably had more fun in the day we spent there last week than I did in all the countless weekends I spent there in the past. I fell in love with San Francisco all over again, and actually accepted the possibility that I might, just might, want to move back there someday. If only for Amoeba Records...

What I'm reading: Rides of the Midway by Lee Durkee, On Love by Alain de Botton, Waiting: the True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

Against my will, the job search appears to have been restarted. I have an interview on Friday morning. Suddenly, I am forced to start considering all these factors again, these things I decided I didn't want to consider anymore: money, responsibility, the point at which I have to grow up and decide that having fun can't be the predominant element of my career.

I just want to get out of Boston for awhile. May 14 can't come soon enough.

Things have been super hectic, and I haven't had time to sit down, much less think of anything interesting to say. I hate to use this site to give updates about my boring life, but I feel the need to write something, and I don't have time to come up with something interesting. I'm still not reading the news...

My cousin has been in town for a week, and we've been having super fun. I suppose it's not that crazy that we get along so well, and are so much alike, seeing as we've known each other for 20 years. She's like my sister.

We went to Montreal this weekend. It sounds stupid, but I didn't expect it to feel so foreign. Montreal was very...strange. I was instantly obsessed with the frenchness, and wanted to move there the minute we drove across the border and saw signs that said "Bienvenue a Quebec." Yes, I'm a ridiculous francophile, especially regarding la langue. I loved it. Too bad I could barely speak it. Everytime we went somewhere, I would said "Bonjour, un cafe s'il vous plait." Then they would say something to me in very fast, unintelligible French, and I would get a blank, pained look on my face. Then they would smile, and say, "ahh, English." Yes, dammit. English.

We decided to spend our one night in Montreal on a Rue St. Denis pub crawl. The bars were very strange. When I have more time, I will write a more detailed account of the Official Montreal Pub Crawl. But I'll leave you with this tidbit: we ended the night in a hooker bar, where we watched a 25-year-old woman leave with an 80-year-old man, who had a frightening "I'm going to get laid" grin on his face. Ewww.

I'm going to California next week, and buddha knows I need the freakin' vacation. Screw Boston.

What I'm reading: Nalda Said by Stuart David. The Uses of Literature by Italo Calvino. Found Magazine.

Bow Wow Wow are touring this summer. Could things get any better?

The only writing I've been doing lately is in my journal. Maybe I've been reading too much Anais Nin.

It's 80 degrees in Boston today. I can't even begin to express how wonderful this is.

Dancing at the MW tonight. Could things be any better? I guess I only feel this way because I haven't been reading the news lately.

An interesting twist.

Alright, record job growth is a good thing. Employment statistics, though, always seem so oddly calculated, and I often wonder what statements like "308,000 jobs created in March" mean. If the vast majority of those jobs created are low-paying jobs in retail, new job creation means crap to me. If the unemployment rate drops because people stop actively seeking work, well, that also means crap to me.

See, technically, I am gainfully employed. I work an average of 33 hours a week--full time. I bring home a regular (albeit wimpy) paycheck. And despite monthly struggles to pay rent, I actually live above the poverty line. But I didn't move to Boston intending to be a waitress. This isn't a career. I don't feel gainfully employed. In fact, I have spent the past year looking for a job, and only recently decided that it was too demoralizing to continue.

There are too many people in my position. People with years of education, people who have had careers, people with families to feed and clothe and shelter and whatnot. You can't take a job making minimum wage and expect to successfully support your family. Sometimes you can't even expect to successfully support yourself. Yet, taking the minimum wage job that doesn't even feel like a job automatically increases the number of gainfully employed citizens in the statistical ranks, and decreases the unemployment rate.

So I was curious, reading about these 308,000 new jobs, what exactly those jobs entailed. This website answered that question quite well. And while retail-oriented service jobs were not the vast majority of new jobs created, I am still feeling bewildered and frustrated by how these statistics are created and manipulated in the electoral political process.

Sigh. At least I live above the poverty line.

Hm. So, can I have her job? I think this would be my dream come true...

Well this is awfully exciting, or at least it will be at noon today. Or at least it might be awfully exciting. I heart Al Franken, so at least there's that.

I am too ridiculously tired this morning. But--wait! There were no 6.30 am jackhammers!!! Jesus obviously loves me.

This is pretty interesting. The explication can feel a little long-winded if you're already well-versed in the viscissitudes of political opinion. But it's cool nonetheless.

Apparently, I fall pretty far to the liberal-economic and libertarian-social policy side of things. Not surprising at all.

If this kind of thing were happening in the U.S., I might be more convinced that we were doing something significant to fight terrorism. I doubt that the reason we're not seeing these kinds of arrests is the absence of U.S.-based terrorists. We are focusing our fight on "terror" internationally, rather than trying to protect ourselves at home.

We are doing nothing right.

I can't decide whether Bush's apparent sense of humour irks me or pleases me. That's all I have to say about that.

This lady, however, definitely pleases me.

I'm obviously not at peak performance this morning. Yeah, I got nothin.'

No time to write anything witty or even halfway interesting. But I sure love this picture. I'm not sure why.

And as a little bit of hope before I go off to bed, with thoughts that maybe I, too, will do something with my life some day.

Political stance as brand loyalty? While reading this article on Al Franken and the new liberal talk radio network, I came across this interesting quote:

"...others at the network are less comfortable embracing the L word [uh, liberal]. 'I think it's a brand that needs some revival, because it's been demonized,' [Mark]Walsh, [CEO of Air America] said. 'But it's very expensive to revive a brand, and it takes a long time.'"

Ahh, the mall of political opinion, where the battle between Democrat and Republican ultimately comes down to a question of brand strength. I need to reread Naomi Wolf.

I'm not sure if I really read this. I'm a little frightened. Without a trace of irony! I mean, it is USA Today, but still!

Finally. These hearings should have taken place a long time ago. I've read quite a few things pointing out how much the Bush administration knew about possible Al Qaida attacks, and how little they did with that information, and I've been disgusted that none of this information was being closely examined.

Of course, baseless and ridiculous "rebuttals" are already coming from the White House regarding accusations made by Richard Clarke, former counterterrorism official. Here's an excerpt from the Times article:

"Mr. Clarke, who served under Mr. Bush and former President Bill Clinton, says the United States waged 'an unnecessary and costly war in Iraq' that served to stir Islamic militants around the world. He is scheduled to testify before the panel on Wednesday.

The White House has called his accusations 'deeply irresponsible' and on Monday deployed several members of the administration, including Vice President Dick Cheney, to rebut Mr. Clarke's charges. The White House also noted that Mr. Clarke's accusations come during an already heated presidential election campaign, suggesting that the motivation was politics and not policy."

The White House statements somehow perfectly encapsulate everything stupid about the administration. The war in Iraq DID stir Islamic militants around the world, and the extent to which they've been stirred is only becoming more and more obvious lately (Madrid, anyone?). The necessity of the Iraq war has yet to be proved, and, well damn, it certainly was costly. The White House accusation of Clarke's "irresponsibility" invokes all kinds of scary Big Brother-esque feelings in me, the claim being that any questioning of government actions is irresponsible and potentially traitorous.

I don't quite know how Cheney and the other members are going to rebut Clarke's charges--they are kind of un-rebuttable. Even the Washington Post writes: "The campaign's defense strategy was that although Clarke could not be roundly refuted on the facts, enough doubt about the issue could be raised by portraying him as reckless and partisan." Yup, that's the tactic. "Well, we can't actually contest anything he said, because he's right, so let's just make him look bad instead." That's some real strong policy-based decision making right there. Not politically motivated at all.

And oddly enough, it is always the White House jumping up and accusing everyone of being "politically motivated" during this election year. It's like the panacea response to the valid questions being raised: "You're politically motivated." It's a cop out, a veil being pulled across the administration, obviating the need for a real response. It's pissing me off.

I want them out of office. I don't just want them out of office. I want them investigated, impeached, properly accused of distorting democracy and twisting the constitution all around and generally being scary, lying, bad, bad men. A simple request, I think. If Clinton can be impeached for getting head, Bush can be impeached for, oh, I don't know, stealing the election and lying to the American people and threatening our national security. Just for starters.

Last night, at the drag king show downstairs, I was reminded of what a musical genius George Michael truly is (and not just musical; check out his facial hair artistry, too). You doubt the veracity of my statement, but oh, you don't know. You'd think four or five George Michael songs in one night would be enough to send a girl home, but no, no. Instead, I found myself revelling in the sheer pop brilliance. Maybe it was the Maker's and coke I was drinking...

The show itself was phenomenal, as usual. All the King's Men are such a well-tuned and practiced group, it's mind blowing. Seeing them rock the dance from Thriller, in perfect unison and with such intense energy and skill, wow. Yeah. They are hot stuff.

Obsessed with The Decemberists. It's making me happy. I have these songs stuck in my head all day.

I have three days off. This is unheard of. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with myself, but I think I should stay far away from the MW. I feel like I live there.

I was reading this article in Gourmet magazine the other day about Montmartre, and my urge to live abroad was born anew. My urge to live in Montmartre specifically. But more than that, the article made me realize anew something about myself: how strong my desire is for pattern, for familiarity. I go to the same cafe, the same bar, the same restaurant, day in and day out. And I always give myself shit for being so unspontaneous, so predictable. But there are some places (like Montmartre) where this is the way people live. And knowing that, I feel less shamed for my own predictability. So you'll see me tomorrow at the June Bug, drinking my double short americano, sitting in my chair and reading, just as you saw me yesterday. And don't give me shit, because it's fine with me. And I'll be doing the same thing in Montmartre. But I'll be speaking French.

Adventures in cable modeming. Is modeming a verb? I think not.

After minor trials and tribulations, I think I'm officially up and running. And daunted, once again, by my sheer lack of tech-knowledge. It's sad, really. After having been raised in a family of computer junkies and technerds, I should know much, much more than I actually do. Maybe dad was right, and I should have studied computer engineering.

Um, no.

This page looks really appalling, and I apologize to my potential two readers, because it will likely be a little while before it looks somewhat decent. I am one of those people who feels the need to know everything before I can start working in a project. Hence, I have this drive to learn all I can about graphics programs and web design before I really do anything major with this page. I'm trying to get over it.

This morning I get to host a field trip. A group of students coming to the restaurant at 11 am to learn about restaurants and eat pizza. I have to go to work early, I have to deal with 30 kids, and I'm not likely to get much of a tip. Sweet.

On the plus side, this is really amusing.

Plan for today: more website shtuffy shtuff. It's a frustrating project. I don't know enough. About anything.

I had about a million ideas for short stories last night, and seem to have forgotten them all by the time I woke up this morning. Damn drug-induced creativity.

More attempts at redesign, and the realization that I have no image editing software on this computer, as my trial versions have all run out. Does anyone have Photoshop I can recklessly and shamelessly steal from them?

I have to work for about 75 hours today. I hate Saturdays.

Attempts at redesign. Realizations that all prior knowledge of html has, again, disappeared. Patience required.

PS - It's still snowing.

I've been thinking a little bit about jealousy this morning. Specifically, the kind that tends to appear in the twists and turns of a sexual/romantical relationship. Specifically, the kind that tends to appear when you're not supposed to feel jealous, because you're not supposed to feel anything at all.

Is the first appearance of jealousy a sign that you're starting to have real feelings for someone? Or is it just a standard human response, something akin to dogs growling over bones, a base, selfish possessiveness that should be ignored? How can jealousy fit into a relationship that is supposed to be open, uncommitted, unemotional? What do you do with it when it rears its head?

A friend once told me he could never date me because he couldn't deal with the fact that I'm always "seeing other people." Jealousy doesn't often enter into my dating situations; it wouldn't be fair of me to feel jealous because Boy X is talking to some chick, when I'm over in the corner talking to Boy Y, would it? I think not.

So now that it's here, suddenly, this jealousy thing, what do I do with it? Where do I put it? Do I pay heed to it, as an indicator of my feelings? Or acknowledge that it's probably nothing more than that dog growling, and blithely ignore?

And was the FHM quiz right? Am I not a real woman? I've been hearing it lately: "You're not a girl, you don't act like a girl, you don't think like a girl." And then it's confirmed! By the obviously women-knowledgeable men at FHM! They must know! I'm not a girl. I knew there was something fishy going on.

Hm. I just read this article in the New York Times, a lengthy profile of a high school girl headlined "For a Promising but Poor Girl, a Struggle Over Sex and Goals." It's kind of scattered and unfocused, and not the most well-written thing I've read in the Times, but definitely interesting for what it says about poverty, about education, and about sexuality.

Just two things I found interesting: for all the discussion about teenage pregnancy, and the way it can completely derail lives and plans, there were only two mentions, both oblique and unexamined, of abortion. Teenage pregnancy wouldn't derail lives so much if those pregnancies were terminated more often. I'm a staunch supporter of abortion rights, and I think we need to be much more open and unafraid of abortion as an option. Unplanned pregnancies can fuck up your entire life, but they don't have to. I think it's interesting that the tone throughout this article paints pregnancy as some kind of looming monster waiting to attack if you let your guard down for even a moment, with no hope in sight once it does. When you realize abortion is an option, when you realize that you have control over your own body, pregnancy ceases to be such a threat. The entire tone of the article would have changed were abortion more frankly addressed. And I'm off my soap box now.

Oh, the other interesting thing, getting much shorter mention by me, but worth pondering: most teenage pregnancies are fathered by men much older than the pregnant girl. That is referred to in this article as "predatory." Maybe it is. It's also an historical precedent, and it's interesting that it hasn't changed much. Yet. Viva la revolucion!

Curse this cursed place. Yesterday, I sat out on the porch in bare legs, basking in the sun, sure that an early spring was ours. Today: snow. SNOW!!! Everyone warned me that it would happen again, but I refused to completely believe them. I was a fool!

Last night we had a fantastic DJ down at the MW, and I danced until 1 in the morning. It was exactly what I needed after what might have been the most stressful and confusing week of my life, and I woke up this morning feeling like a new person. Or mostly like a new person. Feeling better, at least. The DJ rocked the 80s hits in the best way, and when he wasn't behind the turntables, he was on the dance floor, impressing everyone mightily with his hot moves and his hot, hot pants. Or something. We wanted him.

now reading: A Civil Action by Jonathan Harr. Very fascinating, with lots of interesting lawyer stuff, and I love all the references to Boston.

(A note about linking to Amazon.com: yes, Amazon is a big corporate monster, endangering the little independent bookstores we all know and love. But look! You can buy books from independent booksellers through Amazon, and usually much cheaper! Wow!)

Media treatment of the Bush administration has been on my mind lately (blame Al Franken), so I found this Columbia Journalism Review article pretty interesting. Chris Mooney examines the way six American newspapers editorialized Bush's reasons for going to war in Iraq, and asks why there was so little skepticism regarding his claims of Iraq's nuclear programs and "imminent threats."

In discussing Powell's speech to the UN Security Council justifying a U.S. preemptive attack, Mooney writes:

...without appearing to weigh such contrary evidence, the U.S. papers all essentially pronounced Powell right, though they couldn’t possibly know for sure that he was. In short, they trusted him. And in so doing, they failed to bring even an elementary skepticism to the Bush case for war.

Why did the papers trust and defer? For most of them, notes Todd Gitlin, a Columbia journalism professor, “the default position seems to have been that the administration was well meaning — and that there was a tight logical connection between admirable purpose and clear fact.” Gitlin thinks the papers should have known otherwise at least from the time, in mid-2002, when it became clear that central players in the administration like Vice President Dick Cheney were devoted to war no matter what — and advocated proceeding without even bothering to win United Nations approval.

As a group, the papers failed to exercise skepticism at this exacting a level. It’s not that they should have magically intuited that Iraq didn’t have any weapons at all. They simply should have demanded more proof that they could verify with their own eyes.

In large part, I think this is the problem with media handling of the Bush administration in general. Too much blind faith, too little doubt. And perhaps, in this age of neo-McCarthyism, too much fear of appearing to attack a "war president."

Newspapers are supposed to be our watchdogs. At least, I always assumed that was their most significant role. Journalists are supposed to research, ask questions, blow whistles and ring bells and notify the American people when things are not quite right. So why are they all laying down and begging like good little doggies?

This column from the New Yorker helps explain it a little bit, although the article by Auletta that they refer to is much better. I can't find it online (curses!), but it's worth tracking down.

I think I'm going to go read Al Franken. At least that makes me laugh.

now playing: Radiohead, "Hail to the Thief" (the title of which always makes me think of our esteemed president)

It's not a big surprise that Kerry is now assured of the Democratic nomination. I think that's been clear from the first caucuses and primaries, and personally, I think he's an excellent choice. Of course, the reasons I think he's an excellent choice are not necessarily reasons that ensure he'll beat Georgie in November. But I wish they were.

One of the biggest complaints I've heard about Kerry is that he's "wishy-washy." One of Bush's greatest "strengths," of course, is his "integrity," his tough and unchanging stances on just about everything. Bush knows he's right from the start, and won't change his mind for anything. The saddest thing is that that kind of integrity is the last kind a national leader needs.

I like Kerry because he's intelligent and rational. He is willing to look at all sides of an issue, and willing to admit when he's wrong. The Bush team holds up Kerry's founding of Vietnam Veterans Against the War as a character flaw, showing that his service in the war was ultimately meaningless. They miss the point entirely. I think it's admirable that after seeing the pointless destruction in Vietnam, he had the courage to come back and oppose it. If anyone had the right to protest that war, it was those men sent to fight it.

Those who say Kerry is wishy-washy are not acknowledging that legislation and politics require debate, negotiation, and compromise. Our current President doesn't get it, and I think that is his biggest flaw. We need a leader who is willing to be diplomatic, willing to recognize that sometimes the other side is right, and I think Kerry is that person. Whether that means he can beat Bush is debatable. Apparently, Americans don't want an intelligent president.

In other news, I am still being a lazy bum.

Some good books I've read lately: Against Love: A Polemic by Laura Kipnis (everyone should read this immediately; look for a more lengthy review soon), Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man by Susan Faludi (again), The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time by Mark Haddon (very unique and quite excellent), Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them by Al Franken (I heart Al Franken. I heart this book).

I will be attempting to tackle Jameson's Postmodernism: The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism. I might become a communist threat to the nation, so please, beware.

Ok, my website is languishing. I am a lazy, lazy bum. Even I can't believe I haven't written anything since April. It's pathetic, really. I think almost daily about doing a whole re-design with new content and blah blah blah...and then I sit on the couch reading books for a few more hours until I fall asleep. Jeorb.

It's not as though I'm super busy doing other things. I am working a lot more at the Bella Luna. And I'm still engaged in the endless and fruitless job search.

Is it uncouth to email a potential employer after he's rejected you to ask for a second chance?

I just finished reading Hemingway's "A Farewell to Arms." Can someone please explain to me what the big deal is about Hemingway? Pete told me yesterday that Hemingway was a fraud.

I've managed to work my way through all the books I got recently, though. Any recommendations?

I have nothing interesting to say.

San Diego was swell. Even though I got the flu in the last two days I was there, and my head is still all weirdly pressurized from the stupid airplane. And it's New Year's Eve and I pretty much feel like crappy pants. Bleah.

It was colder than it was supposed to be, for which I curse the weather gods.

I didn't really get to hang out with anyone, because I was too busy trying to hang out with everyone. But it was still good to see all the peeps, if not to have any actual conversations.

Nunu's is exactly the same, which is mostly why I love it.

I got to see the Pacific Ocean, which will hopefully tide me over until the next time I get to see the Pacific Ocean.

I put way too much mint in the mashed potatoes, so they were kind of like toothpaste mashed potatoes.

I still feel like crappy pants.

Yay New Year's.

Why doesn't Andie end up with Duckie at the end of Pretty in Pink? I can't fathom how someone with a crooked face who never says anything interesting wins out over The Duck Man.

The hair. The shoes. The amazing dancing skills. I would pick Duckie anyday. No question.

Cursing Massachusetts:

Apparently, one cannot buy beer or wine on Thanksgiving Day.

I now have to appear at my friend's mother's house empty handed, because I somehow doubt she would appreciate leftover pizza or macaroni and cheese.

Massachusetts is dumb.

Things I am obsessed with right now: The All-Music Guide, Echo & the Bunnymen, Red Stripe with a lime, learning to play pool, Bookbuilders of Boston, V-8, J. Crew jeans, Sondre Lerche, cursing Massachusetts, vodka marinara, weather, The Mittens, bad 80s movies, California, socks, clean sheets, reading The Shining, The Art of the Mix, Neutrogena Body Oil, "Pass the Dutchie," grocery stores, jangly guitar pop c. 1992, Scrabble.

And this is why I love Ms. Alice. How I miss my slutty friends! How I miss the sharing of indelicate details, the casual sex, the addition of notches on the bedpost! The excitement of ending up in bed unexpectedly with someone new and unknown, the discovery of an unfamiliar body. Oh Christ, it's been too long.

Back in Santa Cruz, I was surrounded by sluts, sluts who had no compunction, no remorse, no regret. Sluts who weren't out looking for "something more." Who didn't agonize over whether they slept with him "too soon," whether he'll call or why he hasn't. Awesome, awesome ladies who got some because they wanted some and never looked back. Goddammit, where are my girlies? Why am I now surrounded by women who, while very cool in very many ways, really, really just want a boyfriend? I think that even if I did get laid, I wouldn't want to tell any of them about it, because they wouldn't understand if I didn't give a damn whether I ever saw him again, they wouldn't understand if I didn't remember his name, they would just give me that look. That look they give me when I know they think I'm from another planet.

The fact, though, is this: I'm picky, and I'm not likely to meet someone I actually want a relationship with anytime soon. Why in hell should I let that stop me from getting laid? And why doesn't anyone out here understand that?

Oh, Alice, how I miss you, you salacious, slutty slammerkin.

Interesting statistic of the day:

"With unemployment rates among young people soaring, about 40 percent of recent college graduates intend to move back home." - BusinessWeek

Cheerful thought, isn't it?

The job search is so debilitating. I don't even want to talk about it.

I can't believe it's already November. My mom used to tell me that when I was older, I would wish time didn't pass so quickly, I would wish to be a kid again. Of course I didn't believe her, because I think you're never supposed to believe anything your mom tells you until you're old enough. And as with most other things she told me, she was right. However, I still get carded to buy cigarettes, so obviously I don't yet look older than 18. Sweet.

I read a great book last night: The Blue Bedspread by Raj Kamal Jha. It is sweet, and sad, and lovely, and haunting. A man spends a night writing the stories of his family for his newly orphaned, one-day-old baby niece, who sleeps on a blue bedspread, a bedspread that threads its way through his stories. They are full of circular images, phrases that repeat, quietly, here and there. If you're looking for plot, or traditional narrative, or a book that will answer all of your questions at the end, you won't find it here. You will find, instead, something heartbreaking and diffuse, but beautiful nonetheless.

I have also been reading the stories of Paul Bowles, but I'm not quite sure how I feel about them yet.

I watched Focus last night, and likewise, I'm not sure how I feel about it yet.

I think I'm getting stupid.

I just spent way too much time discovering the strangeness of newsgroups. There are about a gazillion usenet newsgroups out there. How is one to decide between alt.dirty.whores and alt.fan.dan-quayle? What is the point? Why are people so endlessly specific in their interests? I'm intriqued. Of course, I had to subscribe to the alt.beer newsgroup, and the alt.cynicism group, and who could neglect alt.culture.theory? I'll probably be bored with all this in about three days.

I'm still not bored with Friendster, though.

I am bored with looking for a job. I just pray that I won't have to be doing this periodically still when I'm in my forties. Cause it sucks.

We're going to see School of Rock tomorrow. John Vanderslice this weekend. Death Cab next weekend. Oh the joy.

The New England autumn is definitely upon us. It's getting cold and I don't have nearly enough sweaters. I went to New Hampshah last weekend, and it was lovely, despite the fact that it rained the entire time. I saw a loon. And leaves that were a strange red color. We don't have those in Cafilornia.

Speaking of Cafilornia, it's certain now: I can never move back. Why, you ask? It should be obvious.

Last night my housemates and I went to Target. This was a very exciting field trip we had been planning for weeks. You scoff at the excitement level of a trip to Target, but you underestimate its magic and allure. Target is far away, out in the wilds of Somerville, so this trip was an undertaking akin to Conrad's journey into the heart of the jungle. We got lots of neat stuff, including (are you sitting down? This is very thrilling.) a crock pot! Yay crock pots! Or, as the French call them, mijoteuses. Yeahhh. Hours (and hours and hours) of slow cooking joy await the girls of 31 A Asticou Road.

The Red Sox are down two games, and Boston is holding one big collective breath. I didn't realize people could take baseball this seriously. But I'm all wrapped up myself, so I can't really laugh at them. It's exciting, and the Yankees should lose because the Yankees are bad for baseball. And the Red Sox are good because...because...well, they won't tell me the reason, but I'm sure they have one.

I finally watched Citizen Kane last night, after borrowing it from Will about 4 months ago and promising everytime I saw him that I would watch it that week. So, it was really good. It was really long. But it was great! And I feel like a better person for having seen it.

I've been hugely antisocial lately and I don't really know why. I don't go out anymore, ever. I only hang out with two people, besides my housemates, and we only ever sit around watching movies. Everytime I do venture out of doors to a pub or restaurant or something, I spend the whole time wanting to go home. Is something wrong with me? For anyone who knows me at all, this is highly unusual. Maybe I've been taken over by strange alien lifeforms. Domestic, homebody lifeforms. It's a possibility.

Mmmm. I'm still basking in the glow of our Target adventure. Target. Yeahhh.

When I created this whole web log thing I never intended it to usurp the main writing I was supposed to do for this site. I obviously underestimated my own laziness. It's amazing, really. You'd think that after 24 years I would know my own laziness backwards and forwards, and never give it the benefit of the doubt. You'd be wrong.

It's not that I sit and stare at the walls. I've been reading all kinds of books. And watching all kinds of movies.

I was working on a very cool book for Beacon.

Yeah, alright, I'm a lazy bum.

Alright, I suppose it's about time that I do some updatin'. Life in Boston has been lovely recently, but I haven't had much to say. It's starting to turn into fall, about which I can't decide if I'm happy or scared. I quit my job at the crappy cafe, although I am still waitress extraordinaire at Bella Luna. How could I give up those $2 beers?

The exciting thing is that I'm a bona fide freelancer. So what if right now I'm only getting typing assignments? Typing is exciting...or something. It's my plan to pick up some copyediting assignments soon, so I've been spending a lot of my time perusing the Chicago Manual of Style (you know I'm a dork because I find it genuinely interesting), and talking to my compatriots at Beacon Press. They have been awesome to me there, and are teaching me many and varied important publishing things. It's swell.

I've been watching lots of movies (I just watched Bull Durham for the million and twelfth time; it was great), and playing with my fancy new 'puter, and burning CDs like a banshee on fire. Yeah. Anyway, my music collection is expanding exponentially. I'm a music thief!!! Mwah ha ha ha ha!

I have plans to revise the main and important parts of this website, and will have plenty of free time in the coming week to do so. So just you wait. It'll be so exciting. You'll pee your pants, that's how exciting it's going to be. Mmm hm.

"I take a breath,
pull the air in til there's nothing left.
I'm feeling green,
like teenage lovers between the sheets.

Knuckles clenched to white
as the landing gear detract for flight.
My head's a balloon,
inflating with the altitude.

I watch the patchwork farms
slow fade
into the ocean's arms.
From here they can't see me stare;
the stale taste of recycled air.
Calm down, release your cares;
the stale taste of recycled air."

-The Postal Service

A pile of random zines mysteriously appeared on our coffee table the other night. I used to be a zine addict, but sometime during my second year of college, when I no longer had the time or energy to create my own, my addiction faded and I really haven't even glimpsed one since then. I had kind of forgotten all about them. And now, this mysterious pile of them in our living room.

A lot of them are just amazing and beautiful. There are lovely silkscreened covers and fancy typography and one has a tiny envelope pasted to the inside backcover, with another tiny zine inside, closed up with little silver star sticker. So much energy, and time, and dedication, and creativity put into intricate projects for no real reason whatsoever. I loved this little corner of the world, these people. I miss it all. I remember that there was a time in my life when I actually did things.

Now I just sit around on the couch and read books all day. I don't create anything. Nothing original or interesting comes out of my head.

I can't decide if reading all these mystery zines is making me happy and excited to do something again, or just sad and even more exhausted.

Why do I feel like such an old lady?

Oh if I could only find the time, the energy, the mental prowess, to write. Something...anything. I can't even write a decent email anymore. I no longer have anything interesting whatsoever to say. According to some people, I never did have anything interesting to say, but I know those people (and you know who you are) were really just jealous of my eloquence and wit. So ha.

You have nothing to be jealous of anymore, however, as both the eloquence and wit have disappeared.

Just go read the news, it's much better than this. And then come back and tell me what's happening in the world, as I no longer pay any attention. Yeah, theeeeanks.

I'd give my big toe to get out of going to work today. These 11 hour days are kicking my arse to hell and back, and I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it up.

I interviewed for an Editorial Assistant position yesterday. This is the job I moved here for, this is the company I moved here to work with, I want it so badly it's like an itch somewhere deep in my brain that I can't scratch, and I think I really fucked up the the interview. Oy. I am quite possibly the world's worst interviewee. I'm going to be a waitress forever, I can feel it.

Shoot me.

I think I realized why I feel so at home in Boston, why I loved it almost instantly. Boston clings as tenaciously to its history as I do to mine. It feeds on its history, it obsesses over its history, it seizes every opportunity to talk about its history and point out significant features and events. History settles over the landscape of Boston like a fine, golden dust. Things that are happening right now in Boston are already history; you can almost hear the city figuring out how it's going to tell the story later on, in the future.

I am the same way. Me and Boston, we're like soulmates.

I work way too much. Way, way too much. And when I'm not at work I'm usually too tired to do much of anything besides sleep. I haven't written anything in I don't even know how long, and it's taking me over two weeks to read one measly book (About Town: The New Yorker and the World it Made), which is unprecedented. But by some kind of blessed miracle, I have tomorrow off. ('Yes,' most of you are probably thinking 'of course she does, it's the 4th of July.' You've obviously never worked in the food service industry.)

I turn 24 on Sunday. Half of the time I feel like I'm still 13. The other half, I feel 80. Does anyone ever feel like they are the age they are most of the time? Is it some kind of weird generational glitch that people my age feel like it's impossible for us to grow up? And is it ok for me to hate all those people who were published in The New Yorker by the time they were my age?

I'm starting to doubt that I'll ever be a writer. I guess I'm starting to doubt a lot of things. Like my sanity.

But to answer my own pondering non-question of the last post: I love Boston. I remembered it the minute I got on the train coming back from the airport. I don't really know why, but I love Boston intensely. Is that strange?

Hm. I still need more coffee.

I'm heading back to Massachusetts. Sweaty humid goodness...yeehaw.

Kick me in the arse if you will, but I'm starting to wonder what the hell I'm doing out there.

I know I couldn't live in Santa Cruz anymore. I know I love Boston, and it's good that I live there, and I don't regret it in the slightest. But...

Hm. I need coffee.

Ahhh California. I am beginning to realize that even if I never come back to reside in this state, it will always, always be home. And despite my all too frequent complaints about Santa Cruz, it has an insurmountable charm. Sitting in the Poet and Patriot yesterday afternoon I realized that, while Boston may be the US capitol of Irish pubs, the Poet blows them all away. I fear I may never find a pub as great as that one. Le sigh.

Everything is the same, and yet slightly, almost imperceptibly not. I feel at home and yet displaced. It's strange, but I'm still happy to be here. I got my tasty nachos, I saw my favorite Zachary's peeps, I got to drink beer in the Rush Inn and complain about the fact that it's being overrun by hipsters, and the weather...oh, the weather. It's fantastic.

But I'm tired and hungover, and I have to get ready to eat excellent Chinese food tonight (once you've eaten at the O'mei, no other Chinese food will satisfy you, I promise you that). I don't care what I say, I heart Santa Cruz. We just have a very volatile relationship.

I'm heading out to Santa Cruz tomorrow YAY!! Four whole days of normal California weather (where it stops raining when spring is over), and bars I can still smoke in (in Santa Cruz they know when laws are meant to be broken), and Mexican food! Real, live Mexican food!!! And Kathy! And Kim! And Mikey! Oh my!

In the meantime, I've been trying to write, but I'm wondering if maybe I just have to hang up my hat (er, pen?) and realize once and for all I'm not really a writer. I guess I'll have four whole days to ponder this, too.

From the joys of unemployment to the wonders of overemployment. The fun never ends. I've been working my arse off, but it's really not bad. After the first 10 hours you can't even feel your feet anymore, so it doesn't really matter that they hurt. And the delirium from lack of a sleep makes trying to give water to 13 people simulataneously feel like a very strange but entertaining game.

Actually, I'm really pretty happy with it all. I've met some very cool people, I'm making pretty good money, and my addiction to espresso is strong and healthy once again. Oh yeah, and I have a crush, which is always fun. I haven't had a crush on anyone interesting in along time. I forgot how exciting and silly they are, with all the giddiness and the flirting and the telling your friends how very, very cool Super Person X is (yeah, I'm stealing that from Crystal. Thanks Crystal.). Hee hee hee. I feel like a 15 year old. It's great.

The only thing that is stupid in my life right now is that I'm supposed to be in a field with thousands of people listening to Radiohead. Field Day Fest was cancelled, the bastards. They cancelled it on Wednesday. I was supposed to go see the Matthew Barney show at the Guggenheim, too, but no Field Day, no trip to New York. Stupid stupid.

Even that's really ok, though. At least now I have a few days to recuperate and sit on the couch watching old episodes of Sex and the City. And I get to hang out with Crystal. And I get to sleep.

New reviews should be up soon. For now, I'm going to go drink more coffee and read the paper. I heart Saturday mornings.

I have now rejoined the ranks of the gainfully employed. Yeehaw! Not only did I get a job, I got TWO jobs. I'll be your friendly waitperson at Bella Luna, and the person who aids and abets you in your caffeine addiction at Torrefazione.

It's been awhile since I've done the customer service thing, and I think it's going to take me a few more days to readjust, but so far I like it a lot. And service jobs are definitely more conducive to meeting people than temping in an office somewhere; I already heart my coworkers. So yeah, I'm a happy kitty.

And the $2 beers at the Milky Way don't hurt, either.

Oh yeah, and I get to go back to Santa Cruz for a few days. My excitement is boundless. Kathy is my goddess. Kathy, if you're reading this, you are my goddess. God. Dess. Those of you at the Rush Inn...be forewarned. I'm coming back. Mwah ha ha ha ha!!!

I'm doing my best not to let the thrills of unemployment get the best of me. I'm putting up a semi-decent fight. I think.

I just started an internship at Beacon Press, and this internship was one of the things that I had high hopes about before I even got out to Boston, so that's a good thing. It's one day a week, unpaid, but even after only one day I feel like I've learned new things. I'm excited just to be there. And I just hope I meet all those important people I could potentially meet who could potentially find me a real, live job some day. I'll just have to brush up on my networking skills. Or something. Yeah.

And I'm pretty sure I got a job at this coffee shop down on Newbury Street, Torrefazione. The manager told me that I was basically hired, but that, due the changing student schedules and all that other fun, end of school year stuff, he doesn't yet know when or how often he's going to need me. So I just have to sit tight for a week or two (hopefully only for a week or two) and then I'll be back behind the counter, your friendly espresso queen once again. I'm actually kind of excited about the prospect of working in a coffee shop again. I really miss it.

I'm heading down to the bookstore this afternoon to beg for a job. Wish me luck.

God all this job search stuff is boring. Sorry. I promise to be more entertaining next time.

So, the company I interviewed with didn't hire me. And the temp place kicked my arse the curb. Apparently my distaste for the job was more apparent than I thought. So I have joined the ranks of the unemployed. I actually just found out that said company didn't hire me, so I'm still in the early stages of disappointment and I'm feeling more than a little deflated.

Good thing we have Spinal Tap to watch tonight.

I moved all the way across the country because I wanted to work in one specific industry. I want to be an editor, it's the only thing I really want to do in the world. I know I'm qualified, and I know I'd be damn good at it. I don't want to waste the hours of my day being an Administrative Assistant for some company I don't care about, or serving eggs to a bunch of snarky people who probably look down on me because they have great jobs and they assume I'm uneducated. I want to be an editor, and I wouldn't even mind starting out in the freakin mail room, or serving the boss coffee, as long as I was doing it in a publishing house. I'm not in college anymore and I don't want to the kinds of jobs I had when I was in college. And I'm pissed that I live in a time when people have to spend their whole lives working the kinds of jobs they had in college because there is nothing else out there.

Oy, I'm just venting because I'm frustrated. I'm trying to be optimistic, and even to look on the bright side of working in a restaurant or coffee shop- at least I'd be able to meet people, and possibly have some kind of social life again.

I'm not always this grumpy. I just want a job.