Wednesday, November 08, 2006

happy days are here again

At Antoinette’s parents’ house the other day, her father grabbed my left hand and pointed to my empty ring finger. “No, I’m not married,” I sighed. This happens nearly every time I see him. Aw, bless, after 20 years of knowing me, the poor guy is really eager to see me get hitched. He said to me, in his delightfully thick Italian accent, “You tall, you beautiful—why you not married?!” Ummm…maybe because I repel every man who isn’t an itinerant street lunatic? Just a thought.

Meanwhile, there is a lot to celebrate today, regarding last night’s poll returns! Here are a few of the reasons why I’m celebrating:
  • Democrats have seized the House and are poised to take over the Senate as well.
  • My state, Maryland, now has a Democratic governor, Martin O’Malley. This is especially good news to me because during his tenure, our current Republican governor, Robert Ehrlich, repealed Maryland’s 51-year ban on trophy hunting of black bears, the 280-year ban on Sunday hunting, and the centuries-long ban on crossbow hunting. Before he was governor, he voted in Congress to subsidize the trophy hunting of African elephants and give millions of dollars to the luxury coat industry, and he opposed legislation to protect dolphins from drowning in tuna fishing nets.
  • Michigan voters squashed Proposal 3, a measure that would have allowed mourning dove hunting.
  • Arizona voters overwhelmingly passed a historic initiative to improve the lives of farm animals—the Humane Treatment for Farm Animals Act.
  • South Dakotans rejected a law that would have banned virtually all abortions, and at least two state Senators who supported the ban (both men, go figure) were voted out of office.
  • Arizona became the first state to defeat an amendment to ban gay marriage.
  • Missouri voters approved a measure backing stem cell research and voted Sen. Jim Talent, who has consistently done poorly on animal welfare issues, out of office. He was replaced by Democrat Claire McCaskill, who supports stem cell research and is a strong animal welfare advocate.
  • Kansas voters rejected extremist attorney general Phill Kline, who attempted to seize women’s confidential medical records.
  • In pro-choice news, dangerous abortion restrictions for teens were rejected in Oregon; in Ohio, pro-choice, pro-family planning Governor Ted Strickland defeated Ken Blackwell, who supported legislation even more extreme than South Dakota’s abortion ban; in Wisconsin, women’s health champion Jim Doyle defeated Mark Green, who co-authored legislation allowing health care providers to deny women access to birth control.
  • We now have our first female speaker in the House of Representatives (Democrat Nancy Pelosi), our first Muslim congressman (Keith Ellison, D-Minnesota), our first socialist senator (Bernie Sanders, I-Vermont), and our first black northern governor (Deval Patrick, D-Massachusetts).
  • In California, Rep. Richard Pombo, once deemed the “leading opponent of animal welfare in Congress,” and Sen. Conrad Burns, another foe to animal welfare, were defeated.
  • In North Carolina, Rep. Charles Taylor (R), who had voted against nearly every animal welfare bill, including one to ban pornographic “crush” videos, was defeated. In Pennsylvania, Rep. Don Sherwood (R), another opponent of animal welfare issues, was also defeated.
  • Senator Rick Santorum was defeated in my home state of Pennsylvania. To his credit, Santorum was the lead author of legislation to crack down on puppy mills and he was a strong supporter of animal welfare issues. However, there are still lots of reasons why I was glad to see him go:
  1. He once tried (unsuccessfully) to insert language into the No Child Left Behind bill that sought to promote the teaching of intelligent design while questioning the academic standing of evolution in public schools. He described intelligent design as “a legitimate scientific theory that should be taught in science classes.”
  2. In 2003 he said, “Whether it’s polygamy, whether it’s adultery, whether it’s sodomy, all of those things are antithetical to a healthy, stable, traditional family” and “Every society in the history of man has upheld the institution of marriage as a bond between a man and a woman. Why? Because society is based on one thing: that society is based on the future of the society. And that’s what? Children. Monogamous relationships. In every society, the definition of marriage has not ever to my knowledge included homosexuality. … when you destroy that you have a dramatic impact on the quality.” He also said that sodomy laws exist to prevent acts that “undermine the basic tenets of our society and the family.”
  3. Regarding the Catholic Church sex abuse scandal, Santorum said the priests were engaged in “a basic homosexual relationship” with “post-pubescent men,” and added that he had “a problem with homosexual acts.” He added, “Priests, like all of us, are affected by culture. When the culture is sick, every element in it becomes infected. While it is no excuse for this scandal, it is no surprise that Boston, a seat of academic, political and cultural liberalism in America, lies at the center of the storm.”
  4. He believes that the right to privacy “doesn’t exist in my opinion in the United States Constitution.”
So now a staunchly Republican president will being going head-to-head with a Democratic Congress. Will this create a big, stagnant deadlock? Maybe so, but a deadlock is better than allowing Bush to continue his disastrous, rampant reign unimpeded!

There is some bad news, however. In Colorado the Domestic Partnership Initiative failed. Gay marriage bans passed in Idaho, South Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, and Wisconsin. Sen. Lincoln Chafee (R) of Rhode Island, co-author of legislation to stop the commerce in primates for the exotic pet trade, lost his reelection bid. Rep. John Sweeney (R), the lead author of legislation to ban horse slaughter, lost his bid for reelection in New York. And Rep. Charles Bass (R), a supporter of Sweeney’s horse slaughter bill and the lead author of legislation to protect Yellowstone bison, lost in New Hampshire.

Sigh.

But hey, at least Rumsfeld resigned! When that was announced, there were whoops and cheers heard throughout my office!


song heard most recently before posting: Longer Boats—Cat Stevens

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

poll-dancing

Today is Election Day, which means two things:

1) Democrats will hopefully seize power in Congress, and

2) The mudslinging ads on TV will finally stop! Yay!!!

I kick-started today by voting. And although the line at the polls was rather long, it did move at a fast clip—especially since I read one of my trashy British magazines while waiting in line.

Yesterday I took off work and went to Berryville, VA, for Antoinette’s baby’s christening. Afterwards there was some time-killing at her parents’ house, followed by a big, gorgeous after-party (theme: A Star is Born) at the Shenandoah Golf Club in Front Royal. Fittingly, this is where Antoinette and her husband had their wedding reception three years ago. Oh, it was so lovely, and I confess to getting teary-eyed when Antoinette and baby Luca had a mother-son dance to the song “I Hope You Dance”!


song heard most recently before posting: Big Day—XTC

Sunday, November 05, 2006

stoooopid

Not that there were any doubts about this, but I am officially the stooooopidest person alive. The American Film Institute’s annual European Union Showcase has begun, and I headed to the Silver Theater this afternoon to catch two of the films—one from Finland (Mother of Mine) and one from Germany (Requiem). The former was excellent and made me cry. Bonus? The director was there!! Nobody expected it, so it was a great treat. He gave a small talk before the film and after it started, he cut out so he could catch his flight back to Finland. Another bonus is the fact that a trio of Estonians was sitting behind me, happily chatting away in Estonian. I resisted the urge to say to them the only Estonian phrases I know: thank you, please, and I don’t eat meat.

After the film ended, I browsed through DSW and Borders and then returned to the cinema to wait for the second film to begin. I thought (thought being the operative word) there were only two theaters, and I wasn’t sure in which one Requiem would be playing, so I sat at a table between the two theaters, where I could keep an eye on both of them and wait for one of them to empty out, thus indicating where my film would be screening. I finished the book I’ve been reading, then started reading the latest issue of the Washington City Paper. I didn’t have a watch and there were no clocks around, but it seemed to be taking an awfully long time for one of the theaters to empty out and Requiem to begin. I should’ve only had to wait for an hour, tops, and it seemed like more than an hour passed. I don’t know why I didn’t ask an employee what was going on. Because I’m stupid, I guess.

Well, eventually one of the theaters emptied out and the screen outside the door continued to say Little Miss Sunshine, instead of changing over to Requiem, so I finally asked an employee what was going on. Turns out there was a third theater I didn’t know about, and that’s where my movie was showing. Also? It had begun an hour and a half ago. D’oh!!! God, was I kicking myself!

The good news is that the woman thoughtfully gave me a readmission pass, which means the $9.50 I spent on my ticket wasn’t spent in vain—I can go back to the Silver Theater and see another film without having to pay for it. There is a Czech film playing on Friday night that I want to see, so I’ll probably use the pass for that.

The bad news is that I lost my chance to see Requiem, since today’s showing was its final showing. Also, this weekend is one of the very, very few weekends when I didn’t have to work, and I’m pissed that I squandered my preciously rare free time by sitting in a dim cinema lobby when I could’ve been outside, enjoying the beautiful day, or lounging on my couch, savoring the pile of trashy magazines I brought back from London last month.

I think I need three kicks to the head right now, thank you very much.

song heard most recently before posting: Intergalactic—Beastie Boys

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

I’m not a nurse!

Happy Halloween!!!

(and happy 5th anniversary, Annida and Dan!)


The verdict’s in: I’ve got conjunctivitis in both eyes. I took off work yesterday because my eyes looked horrific. I called my GP’s office and was told that she’d try to squeeze me in at 5:30pm. So I spent the day watching stuff I’d taped the night before, reading (although it was a bit difficult, because of my swollen, blurry eyes), and chatting with Angela. At my doctor’s office I kept my eyes downcast so the other people in the waiting room wouldn’t see my deformed-looking eyes. The nurse actually flinched when she saw me!! And my doctor took all of five seconds to diagnose severe conjunctivitis. She gave me a prescription and I promptly went to CVS to fill it, and while waiting for it to be ready, I browsed through the store, eyes trained on the floor, praying that nobody would notice them. I’m far from vain (I have no qualms with going out in public in my pajamas with unwashed hair, for example), but this was ridiculous—I looked like a monster!

I’m still infectious but I came to work anyway—mostly because the medicine is helping to make my eyes look more normal. I’m trying to be careful, washing my hands repeatedly and avoiding touching too much beyond my cubicle walls so I don’t infect my coworkers. It’s selfish, I s’pose, but I’d rather save my sick days for times when I really feel sick. And aside from my eyes, I do feel fine. Plus Tuesdays are when my upstairs neighbors watch their grandchild (the one who does nothing except run endless laps on their hardwood floors and periodically shriek), and the thought of spending the entire day listening to those endless thumping footfalls kind of roiled my stomach.

On Saturday night my conjunctivitis went into remission long enough to allow me to go to Georgetown in costume (I was a Soviet prostitute) with my coworker Susan. For my costume I wore my knee-high platform boots; fishnets; a red miniskirt (I bought a skirt at the Salvation Army and chopped it short); a white shirt, unbuttoned halfway, with a black pushup bra beneath it; a military cap covered in Russian badges and merit pins, which I bought in St. Petersburg; my neon pink wig; the Soviet watch I bought at an army-navy store in high school (when the Soviet Union still existed!); a Lenin pin commemorating the 60th anniversary of the Soviet revolution, which I bought at a Helsinki flea market; and a red tie made out of old fabric, with a hand-drawn hammer and sickle on it.

Nobody knew what I was supposed to be—not that I can blame them! One dude thought I was La Femme Nikita, and a few people thought I was a nurse. Still, despite their confusion, the costume was a hit with all the drunken frat boys roaming the streets! A couple of them even snapped my picture!








me in Georgetown,
looking drunk, even
though
I wasn’t





trying the prostitute-
with-glasses
angle






song heard most recently before posting:
Night on Bald Mountain—Modest Mussorgsky

Friday, October 27, 2006

Tagalogs or KGB-alogs?

Happy Birthday, Skevy Leavens!!!!

(And Sylvia Plath, too!)

Oh, Rush Limbaugh, how staggeringly mature and professional you are, making fun of a Parkinson’s sufferer on your show. I haven’t seen that much maturity since I witnessed heartless mockery on the playground back in elementary school. When you were deaf, I’m sure you would’ve loved it if someone had returned the favor.

Oh, how I long to whack him repeatedly on the back of the neck with a roll of quarters. He is condemning Michael J. Fox for “exploiting” his disease for political gain (ie, using it to help pro-stem cell politicians get in office). Is that what Fox is really doing? If so, what does it matter? As long as he is the one doing the exploiting, and someone else isn’t doing it to him, why is this an issue? If I were a celebrity with a disease, and going on TV to throw my support behind Senator So-and-So—who supports stem cell research—meant that a cure could conceivably be found, I would exploit the hell out of my disease. If that’s what it takes to help bring about a cure, so be it!

Limbaugh made a snide comment about Fox stopping his medication before filming the ad in order to maximize his tremors. Fox has since publicly stated that he was actually overmedicated when he shot the ad—not undermedicated. This is just my personal opinion, and I could be completely wrong, but I thought Limbaugh’s comment smacked of dismissive arrogance, like, “Oh, just go take your medicine and shut up about your tremors and this stem cell nonsense. If you took your medicine like you were supposed to, you wouldn’t have to worry about any of this.” As if the medication’s existence justifies keeping stem cell research limited and a cure in the distant future. I can honestly see Rush thinking, “Well, you have your medication to stop the tremors, so why are you bellyaching about needing a cure?”

Oh, and yeah, Limbaugh did apologize later (“So I will bigly, hugely admit that I was wrong, and I will apologize to Michael J. Fox, if I am wrong in characterizing his behavior on this commercial as an act, especially since people are telling me they have seen him this way on other interviews and in other television appearances”), which is a step in the right direction, I suppose, but I still don’t buy his apology as being altruistic. I think he was just trying to cover his ass, because so many people were disgusted by his comments.

Anyway. In lighter news, I just got back from a lunchtime jaunt to the Salvation Army, where I picked up a skirt for Saturday’s Halloween costume. I had to take my Soviet hat in there with me, to ensure the skirt matched the hat perfectly, and when I was paying for the skirt, the cashier asked, “Is that a Girl Scout hat?” Ha! Da, I am a Girl Scout who earned her merit badges in oppression, propaganda, and forced labor. Please, buy my Girl Scout cookies; they are made with the finest flour milled by gulag prisoners. Спасибо! She won my respect, though, because she complimented my skulls-and-cherries purse, which I bought in London last month!



song heard most recently before posting: Wednesday Morning, 3am—Simon & Garfunkel

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

I DON’T have Bette Davis eyes

I think I may have developed an eye infection. On Monday night I barely slept, and when I woke up on Tuesday my eyes were somewhat swollen, gunky, scaly, and bloodshot. Grody. I chalked it up to not getting enough sleep (that always does weird things to my body), but last night I slept okay and this morning my eyes were still bothering me. I mentioned it to my boss, because I didn’t want him to think my eyes were bloodshot from me drinking or crying all night, and he mentioned that our permanent temp had pink eye last week. How did I fail to notice this?? I haven’t had pink eye since I was in junior high. Let’s hope I don’t break that record now. I’m going to watch it for a day or two and then call my doctor if my eyes still haven’t cleared up. They do look better today, but they’re still kind of mortifying.

Last night I went to the mall to buy a baptism gift for Antoinette and drop off my Fisheye film at Ritz, and I was immediately accosted by charity workers (from MercyCorps) trying to pull in money for tsunami and Darfur victims. The only problem is, they weren’t actually taking donations. Instead, they want people to sign up to automatically give $31 every month via credit card. Well, it’s physically impossible for me to say no to anybody, so I ended up handing over my credit card. I’m not comfortable having them pull money off my card every month indefinitely, so what I’m going to do is let it go through for a few months and then cancel it. I know how selfish that sounds, but I’d rather spread my donations around, you know?

Before heading to Ritz I stopped at Forever 21, even though I knew I’d regret it, because that store is like crack to me (you couldn’t pay me to wear some of their stuff, while other items just fly off the racks and into my hands). My love of this store is quite unusual, because normally I avoid malls and do 99% of my clothing shopping at secondhand shops, vintage stores, and Target. Sure enough, I walked out of Forever 21 $117 poorer. But good lord, it was so worth it. I bought three dresses and a blouse, and one of the dresses makes me feel like a sexy mothafucka. That is no small feat, ladies and gentlemen!


song heard most recently before posting: Overs—Simon & Garfunkel

Sunday, October 22, 2006

HALLELUJAH!

Sunday morning, 9am. I am asleep (of course!), happily tucked beneath my duvet with at least one snoozing cat astride me. It doesn’t last. Why? I think y’all know the chorus by now: it’s the sound of one of my upstairs neighbors, D—, screaming “HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! OHHHH GLORY! HALLELUJAH! THANK YOU, JESUS! THANK YOU, JESUS! HALLELUJAH!” This took place in recurring spurts between 9–10:30am, when I finally rolled out of bed (and no, I really didn’t get to sleep during that time, courtesy of the screams). Just another day in my lovely home.

Yesterday I was bitten by something—I don’t know what—and the pain was so intense, it literally caused me to stagger into a tree and fear that I was about to drop dead, a la Steve Irwin and his stingray barb. Half of my hand swelled up and it took a while for the pain and swelling to subside. No death, though. At night, when I was reading in bed, my eyes were persistently foggy for no good reason, and again, I was paranoid that the bite was going to cause imminent blindness. I really, honestly feared that I was going to wake up blind on Sunday morning. It didn’t happen, thankfully...so...HALLELUJAH! OH GLORY! THANK YOU JESUS HALLELUJAH!



song heard most recently before posting: Mimi’s Heart Muted—Yoko K.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

if I had a Eurail pass right now...

Some quick events that caught my eye, but which I can’t attend, because they’re all in Europe:

Winterthur’s Photography Museum and the new Swiss Photography Foundation stand on an old factory site, forming Europe’s largest photograpic center. The venue is dedicated to contemporary photography as an art form and as a visual document of reality.

From December 1 until December 3 the Romanian Peasant’s Museum will host its famous Christmas Market.

Eero Saarinen: Shaping the Future is the first retrospective of Saarinen, the Finnish-born modernist architect (1910-1961).

The Natural History Museum in Oslo is holding an exhibit on homosexuality in the animal kindom.



song heard most recently before posting: I Am…I Said—Neil Diamond

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

why it’s not good to lie to Customs

Happy Birthday, Herbert Eck!!!

Sour mood alert! I was in such a strop when I arrived at work that when I angrily smacked on the light switches, I hit them so violently I literally saw sparks. I’m in a sour mood not because it’s raining, but because I was woken up yet again at 4:30am by my upstairs neighbor praying. At 5am his grandkid started wailing for whatever reason…possibly because HE WAS WOKEN UP AT 4:30AM BY HIS GRANDFATHER LOUDLY PRAYING. Just sayin’.

This past weekend stank. The weather was stunning, yet I was housebound due to a pile of freelancing, and then my neighbors decided to make it worse. On top of the usual clomps and stomps and crashes, one of them chatted on the phone so loudly at numerous times, I could still hear every word she said even though I was wearing ear plugs. And another one of them blasted organ-heavy religious music on Saturday afternoon, singing along in such a manner that can only be described as “opera singer gets electrocuted.” He feels the spirit of Jayzus, yes he does. Up, up, up! goes my merry blood pressure.

Today marks 10 years since I got chucked out of England. The condensed version:

I wanted to move to England. I decided to buy a roundtrip ticket that would keep me in London for a month, where I would live with my friends in New Cross. If I didn’t find legal work during that time, I’d go home. Simple as that. But I was confident (naively so) that I would find a job somewhere—even if it meant scrubbing toilets in an American hotel chain. So I packed quite a few of my possessions and took them with me. That was my fatal mistake.

Virgin Atlantic alerted Heathrow Customs to my suspicious load of stuff, and I got grilled as soon as I arrived at Passport Control. I panicked and denied that I was going to look for work. Dumb move, considering I was carrying (ahem) resumes and a book called HOW TO GET A JOB IN EUROPE. Which they found, of course. They confronted me and I admitted that I was planning to look for a job, but would only accept legal work. That’s the truth! Why would I want to stay there illegally, always looking over my shoulder, unable to ever go home, unable to open up a bank account or get healthcare coverage? No thanks. But because I’d already lied to them once, they didn’t believe me. So out I went.

First I was stuck in a locked room full of illegal immigrants and criminals. Hotness. I was the only female there, and certainly the only American. We were separated from the cops by a sliding bulletproof glass window. I used the pay phone to call my mom, bawling the whole time, asking her to pick me up at Newark that evening. I sat there, surrounded by my boxes and bags, weeping the whole time.

They kept me there for hours, then finally pulled me out so I could see them search my stuff. They searched every nook and cranny of my bags, pulling out everything and examining it. They made fun of my CDs and my bulk bottle of Tums. They sneered, “Why are you trying to take jobs away from the British?” (I bit my tongue instead of replying, “Do you realize how many of your countrymen have moved to my country and taken away jobs from Americans?”) On and on it went. It was humiliating and the only thing missing was them strip-searching me and doing a cavity search.

Finally they hauled me onto the plane. A policewoman accompanied me and wouldn’t return my passport until I was buckled into my seat. Well, thankfully I wasn’t put in fucking chains like Kate on Lost! I was still mortified, though, especially since everyone on the plane glared at me because the flight was delayed thanks to me. They were all seated, waiting for take-off, delayed because of me. I cried the whole way home.

And do you know what? It took 2 ½ years before I was even allowed back in the country. Initially I tried to go back for a vacation in March 1997, but the Embassy (or maybe it was Virgin?) called me the night before I was scheduled to leave and said, “Don’t even try it—you won’t get through.” So I had to cancel my trip at the 11th hour. That summer I went to the British Consulate in New York City to apply for a visa (which was now necessary for me to return to England) and get interviewed by a Consulate official. My application was rejected, because they thought I would try to disappear into the night in England and live off the blood and sweat of hardworking Englishmen everywhere. It didn’t help that I was still living at home at this point and only working as a temp. I just didn’t have enough roots to ground me to the US (in their eyes, anyway).

Two years later I tried again; this time I submitted my application to the British Embassy in DC and went into my interview armed with a copy of my apartment lease, a letter from my boss, copies of my bills, etc, etc—anything that would prove that I had a solid life in the US. The interview lasted all of two minutes. The guy was like, “Yeah, sure, I don’t understand why this is even an issue” and stamped the visa in my passport. DONE! Plus he made sure I was removed from the customs watch list in Heathrow’s computers.

Thankfully Virgin turned my unused 1997 ticket into a voucher that could be used at any time, and that’s what I used to go back to England in 1999. Although I had supposedly been stricken from Heathrow’s computers, I nonethless opted to play it safe and fly into Gatwick instead.

My journal entry from that day:
17 October 1996, Thursday

Oh my god, my worst, my absolute worst, nightmare is happening right now, and I pinch myself repeatedly but I CAN’T WAKE UP. I’m in England, at Heathrow, but they’re not letting me into the country. They’re sending me home tonight on Virgin. Oh my god, I’m starting to cry again…I can’t stop crying…I can’t stop these waves of horror from drenching me.

At Passport Control, the guy asked me too many questions, and I go so nervous, and I figured it was routine (they always ask me so many questions, stupid questions), but heightened, because of all my bags. Yet I still didn’t make that connection, and all I could think was that they just thought I was suspicious. It took two hours for the whole terrible process to be complete—the questions, the hostility at my lying, the paperwork, the suspicion, the searching of my boxes. I couldn’t stop shaking. The guy had already talked to Annida to verify my story, and after those two hours, I was finally allowed to see Annida, Yannick, Jim, and Richard. My heart broke. I couldn’t stop sobbing. I must’ve looked so horrible. They looked so wonderful. I wanted them to stay all day, and I thought they could, but then the bastard came out and said I had five more minutes, like I was a prisoner, and I had to leave them again…leave them after so little time. … Now I’m in this locked room full of immigrants, and two keep hogging the phone, so I can’t call Doppie. I called Mom and bawled. …

Oh god, I am such a wreck. I am such a failure. My dreams just EXPLODED in my face and now I have nowhere to go. Even after the rush and stress of the airport last night, everyone kept saying how happy they were for me, how proud. Proud, proud. That’s all I heard. Terry was absolutely beaming with pride. He and Mom kept repeating, “You will do this!” I will succeed. But I failed. Now I am going home to nothing and I am so fucking scared. Richard kept telling me to go to the embassy in DC and try for either a generic work visa or to use them for officiality once I get a job while in the States. Annida seemed to deem this just a minor setback. I have no faith anymore. Fate is determined that this won’t happen. Oh my god, I would sell my soul to make this horror go away. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. “What happens to a dream deferred?” I have nothing else to hold on to. England was my only salvation. I am going home to months and months of aloneness and alienation. I can’t take any more of that! I can’t take anymore of being worth nothing! …
I always think of this experience as my Sliding Doors moment—the point in time that changed the entire course of my life. But really, that’s not very accurate. Even if I had gotten through, there’s no guarantee I would’ve found a job. Chances are, I would’ve ended up slinking home at the end of the month, tail between my legs, my dream indefinitely postponed, back to square one. Or perhaps I would’ve gotten through, only to decide at a later date that London was too expensive, or just not what I wanted after all.

Also, in Sliding Doors, the moment that changed Gwyneth Paltrow’s life was an insignificant moment: she missed the train. It wasn’t a big, grand, thrown-out-of-England moment. And maybe that’s the whole point: the pivot on which our lives swing, sending us in one direction versus another, is microscopically small. Maybe the moment that changed everything for me was something like that: something so insignificant, I didn’t even notice it. Like today, when I was hurrying out my front door and the sleeve of my trenchcoat got caught on the door handle. I pulled it off and the belt of my coat promptly got caught. I laughed “Fuck!” and then went on my way. Minor, but maybe that’s the point. In getting delayed by a split second, maybe I narrowly avoided getting injured on the Beltway, or narrowly missed meeting a kindred spirit while sitting in traffic—both of which could have changed the entire course of my life.

It’s a cunning little thing, life is.


song heard most recently before posting: 
Just for Now—Imogen Heap

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

miscellany

Happy Birthday, Kelly Peyton Carron!!!

Things have been pretty quiet since I’ve been back. On Saturday I went to Savage Mill, where I met up with Kristen and Mom. We spent a really nice day shopping, and Mom bought us lunch at the brewery restaurant there. After that I went home and worked for a few hours, and then I worked on Sunday as well. On Sunday morning I was awoken at 8:30am by one of my upstairs neighbors screaming “HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! OHHHH GLORY!” etc, etc [insert random claps, stomps, and gibberish that was quite possibly speaking in tongues].

During this upcoming weekend I was supposed to visit to Heather in upstate NY, but because I’ll be bogged down with work, I had to cancel. Ptthhhh.

This morning I donated blood. NIH has changed their security procedures yet again; this time I had to turn off my car, get out, have an employee run a metal detector wand over me, have an employee swab my steering wheel (searching for infectious agents, I guess), and get my trunk searched (the women got a good laugh out of the tacky old record I had stashed in there, which I’ve been meaning to turn into a fabulous purse).

Oh, and this morning I also developed a spontaneous choking fit while drinking my cup of coffee, and it caused me to cough up a glut of coffee that sprayed in an arc halfway across my bedroom. My duvet cover, a library book, a stack of greeting cards I was getting ready to mail, and the brand-new book just loaned to me by my boss all got hit. Damn! So now I’m sending out cards covered in coffee stains, and I have to run over to Borders after work to buy my boss a new copy of the book, keeping the old one for myself. (Although it’s a good book and I’ll be glad to own a copy, generally I’m too cheap to spend money on first edition hardbacks!)

In other news, I feel compelled to mention that Freyja had a smooshed turd stuck to her tail the other day, and I was so paranoid about her developing e. coli from it while grooming herself, I decided that I had to remove it all costs. Trying to hold her down while scraping at her tail with a paper towel wasn’t working, so out came the scissors. Freyja is usually a genial cat, albeit a bit jumpy. She doesn’t like to be held or give me kisses, but she’d live on my lap if she could. Yet she’s also got a rabid alter ego—a split personality, if you will—who periodically comes out. I call it Snappy McSnapperson. And you can imagine how quickly ol’ Snappy came roaring out of his cave when I was trying to trim shit-caked fur off Freyja’s tail with sharp scissors. Thus began the anxiety-fraught queasy tango of me chasing her through my tiny apartment, scissors glinting menacingly, trying to snip off as much shitty fur as possible, while she hissed, growled, spat, swatted, and wriggled free. Her hisses were punctuated with me protesting, “But I only want to keep you safe and healthy! I don’t want you to go into septic shock!” Did she care? No. Such drama in that little buff-colored package!

And finally, does this mean I’m going to hell? Apparently. What a shocker!



song heard most recently before posting: On The Streets I Ran—Morrissey

Monday, October 09, 2006

Rest in Peace, Nigel Jaehnigen

April 1, 1994 - October 9, 2006

And, when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of Heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
–William Shakespeare, “Romeo and Juliet”

The snowflake, which was once very much a discernible subsystem of the universe, now dissolves into the larger system which once held it. Though it is no longer present as a distinct subsystem, its essence is somehow present, and will remain so. It floats in Tumbolia, along with hiccups that are not being hiccupped and characters in stories that are not being read. –Douglas Hofstader



Friday, October 06, 2006

I *heart* London

Today is my name day in Sweden! I’m sure everyone is just quaking with elation at that announcement.

In other news, I’m back from London! (Photos here.) I made it home without getting blown up by terrorists, knifed by yobs (there were several yob knifings in London recently; apparently it’s a hot new trend), or happy-slapped by bullies.

The trip was physically exhausting and quite painful. I was careful to wear sensible socks, my walking Nikes, and arch supports, which served me well in Europe last year (I did a ton of walking and climbing in four countries and never developed any blisters, except for that one day in Russia when I stupidly went out without socks and promptly developed a crippling blister on my right foot). But despite these precautions, I inexplicably developed horrifyingly bulbous blisters on my toes, like, the second I stepped off the plane. They were so big, my toes looked malformed. Coupled with all the pulled muscles in my legs (stemming partially from the blisters-induced limping, and partially from me being hopelessly out of shape), I was in agony the whole time I was abroad. Every step felt like knives were being pushed into my feet and legs. But that didn’t stop me from traipsing all over the place! It did, however, stop me from walking like a normal 32-year-old. Instead, I had to employ a kind of stiff, lurching gait, not unlike an arthritic 95-year-old with prosthetic legs. I’m sure it was pretty comical to witness, especially during periods when I was forced to speed-walk and/or jog to get somewhere on time. (Even without the searing pain, watching me jog is a pitiable sight, because I’m so laughably out of shape.) There were times when I thought it would be a blessing for knife-wielding yobs to come along and cut off my feet.

Physical pain aside, the trip was emotionally and mentally rejuvenating, leaving my spirit buoyant when I returned. On Wednesday, after stumbling out of bed in a jetlagged stupor, I saw a menacing stack of freelancing manuscripts leering at me from my coffee table, and there were police sirens screaming down my street, per usual, and I heard crashes and stomps from my neighbors upstairs—typical things I face every day. Before my trip, when I was becoming increasingly burned out, those things would’ve had me vibrating with rage. But on Wednesday I just smiled and chirped, “Home sweet home!” I felt relaxed and wonderful. Yeah, we all know this won’t last.

Here’s what went down:

Thursday, 28 September

The weather was beautiful and my luggage was still light, so instead of calling a cab, I opted to walk the mile between my apartment and the Metro. When I got to the American Airlines check-in desk at the airport, I was immediately told that my flight from DC to NY had been cancelled. They put me on a flight to Chicago instead. The good news is that it left DC at the same time as my cancelled flight; the bad news is that it meant going through Chicago. As in, flying in the wrong direction, away from the Atlantic, thus tacking an extra 90 minutes onto my flight to London. Oh, and when I checked in, the woman asked me if I wanted to supply a name and number of an emergency contact. Ummm...WHAT? I’ve never been asked that before. Maybe it’s now a routine question in this terrorism-filled world of ours, or maybe it’s unique to American Airlines (I’ve never flown them before). I don’t know. But it unnerved me.

My connection in Chicago was very tight. As we landed, I casually looked at my ticket and realized with a jolt that my London flight was supposed to begin boarding at 4pm—which is when my DC flight was arriving. And O’Hare is a big airport, yo! I had to huff and pant and weave my way through the terminal, stopping only to hit the bathroom and buy some junk food at a newsstand (I hadn’t gotten around to calling AA to request a vegetarian meal on my flight, so I knew I’d be starving by the time I got to London; the junk food was meant to fill that growling maw inside of me). I did make it to my gate in time, but barely. I was one of the last people to board. I sat next to a semi-cute nerd who I’m assuming was German, because he was reading a book in German and he didn’t fill out a non-EU disembarkation card. His demeanor was kind of strange, and as an armchair diagnostician, I silently spun theories about what condition he may or may not have had.

I was happy to see that AA followed Virgin’s lead and installed a private screen in the back of each seat, so every traveler can watch what s/he wants on multiple channels. They also borrowed Virgin’s idea of using one of those channels as a route map, so people can watch the progress of their plane and find out where exactly they are. They can also learn the external temperature (the coldest it got outside my plane was -75F), their groundspeed, their altitude, exactly how many hours/minutes are left until landing, what time it is where they are located, what time it is in the city where they originated, and what time it is in the city where they are headed.

Even with taking a melatonin tablet, I didn’t sleep during the flight. I never sleep on transatlantic flights, no matter how desperately I try to do so. And believe me, I did try. However, there was a baby periodically wailing on the plane; a man sitting near me had a loud, ugly, watery cough (Patient Zero for avian flu, anyone?); and in the middle of the night, the people sitting directly behind me suddenly became Chatty McChattersons. They didn’t do this at, like, 7pm, of course. No—they had to wait until 4am when I was trying to sleep. I shot daggers at them but apparently they were immune.

Friday, 29 September

For the first time in history, my suitcase was one of the first bags to appear on the luggage carousel. Hallelujah! It will never happen again. And Customs was a breeze, too, astoundingly. I poked my head into a newsstand and sighed blissfully at the rows of garishly-colored trashy British celebrity gossip and women’s lifestyle magazines (I have an unholy addiction to those magazines; seeing a newsstand full of them is like a crack addict seeing shelves brimming with crack). I marveled over the casino right near the newsstand, and laughed when I saw that there was a prayer room near it. Perhaps people go there to pray for good luck at the airport slots? I was in no particular rush, since it was still quite early, and I knew my room wouldn’t be ready at the hotel yet, so I grabbed a leisurely bite to eat. God bless London and its wealth of vegetarian food. I had so many veggie selections to choose from in that one little airport sandwich shop, and this is indicative of the food culture in general in London. I love it.

After eating, I followed the signs to the tube station. When the station finally came into view, and, for the first time in seven years, I saw that red circle with “Underground” written across it on a blue banner, I broke into the biggest grin. I thought, Oh, London! I missed you so much, you glorious, vibrant, salty old bitch!!! I was so effing thrilled to be back. I had to stand the whole way to King’s Cross, because the train was so full, but I didn’t even care! I smiled the whole way.

My lovely little B&B was only a block from King’s Cross station. And it was right near a McDonald’s, too, which was quite handy, because I am H-O-O-K-E-D on the old-school apple pies still being sold at McDonald’s in Europe (the pies which disappeared from the States like 15 years ago).

It was too early for my room to be ready at the B&B, so I checked in, left my suitcase in reception area (which they later took to my room for me, the dear saints), and took off for a day of sightseeing. My first purchase, at the Boots in Liverpool Street Station, was a box of band-aids (sorry…plasters!), because the blisters were appearing and my cuticles were ripped to bloody shreds from repeatedly reaching into my carry-on and money belt. Then I browsed through Spitalfields Market, which was just getting started for the day (thus many of the booths were not yet set up). From there I went to Brick Lane. I was expecting market stalls to be there but didn’t see any. On Brick Lane I hit an exhibit affiliated with the London Design Festival (it was called 100% Norway and honored Norwegian design), and it was a bitch to find!

I ate lunch outside Liverpool Street Station (a gorgeous cheese and onion pasty; I have been craving them so badly in recent years), then purchased a whopping £18 of deliciously trashy British magazines at W.H. Smith. I bought so many magazines, I embarrassed even myself. Coupled with the hearty stack I bought at Heathrow before leaving, I was vaguely concerned that my plane wouldn’t be able to get off the ground from the sheer weight of my trashy magazines. I pictured the mechanical groaning strain of the plane as it scraped heavily along the runway, sparks flying.

I returned to my room to shower and collapse for a while in a sweaty pile. In the evening I headed to the Barbican for a walking tour (The Blood and Tears Walk: London’s Horrible Past). I was quite early, so I ended up meandering over to St. Paul’s Cathedral, down to the Thames, and then back to the Barbican, where I lolled around for a while, reading a freebie newspaper, watching the traffic roll by beneath me, and just generally savoring the fact that I was finally back in London.

The walking tour was fabulous. Our guide, an actor named Declan, was as funny and engaging as the guy who conducted the Haunted Edinburgh walking tour I took in 2003. Apparently 85% of the people who take his tour are women—a fact which surprised me, even though our group only had two guys in it, and they were both dragged there by their womenfolk. We learned loads of interesting, morbid facts about London’s history!

When I got back to King’s Cross I went straight to McDonald’s to start my pie-eating tour. They obviously knew I was coming, because they were running a poundsaver special—two apple pies for 99p. Sign! Me! Up! Back in my room, I gorged myself while watching Charlotte Church’s new chat show. She and Alan Cumming were ripping apart Americans, but did it in a really funny, spot-on way.

Saturday, 30 September

First thing was a tour of Parliament. It’s only open for tours to foreigners during a limited period of time each summer, and I caught the tail end of the current period. I got there early, so to kill some time, I decided to pop across the street to Westminster Abbey. Then I meandered over to Buckingham Palace, because hey, it’s just down the road, right? Well, yes, but before too long I realized, oh shit, my tour’s about to begin, and I don’t have enough time to get back there. I gasped and staggered my through Westminster on screaming feet, prepared to let loose with a litany of ridiculous excuses as to why I was late, so the tour guide wouldn’t yell “Piss off!” at me. Miraculously, I was only five minutes late for my tour, and they let me in without demanding any excuses. I wasn’t allowed to take any photos inside Parliament, which is probably for the best, because the palace—particularly the House of Lords—is staggeringly beautiful, and my photos could not have done it justice. Every time I take photos inside an opulent cathedral or a palace, I think about how futile it is. It’s like taking a picture of a sunset with black and white film. However, futile or not, you can look at some official interior photos of Parliament here.

Among other things, I saw: the spot that gets rubbed by conservative House of Commons MPs for luck (the spot is on a foot on a Winston Churchill statue; it has been rubbed bare and there is now a sign on the statue asking MPs to please not rub it anymore), the room where Queen Elizabeth changes into her gown prior to the state opening of Parliament every November, the seat where Tony Blair sits during parliamentary sessions, etc. My guide Isobel was great and really worked hard at engaging the imagination and brainpower of the cute little 7-year-old boy in my tour group. (Little British kids are so cute! Except when they’re yobs and bullies, of course!)

My next stop was the London Eye, which didn’t exist the last time I was in London. It was overpriced, of course, and had a very long line, but it was still worth doing, especially since the line moved surprisingly quickly. Stats: The Eye is 442 feet tall and, on a clear day, allows passengers to see up to 24 miles away. It can carry 800 passengers per revolution and is the fourth tallest structure in London.

Security is pretty tight for boarding, and one guard asked me what I had in my shopping bag. I said, “A teddy bear, some books, and jam” (it was all stuff I’d just bought in the Parliament gift shop; note that I was careful to use British English and say jam instead of jelly). When I got to the jam part, he asked me to repeat myself. Twice. Finally I exclaimed, “You know—jam! Jelly!” and he was like, “Oh, jam!” I scratched my head and was like, WTF! Then I realized that I had said jam like an American, so he couldn’t understand me! It kind of made sense, but on the other hand, when an British person says jam, I still know what he means, despite the accent, so I don’t know why the guard couldn’t grasp my meaning.

Despite the presence of two shrill, nerve-jangling American kids in my capsule (they were constantly shrieking things like “DADDY TAKE A PICTURE OF THAT SEAGULL OVER THERE WHAT’S THAT BUILDING DOWN THERE I’M HUNGRY MOVE OVER!!!!” [Parents! Curb your progeny! Please!]), the ride was enjoyable.

The next stop was the Tower of London, so I could walk across Tower Bridge to the Design Museum, which was tricky to find, as it is nestled in a complex warren of crooked Docklands streets (thank god for signposts leading the way). I had lunch there and skipped the Formula 1 exhibit in favor of the Designing for Modern Britain exhibit. The best part was the Design Mart, an annual exhibit of new designers in the UK. I saw such fantastically cool things there.

I set off in search of Bermondsey tube station, and wasn’t sure if I was going the right way because this station hadn’t existed when my old Goldsmiths-era London A-Z was published, and therefore it didn’t appear on the map. Halfway there, as I limped along, some foreign chick (Swedish, I think) appeared and asked me if I could direct her to Bermondsey station. I told her that I was headed there myself, and I thought I was going the right way, but who knows. It turns out I was on the right road, and soon I was on an East London Line train to New Cross.

I went straight to Goldsmiths, and it was so surreal, so wonderful. I knew the odds of the student union shop being open were slender to nonexistent, but I went there anyway, because there’s a shirt I saw in the alumni magazine that I really want to buy. Inside the Main Building things were pretty much the same, and yet there were so many new touches. Lovely artwork was hanging on the corridor walls, the student union shop moved to new digs, there was a new gourmet snack bar in the lounge area and a new upscale-looking café nearby. Waterstones was replaced with Blackwell. The campus also has some new buildings and a new gym. (Annida, when I passed the Goldsmiths Centre for Russian Music, I gave it a wave for you.)

I wandered around for a bit, taking note of the trendy-looking restaurants now sprinkled across New Cross. (Damn, where were they when I was studying there? Not that I had any disposable income, mind you!) Some British chicks asked me for directions to the tube and I felt proud that I could still help them after all these years.

I followed my old route to my dorm, Rac Mac. I didn’t have to consult my A to Z at all; every step—even knowing which side of the street to walk on—was ingrained in my cells. Aside from a few eyebrow-raising new things on Deptford High Street, like a gourmet coffee shop and a shiny new Iceland branch, everything looked the same. I had just missed the Saturday market; everyone was dismantling their stalls. But when I approached Creek Road, I staggered in horror. A massive sherbert-orange and white monstrosity had sprung up in Rac Mac’s stead!! I knew the dorm had been sold a few years ago to the University of Greenwich, but I naively thought they’d keep it intact, even though it was an ugly, impractical building. It was gone, though. Not just Rac Mac, but the entire block. Everything was swallowed up by this McMillan Student Village. I was appalled, reeling. And that wasn’t the only change.

All the addresses in that area were listed (on their signs) as being in Greenwich, not Deptford. What, has that part of Deptford been annexed to Greenwich?? Behind New Rac Mac and along Creek Road were more new buildings, instead of brick walls, decaying buildings, and debris. There was a big new development (luxury flats, presumably), and Deptford Creek was the cleanest I’d ever seen it. There is now a nice walking trail along the Thames between Deptford and Greenwich, running parallel to Creek Road. The good ol’ petrol station (where Annida once crossed into an alternate dimension to buy Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for me) is still there, though, as are The Duke and The Hoy.

My shock intensified when I hit Greenwich proper. Holy shit. A massive complex was on Creek Road, about one block short of hitting Greenwich Church Street. Where did all of this come from??? Part of the complex looked like it was filled with upscale restaurants and perhaps that indie cinema Richard told me about. Next to it was a new road brimming with new shops: McDonald’s, Ben & Jerry’s, Waterstones, Subway, a Clinton Cards, and others, along with the entrance to the new Cutty Sark DLR station. On Greenwich Church Street I saw lots of new shops (including Boots, Starbucks, and Marks and Spencer Food) and tasty-looking new ethnic restaurants. Richard had warned me that I wouldn’t even recognize Greenwich anymore, but I still wasn’t expecting it to look so different. Part of me was heartbroken by all these changes, because I felt all that familiarity slipping away from me. Another part of me was jealous, like, where the hell was all of this when I was there?! I could’ve benefited from these things—especially the Boots! It was just a really bittersweet journey.

After loading up on more painkillers and band-aids at Boots, I wandered over to the new Cutty Sark Gardens, then hit Greenwich Market, which was closing for the day. It was getting too dim to saunter through Greenwich Park, so I retreated to the DLR station. Then I saw that Pier Restaurant—my all-time favorite chippie—was still in business! Elated, I dove in there and promptly ordered my standard fare: a veggie roll and chips, doused with a healthy spray of salt and malt vinegar. I ate it along the river in Cutty Sark Gardens, trying to ignore the manic, badly-in-need-of-Adderall kid who was shrieking and racing around, disrupting my pensive mood. Then more kids came along with their mom and one of them kept singing the Barney theme song. Hell. On. Earth. But oh man, I was in Greenwich, you know? So how could I really be upset? Priorities!

On the DLR train, the driver got into a fight with some Italian dude who I guess pushed past her without saying “excuse me.” She was yelling at him and asking him if he wanted to “take it outside,” and I seriously thought they were going to come to blows. Which would have been awesome. Sadly, the drama simply ended with her stalking off into the bowels of a DLR station, her muttered threats still trailing behind her, while some other driver took over the reins. Yawn.

I was mindful of the passing time and was determined to get home before X Factor started. I thought it started at 7:30 and I was a twitchy mess on every train and platform standing between me and my hotel. I tore into my hotel at 7:35, skidded up to my room, and found…nothing. It wasn’t on. My heart sank, because I assumed I had missed it. Then I consulted the TV schedule in one of my magazines and found that it only started at 8:10pm. Hallelujah! So my evening consisted of a glorious repast of X Factor, Parkinson (his bewildering assemblage of guests included Lionel Richie, Liza Minelli, and Sharon Osbourne), and Ant & Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway (on which some dude from York was slated to win a bumper crop of prizes, if only he could answer one question correctly, and because the question pertained to a recent nugget of British entertainment news, I could answer it! I was yelling “LEEDS! IT’S LEEEEEDS!” at the screen, and he must’ve heard me, because he answered correctly!).

Oh, such a sizzling Saturday night in London!

1 October, Sunday

My first stop after breakfast (and let me add that my B&B served my favorite Goldsmiths-era cereal, which is unavailable in the States, so I ate it every single morning during this trip) was McDonald’s, so I could quickly check my email accounts on one of their internet terminals. The terminal I used was initially difficult to figure out, causing the McDonald’s theme song to blast repeatedly at eardrum-shaking decibels, much to my chagrin. Some sad-looking bum sat down at the terminal beside me and began chatting with me. Being a lifelong freak magnet, this did not surprise me in the least. He told me that he’d been ASBO’d in Camden the night before, even though he’d done nothing wrong, and I was glad that I was up on my British lingo, because it meant that I knew what the hell he was talking about. He basically said that he couldn’t give up the booze, then pointed to the can of lager in a paper bag on his lap to illustrate the fact. He said he just needed someone to talk to. Confident that my possessions were safe (my camera bag was on a hook beneath the table, and wedged between my legs; my money was in my money belt under my pants), I talked to him, rather than running away. He asked if it was my first time in London and I explained that I had studied there for a year and had been there a few other times as well, and he said that he’d studied abroad, too. I asked him where. “In my mind,” he smiled. Hot! I joked that I’d done that too, but preferred London. More chatting, blah blah blah, and then he left.

I went to Hyde Park and managed to track down the Animals in War memorial, which wasn’t the easiest thing to find. It began pouring to a degree where I had to spend a few minutes huddled with my umbrella under a tree, waiting for the rain to subside a bit. Then it was off to the Princess Diana memorial, which, despite being listed on the park’s signage, was rather difficult to locate. I had a small accident at her memorial, which I won’t mention here, because y’all don’t need to know the gory details. I hit the Serpentine Gallery and then walked to Notting Hill and Bayswater via the Prince Albert memorial and Royal Albert Hall.

In Bayswater I was disappointed that, for the first time ever, no sleazy Pakistani shopkeepers hit on me. I guess I’ve lost my golden touch. I did some shopping (buying, among other things, some embarrassingly trashy British books; I could barely look the cashier in the eye, I was so ashamed), and decided to ditch my plans to go to the Whitechapel Gallery (I vow to go there during my next London trip). Instead, I headed to the Institute of Contemporary Arts, via Piccadilly Circus. Talk about wasting money on something that sucks! I was so pissed. There was nothing there. If I’d paid extra for access to their cinema, it would’ve been okay, but I paid for the galleries, expecting to see some art, and there was nothing in them except a movie projector that played static and a sentence written on the wall in neon. WTF! I’ve got a very liberal definition of art, but this was ridiculous. Was the newest exhibit just not set up yet? And if so, why didn’t the ticket guy tell me that? Even the freaking gift shop was closed! I think the gallery is probably great on most occasions, but last Sunday wasn’t one of them!

I stomped off to Trafalgar Square, ate a sandwich and danish while sitting on the floor of Charing Cross station (don’t ask), then went to Covent Garden. This wasn’t initially on my agenda, because I’ve been there numerous times before, but I’m glad I went anyway, because it gave me a chance to blow a wad at the London Transport Museum gift shop, as well as buy cool things in other shops. Some classical musicians were performing in a very funny, entertaining way, and the crowd in Covent Garden was going nuts with glee. It was fun to watch.

I walked to Leicester Square and hit the Photographer’s Gallery, which was very cool. But I also seethed because some guy was letting his little kid run wild in the gallery. Contrary to how I may sound, I’m not a kid-hater, but I do expect people to try to control their kids in public, and I expect them to keep their children away from places that aren’t kid-friendly, so the kids don’t get bored and race around, shrieking. Call a freaking babysitter if you want to go to the Photographer’s Gallery that badly!

After dropping off my bulging shopping bags in my room, I went for a long stroll along Victoria Embankment, from Parliament to St. Paul’s. Beautiful. But St. Paul’s station was unfortunately closed, and I didn’t see any buses around, so I had to force my screeching feet to walk over to Barbican station in order to catch a train home. Before retiring for the evening I bought a slew of those damn McDonald’s pies, and threw a milkshake into the mix as well. At first I ordered a medium shake, then upgraded to a large, and the cashier gave me a look, like, “Of course you want a large shake, you corpulent American pig.” I ate my junk back in my room and watched TV.

2 October, Monday

I was kicking myself when I woke up, because I suddenly realized that by re-jiggling my sightseeing schedule, I’d caused myself to miss one of the reasons why I went to London in the first place: the Kandinsky exhibit at the Tate Modern. Its last day was Sunday, 1 October, and I fully intended to see it on that day. But then I forgot about the cut-off date and, in massaging my schedule to squeeze in everything I wanted to see, I decided to go to the Tate Modern on Monday intead of Sunday. Stooooopid! I missed the exhibit by one effing day!!!

Well, even with this snafu, the museum, which only opened since the last time I was in London, was divine. Having a big honking love of modern art, this place was my cathedral. And it’s free!

From there I went to Highgate Cemetery. Richard and I had been to the east cemetery in 1996, and I wanted to see the west cemetery this time around. However, it is by tour only, and the only tour being offered was at 2pm. Had I not gotten lost while trying to find my way to the cemetery from Archway station, I probably would’ve made the tour. But I missed my turnoff and walked roughly two miles out of my way before finally throwing up my hands in surrender. I hopped on a double-decker bus to go back to the station, and as we chugged along, we passed the road I initially missed. So I got off the bus and resumed walking in the right direction, but still had trouble finding the entrance to the cemetery. By the time I arrived, the west cemetery tour had long since departed. Rather than waste the trip, I went back into the east cemetery, stayed for maybe 45 minutes, taking photos and admiring the beautiful, tangled graves, and then walked to the nearest bus stop and took a bus back to the tube station.

Near the station was a restaurant that supposedly sells vegetarian fish n’ chips, and that was my next destination. But I inadvertently strolled right past it and, once again, ended up walking roughly two miles out of my way. In my defense, the building numbers were all screwed up and misleading, which certainly didn’t help my ability to find this place. When I backtracked and finally found the restaurant, it was closed, even though it shouldn’t have been (according to the schedule on its door). Grrr.

On the spur of the moment I went to Camden Market, which I normally try to avoid because I always see lots of things there that I want, and I didn’t have much money left to spend. I miraculously managed to restrain myself and buy only one skirt this time around. I’m sure it helped that I only hit the tip of the market, deliberately avoiding its temptation-laced bowels.

I headed to Harrods, because I wanted to buy something for Dad and Jill to thank them for catsitting Plath and Freyja while I was gone. On the way there, I read in the freebie Metro paper that Charles and Camilla were going to be at a premier in Leicester Square at 6pm. It was like 5pm at this point, and I was on the Piccadilly line, which meant that I would be passing through Leicester Square on my way to Harrods. Should I stop? Should I try to see them and snap a quickie photo? I debated this for a while and my exhaustion finally won out. I just didn’t have the energy to go anywhere but Harrods and home. Sorry Chaz and Cazza. I’m sure your lives would’ve been that much richer if you could’ve seen a sallow-faced, frizzy-haired American hopping up and down in a crowd, craning her neck, desperately trying to snap a blurry digital photo of you.

I did buy something for Dad and Jill at Harrods, and I also hit the pet department, the holiday department, and the Diana and Dodi memorial. Then I tromped through the Sainsbury’s across the road, buying tabloids and Yorkie and Cadbury bars for me and crumpets for my department. In the evening I ate my last supper (a cheese and onion pasty, a bag of Walkers crisps, and a Yorkie bar) while watching EastEnders, the cringe-inducing Celebrity Wife Swap, Banged Up Abroad, and a lurid plastic surgery exposé called Knifemares. I also packed my heavy suitcase with a heavy heart.

3 October, Tuesday

It was a crazy day: London in the morning, New York in the afternoon/evening, and DC at night.

I made good time to Heathrow, but after I left the tube everything went pear-shaped. The check-in line was ridiculously long—quite possibly the longest line I’ve ever endured in my life. By the time I finally got through it and checked my suitcase, I only had an hour until departure. I bought some more magazines and tabloids, hit the bathroom, and exchanged what little British money I had left. At the Security checkpoint, some guard told me that I could only go through with one bag. But downstairs the signs had said that passengers could have one bag and one shopping bag. When I asked her about it, she said that this was only the case after you go through Security, which is ridiculous. So I had to leave the line, frantically squash my carry-on into my already-bulging shopping bag, and then get back into the line. It took a while to get through Security, and by the time I skidded up to my gate, flustered and sweaty, everyone else had already boarded. I lurched through the plane with stuff flying everywhere: my passport landed at some dude’s feet, my tube poster hit the ground, and my boarding pass went god knows where. I couldn’t remember what seat I was in, so a flight attendant just told me to pick an empty seat, since the flight wasn’t sold out. It was nice; no one was in front of me or on either side of me. The only other person in my four-seat row was a cute British guy who didn’t speak a word.

In New York I was impatient as people slowly shuffled off the plane. I was nervous that I would miss my connection to DC, because I knew the connection was going to be tight. Once free of the plane, I raced to Customs. It didn’t take long to get through, but when I went to gather my luggage, my bag was nowhere to be seen. I was edgy and tense, with sweat pouring off me (partly from the exertion of racing there, and partly because the room was hot). Then the luggage carousel stopped, and stayed still for a good 15 minutes. I was squirmy and jittery and kept looking at my watch. The carousel finally coughed to life and my bag came lumbering along after a few minutes. I snatched it, ran through Passport Control, and headed straight to the transfer desk. The chick told me right off the bat that she didn’t think I’d make my flight. My heart sank. “You can try it, but your gate is like a 15-minute walk from here,” she shrugged. She gave me a boarding ticket for the next flight—one leaving at 8:40pm (my original flight was supposed to leave at 4:05pm, so missing that meant sitting at JFK for an additional 4 ½ hours)—and pushed my bag through security screening. I took off like a shot.


JFK is a big airport, y’all! Getting from one end of a terminal to another is no small feat. Weaving through the frustratingly slow hordes, I jogged and race-walked and even climbed an up escalator (!). My hands were full with my shopping bag (it was heavy and bulky and the straps broke, so I had to carry it in my arms), making me gasp and wheeze and tremble from the exertion (have I mentioned how out of shape I am?). Sweat dripped across every inch of my skin. I pushed through Security as quickly as possible. I got to the gate aaaaand…found that it was closed. The flight wasn’t going to leave for five more minutes, but the gate was closed.

So, I ended up sitting at JFK for a few hours anyway. I bought something to eat, wrote in my journal, read magazines, called Mom, let the sweat dry.

At National Airport, when I was slumped on the floor waiting for my suitcase to appear on the luggage carousel, these screeching little girls were running around, harassing a poor dog who looked partially crippled. The dog’s owner was trying to get the girls to calm down so the dog wouldn’t be so frightened, but it didn’t work. The girls’ parents just stood there, chatting, letting their kids run around like pillaging marauders. One of the girls repeatedly ran up to me, yelling something I couldn’t understand (all I could make out was glasses), and poking my glasses, as if trying to poke my eye out, leaving greasy smears on the lens. And several times she tried to snatch my glasses off my face, too. And again, her parents didn’t do anything about it! I was livid.

It was 10:15 by the time my bag appeared, and I was too tired to deal with the Metro. Plus the handle had ripped off my suitcase, so lifting my bag on and off the train would’ve been problematic. I asked some shuttle dudes how much it would cost for them to take me home, and they said it would cost $26. So I shoved my bags in their van and hopped on board. Gradually it filled up with other folks—all of who were in town for business and were thus staying in hotels across DC. One of the guys was this adorably nerdy foreign boy…Latin American, I think. Totally swoon-worthy. And there I was, a frazzled, disheveled mess, sour waves of stink undulating off me. I was horrified and just sank down into my seat, trying to be invisible. He was so cute and friendly; I wanted to disappear. The driver took forever to leave, and then he took forever to get me home. I finally crashed through my front door at midnight.

Thus ends my latest travel saga!


song heard most recently before posting:  Cold Water—Damien Rice


Tuesday, September 26, 2006

depressive powers—activate!

Happy Birthday, Antoinette Rudolph!!!

I just read an interesting article: Limewire Hits Back Hard: Sues RIAA For Antitrust And Consumer Fraud

I’m pleased that Limewire is standing tall. Yes, I do use iTunes these days, but my problem with iTunes is that their selection is so limited. Limewire’s isn’t. If you’re looking for anything even remotely obscure, iTunes probably won’t have it. That’s not to say that Limewire is perfect—there are plenty of tracks unavailable there—but their offerings are far meatier than those provided by iTunes. I think there are probably quite a few folks out there who would pay for their music—rather than swiping it for free from a file-sharing program—if they could actually find their chosen music on a pay site. Often it’s not so much that people aren’t willing to drop 99¢ on a song, but that they can’t find the song(s) they want at iTunes, nu-Napster, etc.

Meanwhile, Seabsy and I have been talking about how excellent it would be if we could assemble a Justice League comprised exclusively of our mentally ill friends. Everyone’s superpower would simply be his/her individual case of mental illness. If I were a cartoonist, I would draw that puppy now!



song heard most recently before posting: Today—Joshua Radin

Sunday, September 24, 2006

tornadoes and everything after

Happy Birthday, Melissa Leeper!!!


Today marks five years since a tornado slammed into my apartment. What was particularly upsetting about this was the fact that it happened one day shy of the two-week anniversary of 9/11. I was already feeling jittery and vulnerable from the terrorist attacks, and then I got a double-whack from nature.

Ordinarily I would’ve been sitting in gridlock on the Beltway when it struck, perhaps even unaware of what was happening (since it cut a very narrow, picky swath through the region). But I’d unexpectedly gotten to work early that morning, so I left the office a bit earlier than usual. Because of that little fluke, I was at home when it hit. I thought it was just an ordinary storm, but then I looked outside and saw leaves swirling in a circle and thought Oh shit—! I frantically tried to shove the cats into their carriers and haul them in the laundry room—the only room without any windows—but they freaked out and squirmed from my grasp every time I grabbed them.

And then it was all over. (I never did get them into their carriers.) I never felt the house shake, never heard freight train noises. I did hear a loud crash (one of the trees falling outside), but nothing else. It was a small tornado, all things considered, but it did kill a pair of sisters on the University of Maryland campus.

I immediately went outside with my camera; the rain hadn’t even stopped falling yet. The yard was full of shrapnel and trees were down everywhere, including in my driveway (narrowly missing my then-brand-new car). The top half of my landlord’s shed was in a neighbor’s tree; the bottom half was draped over the backyard fence. Our fences were either gone or crushed. Only one of the three pillars on the front of the house remained—the other two sailed over the house, over the backyard, and landed in our rear neighbor’s yard. Siding was ripped loose and smacking against the side of the house and part of the roof was gone.

Things were eerie and nightmarish after that. Nighttime in my neighborhood was pitch-black for days, chainsaws were constantly buzzing, repair trucks sealed off my road, industrial-sized fans screamed outside my windows as they sucked the moisture out of the house, fallen trees were piled everywhere, and the whole landscape of the neighborhood changed. After a few days power was restored to the rest of the neighborhood, but the water damage to our house prevented us from reclaiming electricity, so we stayed without power after everyone else’s lights were back on. Moneygrubbing slugs came crawling out of the woodwork, too. Every day our mailbox was stuffed with inserts from dodgy-looking insurance agents and contractors begging us to become their clients. Lawyers stuffed things in our mailbox, too. (But who were we going to sue? Mother Nature?) Our phones rang off the hook with calls from those same insurance agents, contractors, and lawyers. I was petsitting my sister’s dog in the middle of this, and a few days after the tornado I took her to a local elementary school so we could play fetch with a tennis ball in their field. Some little kid walked up to us and handed me a flyer advertising some contractor, then gave me a sales pitch. There was just no escape from it! They harrassed us constantly.

Then I learned that the damage to the house was so severe, my landlord and I would have to move out for three months while the walls and roof were completely rebuilt. Fortunately, I had picked up renters’ insurance three months earlier. Thus began my frustrating whirlwind of dealing with State Farm and a temporary housing agency contracted by them. I was homeless for a week (so I crashed on Angela’s sofa in Arlington), and then I was put in a temporary furnished apartment in a Silver Spring ghetto, where I lived until mid-January.

Anyway.

Lately I’ve gone bananas with my current post-apocalyptic literature-reading spree. Somebody needs to stop me before I yank yet another mushroom cloud-bedecked book off the shelves!! The book I finished last night, Into the Forest, had me gnashing my teeth over how ill-prepared I would be if I were forced to survive after the collapse of civilization. I do have a disaster/evacuation kit that I put together a few years ago (hey, when you live only 10 miles from the White House, and when you’ve been hit by a tornado in a state that almost never gets tornadoes, you’ve gotta be prepared, right?), and I’m quite proud of it, but it’s far from perfect. Likewise, I have a few gallons of water and a decent stash of canned food set aside, but my stores are paltry compared to what I’d need to survive for a prolonged period of time. I need to work on intensifying the kit. However, not much will happen until I’m able to finally buy a house, because my apartment is so tiny, it just won’t hold a boatload of supplies.

Adding fuel to the flames, I decided to torment myself—days before leaving for London—by watching the film Dirty War (about terrorists setting off a dirty bomb in London)—last night, after proofreading a load of manuscripts. After finishing more manuscripts today, I broached an equally-unsettling topic and watched the beautiful and sobering documentary Into the Arms of Strangers: Stories of the Kindertransport.

Hot weekend, ain’t!


song heard most recently before posting: Sister Named Desire—Tori Amos

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Happy Fall, y'all!

It’s the Autumn Equinox today! The start of my favorite season!

After a few days of wonderfully fall-like weather, autumn officially kicked off with weather that is better suited for summer: warm, clammy, and hazy. Blech.

My Celtic Devotional offers this greeting to the Autumn Equinox:

Hail! Journeyer of the Heavens,
Queen of Brightness, King of Beauty!
Gifts of gladness richly bringing
Autumn sheaves and red leaves’ fall.
Generous be the heart within us,
Open be our hands to all,
Justice to be in equal measure,
Harvest thankfulness our call.

It also provides a list of activities for the autumn months (including, among others, “Walk and meditate outdoors for at least fifteen minutes daily,” “Identify plants and trees by their autumn color and find out about their habitats and qualities,” and “Be active with like-minded others, in bringing healing or relief to living things in distress, whether human, animal, plant, etc.”)

Other bits and bobbles include:

I brighten my soul with the colors of Autumn:
hue of light,
hue of life,
hue of love,
color my mind, my body, my heart.
May my soul be preserved
from chill of dawn
till call of dark.

******

I veil my soul with the hues of Autumn:
veil of light upon my mind,
veil of life upon my body,
veil of love upon my heart.
The blessing veil of Autumn’s dusk
be upon all beings,
both now and then,
both now and when.

I just hope that our dry summer doesn’t translate into lackluster foliage this fall. The colors were rather washed out last year, and I’d like to erase that memory with an autumn full of blazing delight.

Meanwhile, I hopped on board the Heart Attack Express this morning when, as I dropped an empty milk jug into the recycling bin outside my house, a stray cat leapt out from beneath my neighbors’ back stairs, which are right next to the recycling bin. My stunned heart wriggled free from its moorings, shot from my mouth, and landed on the ground with a twitchy splat.

Also? There were two mornings last week when I was awoken at exactly 4:30am by the sound of my upstairs neighbor praying. His loud praying and his dirge-like hymns (along with other noise issues, such as his son’s periodic bouts of screamed prayers and hallelujahs; the family’s
stomping around on hardwood floors; the fact that I can hear every word they say; their penchant for dropping heavy objects on the floor for no discernable reason, causing the cats and me to jump several feet in the air several times a day; the loud bass of their TV; and the weekly visits from their toddler grandchild, who apparently only has two skills: screeching, and noisily racing around [which translates into thumpthumpthumpthump on the wooden floors, for those of you who are keeping score at home]) has been a point of contention for well over a year, but never has the praying woken me up at the dastardly hour of 4:30am—a full two hours before my alarm was set to go off. I was not impressed.



song heard most recently before posting: Merman—Tori Amos

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Kidnapped Jericho DNA

I swore I wouldn’t get involved with any new TV shows this season, because my show load last season was ridiculous, especially in combination with my Netflixing and heavy freelancing schedule. But already I’ve broken my vow on three occasions. I confess to checking out the premiere of that new CBS sitcom The Class, simply because the premise seemed kinda interesting), and last night I watched the premieres of Jericho (whoah! CBS twice in one week! Unthinkable!) and Kidnapped. I watched the latter because I heart Billy Chenowith (er…Jeremy Sisto); I swooned with delight over the latter because I love me some nuclear war drama, y’all!! It was billed as “Everwood meets The Day After,” to which I cheered, “Rock on!” Sounds like my dream show! The only thing that could’ve topped it would’ve been if the show had been billed as “90210 meets The Day After.” Beautiful, disaffected Southern California teens facing a nuclear holocaust? SIGN ME UP!

I enjoyed both Kidnapped and Jericho, and I’ll be tuning into both again next week. Damn me.

Last night I also received a DNA collection kit from Johns Hopkins. A while back I enrolled in a genetic epidemiology of craniosynostosis study; now I need to furnish them with medical records, signed consent forms, photographs, and a sample of my DNA. My parents and sister will provide DNA as well. I’m excited about the whole thing and hope they share their findings with me, whether they figure out what caused my craniosynostosis or not. Also, it would be hot if, after I return all this stuff to Johns Hopkins, the study leader phones me and said, “Um, Ms. Boyer? According to the DNA sample you provided, YOU’RE NOT HUMAN.”



song heard most recently before posting: Ordinary World—Duran Duran

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

V-Day

A few years ago I read a wonderful piece in Marie Claire about V-Day (the global movement founded by Eve Ensler to stop violence against women and girls). I don’t know who wrote it. After stumbling across a copy of it in my desk drawer today, I thought I’d share it:
I live in the land of violence.

I have lived here all my life. I cannot even determine all the ways I have been shaped by this country and the ways of this country, as it is the only country or place I have ever known.

Trying to imagine another place, another way of being, another culture, becomes impossible, because the culture of violence is now rooted in my cells, in my DNA. It has actually impacted my ability to imagine, because violence has a deadly and distorting effect on the imagination. It creates hard, impenetrable walls where there should be doorways; it creates despair where there could be great possibility.

I say this, of course, as a person who has never lived in another country, a person who has never actually seen another country anywhere in the world that is not a land of violence. I say this as a person—as a woman—who was shaped by violence from the moment of consciousness. As a daughter whose father was an emotional terrorist, who threatened my existence through his fist or hand or whip or voice or money for most of the developing years of my life.

I say this as a woman who did not stop tiptoeing around my own apartment until late in my 30s for fear of waking the sleeping monster, who might then beat me arbitrarily or lock me up.

I say this as a woman who lost the ability to say no, and so for the first half of my life was a witness as my own body was taken many times against my deepest wishes. I say this as a woman who has struggled for most of my life not to lose my mind, not to self-destruct, as the violence has now become part of my own interior mental and spiritual landscape, working overtime against my own being.

I say this as a woman who’s witnessed the consequences of violence in every part of the world—in small villages and massive cities. I see how women, like poisoned trees, have grown with crooked trunks and missing limbs.

So what can allow for the possibility of imagining a world without violence, of conjuring V-world, of being so grandiose, so naïve, so ridiculous, to think such a world could come to me?

Maybe it is the extremity, the terrain of extremity that violence creates, that would allow, or even demand, such a leap. Maybe it is the sense of urgency and madness that pulses through everything, every muscle each time the veil of denial I lifted and one is confronted again with the possibility of mass rape, domestic battery, honor killings, sexual slavery, or genital mutilation.

Maybe it is the ravings of a mind permanently shattered by too much violence, so much so that now it simply clings like a mute child to a blind, idealistic place in order to survive. Maybe it is the desire to break out of the familiar prison that violence has created, to actually confront my own fear of intimacy, goodness, love.

Whatever it is, I believe that a world without violence is possible. I am not talking about a world where there is no anger, or passion, or intensity, or conflict, or pain. I am talking about a world where there is no murder, no rape, no brutality. I am talking about being willing to enter V-world, where we separate from the known and comfortable and trust we will survive the vastness and mystery of the new. I am talking about putting down the guns, knives, loud voices, threats, and weapons of mass destruction, and living, all of us in the wild vulnerability.

I believe V-world is possible because I see signs of it again and again in what has leaked through the violence, in what has miraculously, outrageously, survived. I have seen how, in spite of the poisoning of women’s bodies, they manage to keep producing edible fruit and holding up their branches.

V-world is in the center of us. It is longing, and it is remembering. V-world is what it smells like when they let you go, when you’re not waiting to be hit, when you perspire from the sun instead of from worry.

V-world is the 20-year-old female suicide bomber who turns back. It is the video camera the Afghan woman in the stadium hides under her burqa to document the execution of a woman accused of flirting.

V-world is the utter gentleness I see on the aged faces of those who had been “comfort women” during World War II, when they were forced into sexual slavery and raped repeatedly by Japanese soldiers. It’s the one egg the starving Bosnian woman gives me as a present as I am leaving.

It’s the lives our mothers never got to live.

V-world is unfolding between your legs. It is urgent and slow. It’s the joke the woman tells the soldier that makes him laugh and lower the gun he was pointing at her face. It’s the dresses the young girls from Srebrenica wear, and the way they fix their hair to go to hear about their men, even though they know they have all been murdered.

V-world is the lipstick a woman wears during the shelling of Sarajevo, the high heels she refuses to take off even though the snipers are firing on her city from above. V-world is the empty breasts she keeps offering the baby who sucks and sucks, knee-deep in mud in the Afghan refugee camp.

V-world is a state of mind. It is the place you could never touch in me, no matter how many times you banged my head or whipped my legs. V-world is the garden where the missing girls appear, their mothers and fathers waiting for them. V-world is the clitoral cut that doesn’t happen.

V-world is what lives after the pain has left, and we sit in the utter emptiness, and we stop creeping around the hole but fall into it—and it is not what we thought. It is the opposite.

V-world is borderless and groundless. It is the armor we finally take off. There is nothing to defend.


song heard most recently before posting: The Village Awaits the New Moon—Varttina

Monday, September 18, 2006

silent, obedient consent

Yesterday, after finishing my weekend editing load, taking the cats outside for a bit of sunshine, and updating my website, and before I hunkered down for the season premiere of The Amazing Race (awww, how good it was to see my TV boyfriend Phil again! Such lust in my heart!), I watched V for Vendetta.

Being a dystopian literature buff (Handmaid’s Tale and 1984 remain two of my favorite books—my desert island picks, if you will), I ended up really enjoying this flick. I thought it would be corny but it turned out to be very sleek, with the storyline being quite probable. What made me grin (besides seeing Stephen Fry again [I didn’t realize he’d be in the movie] and seeing John Hurt cast as the Big Brotherian chancellor Sutler [oddly appropriate since he starred as Winston Smith in the screen adaptation of 1984]) were the pointed jabs the movie threw in the US government’s general direction. Hmm. People so immobilized by terror that they allow themselves to become mute, complacent putty in the government’s hands, while civil liberties-crushing laws are spun around them? Sounds vaguely familiar.

Two quotes, both said by Hugo Weaving’s character V, promptly made it into my quotes collection:
“People should not be afraid of their governments; governments should be afraid of their people.”

“...while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the annunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn’t there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance, and depression. And where once you had the freedom to object, think, and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who’s to blame? Well, certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you’re looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn’t be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent.”
That’s good eats!

In other news, I was dropping off some items in the lobby’s mail basket this morning and saw a woman standing at the front door, peering in. She was a new employee who didn’t yet have a keycard, so I let her in. But she vaguely looked like a zombie or vampire, and since they say that vampires need to be invited into a building before they can strike, I thought it’d be funny if that turned out to be the case. Like the only thing standing between protective peace and gore raining down upon us was me and my power to open the door, and there I was, all, “Lalala, sure, I’ll open the door for you!” I’m sure I’d be singing a different tune when the bodies started piling up in the lunchroom, though.



song heard most recently before posting: Walk Away—Franz Ferdinand

Friday, September 15, 2006

...clap your hands

Recently on the Today Show they were talking about happiness. I was only half-listening because I was getting ready for work, but what I gleaned from it was that people (What people? Scientists? Think tank gurus?) are trying to figure out how happiness can be calculated and explained through scientific methods. As much as I tend to take the scientific high road in this world (what with believing in that wacky theory of evolution and all), I confess that I have qualms with this idea because it smacks of a one-size-fits-all mentality. It’s like it’s saying that A + B = happiness, when in reality, the definition of happiness is too fluid, too ephemeral, to be easily dissected and…well, defined.

I do think science (ie, brain chemistry) plays a large hand in it. If the chemicals in your brain are making you depressed, no amount of positive circumstances are going to make you happy, just like having vast wealth and a healthy brain won’t make your pancreas voluntarily produce more insulin if you’re diabetic. The same thing goes for brain damage. If the emotion-generating sections of your brain are damaged, it’s going to affect your relationship with happiness.

But when it comes to experiencing happiness, science isn’t the only factor. I really don’t think there is an easy formula for calculating this particular emotion. I do, however, think there is a certain degree of choice in the matter; if your brain chemistry isn’t plunging you into despair or sparking false manic happiness, and if your brain hasn’t been damaged, the choice to be happy on any particular day, with any particular set of circumstances, can be up to you. You see it in the people who lost everything from Katrina or the Pakistani earthquake or the war in Iraq and yet still manage to find joy in their lives.

More often than that, as common sense seems to dictate, happiness is influenced by a constellation of factors which differ from person to person. There’s no set formula. Some people need to be alone to be happy; others need to be with others. Some people need autonomy and independence; others need constant guidance. Some people need a lot of money and possessions; others need very little money and lots of simplicity; others need a mix of both (enough money to pay the bills, but minimalism otherwise). Some people are only happy when they travel the world; others are only happy in their own backyard. Some people are happy when playing instruments, others when creating art, others when kicking around a soccer ball. Some are happy figuring out mathematical equations; others are happy avoiding numbers like the plague (that’d be me!).

I’ve got my own criteria for happiness, but sometimes my moods, even when medicated, have a mind of their own. Amazing, really, how slivers of bliss can erupt from the most unseemly circumstances.



song heard most recently before posting: Don’t Fear the Reaper—Gus Gus