Papillon Rouge

What my obedience to God costs other people

2010-06-17T13:55:00.003-04:00

I've been reading through "My Utmost for His Highest", a year-long daily devotional composed of sermon notes from Oswald Chambers--one of the most famous and well-loved devotionals in history, actually. He's kindof a tough-love guy; wishy-washy Christians will get a swift kick in the pants from him, and I confess to a little trepidation every time I pick the book up. Today, it was like God was using good old Oswald to talk right to me in my biggest fear-driven obstacle: fundraising for my salary. I know God is calling me to do this work. I know that my waitressing job is reducing the time I'm able to devote to it (and specifically getting in the way of meeting with people who work normal 9-5 type hours), and not bringing in enough funds anyway--just helping make ends meet. I know that by failing to reach out and follow up, I'm depriving people of an opportunity to help end modern-day slavery, and of an opportunity to help a friend who needs help. Time to swallow my pride--again, more, harder. Time to look my fear in the face and walk forward anyway. In following my calling I am trying to be the hands of God for others, but I am also to let others be the hands of God for me.

From Oswald Chambers' "My Utmost for His Highest":

January 11th.

	WHAT MY OBEDIENCE TO GOD COSTS OTHER PEOPLE

"They laid hold upon one Simon . . . and on him they laid the cross." Luke 23:26 If we obey God it is going to cost other people more than it costs us, and that is where the sting comes in. If we are in love with our Lord, obedience does not cost us anything, it is a delight, but it costs those who do not love Him a good deal. If we obey God it will mean that other people's plans are upset, and they will gibe us with it - "You call this Christianity?" We can prevent the suffering; but if we are going to obey God, we must not prevent it, we must let the cost be paid. Our human pride entrenches itself on this point, and we say - I will never accept anything from anyone. We shall have to, or disobey God. We have no right to expect to be in any other relation than our Lord Himself was in (see Luke 8:2-3). Stagnation in spiritual life comes when we say we will bear the whole thing ourselves. We cannot. We are so involved in the universal purposes of God that immediately we obey God, others are affected. Are we going to remain loyal in our obedience to God and go through the humiliation of refusing to be independent, or are we going to take the other line and say - I will not cost other people suffering? We can disobey God if we choose, and it will bring immediate relief to the situation, but we shall be a grief to our Lord. Whereas if we obey God, He will look after those who have been pressed into the consequences of our obedience. We have simply to obey and to leave all consequences with Him. Beware of the inclination to dictate to God as to what you will allow to happen if you obey Him.

Robo-Dog?

2010-04-18T23:05:00.002-04:00

When I got home tonight Goldie, the stray we are basically adopting, came to greet me at the car. We've been trying to teach her not to poop on the lawn and when I saw her squat about to do her thing I pulled her away and we ran to the edge of the lawn.

"ok, now!" I said.

While we had been running my phone in my purse had gone into voice mode. "Please say a command," it said.

"Sit!" I said.

Goldie sat.

"Please say a command," says the phone.

"Poop!" I say.

Goldie cocks her head and looks at me.

"Command not understood," says the phone.

Ah, well. Maybe tomorrow.

We're engaged!

2009-11-19T17:41:00.000-05:00

We're engaged!

Once upon a time there was a boy and a girl who decided to get married. They planned a whole wedding, or two or three. All of their friends were so excited for them! And then one crisp November day, as they were walking through Central Park, he took her up onto a big rock where they could look around and see all of the trees and the sky and the shiny buildings and the beautifulness all around, and he said, are you sure you want to marry me? Of course, she said. He was nervous anyway. But he reached inside his jacket and he got down on one knee and before he even opened the box she started to cry and he said, Deirdre, I love you. Will you marry me? And she couldn't even speak but she nodded yes and then she said yes! And he stood up and kissed her and he put the ring on her finger and she didn't even know what it looked like yet!

It was my great-grandmother's ring, he said. When my grandparents were young and poor they had to sell the diamond out of it to get by. Then when my parents were young and poor my dad saved and saved and saved so he could buy my mom a diamond pendant, and that is the diamond that is now in the ring.

Wow, she said.

So they went to Sephora so she could fix all the makeup she cried off and they went to J. Crew to buy socks because it was cold out and she couldn't feel her toes, and as they walked through the center her favorite Christmas song, Carol of the Bells, began to play, and the colored lights of the giant stars were all timed to the music, and it was like a show, just for the two of them!

Then they went to a wonderful, expensive restaurant where he knew the owners, and the servers were so nice and kept on bringing more and more things, compliments of the chef! It was delicious and amazing! After a lovely, delicious long dinner, they took a taxi to Rockefeller Center and went to the top of the top of the top, and looked out over the glittering city, and thought about their life together, and how wonderful it would be.

Slavery in the Toyota Supply Chain: Letter to the Company

2009-10-16T00:56:00.003-04:00

Slavery in the Toyota Supply Chain: Letter to the Company

Dear Toyota,

I am shocked and appalled to have just learned that "the supply chain that leads to the Prius is riddled with sweatshop abuse and human trafficking" ("The Slave-Made Prius and the Future of Green, Fair Labor", by Amanda Kloer*). Toyota's best car for the conscientious consumer is hiding labor practices that would make every one of those consumers sick. This makes me believe that such practices are probably behind every Toyota model.

My mother drives a Rav4, my father a Yaris, my sister an Echo and my mother-in-law a Prius, but none of our extended families will be buying a Toyota again until the company makes a serious effort to ensure that free laborers are paid fair wages at every stage of the supply chain, and makes a public statement as to its success. I would suggest you work with an organization such as free2work.org.

Please take this seriously. Modern slavery is a real and horrific practice, and over 27 million people are enslaved in the world today. With consumer supply chains that stretch around the world, you may not have even realized your supply chain included slave labor. However, more and more American consumers are learning about this problem and will monetarily punish manufacturers who are alerted to the problem and ignore it. On the other hand, by taking a stand against slavery, Toyota may build goodwill for itself in a country that is bitter about the suffering of our "home-grown" automakers. Furthermore, if Toyota considers its labor practices to be common in the industry, being the first to fix the problem internally and then point out the shortcomings of competitors is likely to be a positive and lucrative enterprise.

Thank you for your consideration.

Peace and abolition,
[Papillon]

*Article URL: http://humantrafficking.change.org/blog/view/the_slave-made_prius_and_the_future_of_green_fair_labor

New Uses for Old Things

2009-09-07T00:55:00.001-04:00

New Uses for Old Things

Victoria's Circuit: Harnessing the untapped power of breast motion.
By Adrienne So for Slate magazine

If that's not intriguing enough to get you to click, how's this little nugget?

"Measurements compiled by Lawson and her colleagues show that a D-cup in a low-support bra can travel as much as 35 inches up and down (35 inches!) during exercise, while a B-cup in a high-support bra barely moves an inch."

About Healthcare

2009-08-13T20:16:00.001-04:00

About Healthcare

Dear Friend,

This is probably one of the longest emails I’ve ever sent, but it could be the most important.

Across the country we are seeing vigorous debate about health insurance reform. Unfortunately, some of the old tactics we know so well are back — even the viral emails that fly unchecked and under the radar, spreading all sorts of lies and distortions.

As President Obama said at the town hall in New Hampshire, “where we do disagree, let's disagree over things that are real, not these wild misrepresentations that bear no resemblance to anything that's actually been proposed.”

So let’s start a chain email of our own. At the end of my email, you’ll find a lot of information about health insurance reform, distilled into 8 ways reform provides security and stability to those with or without coverage, 8 common myths about reform and 8 reasons we need health insurance reform now.

Right now, someone you know probably has a question about reform that could be answered by what’s below. So what are you waiting for? Forward this email.

Thanks,
David

David Axelrod
Senior Adviser to the President

P.S. We launched www.WhiteHouse.gov/realitycheck this week to knock down the rumors and lies that are floating around the internet. You can find the information below, and much more, there. For example, we've just added a video of Nancy-Ann DeParle from our Health Reform Office tackling a viral email head on. Check it out:

8 ways reform provides security and stability to those with or without coverage

Ends Discrimination for Pre-Existing Conditions: Insurance companies will be prohibited from refusing you coverage because of your medical history.
Ends Exorbitant Out-of-Pocket Expenses, Deductibles or Co-Pays: Insurance companies will have to abide by yearly caps on how much they can charge for out-of-pocket expenses.
Ends Cost-Sharing for Preventive Care: Insurance companies must fully cover, without charge, regular checkups and tests that help you prevent illness, such as mammograms or eye and foot exams for diabetics.
Ends Dropping of Coverage for Seriously Ill: Insurance companies will be prohibited from dropping or watering down insurance coverage for those who become seriously ill.
Ends Gender Discrimination: Insurance companies will be prohibited from charging you more because of your gender.
Ends Annual or Lifetime Caps on Coverage: Insurance companies will be prevented from placing annual or lifetime caps on the coverage you receive.
Extends Coverage for Young Adults: Children would continue to be eligible for family coverage through the age of 26.
Guarantees Insurance Renewal: Insurance companies will be required to renew any policy as long as the policyholder pays their premium in full. Insurance companies won't be allowed to refuse renewal because someone became sick.

Learn more and get details: http://www.WhiteHouse.gov/health-insurance-consumer-protections/

8 common myths about health insurance reform

Reform will stop "rationing" - not increase it: It’s a myth that reform will mean a "government takeover" of health care or lead to "rationing." To the contrary, reform will forbid many forms of rationing that are currently being used by insurance companies.
We can’t afford reform: It's the status quo we can't afford. It’s a myth that reform will bust the budget. To the contrary, the President has identified ways to pay for the vast majority of the up-front costs by cutting waste, fraud, and abuse within existing government health programs; ending big subsidies to insurance companies; and increasing efficiency with such steps as coordinating care and streamlining paperwork. In the long term, reform can help bring down costs that will otherwise lead to a fiscal crisis.
Reform would encourage "euthanasia": It does not. It’s a malicious myth that reform would encourage or even require euthanasia for seniors. For seniors who want to consult with their family and physicians about end-of life decisions, reform will help to cover these voluntary, private consultations for those who want help with these personal and difficult family decisions.
Vets' health care is safe and sound: It’s a myth that health insurance reform will affect veterans' access to the care they get now. To the contrary, the President's budget significantly expands coverage under the VA, extending care to 500,000 more veterans who were previously excluded. The VA Healthcare system will continue to be available for all eligible veterans.
Reform will benefit small business - not burden it: It’s a myth that health insurance reform will hurt small businesses. To the contrary, reform will ease the burdens on small businesses, provide tax credits to help them pay for employee coverage and help level the playing field with big firms who pay much less to cover their employees on average.
Your Medicare is safe, and stronger with reform: It’s myth that Health Insurance Reform would be financed by cutting Medicare benefits. To the contrary, reform will improve the long-term financial health of Medicare, ensure better coordination, eliminate waste and unnecessary subsidies to insurance companies, and help to close the Medicare "doughnut" hole to make prescription drugs more affordable for seniors.
You can keep your own insurance: It’s myth that reform will force you out of your current insurance plan or force you to change doctors. To the contrary, reform will expand your choices, not eliminate them.
No, government will not do anything with your bank account: It is an absurd myth that government will be in charge of your bank accounts. Health insurance reform will simplify administration, making it easier and more convenient for you to pay bills in a method that you choose. Just like paying a phone bill or a utility bill, you can pay by traditional check, or by a direct electronic payment. And forms will be standardized so they will be easier to understand. The choice is up to you – and the same rules of privacy will apply as they do for all other electronic payments that people make.

Learn more and get details:
http://www.WhiteHouse.gov/realitycheck
http://www.WhiteHouse.gov/realitycheck/faq

8 Reasons We Need Health Insurance Reform Now

Coverage Denied to Millions: A recent national survey estimated that 12.6 million non-elderly adults – 36 percent of those who tried to purchase health insurance directly from an insurance company in the individual insurance market – were in fact discriminated against because of a pre-existing condition in the previous three years or dropped from coverage when they became seriously ill. Learn more: http://www.healthreform.gov/reports/denied_coverage/index.html
Less Care for More Costs: With each passing year, Americans are paying more for health care coverage. Employer-sponsored health insurance premiums have nearly doubled since 2000, a rate three times faster than wages. In 2008, the average premium for a family plan purchased through an employer was $12,680, nearly the annual earnings of a full-time minimum wage job. Americans pay more than ever for health insurance, but get less coverage. Learn more: http://www.healthreform.gov/reports/hiddencosts/index.html
Roadblocks to Care for Women: Women’s reproductive health requires more regular contact with health care providers, including yearly pap smears, mammograms, and obstetric care. Women are also more likely to report fair or poor health than men (9.5% versus 9.0%). While rates of chronic conditions such as diabetes and high blood pressure are similar to men, women are twice as likely to suffer from headaches and are more likely to experience joint, back or neck pain. These chronic conditions often require regular and frequent treatment and follow-up care. Learn more: http://www.healthreform.gov/reports/women/index.html
Hard Times in the Heartland: Throughout rural America, there are nearly 50 million people who face challenges in accessing health care. The past several decades have consistently shown higher rates of poverty, mortality, uninsurance, and limited access to a primary health care provider in rural areas. With the recent economic downturn, there is potential for an increase in many of the health disparities and access concerns that are already elevated in rural communities. Learn more: http://www.healthreform.gov/reports/hardtimes
Small Businesses Struggle to Provide Health Coverage: Nearly one-third of the uninsured – 13 million people – are employees of firms with less than 100 workers. From 2000 to 2007, the proportion of non-elderly Americans covered by employer-based health insurance fell from 66% to 61%. Much of this decline stems from small business. The percentage of small businesses offering coverage dropped from 68% to 59%, while large firms held stable at 99%. About a third of such workers in firms with fewer than 50 employees obtain insurance through a spouse. Learn more: http://www.healthreform.gov/reports/helpbottomline
The Tragedies are Personal: Half of all personal bankruptcies are at least partly the result of medical expenses. The typical elderly couple may have to save nearly $300,000 to pay for health costs not covered by Medicare alone. Learn more: http://www.healthreform.gov/reports/inaction
Diminishing Access to Care: From 2000 to 2007, the proportion of non-elderly Americans covered by employer-based health insurance fell from 66% to 61%. An estimated 87 million people - one in every three Americans under the age of 65 - were uninsured at some point in 2007 and 2008. More than 80% of the uninsured are in working families. Learn more: http://www.healthreform.gov/reports/inaction/diminishing/index.html
The Trends are Troubling: Without reform, health care costs will continue to skyrocket unabated, putting unbearable strain on families, businesses, and state and federal government budgets. Perhaps the most visible sign of the need for health care reform is the 46 million Americans currently without health insurance - projections suggest that this number will rise to about 72 million in 2040 in the absence of reform. Learn more: http://www.WhiteHouse.gov/assets/documents/CEA_Health_Care_Report.pdf

Now THIS is amazing customer service.

2009-08-11T18:00:00.003-04:00

Now THIS is amazing customer service.

* * *

-----Original Message-----
From: Papillon Rouge
Sent: Monday, August 10, 2009
To: planchange igo
Subject: Cancellation

Hi,

I would like to cancel my account, number XXXXXX. I actually meant to
do this a while ago and forgot--which I realize is my fault--but is
there any way you can refund a month or two? I wouldn't ask but,
obviously, I need the money.

Many thanks,
Papillon Rouge

* * *

-----Original Message-----
From: planchange igo
Sent: Tue, Aug 11, 2009
To: Papillon Rouge
Subject: Re: Cancellation

Papillon,

Per your request, I've closed your I-GO account. I've also put the past 3 months plan fees (a total of $45) back onto your credit card on file with us. You will see this post within 48 hours. Hope you have a great day!

Clare Wisner
I-GO Car Sharing
Member Services Associate
773.269.4060

* * *

-----Original Message-----
From: Papillon Rouge
Sent: Tuesday, August 11, 2009
To: planchange igo
Subject: Re: Cancellation

Dear Clare and I-GO:

Thank you so much! You are amazing! If you ever start up in New York I will certainly hop on board again.

cheers,
Papillon

* * *

-----Original Message-----
From: planchange igo
Sent: Tue, Aug 11, 2009
To: Papillon Rouge
Subject: Re: Cancellation

Not a problem! Enjoy New York!!

Clare Wisner
I-GO Car Sharing
Member Services Associate
773.269.4060

The Upside of Being Down

2009-08-09T02:50:00.006-04:00

The Upside of Being Down

Paul Krugman wrote a brief analytical piece today about "The Town Mob", in which he theorizes as to the source of the sheer vehemence--even violence--of the protesters' anger, and worries, finally, that "right now Mr. Obama’s backers seem to lack all conviction, perhaps because the prosaic reality of his administration isn’t living up to their dreams of transformation. Meanwhile, the angry right is filled with a passionate intensity."

I think we can find a clue to this phenomenon here: Sociologist of Religion Christian Smith has found that the religious groups most likely to thrive in our modern pluralist society are those that neither separate from the larger culture and subsequently wither, nor blend into the culture to the point of losing their unique viewpoint. Instead, groups that thrive differentiate themselves from the larger culture while actively engaging it. In terms of the major types of Christians present in America, mainstream and [theologically] liberal denominations seem to be the "blenders", so to speak, and fundamentalist Christians are historically separationist, while evangelicals differentiate and engage, and also happen to be the fastest-growing Christian group in America.

Personally, I have found that I feel most "alive" in my Christianity living in New York City, where even routine Christian behaviors--attending church on Sunday, for example--mean making a choice to do something few others are doing. You "differentiate" without doing anything different, unlike being in Ohio, where going to church on Sunday is basically default behavior. Being in a minority group, in other words, makes you more aware of your different-ness, and you act accordingly.

Obama supporters, especially when the Dems were split between Obama and Mrs. Clinton, were in the minority, and they (we) were evangelical about it: differentiating from the larger culture, yet engaging in every way possible. Now Obama supporters are no longer in the minority, as proven on November 4th, and Democrats dominate Congress, and it's like if I moved from NYC to Ohio: when your position is the default position, when you're no longer the underdog, it no longer feels imperative to act: there are others who can act; everyone knows we're in the majority anyway already; we elected the Democratic congress and this is what we did it for!

So Mr. Krugman may not like it, but there's something to be said for that. Ultimately, Americans are like the pack donkey who was asked by another if it was a heavy pack he was carrying and replied, "what pack?" Americans will not realize how bad they had it until they have it good, and then they will never want to go back. (Can you imagine taking away Medicare? HA!) So, Congressional Democrats, do your thing. Right now your legacy is the spinelessness of the blank check for the Iraq war, but now you have numbers on your side, and no elections hanging over your heads just yet, so let's GET. THIS. JOB. DONE: a good, strong healthcare bill, in place as soon as practicable, so that by the time the next Congressional election comes around, Americans will have started experiencing the benefits and will be appropriately grateful.

Flying Friendly?

2009-08-04T17:06:00.002-04:00

Flying Friendly?

Worst Part of a Trip May Be Booking It on the Web

This article from today's NYT talks about how air travel continues to be annoying--even increasingly so year after year--from the moment you begin dreading the process of going online to buy your tickets. Which sites or airlines are going to add fees that don't show in the initial costs? How much will they charge you for your baggage? Is it different for domestic and international flights? (Yes.) Can you be charged baggage fees for some legs of a trip and not others? (Yes.)

Statistics show that about a third of air travelers find air travel frustrating. Some people have actually decided not to take a particular trip this year, in part because of the economy and in part because it sucks having to deal with airlines ("despite some improvements in airline performance because of a decline in the number of people traveling").

The article ends with the quote: “As a society, we need to be thinking, what is the cost when someone says it’s not worth it to travel?”

As an airline you may need to be thinking about that, but as a citizen, I'm actually wondering the opposite: What is the benefit? Air travel is one of the top polluting activities that Americans do, and as an individual passenger there's extremely little you can do to mitigate that. (You can pack lighter--how much difference will it make if you do?) But if people are avoiding air travel in order to take a "stay-cation"... I'm sure that's fine by Mother Earth.

How to use Twitter for marketing and PR

2009-07-31T12:21:00.000-04:00

How to use Twitter for marketing and PR

Would God back universal health care?

2009-07-29T22:09:00.002-04:00

Would God back universal health care?

Religious texts give us a good idea. The common theme: Don’t turn your back on the needy.

By Oliver Thomas

Mixing church and state might be inexcusable, but the influence of religion on our political views is inevitable. Accordingly, the First Amendment does not prohibit laws that reflect our religious values as long as those laws have a secular purpose and effect. So it is curious that, until recently, little has been written about the moral dimension of the health care debate. The focus has largely been on how to pay for insuring 46 million uninsured people in America and whether to provide a so-called public option. At last, religious leaders are stepping forward to explain what our Scriptures and religious traditions have to teach us about the most important domestic policy issue to come before the Congress in recent years.

The answer, it turns out, is a lot. Not directly, of course. Our Scriptures were written long before talk of deductibles, pre-existing conditions and single payers. But indirectly, the Christian, Hebrew and Muslim texts have much to say about the quality, availability and affordability of health care.

Where we are now

Let's start with the current arrangement. Unless you qualify for Medicaid or Medicare, health care in America is rationed based upon income and prior medical history. If you aren't part of a group health plan and can't afford or don't qualify for private insurance because of a pre-existing condition, you're sunk — condemned to a life of no health care or, at best, substandard health care. We've all heard the heart-wrenching stories of Americans who are forced to choose between food and medicine or who die because they could not afford surgery.

Here's where the Bible comes in.

Perhaps the truest thing I can say about the God of the Bible is that he is for the poor. Not just a little. God appears to be for the poor in a way that he is for no other. Because a disproportionately high number of the uninsured are low-income, knowledge of this simple fact is critical to our views on health care reform. And please don't take my word for it. The Hebrew Scriptures command that a certain amount of farm produce be left behind for the poor, forbid interest from being charged on loans and forgive the debts of people at seven-year intervals.

In ancient Israel's agrarian society, even the land itself was to be returned to its original owners every 49 years so that a family's underlying source of income could be protected and sustained. While some Christians conclude that the infamous cities of Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed because of their militant homosexuality, I think the Bible reports otherwise. Instead, Ezekiel 16:48-49 suggests that it was because they neglected to care for the needy.

Such "care" extends to health care. The legendary Jewish scholar and physician Maimonides listed health care first on his list of services that a city should offer its residents. According to Rabbi David Saperstein (described by Newsweek as the most influential rabbi in America), the ancient Jewish commitment to provide health care to all God's children stems from the Torah's teaching that an individual human life is of infinite value. "A little lower than the angels," as the Psalmist puts it. Quoting Leviticus, Saperstein says, "We are constantly commanded not to stand idly by the blood of our neighbors."

Christians find similar teachings in the New Testament. One of Jesus' most famous parables is about health care. A Samaritan traveler happens upon a seriously wounded man lying by the side of the road. The Samaritan attends to the man, dresses his wounds and pays a substantial sum for his care and recovery. Jesus ends the story by telling his hearers to "go and do likewise." At the end of his earthly ministry, Jesus adds final instruction to those who might have lingering doubts about their responsibilities to their uninsured neighbors: "Love one another as I have loved you."

So tell me, do you suppose Jesus would make a person choose between food and medicine?

For Muslims, the Holy Quran contains multiple admonitions to attend to the needy. One of the prophet Mohammed's sayings, in particular, bears mention: "When a believer visits a sick believer at dawn, 70,000 angels keep on praying for him until dusk. If he visits him in the evening, 70,000 angels keep praying for him until morning, and he will have reaped rewards in paradise." Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf tells me that if merely "visiting" the sick provides this kind of blessing, providing actual medical care especially if the person is poor would engender even greater rewards.

What about the how?

While our various holy texts instruct us about who should receive health care (i.e. everyone), and our common religious teaching to "do unto others as we would have them do unto us" suggests that the quality of medical service should not be compromised because of age or income, our scriptures do not instruct us about how we should go about accomplishing the task.

Some faith communities, such as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, have elaborate social welfare systems that may include funds for medical costs. Others may band together to provide free clinics for the uninsured of all faiths as some doctors have done. Some members of Congress are proposing "health care cooperatives" as one means of expanding coverage, and some states have gotten ahead of the federal government and are finding ways to cover their own citizens. However we choose to do it, the moral imperative is the same: high quality, affordable health care for everyone.

The Rev. Jim Wallis, a Christian activist and founder of Sojourners magazine, has warned that there is one additional role clergy will be playing in the upcoming debate: helping us get at the truth. "Lying is not allowed here," he says. No doubt Wallis remembers the rancorous 1993-94 health care debate with its infamous Harry and Louise ads. But this time, things feel different. Doctors, hospitals, drug makers and insurance companies are at the negotiating table. Even Wal-Mart is running ads advocating employer-mandated coverage.

Nevertheless, Cigna insurance executive turned whistle-blower Wendell Potter testified recently that the insurance industry fearing competition is engaged in a campaign to scare Americans away from any sort of public plan.

In truth, says Potter, America's nearly half-century-old Medicare program has proved itself an efficient choice. Administrative costs of Medicare? Less than 5%. Of the private plans? Closer to 20%, according to Potter.

Jesus admonished his disciples to be as innocent as doves, but he also warned them to be "as wise as serpents." Let's hope Congress can be the same.

* * *
Oliver Thomas is a minister, lawyer and author of 10 Things Your Minister Wants to Tell You (But Can't Because He Needs the Job). This article was originally posted on the USA Today opinion blog:

http://blogs.usatoday.com/oped/2009/07/would-god-back-universal-health-care--religious-texts-give-us-a-good-idea-the-common-theme-dont-turn-your-back-on-th.html

Letter from the President

2009-07-29T14:23:00.000-04:00

Letter from the President

Dear Friend,

If you’re like most Americans, there’s nothing more important to you about health care than peace of mind.

Given the status quo, that’s understandable. The current system often denies insurance due to pre-existing conditions, charges steep out-of-pocket fees – and sometimes isn’t there at all if you become seriously ill.

It’s time to fix our unsustainable insurance system and create a new foundation for health care security. That means guaranteeing your health care security and stability with eight basic consumer protections:

No discrimination for pre-existing conditions
No exorbitant out-of-pocket expenses, deductibles or co-pays
No cost-sharing for preventive care
No dropping of coverage if you become seriously ill
No gender discrimination
No annual or lifetime caps on coverage
Extended coverage for young adults
Guaranteed insurance renewal so long as premiums are paid

Learn more about these consumer protections at Whitehouse.gov.

Over the next month there is going to be an avalanche of misinformation and scare tactics from those seeking to perpetuate the status quo. But we know the cost of doing nothing is too high. Health care costs will double over the next decade, millions more will become uninsured, and state and local governments will go bankrupt.

It’s time to act and reform health insurance, drive down costs and guarantee the health care security and stability of every American family. You can help by putting these core principles of reform in the hands of your friends, your family, and the rest of your social network.

Thank you,
Barack Obama

Gut Check

2009-07-18T04:29:00.008-04:00

Gut Check

It's been a great evening: a bunch of us went to the White Sox/Orioles game, a couple of the guys and I ordered some pizza and watched a Quentin Tarentino flick, a good time has been had by all. My friend B (not boyfriend-B but a friend of the same name whom I affectionately refer to as "my other B") offers to walk me home, so we're walking and talking in the cool evening and B is pushing along his bike. About 2 blocks away from my apartment we pass a well-lit alley and there's a homeless guy there--black leather jacket with silver designs, pushing a shopping cart piled high with stuff, most noticeably a 5-foot cat climber, which is odd. The guy starts chattering to us, and B takes the lead in saying "sorry man, we can't help you"--repeating it several times as the guy continues to walk toward us and begin his elaborate sob story that will ultimately end in him asking for money.

I hesitate before crossing the alley but as B leads the way I follow, reasoning that this homeless guy is no more likely to do anything or follow than any others--asking, pestering, is always as far as it's gone.

But as we continue down the sidewalk he continues to pester, walking after us. I turn--B stops a few steps ahead of me--and seeing him still walking toward us I turn up the volume to insist: "Hey man, back off! Leave us alone!"

He shoves me roughly aside to go up to B, still chattering and grabbing at the bike as B continues to shout at him, also turning up the volume, telling him to back off and what the fuck do you think you're doing?! Incensed, scared, adrenaline-rushed, I kick him hard in the back of the legs. As he turns back toward me I continue shouting and back off a step, taking a fighting stance, "You get away from us! I will punch you in the face!" He starts shouting too--there is a momentary face-off--he has to step toward me to step past me back the way he came, and as he passes (did I really? it all happened so fast--I'm sure I did and probably I shouldn't have) I shove him in the back with my fist. He turns back toward me and throws a punch, and as he backs away, as the shock registers on my face where the blow fell, I start back toward him, shouting all the louder, "I will call the police!" but my fists are in the air and he turns tail, shouting over his shoulder, and all I catch is the word "bitch!" before I turn and see that (brilliant!) B is already on the phone with the police.

We continue toward home in shock, B talking to the police (he kept his cool so much better than I did!) and I look over my shoulder and see the guy pushing his shopping cart frantically across the street and into the darkness. By the time the police patrol the street looking for him moments later he is already gone.

* * *

I still can't believe it. I can't believe it happened at all. I can't believe he pursued us the way he did--I've never known a beggar to do that. Once or twice I've shouted threateningly at someone and they always backed off immediately. B thought initially he was drunk; he could also have been high or mentally ill; in my memory all of his chatter is senseless noise except the word "bitch!" floating back to me on the night air.

I can't believe, also, my own reaction. I have imagined such situations a million times--usually I imagine muggers, actually, a situation in which my belligerence could get me killed if they were carrying a gun or even a knife--but my imaginary rehearsals stood me in shockingly good stead, considering that most people who upset me see only a fraction of the aggression I imagine unleashing. Once he crossed the line--initiating contact, shoving me roughly aside--there was no "fight or flight", only "fight" was left, and I think even his final punch was an attempt to regain some shred of self-respect more than anything else. B didn't have a great view and initially thought it landed on my arm--he was gripping his bike and tensed to throw it but the guy was already backing, then half-running away.

I realize that no one has hit me since I had the occasional fight with my siblings as a kid. The taste of pain, the heat of blood rushing to the skin remaining after the initial shock fades to a dull ache--they are familiar, but distantly. I'm so lucky I had siblings. Thank you guys, really, for helping prepare me for this moment. If he had been more aggressive, if he hadn't run, B and I could have taken this guy easily, pinned him until the police arrived.

In a way, it feels good and alive to feel the blood pumping in my veins and the adrenaline tightening my fists and the muscles tensed to land a blow and even the heat and the pow! and the ache where he punched me--to know that I'm only a "fragile flower" when I choose to be, that I can kick a little ass when called for. In a way, I feel really sorry for that guy, running off alone into the night, hiding from police, with only his shopping cart and his useless cat furniture and his addled and broken mind, while I go home to my beautiful cozy apartment and my fuzzy and loving cat and my ivory-tower books, safely encased in my own white skin, not afraid to tell the police everything, even that I kicked him, because never in a million years would he have the capacity to press charges. Maybe I shouldn't have kicked and hit him--poor, threatening homeless guy.

"Zookeepers had tried to encourage the gay birds to breed with females brought in from Sweden, but they stayed faithful to their homosexual partners."

2009-06-04T12:04:00.002-04:00

The funniest part about this is the Swedish bikini-model penguins :)~

Zoo hails gay penguin couple as foster parents
3 Jun 09

Two homosexual Humboldt penguins have become happy foster parents at the Bemerhaven Zoo, marking the first time two male penguins have helped hatch a baby bird in the northern German port city.

The proud fathers, known as Z and Vielpunkt, are one of three homosexual penguin pairs at the zoo. They assumed the role of surrogate parents when an egg was cast aside by a heterosexual pair. The zoo has tried to have gay birds incubate an egg before, but this is the only occasion it has worked.

"We are of course, very excited about this," Dr. Joachim Schöne, veterinarian at the zoo, told The Local on Wednesday.

In late April 2009, a female Humboldt penguin laid two eggs. The hetero couple actively nurtured and incubated the first egg, but for unknown reasons, they simply kicked the second egg out of the nest. Zookeepers placed the second-hand egg near the homosexual couple in hopes that both fathers would care for it as their own.

The two penguins, who have been together for more than five years, have proven to be loving parents and evidently happy fathers, said Schöne.

"It's really touching how they both care for the chick," he told news agency DPA.

According to the zoo, such homosexuality is nothing out of the ordinary in the animal kingdom. And since penguins split parenting work evenly, there are no traditional motherly or fatherly roles.

Schöne said the zoo was ecstatic the gay birds decided to take on the trials of fatherhood and they were "absolutely" accepted by the rest of the penguins.

The zoo has maintained a mix of homosexual and heterosexual Humboldt penguin pairs on its grounds for over three years. Zookeepers had tried to encourage the gay birds to breed with some imported females brought in from Sweden in 2006, but they stayed faithful to their homosexual partners.

With breeding in captivity remaining rare, zoo officials are pleased to have parents of any sexual orientation raising baby birds. Four other eggs are excepted to hatch in early June.

Check it!

2009-05-31T22:32:00.001-04:00

Check it!

Ben Nolan just started a rockin', thought-provockin' new blog: Tied to the Mast.

You Can't Go Home Again

2009-05-27T21:18:00.002-04:00

You Can't Go Home Again

On August 28th, assuming I manage to set aside my expert-level procrastination for a few more months of sustained hard work, I will receive my MA from the University of Chicago and begin my return to my beloved New York City.

From the moment I made the decision to do this, excitement electrified me at the thought. B and I could finally just date instead of having a "long-distance" relationship! I would get to see all of my old friends again! The city that never sleeps, where one great neighborhood blends into the next, would again be called home!

Until a chance conversation with a friend reminded me that life in New York wasn't quite as rosy as I was remembering it. My rent and grocery costs will likely double, and I'll once again be constantly surrounded by the temptations that ballooned the credit card debt I've actually been paying down as a grad student. Furthermore, even my relationships with friends weren't as great as I remembered them--not because my friends aren't wonderful, warm, loving and funny people, but because, in a word, we were all too busy. We saw each other almost exclusively at church and at church-related functions (small groups, social events organized for the church or a small group, or occasionally volunteering together). Otherwise, it was SO hard to actually spend time together. We worked long hours, we were scattered across the city, and, sometimes, we were just too tired to make the effort. The week before I moved away I had breakfast with one of my dearest friends--with whom, until that morning, I had never hung out one-on-one in the entire time I lived in New York.

When I lived there this was occasionally frustrating and quietly saddening, but I didn't recognize it as the bottleneck preventing our friendships from developing to a deeper level of closeness. Partially this may have been because deep and close friendships can turn cliquey, and as a church-based community we truly valued welcoming people and being open to new friends joining our group. It's a tough balance to strike, but as I've reflected on it, I don't think this is the best way to seek that balance--I don't think that deep and intimate friendships are necessarily cliquey or closed to outsiders.

B, my honey, has a lot of friends through his school (he recently graduated!! congratulations, darling!!) and through the music industry in which he works, and his social network is the foil against which these flaws in my own NYC friendships have become more clear. Without regular church events keeping them in contact, he and his friends take the time, or make the time, to spend together. They shift schedules to meet for coffee; they stay up a little later than they otherwise would have; they find ways to get things done while also spending time together--going shopping, or writing that paper at one person's apartment, or introducing friends to each other in order to hang out with both at once.

I think our desire for friendships like that--where people, as our pastor JR likes to say, actually "do life" together--is why we love shows like Friends, or SATC, or Seinfeld. Life makes it difficult to re-create that closeness (or that comedic element), but have we allowed that difficulty to win? Have we given up?

I love my NYC friends, and I love our church, and I have no doubt that when I return I'll attend Sunday services and mid-week small group meetings just like I always have. But I'm also grateful for B and his friends, who are excited for my arrival and are already welcoming me warmly. I'm grateful for the fact that the other 5 days of the week I'll have other friends who don't need a shared "organized religion" to organize their schedule with some space for me in it.

Can powdered sugar save the bees?

2009-05-02T18:44:00.004-04:00

Can powdered sugar save the bees?

At the back of my mind, for a while now, I've been helplessly concerned about the massive die-offs of honeybees. (Also bats getting the white-nose syndrome.) But, after a reminder from our sponsor Haagen-Dazs, who have taken this on as a little cause of their own, I looked it up and found this optimism-inducing article:

Hopes rise in puzzle of dying bees

Some scientists think that over time bees are getting sick due to long-term exposure to a variety of pesticides. One pesticide is applied by beekeepers themselves to prevent mites that feed on the bees' blood. " 'Instead of one disease, we have several,' Caron said. 'The pesticides are tying up the way they fight these things.' "

Another way to keep off those mites? "Powdered sugar. Beekeepers can sift the sugar into a hive, which coats the bees and knocks the mites off."

Hooray! Domino Sugar, you've found your new community cause.

Gautam Bhattacharjee, Leave Me Alone!

2009-04-18T13:43:00.002-04:00

Gautam Bhattacharjee, Leave Me Alone!

I should ask Chris Crocker to make a youtube video to Gautam Bhattacharjee for me. I have no idea who he is or how he got my email address, but I do know that his favorite activity is joining online social networks. Since September 2007 he has joined Yaari, WAYN (where are you now), Indyarocks (more than once), Netlog, Scour, Brijj and ApnaCircle, and has invited me to all of them. He may or may not have 5 different profiles on Facebook, only one of which has a photo. He also very kindly sent me a link-filled newsletter on the uses of magnesium in the human body.

Last week I decided enough was enough. I sent him an email with the subject heading, "Gautam Bhattacharjee, who are you and what do you want from me?!" I explained briefly that did not want to receive any more social network invitations.

Today I got an email from Gautam Bhattacharjee. I was so excited! The mystery was going to be solved! The idiot would apologize for the spam and we could all move on with our lives! I opened it up and it said...

Reminder: I have moved to Indyarocks.

Incredible 'Business-Man' Has Salary Of 10 Regular Men

2009-04-03T16:26:00.001-04:00

This deserves re-printing. :D

Incredible 'Business-Man' Has Salary Of 10 Regular Men
The Onion
April 3, 2009 | Issue 45•14

CHICAGO—Sources in the Chicago metropolitan area confirmed Monday the existence of an extraordinary "business-man" imbued with the earning power and fiscal strength of 10 ordinary men. This invincible, superhuman associate is reportedly able to leap from assistant manager to vice president of operations in a single bound, and is believed to have a secret headquarters somewhere deep within the suburbs, where by night he assumes the identity of a mild-mannered family man. Sources claim the man draws his power from a special hand-tailored Italian suit that strikes fear into the hearts of rival equity firms everywhere. The only challenge to the business-man's dominance is reportedly his arch-nemesis, "the business-woman," whom he has kept trapped beneath a protective glass ceiling since 1973.

Have you ever wondered if one of your friends would ever consider writing to a toilet paper company?

2009-02-27T01:29:00.003-05:00

Have you ever wondered if one of your friends would ever consider writing to a toilet paper company?

Wonder no more.

Dear Marcal,

I would like to, first of all, thank you for supplying me with high-quality, reasonably soft, 100% recycled toilet paper for a mere 25 cents per roll while I was living in New York City. I became a Marcal evangelist and convinced my brother to switch from Charmin after his disappointing foray into Seventh Generation. Unfortunately, since my move to Chicago, I have had to switch to the more expensive, less environmentally-friendly brands, because I don't know where to find Marcal anymore. (Also, I don't have a car, and let's be honest, I'm not going to make long bicycle trips during a Chicago winter just for different toilet paper.) I was wondering, therefore, if it would be possible to start sending some of that down to Hyde Park (Obama's home territory!). Hyde Park Produce or CVS (at 1226 and 1228 East 53rd Street, respectively) would be good options.

Alternatively, have you considered selling direct-to-consumer? With reasonable shipping prices I imagine you could expand sales easily that way, and then use the resulting information to bring on additional outlets in eco-conscious neighborhoods. (Psst! Hyde Park is one! You wouldn't believe how many Priuses I see every day.) Also, people can buy toilet paper in bulk (granted sufficient storage)--it's not as though anyone's going to stop using it sometime soon.

Many thanks,
Papillon

(Inspired by a most-read article in today's NYT: Mr. Whipple Left It Out: Soft Is Rough on Forests)

Seeking a solution to problems of Money and Stress

2009-02-08T16:33:00.002-05:00

Money and Stress

Catch-22: I seek out stressful life-situations because I get bored at jobs that don't challenge me--that is to say, don't (to some degree) stress me out. This is no less true now that I am in grad school. In fact, I find the things I study fascinating and wonderful, and I like scheduling my own life, even though that's a source of stress too (it's taken time to get good at it, and mostly being good at it comes from fast-approaching deadlines lighting fires under my butt).

These are things stressing me out:

Re-designing my thesis/research proposal.
Finding a professor to approve it and agree to be my advisor.
Making sure the head of the organization I wish to study will also approve it.
The paper for which I've had the topic for three weeks and can't remember what it is, that's due in a week.
The final exam paper from last quarter that isn't done yet.
The huge amounts of reading to accomplish for all of my classes, and the thesis.
My job, which doesn't pay a lot, will soon be ended: yay for the extra 10 hours a week, boo for the lost income.
Debt (student and credit card).
The fact that my student loans don't really cover my living expenses after books and tuition, especially if anything comes up (illness, Christmas, whatever).
The horrible economy paired with my impending graduation.
The fact that all of this stress is causing me to be impatient and occasionally lash out at people I love, such as my adoring boyfriend--who is all the way in NYC anyway. (I'm in Chicago.)
I'm still not ready to get married and he is and I am occasionally emotionally paralyzed or brought to tears thinking that I will inevitably break his heart.
I've gained weight since I started grad school--not enough that anyone would notice besides me, probably, but it makes me feel like I ought to exercise, and that stresses me out because where will I find the time?
I know that if I were more consistently cognizant God and His grace in my life and power over the universe I wouldn't let any of these things stress me out so much, and I should read more and pray more (and not just for help with the above but also, say, in gratitude for the much he has blessed me with and for the needs of others). And I don't know my South-Side neighbors and I don't use my home for hospitality and thereby serve God like I said was going to be my theme for 2009 (I do themes instead of New Year's resolutions; it's more practical and less stressful and I stick to them better--except this year.) In short, I'm failing even at being a devoted lover of the Lord, which is not only my most important task and role but also the one that if well done would relieve the stress of all the others, and put them into perspective.

But at the end of the day--and at the beginning--God is in charge. It is, ultimately, comforting that I am not the sole person in charge of my own life and circumstances. He loves each of us and He is working for the good of those who love him, those who seek the good in their own lives and who seek to be a force for good in the lives of those around them.

And however I may succeed or fail, I think it can be said that I seek it, and ultimately He is asking rather simple things: to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.

I thank you God

2008-11-05T00:25:00.007-05:00

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes we can!

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's my birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

e.e. cummings
and Papillon

Yes I
can yes I
believe yes I
am crying tears of greatest joy
of twenty-six years
of hope spilled onto CNN
of watching a great American
tell us yes! yes we can! yes together we can!
we can return to
peace to
caring for our neighbor to
love to
looking to the future to
energy to
sacrifice to
strength to
humility in great patriotism

Never has a president inspired me to poetry
but for tonight
no prose suffices
how can I keep from singing?

Poetic Justice

2008-10-28T21:01:00.002-04:00

Poetic Justice

After weeks of talking up a tenuous link between Obama and a "known terrorist"--though admittedly an old washed up one--the McCain campaign got an endorsement from the big guys.

That's right. Al Quaeda wants you to vote McCain.

A Birthday Present for Papillon

2008-10-04T15:38:00.004-04:00

A Birthday Present for Papillon

I wrote this letter to a few close friends of mine in Ohio, where I grew up, but hopefully it will be of benefit to you as well.

My beloved friends,

As you know, my birthday is a month from today, and I would like to take the occasion to make a special request: that you read this email all the way to the end (footnotes optional :). You don't have to worry about sending me a gift or a card or marking your calendar to call me on November 4th, but on that day you will be heading to your local polling station to vote for your carefully considered and chosen presidential candidate, and it would give me great joy if you took the below thoughts into consideration as you make that choice. (I'd love to hear your thoughts in response—in agreement or disagreement or just asking questions—but if you don't have time please just let me know that you made it through! It is long, but that's why reading it is my birthday present request. I put a lot of time and thought into it, for your benefit as well as mine.) You may want to find a seat, a drink, go to the bathroom, whatever, because this is going to take a little time.

Normally it is rather frightening for me to bring up politics with my friends—it's easier to bring up anything else, issues of religion or money or sex or even wildly personal and vulnerable topics, because I am always afraid of alienating or upsetting someone or even just boring you. I am making an exception because I was reading the works of John Courtney Murray for my class about religion and democracy, and he talks about how even in America where we uphold religious freedom and thereby legitimate worldviews that are fundamentally incompatible, there is a core of truth that we agree on, and it is on this basis that we are able to discuss all of these things that come before us as citizens of a democracy. Murray points to the Declaration of Independence—"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights", and so on—and he reminded me that you and I also have a lot of beliefs in common, and that talking about politics doesn't always mean disagreement and strife, because we do share so many values: love and loyalty to our families; honesty and integrity; caring for the poor, sick and oppressed, good education, equal opportunity, hard work, being good stewards of the earth and other resources God has placed in our control—the list goes on and on. There's a reason you're all my friends, after all: I think each of you is wonderful and special. ☺

So, without further ado, and with our shared values in mind, I would like to humbly present to you some of the most important reasons why I support Barack Obama for president.

1. Energy and Environment.

Oil, coal and natural gas are available in limited supply, and are hurting the environment in major ways. Nuclear power, while sometimes called "clean", in fact produces a toxic waste that we have no idea how to dispose of. There are a variety of clean, renewable and sustainable sources of energy, which generally require forms of technology that are still under development (even those that are currently usable are often expensive). If America were to take the lead in developing these technologies to make them efficient and affordable, we would become world leaders in a new industry, which would (a) create millions of jobs that take advantage of our well-educated and industrious workforce, (b) make us less dependent on the whims of the oil cartel and (c) be good for the environment.

Regarding (b): the fact that America uses about 25% of the oil used in the world makes us incredibly dependent on oil-producing countries. This has enormous impacts on the American economy (not only because of our own gas tanks, but because the cost of transporting any product across our enormous country drives up its cost), and decreases our flexibility in making foreign policy decisions.

Both presidential candidates recognize the importance of making America energy independent. John McCain's plan for this depends heavily on nuclear power, even though the plan to bury the toxic waste in Nevada's Yucca Mountain won't work because it's on a fault line. Barack Obama's plan involves a much greater investment in developing green energy technology and making America the place where it is created, so that instead of paying other countries for energy, they can pay us for the extra energy we will export to them. This will be good for America's energy supply, our economy and the global environment for decades to come.

2. Economy.

After spending only a year working in the financial industry, it is pretty clear to me that people who have money are extremely interested in protecting what they have and getting more, and they have the power to accomplish this pretty effectively. While I think we can agree that private industry and the open market do accomplish some things more effectively and efficiently than having the government run them, the free market is not the perfect system that some would have us believe, because it is not driven by blind "market forces" but by humans, with all of our inherent weaknesses. The theory is that when business does well, the American people will do well due to the "trickle-down effect", but for decades the pay gap between the average American and the highest-paid among us has been growing exponentially. The trickle-down effect doesn't work because the people at the top are very good at making sure the money stays in their own pockets, and the less regulation there is, the easier this is for them to accomplish.

Therefore, while high taxes and heavy regulation can stifle business and competition and hurt our economy, bringing taxes too low and deregulating too much can also hurt our economy. One example is the subprime mortgage crisis, which can be traced back to the fact that there used to be regulations in place that prevented people from getting mortgages they couldn't afford. When those regulations were taken away, many people still believed they would not be given a mortgage they couldn't handle… and we all see where this has gotten us. On the taxation side—taxes pay for things we all benefit from, like infrastructure (remember the bridge collapse in Minnesota?), or schools and low-interest student loans. We have a tendency as a nation to spend a lot of time talking about things that waste taxpayer dollars (think welfare freeloaders), when these things are generally a drop in the bucket compared to the positive things our taxes pay for that we all enjoy.

At the moment it is politically expedient to talk about getting rid of greed on Wall Street and regulating the banks, but the reality is that in his long Senate history John McCain has been all about deregulation, and he continues to be in favor of reducing taxes on big business (even though many government programs have already been cut in recent years due to lack of funding and people are suffering in their absence). John McCain also did not outline any policy objectives for the bailout plan, and he said he "suspended his campaign" to go help but in fact none of his campaign offices stopped any of their normal activities. This was not unlike when he suspended the Republican National Convention so that conventioneers could supposedly help hurricane victims… all they really did was go to the post-convention parties early. I just don't think that "stop everything" is a good response to most crises. He has claimed credit for bringing Republicans to the table regarding the bailout plan, and I'm sure he did, but… isn't that their job? Anyway, moving on:

In contrast, Barack Obama has proposed a tax policy that eases the tax burden on the middle class, while his other policy proposals will ease other financial burdens for American families and small businesses (like healthcare). I also believe he has showed good leadership in the past couple of weeks by stating a few smart, clear objectives he wanted to push for in the bailout plan: a payback plan for taxpayers if the bailout succeeds; a bipartisan board to oversee the bailout; limits on any federal money going to compensate Wall Street executives; and aid to homeowners who are struggling to pay their mortgages.

3. Decision-making.

I have read a number of articles about Obama's decision-making style, which involves getting as many diverse, informed opinions as he can before making a decision, and I think that is very smart. I read an interview of one person working on his campaign who said that in meetings, if someone doesn't speak up about a topic he singles them out to ask them what they think—seeking out the alternative opinions. Obama also remains close with a Harvard (or another ivy league) economist whose views totally differ from his own, and when he is developing an economic policy he calls this person and discusses it with him to make sure the policy holds up to criticism. I think that being open to disagreement, and to honestly consider ideas that oppose what you currently hold, is vital to making good decisions, and seeking the truth in general. It's not possible to foresee all of the crises our president will have to deal with, and I think this way of going about things is a good one.

I do not know much about McCain's decision-making style, although his decision to take Palin as his running mate made me scratch my head a bit—but overall I haven't heard much about him one way or another in this regard. The current Bush administration is the real foil for this: their culture has been well-known for at least three years and I heard reports much earlier than that indicating that our President is very good at only listening to those who already agree with him, and the results of this have been devastating to America domestically and abroad.

4. Healthcare.

America is the only modern Western nation that does not provide healthcare for all of its citizens, which is rather embarrassing, especially when the costs of healthcare have been rising so fast, and medical problems are the leading cause of bankruptcy in our country. References to government incompetence and phrases like "socialized medicine" are used to scare people away from plans for universal healthcare, but we do not need to be scared. We need only to look at the countries that do have universal healthcare to see that our standards of care can (and because we demand it, certainly will) remain high, regardless of who pays or administers the payment.

Furthermore, one of the many reasons healthcare costs so much is the enormous amount of paperwork involved. "Though many assume Medicare must be terribly inefficient, it isn't. In fact, almost 95% of Medicare's money goes directly to health services—administering it eats up only 5 or 6 cents of each dollar Medicare spends. Private insurance spends three times that amount—15%--on overhead." (What You Should Know About Politics But Don't, by Jessamyn Conrad. I highly highly highly recommend this non-partisan book.) I realize that Medicare isn't perfect—and could give you multiple anecdotes illustrating that from the experience of people close to me. I also realize, however, that my 78-year-old father is one of millions of older Americans on severely limited income in an increasingly expensive society who benefits greatly from Medicare.

The American healthcare industry cannot go on as it currently is, because it is being crippled by costs on all sides. Furthermore, America is supposed to be the kind of place where if you work hard you can live a good life—but that dream is not possible for those who are financially crippled by medical problems beyond their control. (Even people who think they have good insurance are often financially ruined by unforeseen medical events.) I think Obama's plan is more feasible and more fair for all of us, and supports the American Dream. I think that McCain's plan to offer a $5,000 tax break for the middle-class by taxing employer health benefits will end up in thousands of people losing a $12,000 benefit and trying to pay for it on their own with the $5,000 they'll get back.

5. Foreign Policy.

As a multi-national citizen and avid traveler, this issue is near and dear to my heart, and I understand if it doesn't register as high on the importance scale for some of you. Nonetheless, we can all agree that America has a huge amount of influence on the world, and to the extent that we use it we should use it for both the good of the world at large and for the good of the American people—and luckily these two things are rarely in conflict. Anyway. We are still big and important America, but even before our economic downturn America had lost an incredible amount of power and influence in the world, both "hard power" (which includes not only military might but also diplomatic influence) and "soft power" (which basically translates to people liking us and wanting to do the things we do, whether that's supporting our policy initiatives or merely eating McDonald's).

Both types of power are hugely important to implementing our policy objectives in the world, which range from concrete matters of economy and national security, to ideological matters like supporting just, peaceful and democratic regimes and opposing oppression, corruption and tyranny. An example of the concrete objectives: we want to make sure oil continues to be priced in dollars rather than rubles or euros, which would make it much more sensitive to price fluctuations and leave us more vulnerable to weakness in the dollar. (In other words: from 2001 to 2007, the cost of trading dollars for euros doubled. The real cost of oil also doubled. If we first had to change our dollars into euros and then pay for our oil in euros, the overall cost for oil would have effectively quadrupled. Considering how bad gas prices are anyway, and how that's affecting the cost of everything we buy, we should all be very happy oil is priced in dollars! and aware that Russia and Iran are trying to change that.) Examples of ideological matters come into play when it comes to "winning the hearts and minds" of people in, say, Afghanistan and Pakistan. If they liked us more, it wouldn't be so easy for Al Quaida to recruit new members, which they've been doing at a pretty quick pace in the last few years. That's a lot more terrorists-in-training than we would have had to deal with if we hadn't lost all of that soft power.

Putting all questions of the Iraq War aside (there are enough cans of worms open here already), I think that Obama will be better at restoring American influence in the world because: (a) he has a background that lends itself to understanding foreign cultures (like his childhood years in Indonesia with his anthropologist mom) and I think this will help him in negotiations, (b) the decision-making thing I talked about, (c) he is willing to sit down with world leaders without preconditions (NOT the same as without diplomatic preparations). It's hard to negotiate an agreement without ever coming to the table. I am glad Obama wants to bring these people to the table. I am disappointed that McCain is insisting on our enemies meeting preconditions to even talking to us, because it doesn't make sense to me: why would they want to talk to us so badly that they'll do what we want them to without us ever sitting down and negotiating them into it? Also, although I have deep respect for John McCain's military service, I am concerned that his military background will lead him to look too quickly to military solutions to problems better solved by diplomacy. I must add quickly that I have not seen evidence of this in McCain; it concerns me only because it seems to be common elsewhere in politicians with military backgrounds.

6. Intellligence.

It drives me insane when people criticize Obama for being "elite" because he went to Harvard and when the pundits said Biden was "professorial" and therefore had trouble connecting with viewers during the debate. Really, people! Do you want your next-door neighbor Joe Six-Pack in the position popularly known as "leader of the free world"? He can't even stop his dog from pooping in your yard. We should appreciate and look for a certain degree of elite-ness in our political leaders—we should just make sure elitism of merit is our proper measure, not of family ties and money. I think with Obama this is the case: how many other senators had a single mom, or depended on foodstamps? This is the American Dream at its finest: that he was smart and worked hard and it might just bring him to the highest office in the land. That is exactly the kind of country we should be. If we don't vote him into office, it shouldn't be because he likes arugula and doesn't know how to bowl, and it certainly shouldn't be because he answers debate questions in clear, concise essay format (complete with topic sentences and supporting sentences)—especially when his opponent is relying so heavily on buzzwords and fun political imagery (think "maverick"). (Seriously: go look for transcripts of the debates, either Obama-McCain or Biden-Palin. Look for answers that address the question asked and do so in a clear and organized manner using references to a wide variety of facts and policy preferences, and watch out for buzzwords, tendencies to go back to the same issue over and over, and avoidance of the questions asked. Maybe use a pink and a yellow highlighter or something. It's much easier to see when it's there on paper.)

7. Faith.

Election after election I hear candidates proclaim their Christianity, and you can't end a speech in America without saying "God bless America", but it's hard for me to believe a lot of these guys are truly committed to following Jesus. A lot of them, whether I agree with their policies or not, seem like back-pew kind of people, and it's hard for me to imagine them taking real part in the life of the church or having a deep, spiritual conversation with their pastor.

I am blessed to have a really great church in New York, filled with people who love the Lord and thoughtfully seek him in their whole lives. Many of them grew up in the church and drifted away or rebelled for a while, then came back to the faith in a way that made it, for the first time, their own. I think that Obama, who didn't grow up religious but converted to Christianity at the age of 18, has made his faith his own, and is in it for real, not for votes. He's not a back-pew guy; he has a close relationship with his pastor, and defended that relationship even when his pastor was saying some pretty politically inconvenient things. Eventually he was forced to distance himself, because the pastor's new notoriety, in my opinion, went to his head, and he started running around saying awful things about America, but this to me does not take away from the fact that at the beginning Obama's response was, "I don't agree with every word out of his mouth but he's my pastor and he's been a good mentor and friend for a long time and I won't disown him just because you all don't like something he said about America." I respect that response, and I think it fits into the pattern of a real faith and a real relationship with his pastor.

Also relating to faith: liberals have been painted by their opponents as anti-faith and anti-family and anti-tradition and all sorts of other awful "antis", but I have found that this doesn't match up with what it really means to be a liberal. Liberals value personal freedom (such as freedom of religion and speech); taking care of the poor, sick, and marginalized; liberating the oppressed; and taking care of the environment, just to name a few. For me, all of these are values that are strongly supported by the Bible, and I hold these values very much because of my faith in Jesus Christ. I recognize that other Christians may value different political issues more strongly and that may lead them to side more with conservative values, and I respect that, but I urge you to be wary of anyone who says the word "liberal" as though it means "immoral" or something similar. I've excerpted below a couple of articles about what liberals believe and what liberals have accomplished historically in America to clarify a bit more about what I'm talking about here, for those who are interested.

In closing--THANK YOU! Thank you for reading this far; you are clearly a person of patience and understanding. Thank you for my lovely birthday present! :) And thank you for being my friends. I love each one of you very very much and I am so glad you are in my life.

love,
Papillon

Proud To Be Liberal: Why Liberal values are American values (Excerpt)
By Brian Elroy McKinley
Available online: http://www.elroy.net/politics/liberal.html

"You are a contentious person....and probably a Liberal," started a recent response to an article I published on abortion rights.

Contentious? Possibly.

Liberal? Absolutely.

Seems these days Conservatives have convinced themselves, and some of the American public, that being a Liberal is akin to being a card-carrying member of the Communist Party. While this may be a great smear tactic for an election year, to believe such a notion proves that the believer is uneducated in the fundamentals of the American political system. Our nation was founded on Liberalism. Embodied in the Declaration of Independence are its three tenets: "Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness." The very term, itself, is taken from the same root as the second of these precepts. To be a Liberal is to defend the freedom - the Liberty - of all people who make up our great nation. To be a Liberal is to trust individuals and families to run their own lives as they see fit. To be a Liberal is to create a nation where anyone can excel if they are willing to do the work.

In order to understand the true nature of Liberalism, and to dispel the misconceptions fomented by those whose agenda is counter to our freedom, I will detail the tenets of Liberal thought and dispel the misconceptions so often put forth by Conservative rhetoric.

Liberalism is "Life." It is freedom from physical dangers that can kill or disable us. The Liberal believes it is a nation's job to protect its citizens from physical harm, whether from external sources, such as hostile nations, or internal ones, like crime, disease, or hunger. Without the solid ground of physical wellbeing, our nation and its citizens cannot enjoy the benefits of being free. Liberals believe in a strong military, well suited to defend the nation. Liberals believe in good laws, hard-working police, and a just legal system to protect its citizens from crime. Liberals believe in affordable health care for everyone, to keep our people strong. And Liberals believe in the availability of food and shelter for its needy, not as a hand out but as a reasonable step in moving all Americans toward self-reliance and the freedom that comes with it.

Liberalism is "Liberty." It is the freedom to do as your conscience dictates without impeding another's rights. Fleeing oppression in mother Europe, our founders established a nation where personal belief and self-determination are protected, not persecuted, where hard work is rewarded, not demanded, and where each person is bestowed with the ability to better his or her life because of citizenship, not class. Liberals believe in freedom of speech to protect us from political oppression. Liberals believe in sound regulations to protect us from economic oppression. Liberals believe in just laws to protect us from social oppression. And Liberals believe in quality education to protect us from the oppression of ignorance.

Liberalism is "The Pursuit of Happiness." It is the freedom to create an environment where the individual can excel. What is freedom if it cannot be used to better our lives? A truly free society must be one where its members can rise above their limitations and expand their futures. We call it "The American Dream," and it's alive and well in the heart of the Liberal. Liberals believe in equal opportunities for all to rise above our means. Liberals believe in equal opportunities to rise above our education levels. Liberals believe in equal opportunities to rise above our social status. And Liberals believe each and every family should have an equal opportunity to make this world better for their children.

Based on these tenets, we can see that Liberalism is not the monster it's made out to be by the opposition. It is pro individual and pro family. It is pro community and pro country. Liberalism is, by its very definition, the heart and soul of what it means to be an American. It stands against tyranny of any kind, whether international or domestic. It works to remove abuse and fight crime. And it strives to eliminate the idea of a wasted life by not wasting resources and opportunities. …

Hold Your Heads Up (Excerpt)
By Bob Herbert
September 8, 2008
The New York Times – Op/Ed

...Anyway, the Republicans were back at it last week at their convention. Mitt Romney wasn't content to insist that he personally knows that "liberals don't have a clue." He complained loudly that the federal government right now is too liberal.

"We need change, all right," he said. "Change from a liberal Washington to a conservative Washington."

Why liberals don't stand up to this garbage, I don't know. Without the extraordinary contribution of liberals — from the mightiest presidents to the most unheralded protesters and organizers — the United States would be a much, much worse place than it is today.

There would be absolutely no chance that a Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton or Sarah Palin could make a credible run for the highest offices in the land. Conservatives would never have allowed it.

Civil rights? Women's rights? Liberals went to the mat for them time and again against ugly, vicious and sometimes murderous opposition. They should be forever proud.

The liberals who didn't have a clue gave us Social Security and unemployment insurance, both of which were contained in the original Social Security Act. Most conservatives despised the very idea of this assistance to struggling Americans. Republicans hated Social Security, but most were afraid to give full throat to their opposition in public at the height of the Depression.

"In the procedural motions that preceded final passage," wrote historian Jean Edward Smith in his biography, "FDR," "House Republicans voted almost unanimously against Social Security. But when the final up-or-down vote came on April 19 [1935], fewer than half were prepared to go on record against."

Liberals who didn't have a clue gave us Medicare and Medicaid. Quick, how many of you (or your loved ones) are benefiting mightily from these programs, even as we speak. The idea that Republicans are proud of Ronald Reagan, who saw Medicare as "the advance wave of socialism," while Democrats are ashamed of Lyndon Johnson, whose legislative genius made this wonderful, life-saving concept real, is insane.

When Johnson signed the Medicare bill into law in the presence of Harry Truman in 1965, he said: "No longer will older Americans be denied the healing miracle of modern medicine."

Reagan, on the other hand, according to Johnson biographer Robert Dallek, "predicted that Medicare would compel Americans to spend their 'sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was like in America when men were free.' "

Scary.

Without the many great and noble deeds of liberals over the past six or seven decades, America would hardly be recognizable to today's young people. Liberals (including liberal Republicans, who have since been mostly drummed out of the party) ended legalized racial segregation and gender discrimination.

Humiliation imposed by custom and enforced by government had been the order of the day for blacks and women before men and women of good will and liberal persuasion stepped up their long (and not yet ended) campaign to change things. Liberals gave this country Head Start and legal services and the food stamp program. They fought for cleaner air (there was a time when you could barely see Los Angeles) and cleaner water (there were rivers in America that actually caught fire).

Liberals. Your food is safer because of them, and so are your children's clothing and toys. Your workplace is safer. Your ability (or that of your children or grandchildren) to go to college is manifestly easier.

It would take volumes to adequately cover the enhancements to the quality of American lives and the greatness of American society that have been wrought by people whose politics were unabashedly liberal. It is a track record that deserves to be celebrated, not ridiculed or scorned.

Self-hatred is a terrible thing. Just ask that arch-conservative Clarence Thomas.

Liberals need to get over it.

To the Editor:

2008-09-22T19:26:00.001-04:00

To the Editor:

Regarding "My Fair Veep" (September 9):

The oft-brilliant Ms. Dowd today published a sadly quintessential sample of the flippant sound-biting with which we treat religion in the course of our political discussion. She asks with an audible sneer, "Does [Sarah Palin] really think Adam, Eve, Satan and the dinosaurs mingled on the earth 5,000 years ago?"

Christianity's grand ideologies and archeological minutiae have been exhaustively studied for centuries. Intellectuals of all disciplines subscribe to the faith, many based on the strength of academic arguments. Many believers are strong liberals, driven by the values proclaimed by their faith.

Boiling Christianity down to a straw-man sound bite, then, comes as a slap in the face to thoughtful religious liberals such as myself, and feeds not only the complaints of religious conservatives about the "liberal media" but also the frequent misimpression that all liberal policies and values are inherently un-Christian.

PS: I wish your "editor" email account was working, because then I might have actually gotten to submit this after I spent 2 hours narrowing it down to the suggested word count.

2008-08-11T15:23:00.000-04:00

French Lessons

I arrive at St. Michel (can you guess where in Paris I most love to hang out?) and make a few purchases at the student bookstores: pocket dictionary, a book of funny tongue-twisters in English to help francophones practice their pronunciation, colorful pens for writing postcards. As I am strolling toward the park next to Shakespeare & Co., and across the river from Notre Dame, a man begins walking next to me and chatting. I assume he is eventually going to ask a question--directions, time, if I would like coffee, something. He does ask me a little about myself: enough to ascertain that I am American, here briefly, speak French.

An unbelievable conversation ensues, if you can call it that: approximately two minutes of me stumbling over my French to express my questions or responses, and over an hour of elegant if cynical exposition from monsieur regarding the US presidential race, a comparison of the political right and left in the western world, concerns regarding the destruction of cultures and races by too much mixing with other cultures and races, ideas regarding what creates or constitutes the élite in American society (and whether such a thing can be truly said to exist, given the criteria we pose), and so on. This eloquent monologue made reference to examples from history ranging from slavery and the American civil war to colonialism to September 11 to affirmative action and race quotas in universities, and drew on the writings of great thinkers including Voltaire, Locke, Rousseau, Orwell, Neitsche, and many more.

When an hour of conprehending rapid-fire academic French had given me a headache, I was relieved to find that most of my new, still-nameless friend's positions could be carelessly packaged into the thought that I had expressed at the beginning of our conversation: that the French culture is afraid of change. I reminded monsieur of this; insisted that the difference between optimism and naiveté is an important one and that he neededn't be so afraid of the changes occurring in our rapidly globalizing world; questioned him until he had admitted some of the changes he enjoyed (internet, increased possibility of travel, better education); and accepted the prooffered email address.

He wrote it on the back of a business card and I flipped it over, expecting to find a profession such as teacher, lawyer, or historian on the front. In fact, monsieur is a personal trainer.

!

Monsieur is a testament to the French culture regarding conversation, which prizes analysis and philosophical discussion on such a level. If you ever decide to move to France, remember this! Passable French will get you a train ticket, a hotel stay, a good meal, but it will not make you French friends. Papillon expects to learn a lot in the next two weeks.

2008-08-11T13:22:00.002-04:00

Scènes de Paris

Papillon arrives from Dublin at Charles de Gaulle airport at about 10pm, takes the RER train into the city, and gets out at St. Michel (in the center of the city), then realizes her hotel is at Rome (near Montmartre, in the northwest of the city). A taxi ride through a stunningly beautiful Paris ensues, each monument glowing with joy and pride as it rushes past.

* * *

On the metro a clochard goes from car to car requesting assistance from the public, just as the homeless do in New York: except this one carries a sign with the polite message:

As you are able:
1) Smile
2) Some coins
3) A cigarette
4) A restaurant ticket
Thank you kindly.

I am so amused reading it that I nearly fail to notice the fellow passenger munching corn on the cob as we slide from station to station.

* * *

For those who have not been informed, Papillon is in France volunteering with les petits freres des Pauvres, a group that organizes people to spend time with lonely elderly persons and takes them on vacation. Approximately the next two and a half weeks will be spent at a countryside chateau with perhaps a dozen volunteers and the same number of elderly people, going on daily outings to local places of interest: vineyards, a monastery, museums, historical architecture, the movies. The last time I did this, daily four-hour French dinners were a highlight of my stay, and the conversations held over them improved my French enormously. Internet access is likely to be uncommon, however, so my apologies to any who write to me if I do not respond!

much love to you all,
Papillon

2008-08-09T13:13:00.002-04:00

Papillon Pregnant with Jesus

...would have been all we needed to complete the scene, as my sister and I waded through Dublin checking well over 20 hotels and hostels and being turned away everywhere due to a big match. (Hours caught in traffic jams also were part of the picture). But we found a place! A lovely place! Where hopefully my shoes will dry! And we have Riverdance tickets for tonight and "free" wi-fi! A drastic turn for the better has been taken, readers of the book of Papillon! And I can hear the rain on the roof. :)

(Chapter 2008, verses 8-9.)

2008-07-28T01:54:00.003-04:00

To the FACE!!!

My family on my mother’s side is from a small village in the Finnish province of Karelia, which was lost to the Russians in the Winter War of the early 1940s (the timing of which lead some history buffs/professional morons to think Finland was an Axis power in the Second World War). In those days the villages were so rural and the cars so far away that mostly people married within their village, so by the time the Russians came and the people were evacuated into Finland many of the villagers were related, and to this day they come from all over Finland for an annual village/family reunion. This year’s was held yesterday at my mother’s childhood home.

My sister M and I sat through most of the speeches with grace, even though we don’t speak Finnish... actually, that’s not true. We sat through my mother’s presentation and then I slipped away and fell asleep in the sunshine on a cushioned swing. I woke up when someone shouted the name of the new “village chief”, a man who even in his 70s has a real JFK aura: tall, good looking and authoritative. Glad to have him in the family tree. (Second cousin once removed! My great-great-grandfather is his great-grandfather. Sweet.)

Eventually came the moment we’d all been waiting for: dessert. M and I were trying to drag some conversation out of two goth teenagers (second cousins) who were about 6 or 8 years old the last time we saw them. At fourteen, the boy was wearing long hair, mirror shades and a black t-shirt that said in Finnish, “Shame on you!” (Not directed to anyone in particular, he said.) He is a drummer in a metal band. At seventeen, the girl had a black and red mohawk pulled into a ponytail. It was interesting but only the girl’s stepmother would say anything so when M and I saw the desserts had arrived we took off, saying “We’ll be right back!”

At the table there was some of my aunt’s gluten-free chocolate cake. “Awesome! Cake to the FACE!” said M, and inhaled two slices before I had poured my next coffee.

The next day, with the cars and the tents and the strangers/family members (strange family members?) gone, M got out her football and started throwing it around with the more familiar family members. They had never touched an American football before and it took a while to get a hang of the technique. Like the rest of my siblings (but not, as yet, me), my sister is really good at throwing a football. Unfortunately she didn’t know any techniques for catching that she could teach me. “Stop the ball with your hands” would have been a good place to start but I had buttered them before we started playing. She threw it to me like a bullet. Football to the FACE! Awesome. Even at the time it was pretty funny, but I expected a bruise shaped like Michigan around my eye.

Later we sat down to coffee in the aitta and M looked at me and gasped: “Your eye is bleeding!” She can be a joker sometimes so I turned to my mother, an ophthalmologist.

“Is my eye bleeding?”

She poked at my eyelid. “Yes,” she affirmed and reached for some sugar to add to her tea.

Pause. Stir the tea.

“My EYE is BLEEDING?” I couldn’t feel anything.

“Sub-conjunctival hemorrhage. It’s just a tiny one.”

Later I told B on the phone that I looked like Phèdre Delaunay. (It’s ok if you don’t know who that is.) When M came by I asked if she wanted to talk to him, and she said she’d meet him in person, and I asked when, and she sang: “When the moon hits your eye like—“ and started laughing.

* * *

Gross.
Seriously... you have been warned.

Although my grandmother changed my experience of Finland pretty significantly when she died several years ago, some things don’t change: the birch and spruce forests—the delicious strawberries—the “air force” of mosquitoes. I take a daily bug spray shower and have thus far gotten away with a mere three bites: VICTORY! That’s at least 72 bite marks that I should have but don’t. (I am the most edible person you’ve ever met, if you have in fact met me. If not, I am still the most edible person you’ve ever met, because reading this counts.)

I am pretty vehement, therefore, about killing bugs that enter enemy territory (i.e. my personal space or anywhere indoors), and this especially includes flies in the house. I am an extraordinary assassin with a flyswatter—it’s in the wrist, naturally—but unfortunately there’s been a small-arms ban. I’ve gotten pretty good with the hands: two mosquitos and one mini-fly (scientific name) dead, plus one mosquito caught one-handed while I brushed my teeth with the other one. It flew away when I opened the hand but I did some damage anyway.

In the aitta earlier there was even a fly that was attempting some sort of obstacle course, landing on every piece of pie and cake going from best to worst. I managed to disable it while it was on the cake without damaging any cake, and after that it was only a matter of picking it up with a napkin and squish! Flies are the hardest (mosquitos tend to hover) and it was cake so that was some classy work right there. (Reward? Cake to the FACE!)

Then, just now, I finally got the fly that’s been circling me for an hour. It perched on top of the laptop screen and wa-BAM! As it lay on its back dying on the table I saw something (gross alert! gross alert!) appear to crawl out of its butt. I looked closer and realized it had been carrying THREE teeny tiny red spiders around on its thorax (scientific name, uh-huh). A pest with pests! EW EW EW EW EW. Napkin! Squish! Shudder. Ew.

2008-07-24T11:43:00.002-04:00

Hiya Kiddos,

It´s been a long time, blah blah. Papillon has move away from the City and wants to keep in touch with you, and she loves you, including those who were friends from long before her arrival in the City, and so she is going to try to share with you here! I can´t wait to hear what you have to say (comment links are below!).

I found an apartment in Chicago and have been obsessively decorating and re-decorating in my head. I will spare you the details but it will be cool and you will be welcome there in my humble abode!

I managed to accomplish that so quickly, in fact, that I was able to hitch a ride with the Boy (B) to his parents´home on a lake in Iowa, and I stayed for several days and had a fantastic time! They taught me how to water ski; I went horseback riding with his mom and learned how to post a trot (or anyway not fall off!); we went canoeing a bit and made s´mores and went to see live music and an art show and shopping at a vintage clothing store (see new facebook profile photo!) and I met a bunch of his friends and all kinds of things! sadly my iPhoto stopped working before I left for Finland so no photos to share until September. Thankfully his parents found me bearable. ;) Those of you who know B know how he talks about Iowa non-stop. Now I can see why!! Texans, eat your heart out: Iowa really is better. (Although not bigger. You still win on that scale.)

It took a while to gather the troops in Finland because no one seemed to know precisely what flight the others were arriving on, and none of us had working phones or knew the phone numbers of those who did. I arrived first and my cousins didn´t even know what city or country I was arriving from! (Paris.) Furthermore, rather than studying Finnish while traveling I had been dealing with the French at CDG all day and came in saying Bonjour!!

Have you ever been to Charles de Gaulle airport? It is lovely to the point of sheer, irritating stupidity. It is the quintessential, stereotypical blonde. Imagine, if you will, a building in the shape of a doughnut, with moving sidewalks from one floor to another arranged like spokes across the doughnut hole, or sprinkled randomly around. No staircase allows you to go more than one floor at a time without circling around the doughnut a little way. The moving sidewalks do not allow luggage carts. Even the elevators do not go to all floors. The new Terminal 2, which is less stupid, is still 30 miles long and has no moving sidewalks or mini-trains. Furthermore, the French are lazy directions givers, in French or in English, even when you are looking for money to pay for your food or they are sitting behind an orange desk prominently labeled INFORMATION. Where you would say "Go 50 meters that way and take a left after the convenience store to find the ATM" they will wave vaguely and say, "On the left", and then clear away your unfinished Orangina and take your magazine (which was saving your table in the empty cafe). Meanwhile, on the other side of the doughnut, a fake beach was under construction. Ahh, les Francais--gotta love ´em! They make travel as frustrating as possible and then tell their travelers to chillax in a beach chair in a sandpaper hallway! Then they charge you for the wi-fi.

2008-04-01T11:00:00.002-04:00

Request/Response

Dear Ms. Papillon:

Thank you for taking the time to share your views regarding our recent C-Class TV advertising campaign. However, we seek your understanding that, for security purposes, we are unable to divulge the identities of theperformers to the public.

As a lifelong fan of our vehicles, we are very interested in hearing your opinion, as such feedback helps us to gauge audience reaction to our advertising campaigns. It will be our pleasure to share your views withour Marketing Communications Team.

If we can be of any further assistance, please feel free to e-mail us again or contact
us at 1-800-FOR-MERCedes (1-800-367-6372).

The opportunity to respond is appreciated.

Sincerely,
Susan C.
Mercedes-Benz USA

*Sigh*

I must admit, it hadn't occurred to me that an actor would be so interested in privacy. Every actor I know has his or her own web page, and dreams earnestly of an entry on IMDB--not that I could offer such a thing to our man of mystery, but all of the other performers I know would be happy to have coffee with me. (And I do know quite a few! I am a young woman living in New York, after all. The entire temp and wait-staff of the city is heavily dependent on performers.)

Despite my disappointment, I enjoyed paragraph two: read between the lines and there's a funny email being passed around the marketing department; read them too literally and Susan C. is herself both a lifelong fan of Mercedes vehicles and a member of royalty.

I couldn't stand not knowing anymore

2008-03-28T23:29:00.003-04:00

Dear Mercedes-Benz,

As a lifelong fan of your cars, I didn't need the "Why?" advertisement to convince me to fall in love with the new C-class. There's really no need for me to rewind and replay it every time it comes on... except the bit where your spokesman says, "Because we promised you a Mercedes-Benz. That's why."

Who is that man?

He sounds almost angry that anyone might dare to suggest Mercedes-Benz make a less excellent car, just because they lack the chutzpa to make use of each incredible feature.

I would love to hear from any of your representatives on this question, but especially from the man himself. And if he were to have a moment for coffee next time he's in New York? That would be the best.

...and I never expect anything less than the best from you, Mercedes-Benz.

In all sincerity,
Papillon Rouge

* * *

The above letter was just submitted on the Mercedes-Benz website. Every word is completely sincere; my real name and number are included (for them, not for you).

As for the follow-up questions on the form...

MB Vehicle you are most interested in: Multiple Vehicles

"I would like to be contacted by a Mercedes-Benz Representative." Yes.

"I am interested in a test drive." Oh yes. Absolutely.

2008-02-27T22:02:00.004-05:00

The Invasion

I went to the Apple Store for a workshop this weekend, and I asked a question pertaining to blogs. Afterward I was putting on my coat and gathering my things when I looked up to see that a fellow workshop attendee, a middle-aged man with white hair (like Anderson Cooper but not as good looking--shall we call him the Koopa Troopa?) had made his way around the table to ask me about my interest in blogging. The conversation led quickly to his interest in books about goal-setting, time management and how to be a successful person. Before long I excused myself but it was too late: he offered me his card and pressed for mine; I hedged but gave in: it's just a card, after all.

On Monday I got an email from the KT with an excerpt from my free productivity newsletter (if I chose to subscribe) and a note that ended with the line: "...you may have acquired a Life Coach, as has happened to a few other people I know at present."

Excuse me? Really?

He then added me to his email distribution, which he used to forward badly-written missives focusing on goals. (He did not write these himself.)

I was a little peeved. I didn't ask him to be my Life Coach. I already have trusted role models, mentors and advisers in various areas of my life, and furthermore their advice is personalized. The Koopa Troopa barely knows my name.

The Obsession

My bother increased with the arrival of the forward about how to eat breakfast like a champion.

Apparently, if you eat breakfast without taking notes, reading a book or the news, or writing notes about your goals, you are not eating the Breakfast of CHAMPIONS. If you happen to do this in a restaurant where the email's author is eating breakfast, he will judge you for sending off "ho-hum" vibes instead of "Powerful" vibes. If you are lucky, however, he won't notice you at all, because:

Normally I don't look around much when I eat breakfast because I'm going over my goals or reading a book related to one of my goals - or making notes in my journal. In case you want to know what I'm writing in my journal - it's usually ideas related to whatever I'm working on. Or ideas that I'm considering for the future.

Does this strike anyone else as a wee bit obsessive?

Don't get me wrong. I think having goals and keeping them before you in your daily life is a fantastic way to live. I choose mine carefully and follow through with relative diligence, and I have been pleased with my successes in life. I think if you have a habit of reviewing your daily and long-term goals over breakfast, that is very commendable. It just seemed to me like this person was going to spend so much time reading about goals and focusing on his to-do list that he would never notice any of the important things he didn't write down.

I also understand that my own blog of late could be fairly described as obsessive. It's true. If you're not in the mood for God-talk the last few weeks' posts will not be a good read for you.

But if one of these two possible ways of ordering your life is better than the other, I can't help thinking it's the One that made me rather than the one I made up.

I politely asked the KT not to include me on his email distributions going forward.

2008-02-16T22:21:00.001-05:00

What Price Forgiveness?

A Jewish friend of mine posed this question:
I say for a "Moses Jew," like myself, Judaism is about a code of ethics. (As opposed to an "Abraham Jew" for whom it's about faith.) You say being a Christian is about forgiveness. My question: What is expected of a Christian in return for this forgiveness?

There are two apparently contradictory but equally valid answers to this question.

Nothing.
God's willingness to forgive our sins isn't like a marketplace exchange of goods between two equally-important parties. God didn't create people or anything else in the universe to fill some need of His own but rather as the expression of His own abundance of love and glory. He therefore has no need to forgive us and no need of anything we could offer in return for forgiveness.

It's easier to understand this if we first talk about what sin is. I've noticed that when speaking about sin people generally refer to it either as falling short of God's standard of perfection or as a willful rebellion against God, depending on the point the speaker is trying to make. Both descriptions are valid but they each can provoke understandably negative reactions from the average good but imperfect person, who to the first might protest the unreasonableness of God's expectations and to the second remonstrate that they are in fact trying as hard as they can to be a good person.

If God is the source of all goodness, is Himself the Platonic "Form of the Good" in fact, then it's easiest for me to think of sin as the thing that draws us away from Him and damages that relationship, while His forgiveness is the thing that draws us closer and heals it.* Life, love and joy are among the good things He personifies and with which He overflows—and as we depart further and further from Him we become more lifeless, hateful and depressed. Drawing closer to Him again infuses us with more life, more love, and more joy, and His joyful willingness to draw us closer is an expression of his perfect, unconditional love.

One of God's gifts to us is free will, so, while we can do nothing to earn or pay for His forgiveness and the healing of that relationship, we can choose to seek what He freely offers. (How He offers that all comes down to Jesus's death on the cross, which I will come to. Or not. It is important but this is going to be awfully long already, I can tell.)

Everything.
Jesus was asked by the Pharisees (who were trying to trick him) what the greatest commandment was. "The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' " This is in Mark 12:29-31 (referencing Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18), and the story is also told in Matthew 22, in which he adds: "All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments."

I'm finding this one harder to explain in both reasoning and method because I've seen so many negative reactions based on misunderstanding. People question how God can justify such totalitarianism, what it means to dedicate your life to God and what happens to those who submit totally. "I'm not going to be someone's sheep," was my father's reaction, and "blind faith" is a phrase we've all heard many times--not to mention the abundance of stories about people who blame various crazy exploits on the will or direction of God.

One thing that makes it easier to understand is to set aside for a moment our understanding of God as a person. Our tendency to anthropomorphize is too strong and so it's hard for us to imagine a person who is truly worthy of dedicating our entire lives to—especially like this, where it includes not just external behavior but thoughts and emotions as well. We've simply never met a person that perfect—and even if we did, deep down I think we would still have the sentiment, "He puts his pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else." Furthermore, people are liable to change and can appear to make arbitrary decisions. There's a reason the ancient mythologies associated the unpredictable forces of nature with anthropomorphic pantheons.

So I find it easier to stop thinking about personality for a moment and think instead, for example, of happiness versus depression or anger. Happiness is intrinsically better; no argument is needed because that stands on its own. Duke basketball is better than UNC because we get more points and also, of course, because it's our alma mater, but happiness is better than unhappiness simply because it is. Therefore, we build the pursuit of happiness into our constitution as one of the three most basic rights of all humanity, and we do in fact spend our lives pursuing the things we think will make us happy.**

So serving happiness is something we understand and already do; it's in our natures. Whether we do it wisely or well is another matter but we at least understand that it is worth the effort, worth the pursuit.

Love versus hate, then: it is again easy to see that love is intrinsically better than hate. Life is intrinsically better than death or non-existence. Freedom is better than captivity, kindness better than cruelty, beauty better than ugliness, justice better than injustice, and so on. I am a little nervous of saying here that power is better than helplessness but I think it goes. (I am nervous because we all know that power corrupts people. I think that speaks more to the nature of people than power, however. If you disagree you are free to mentally remove this example from the list; it's not necessary to the point I'm trying to make.)

If we combine the perfect form of all of these intrinsic goods into one being—perfect in love, justice, mercy, beauty, joy, kindness, creativity and every other good—and if this is the One who designed us, created us, sustains our life from moment to moment and gives us every good thing, has our best interests in mind, and is teaching us how to be the best possible version of ourselves, then there could be no more worthy person to live one's life to, no more meaningful pursuit, and none more beneficial to us in the long run.

So that's the reasoning. What about method? It's hard to love someone you've never seen, whose voice you've never heard, whose hand you've never held, and God isn't asking us to artificially create within ourselves an emotion—which is terribly difficult, anyway. In John chapter 14 Jesus emphasizes that one who loves him will obey his teachings. (Happily, and logically—circling back to your original question—there's a promise attached to that in chapter 8: "To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, 'If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.' " From what? Sin. Yay!)

What that looks like or entails is another question, but as a teaser, a disclaimer, and a defense mechanism, I will say that it doesn't mean blindly following your preacher into the voting booth, or anywhere (and I think that lazy voters find a way to have someone else do their thinking regardless of religion).

*This, by the way, is why something can be a sin for one person and not for another person, because the action itself is less important than the effects of the action, externally but also on a person's own heart.

** Editing fun! How many different antecedents can you find for the word "we", "us" or "our" in these two paragraphs?

2008-02-14T11:28:00.004-05:00

Modern-Day Heroes
Valentine's Day

We grow up with fairy tales, stories of dragons and damsels. We think we have grown out of them when we merely graduate to taking them in on a silver screen. We still want to be the characters that captured our hearts as children—the adventurers, the heroes—but their world isn’t our world. Instead of wearing shining armor and mounting a prancing steed a man dons suit and tie and boards the commuter train and reads the paper on the way to work. If things go well he meets the right person and falls in love and she loves him back, and they have fun and begin to settle into each other’s lives and make plans to stay that way forever.

One night, perhaps, they are at a bar and when they have been separated for a bit—a long line for the bathroom, a chat with the bartender—he turns around and sees some guy trying to pick up the woman he loves. A surge of adrenaline: the thought is not conscious but it is there, it is his chance to be the hero, to defend his woman and their love. Tough words, perhaps a few blows, and they are on the sidewalk, and after all of his heroism he is disappointed to discover that she is pissed off.

She’s pissed off because there is no savior if there is no danger, there’s just an unnecessary and embarrassing skirmish, a pointless power struggle. The unshaven man who smelled of beer wasn't a threat to their relationship; he was just someone to put up with for a moment while she waited for her man to finish up the “how ‘bout those Giants?” conversation with the guy pulling his next pint. She loves her man and she, too, wants him to be a hero, but macho peacocking just exposes his insecurities.

So where, in this world with no more dragons, no more tall towers, no more black knights, is a man’s chance to be a hero for his love? Do most men ever have that chance?

Imagine this: the young man with a long-term girlfriend. He loves her. She loves him. Their relationship survived a year of long-distance when he graduated from college before she did. Now he works in a Wall Street office with a bunch of frat-boy types who ask him why he's tying himself down while he's so young, and joke about losing the ball and chain. They have nothing against her personally; those who have met her like her. It's the idea of "settling down" they can't abide, so they rib him and he laughs along and underneath it all he wonders: are they right?

Imagine this: that young man and his colleagues are overseen by a man in his 30s, married with two small children. He loves his children. He loves his wife. He has accepted the fact that the fun, young guys he works with are heading to a bar after work while he's getting on a train and heading home to the suburbs. They'll get a buzz long before he gets home. He's been there, and now he's in a new chapter of his life, and he misses it occasionally, but that's ok. This man has regular video conferences with a charming, foxy colleague from the Moscow office. One day she announces she's coming to New York, and suggests that he introduce her to the city a bit, and as they make plans to go out for a drink his heart begins to beat just a little bit harder. It's not cheating, it's just the more fun side of business...

Today, dragons take many forms and few appear menacing. A little ribbing from the guys, an appreciative look from a girl--these are the dragons a man must fight; their tongues of flame are the feelings of resentment toward the one he loves, the non-platonic frisson of interest in the woman who is not his own. The man who recognizes these threats to his relationship and fights them with valiant integrity--that man is a modern-day hero.

*NB: This one is for the men, but not because the principle doesn't apply to women as well.

2008-02-13T13:02:00.002-05:00

Day Without Coffee Number 8: The Idol
or,
What's Wrong with Comfort? Part II.

Say the word "idolatry" and most likely it is the image of a small statue or a graven image that comes to mind. People in the 21st century don't practice "idolatry"; they practice a different religion than you do. That's not called idolatry, that's called freedom of conscience--right?

Yes. And... no.

The idolatry that we practice--and every one of us, of every faith, does practice idolatry--is far less obvious than the statue carved of wood, or golden calf substituted for a living God. It is the elevation of an aspect of or object within our normal lives above its proper status.

Sometimes it is recognizably negative: the student who allows her party habit to take over and her grades to plummet; the boyfriend who betrays his girlfriend's trust for the opportunity to spread a few wild oats.

Frequently it is money: in each tax bracket we think we would be rich if only we were in the next.* We have a terrible time being happy with what we have, or living within our means. (Subprime mortgage, anyone? The lenders aren't the only ones to blame.) We sacrifice things that are important to us to the pursuit of money, including the things that make us happy (which is ironic, since we often do so thinking that money is the thing that will make us happier). We think we are more important than the people who have less money than we do. I try to fight this feeling, but I cannot deny that it is true.

I believe that my identity rests within me, in the person I was designed to be, the person that God is slowly shaping me into, so when I discovered that I was using coffee to define a part of my identity--as a Real New Yorker and as a hard-working, competent member of the extended Wall Street world--that is when I knew it had to go.

Could I have put all of this into words two weeks ago? No. It’s weird to say even now, as though I weren’t a resident of New York or an intelligent, dedicated and accomplished worker without a sleeved paper cup or ceramic mug in hand. Of course that was not the case: I am a dynamic person whose identity is related to myriad beliefs, experiences, relationships, characteristics and habits of which coffee was only one. Coffee was one small thing whose place in my life had grown too big for its britches, and until I began trying to get rid of it I honestly had no idea how strong its hold on my life had become. I must have literally been drinking 5 cups or more a day, because even getting down to two (10am and 4pm) and staying there was shockingly difficult.

Who knew that the absence of coffee could taste so much like freedom?

*Actually, surveys show that those who are truly poor think they would be rich if they were making about $32K/year. Those making in the $30Ks think that $74K/year would do it. Those at that level think someone who makes $120K is rich. "High income" people think they would be rich if they had $5 million. All of these are from polling data referenced by Andy Stanley in "Congratulations", the first message in the series "How to Be Rich", 8/19/07, available at http://www.northpoint.org/messages. Also, I read in a New York Times article some time ago that millionaires in Silicon Valley feel like they're barely keeping up, because all of their neighbors are millionaires too, and the real estate and housing prices are so darn high. They should move to Ohio and telecommute.

2008-02-13T00:30:00.000-05:00

FYI: I am almost done talking about coffee. I may be done already. I know you're sick of it but don't give up! I am sick of it, too.

2008-02-11T17:31:00.001-05:00

Day Without Coffee Number 6: The Sedative
or,
What's Wrong with Comfort? Part I.

A beloved friend and reader, M., wrote to me asking for some clarification about my fast. I think she raises an excellent question and it comes from a place that many will understand, so, in her own words:

The things I disliked about religion/Christianity when I was growing up had to do with judgment (of others by Christians) and denial (of earthly pleasures in general and other people's vices in particular). Music, dancing, make-up, alcohol headed a long list of sins which included knitting on Sundays. Coffee was allowed and indulged in.

Now when I can develop my own relationship to God I like to see the earth and its pleasures as a wonderful and valuable gift from God. So why do people—you and many others—give themselves restrictions that are arbitrary in the sense that they are not necessary to keep you from harming others? Yes, if you are doing something so difficult that you need God's help to accomplish it, that can bring you closer to God, but couldn't appreciation of God's gifts or working hard to accomplish something do that as well?

I had a hard time understanding the difference between sedation of desires (bad?) from enjoying life's simple pleasures (good?). Why do you need to free yourself from comfort?

Most importantly: M. is right. Earth and all of its comforts and pleasures are gifts from God, and they absolutely are meant to be enjoyed. The point of fasting is NOT to say that these things are bad.

I think the difficulty of understanding comes from my use of the word “sedative”. In the context of the conversation S. and I understood it, but when people actually do it we don’t think of it in those terms, if at all. I also, upon further thought, think that I have been mixing up two categories of activity.

Putting aside the restraint from coffee for a minute then: the sedative.

Thoreau said that the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. We, as humans, desire joy, fulfillment, meaning and purpose, patterns of challenge and success, intimacy in loving relationships (both romantic and platonic), and, generally after those things, comfort and entertainment. When our lives lack these things, and many people’s lives do, they find ways to distract themselves from the unfulfilled desire.

Discussing this was enlightening for me because I recently emerged from a period in which I had to work way too hard for a few months in a row. My relationships with people and God fell by the wayside, and since my time became my own again I’ve been just resting up, physically and emotionally. My rest, however, turned into a period of stagation. I’ve been melancholy, a bit lacking in motivation, and it shows up in the rate at which stuff gets done at home. Chores get put off for days, and even fun things I’ve wanted to do: a particular art project; finishing editing and arranging my New Year’s Eve photos to share; some great books I’ve been meaning to read.

Instead of doing those things when I get home, I plop into my perennial spot on the couch and see what’s on TV. Yesterday the brain-drain was Millionaire Matchmaker, a show that had a lot of promise until the pilot episode description of the Millionaire’s Club as an “exclusive” club with “waiting lists all over the world” turned out to be a fantasy; the Matchmaker herself unhappily unmarried and excessively critical; the millionaire participants generally lacking in personality, looks or charm; and the “first dates” a painful series of questions like “so, what kind of music do you like to listen to?” Shoot me, please! I could have a better conversation with a Buckingham Palace guard. And yet after watching an hour-long episode I actually considered watching another. It was such a pointless waste of time; I wasn’t happier or more refreshed after I watched it; it wasn’t even especially entertaining. It was just an hour of my life, dead, and me no happier for having spent it thus, but rather,

sedated.

During that time I wasn’t thinking about the ways I would like to change my life or self or behavior, the relationships I would like to renew, the dreams I want to follow (near- or long-term). I certainly wasn’t doing anything to attain those dreams or enjoy myself in a lasting, fulfilling way.

S. “fasts” from the things that she uses to sedate herself in this way so that her time and energy goes toward the things that are fulfilling and meaningful and more truly enjoyable. As for me, I left the TV off this evening and instead I took a nap with kitty, went to the gym, bonded with my roommate K. (“Roomie”), cooked a delicious meal and gave some deep thought to a topic that is important to me, sharing it with you! This is a pleasant and fulfilling evening, during which I did things that are important to me and good for me. Evenings like this are part of the life of fulfillment rather than quiet desperation. If we can pay attention to the ways we sedate ourselves, and fast from those things, we will be that much closer to following a bit of advice Mr. Thoreau gave, to help us avoid the life of quiet desperation:

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined!

2008-02-07T16:59:00.000-05:00

Day Without Coffee Number 2: Question and Answer

I sit with my team listening in on an interminable 10am Board meeting (via conference call) at which we had nothing to say and the things we were hoping to pick up were more or less incomprehensible. On a good day, with coffee, sustained attention would have presented some challenge. On this day, I am doing everything I can think of to stay awake: fidgeting my foot, taking increasingly illegible notes, implementing a dozen different ways of invisibly causing myself pain (pressing fingernails against my wrist, for example). After an hour of trying to hide my inevitably closing eyes behind my hair, my director notices and whispers across the table, “Would you like to go get some coffee?”

“Yes please!” I whisper back and take off, thinking yes yes yes I would like that so much but I will have to find something else. I grab a Coke and head back to the conference room, a little more awake from the quick jaunt around the office.

Later, I have lunch at San Pietro with a big-shot financial writer, C., who is a friend of mine. He identifies for me Chairman’s Row, the tables by the window: one of their temporary inhabitants recognizes C., and had noticed me sitting at the bar, and jovially invites us to join him and his lunch companion. Our inviter, himself a CEO, whispers to me conspiratorially that you can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep, before adeptly turning a handshake into a cheek-kiss and a brief but tight hug. After excusing ourselves to our own table and enjoying a delicious Italian meal C. orders a post-lunch capp and asks if I would like some coffee. Desperately, I think, and this is not the place for a stand-in bottled in Atlanta. Unwilling to dither internally over the conditions of my Lenten rules, I ask the waiting waiter for a decaf latte.

At home that evening, over chamomile tea with my girl S. (sipped from the adorable Alice in Wonderland teacups that I glazed myself!), we discuss the meaning and purpose of fasting. I am having a bit of a dilemma because, having given up coffee for the purpose of breaking an addiction to caffeine, I didn’t know if it was ok to have drinks with caffeine, or coffee without.

S. once worked with a group of Muslim women so when they fasted for Ramadan, she fasted too, to show respect for their culture and their faith even though practicing her own. (S., like me, is Protestant.)

“Did you find that your fast brought you closer to God?” I asked.

She considered how to answer. “When I fast, I pay a lot of attention to how I’m sedating myself,” she began. I didn’t understand, and she clarified: “We do these things in the course of our daily lives that sedate our desires. I’ve noticed with me it’s little comfort things—this little game I play on my blackberry, or a certain food. These aren’t things that feed your soul, they just sedate it.”

I thought about that. Warm drinks to me in childhood meant hot chocolate, sipped while reading a good book, tucked in under a warm comforter, perhaps with a fire burning or rain patting the window. The association was strengthened when I was launched from college to London: on my first day I discovered my rented room far less clean and furnished and far more distant to London than I expected. My second day, a Sunday, found me miserably wandering a rain-drenched, deserted financial district hoping to discover the location of my office building for the next morning, and any sign of the metropolitan life I came to London to seek. Then I saw a Starbucks, a beacon of familiarity tucked amid skyscrapers, and went inside for a warm chai that tasted exactly like the ones at home, sipped gazing in contemplation through the rain-spattered window from the comfort of a purple velvet-upholstered armchair.

A year later I moved to New York, where Starbucks is as ubiquitous as stoplights, and imagined I looked like a Real New Yorker walking around flashing that little green logo. When I finally got a job at an office with a coffee machine (four actually, all within 10 feet of me), I felt prepared when I came to meetings mug in hand—in particular when life circumstances were depriving me of adequate sleep on a near-nightly basis.

So this was the answer: it was all about comfort, AND caffeine. I need to free myself from both: which means freeing myself from the need for decaf coffee, as well as other non-coffee sources of caffeine. I need to do that without jeopardizing the quality of my work, however, so it is okay that I didn’t give up soda or tea, and I can work to free myself from coffee itself immediately, and coffee substitutes over the course of the next 39 days.

Question: What is more important, the letter of the law, or the spirit, and what was the spirit of my own personal, temporary law?

Answer: The letter of the Law proves to us our own weaknesses, and the Spirit, given in grace, sets us free, giving us the strength to travel the road to Our Father as best we can.

2008-02-06T13:56:00.000-05:00

Ash Wednesday: Day Without Coffee Number 1.

Luckily most of the headaches seem to be done with but I am very tired. Also, work on my clients is slow enough to not motivate me to do the few things I should be doing (because I have all day to do them, there is no need to do them now). I dislike that feeling.

However: yay! I get to leave early for the Ash Wednesday prayer meeting.

The evening is balmy, and I’m strolling along with iPod on when behind the music I hear someone say my name and see the peripheral flicker of a person almost passing me on the sidewalk but suddenly spinning around.

I turn, lowering my head to remove the earbuds, prepare for small talk with someone whose name I don’t remember. Then I look up, and it’s him: the most anti-Christian person I’ve ever met, the one who constantly blamed Christians for all that is wrong in America and the world, the one who had actually improved ever-so-slightly from his college days when he looked forward to meeting Christians so he could make fun of them to their faces. I was the only Christian he knew and he fell in love with me. I cared about him too but buckled under the weight of his broken life and crushing neediness. The last time I saw him he asked if we could maybe be friends, and I gently explained than until he had his life somewhat in order, I would always feel responsible for getting it there, and I just could not handle the responsibility of two lives: I could only live one.

Now, chit-chatting on the sidewalk, far from the neighborhood we both call home, he tells me he has been to church. He is going regularly. I am flabbergasted. It is a Unitarian church, and he asks me not to tell a mutual friend, because our friend always mixes up Unitarian and Presbyterian. I laugh, because I know he is serious. I don’t agree with every Unitarian belief but one thing they really excel at is acceptance. Perhaps they will teach him to accept mainstream Christianity… but it doesn’t really matter as long as he gets to know Christ. Other goods all flow from the one Perfect Person.

I walk away unable to take the smile from my face.

2008-02-05T13:15:00.000-05:00

Mardi Gras

Today is Fat Tuesday and also, by coincidence, the first day of our new season of Community Groups at my church. This time I am neither hosting nor leading but (as part of my New Year’s commitment to Having More Fun) I am attending one hosted and led by some darling friends of mine whom I do not see often enough. We discuss, among other things, Lent, and the things in life that we look to for comfort, meaning, pleasure and fulfillment—things other than God, things most accurately (if uncomfortably) called idols. I share my fear of what the next 40 days and nights will bring.

A., who is possibly the most wonderfully love-exuding person I have ever met and who is leading the group, sympathizes, and shares about a time when she, as a model, made the decision to turn down a nude shoot with a world-renowned photographer because of her faith. She talks about finding joy in giving up something for God, that there can be joy in our struggles because they can bring us closer to Him, and that it will be easier to do it with joy than with dread.

Joy. I remember what it is like to have real joy in the Lord. It is delicious and exotic and intense and yet comfortable and it exists totally independent of life circumstances. It is like tasting something sweet and refreshing and memory-evoking. It is like walking around listening to your favorite song on your iPod, feeling that if you were to break into dance everyone around will know the choreography and jump right in. It makes you overflow with love for other people.

I am reading this book called “Happier”, which is based on positive psychology and explains how one can obtain the “ultimate currency” of happiness. (It is the essentials of the most popular course at Harvard, where the author teaches.) Dr. Ben-Shahar says that everyone needs goals. I certainly have goals, but I stop reading for a moment to think about what goals will make me truly happy, which I determine by first thinking about when I have been happiest in the past. I realize that my happiness had everything to do with God and very little to do with my circumstances, as I had been jobless and very concerned about that at the time.

So my goal is to seek after God, rejuvenate that relationship, and to get rid of the things of this world that are holding me subject. Thank you, God, for sending A. to speak wisdom into my life.

2008-02-04T12:55:00.000-05:00

Lenten Diary: Papillon Unplugged

Papillon Rouge has decided to give up coffee for Lent (inter alia).

It all started when, at Christmastime, my brother hugged me in greeting and immediately asked me how I was doing. "You're too skinny!" he said.

"I'm normal!" I said. I would like to think that being super-thin is very normal for "people like me", people like Giselle and Kate and Natalia.

"I've hugged people before," he said. "I can feel your ribs."

I explained that I had been having this problem with food: I might be hungry, but everything grossed me out. I would be at a restaurant eating something delicious and be ready to stop eating after half a portion. It's not one of the typical eating disorders that we hear about--having nothing to do with a desire to lose weight--but the product, most likely, of too much stress and not enough sleep.

At the Christmas party with my old girlfriends, then, I pre-empted any questions (and possible envy) by telling the girls my troubles, and one of them asked if I had been drinking a lot of coffee.

I thought about it. I'm a slow drinker so often my coffee gets cold and I pour it out and re-fill. Also, I sit right next to the kitchen at work, which is home to one espresso machine (with milk steamer!), two instant coffee machines and one of those crazy Flavia machines with all of the different coffee/tea/hot chocolate options.

"How much is a lot?" I query.

“More than two cups.”

I squirm a bit and finally admit: “Definitely yes.”

Hmmmm… not good.

Early attempts to go without coffee do not go well. Exhaustion and headaches run rampant. Papillon pulls back to a cup in the morning and a cup around 4pm, with difficulty.

Mardi Gras approaches and I am torn. It is not good to be under the control of a material thing, and I can sense that God wants me to do this, to let Him bring me through it and set me free. At the same time, I have re-evaluated my personal finances and come to a humbling conclusion: Even if everything I buy is justifiable and reasonably inexpensive, the simple truth is that the trick to saving money is to stop buying things that I don’t need. (I know: DUH. But it’s a hard truth to face when you’re faced with that gorgeous/cheap/delicious thing you didn’t know existed.) But can I give up both coffee and terrible spending habits? “I can do all things through Him who gives me strength” I am reminded. Boo. Here goes. Dread wraps around my tummy in a vice grip. I WANT A STEAMING CUP OF EXPENSIVE COMFORT WITH A GREEN LOGO DECLARING ME A REAL NEW YORKER!

2007-11-24T02:15:00.000-05:00

ESCAPE
by Carolyn Jessop, with Laura Palmer.

I realize I may not have any readers left since I never post anymore, but what the hey. If you happen across this post, please read this book. Escape is quite possibly the most gripping real-life account I have ever read of any event or series of events. Not a single competitor even comes to mind. (Sorry, Charlie.)

Oddly enough, I picked it up because I saw the author on The O'Reilly Factor. The mis-use of the word "spin" on that show really drives me nuts (because I think they're using it to mean the opposite of what I think it means) and so I rarely watch it--but, in an odd twist of events, the above-linked Charlie told me to turn it on, because he thought Christopher Hitchens and Dinesh D'Souza were on. I had been to their debate entitled "Is Christianity the Problem?" the week prior, but unfortunately did not catch them on O'Reilly's show. I also, for the record, did not get to ask my question after standing in line, with thumping heart and much-rewritten
question for over 45 mins, since they cut off the questions *right* in front of mine! Sadness. Perhaps Mr. Hitchens will agree to have dinner with me so I can ask him what rubric he uses to differentiate between honest, trying-our-best Christians and those who use (or twist) the religion merely to support the things they would have done or said anyway.

In any case, Escape highlights a situation in which systemic abuses are happening to a group of people here in our own country, and points to ways in which we can help. Counseling, education, and logistical and monetary support are all needed for people who escape or are excommunicated from the FLDS. For those still inside I am not sure what can be done, but for those formerly of that group who have made it out, we must help them as best we can. To me, this is part of what it means to be American, and part of what it means to be a Christian: loving your neighbor.

The best way I've seen to do this so far is to help this organization, New Frontiers for Families. They have a special project for the escaped and kicked out children of FLDS, which you can read about here: http://newfrontiersforfamilies.org/bluffhouse.asp
And if you feel so led, you can donate on their site.

hugs to you all.

2007-10-08T21:15:00.000-04:00

Where Even the Homeless are Queens

Twice, upon exiting my subway after work, there has been someone sitting on the steps and asking for money. This person was a sobbing trannie, 40-something, mascara running down the face with tears in a fair to middling acting job, not the type that could afford all of the surgeries (perhaps tried?). S/he made me sad but at the same time, I liked that even the homeless person in my subway stop isn’t just any old homeless person: s/he’s got a crazy story and even now, months later, I remember him/her clearly. If s/he ever came back I would stretch out my hand and say,

“Stop crying. Come with me. We’ll have dinner and you can tell me your story.”

2007-10-08T21:12:00.000-04:00

New Yorker, By Degrees

At the exits and across the street people hawk media from Metro to the Times. The woman selling the Post gently bullies: Get your paper, New Yorkers! (New Yawkas.)

She knows I like being called a New Yorker because really I’m not. Habitants of this city love being reminded that we’re in New York because it is secretly synonymous with “center of the universe”—sorry, make that “Center of the Universe!”. Every time we turn on the TV, everything is in New York, even the O.C. The show now opens, “Good morning, Upper East Siders!” and I respond enthusiastically, “Good morning, Gossip Girl!”

2007-10-08T21:11:00.000-04:00

I'll Take Several

I exit Grand Central and emerge into the Monday morning haze. A man doing a promotion is distributing smiles and small envelopes of Advil.

Wow, I think. They really know their market.

2007-01-24T10:40:00.000-05:00

Natalie Angier is my new favorite writer--or, science writer, at least. Is her style not lovely? I bet she's beautiful and brilliant.

And this is her latest:

Making Sense of Time, Earthbound and Otherwise
(New York Times, January 23, 2007)

More than three weeks have passed since the great Waterford disco ball dropped over Times Square, and most of us are taking 2007 in stride. The time is flying by, just as it does when we’re having fun, approaching a deadline or taking a standardized test on which our entire future depends, though not, oddly enough, when we ourselves are flying, especially not when we are seated in the last row, near the bathrooms.

But before we stuff the changing of the annum into the seat pocket in front of us and hope that nobody notices, it’s worth considering some of the main astral and terrestrial events that make delightful concepts like “new year” and “another Gary Larson calendar” possible in the first place. Let’s think about the nature of so-called ordinary time, the seconds, days, seasons and years by which we humans calibrate our clocks and merrily spend down our lives. As Robert L. Jaffe, a theoretical physicist at M.I.T., explained in an interview and recent articles in Natural History magazine, our earthly cycles and pacemakers are freakish in their moderation, very different from the other major chronometers that abound around us, but of which we remain largely unaware.

The long and short of the universe is just that, almost exclusively long and short, with the hyperclipped quantum clickings of the atom on one end and the chasmic lollygags and foot drags of the greater cosmos on the other. We terrestrial, tweener-timed life forms are the real outliers here, the kinky boots at the party.

So what are the public and private rhythms by which we humans abide? Our prima donna of a planet twirls on its axis once every 24 hours and so gives us our days, and as it rotates it circumnavigates the sun to sketch out our 365-day years; and because the angle of Earth’s spin relative to the big, flat platter of its orbit isn’t straight up and down, but instead is tipped by 23 degrees, we have our seasons, our cashmere and cotton, the heartbreak of clothing moths.

These cycles have been in place at more or less their current configurations since the birth of Earth more than four billion years ago, and they have set the dials and counters of virtually all life. Every cell of the human body pulses to a circadian beat, sucking in glucose, squirting out hormones, building up fresh proteins and breaking down stale ones, all in predictable swells and troughs throughout the day, a rhythmicity that may help explain why we love music but still does not explain the lingering popularity of Bachman-Turner Overdrive.

Elsewhere in the solar system are other worlds, taking care of their business, working their quirky times. Saturn, for example, spins as snappily as it accessorizes, completing a day in 10½ hours; but being almost 10 times farther from the Sun than we are, it needs 30 of our years to finish one of its own. Mercury, by contrast, orbits the Sun in just 88 days, but rotates a miserly one and a half times during the entire mercurial “year,” which means that the side facing the sun has a chance to bake to 700 degrees Fahrenheit, while the half staring out into space turns as cold and miserable as that poor little demotee from the planetary pantheon, Pluto.

These various blends of diurnal and annual cycles are all perfectly comprehensible, if medically ill-advised. But just as the light that we humans deem “visible” represents a tiny part of the vast electromagnetic spectrum, so the collected clocks of the solar system are a meager sampling of the universal stock of tockers. Far more action is going on below the surface, in the subatomic community. There we find events occurring in increments far briefer than classic quickies like “in a heartbeat” (i.e., about a second) or “in the blink of an eye” (a tenth of a second), and down into the realms of scientific notation blessedly leavened with Marx Brothers nicknames — intervals like the attosecond (a millionth of a trillionth of a second, or 10-18 second), the zeptosecond (a billionth of a trillionth or 10-21 second) and, my personal favorite, the yoctosecond (a trillionth of a trillionth, or 10-24 second). No matter the nomenclature; the duck soup is ever astir. The time it takes a quark particle to circle around inside the proton of an atomic nucleus? Midway between zepto and yocto, or roughly 10-22 second. For an electron to orbit the proton to which it is madly, electromagnetically attracted? A not-quite-atto-sized 10-16 second.

Fleeting does not mean flaky or unstable, however. To the contrary: the fundamental quivers of the atom “are exceedingly regular,” Dr. Jaffe said, adding, “They mark the heartbeat of the universe.” Atomic events are so reliable, so like clockwork in their behavior, that we have started tuning our macroscopic timepieces to their standards, and our beloved second, once defined as a fraction of a solar day, is now officially linked to oscillations in a cesium atom.

Or look to the expanding firmaments, the unspeakably protracted pace of the space race. Cosmic time is as difficult to grasp as the twitchings of the atom, but it, too, is rule bound and reliable. Galaxies and clusters of galaxies are moving away from one another in defined intervals as the space between them expands like the rubber skin of an inflating balloon. They have been sailing outward from one another for nearly 14 billion years, since the staggering, soundless kaboom of the Big Bang set this and all clocks ticking, and they will continue their dispersal for tens of billions, hundreds of billions of years more.

We are poised between the extremities and homogeneities of nature, between delirium and ad infinitum, and our andante tempo may be the best, possibly the only pace open to us, or even to life generally. If we assume that whatever other intelligent beings that may be out there, in whatever alpha, beta or zepto barrio of the galaxy they may call home, arose through the gradual tragicomic tinkerings of natural selection, then they may well live lives proportioned much like ours, not too long and not too short. They’re dressed in a good pair of walking boots and taking it a day at a time. And if you listen closely you can hear them singing gibberish that sounds like Auld Lang Syne.

2007-01-17T15:02:00.000-05:00

Time to Kick It Up a Notch

Things are getting bad in Darfur.

Correction: things have been bad--awful--truly atrocious--for a long time now. Now, however, "Fourteen UN aid agencies working in Sudan's troubled Darfur region have warned that their relief operations will collapse unless security improves."

Remember the Holocaust?
Remember Rwanda?
Whatever happened to "Never again"?

It is time to kick it up a notch, my friends. If you are reading this, please do something. My recommendation is to go to SaveDarfur.org; the easiest thing to do is make a donation and tell your friends. It takes two seconds, you don't have to sign up for anything and, unlike giving to your local homeless person, you don't have to worry that your beneficiary may be a junkie who will use your generosity to support their addiction.

Rather, you are helping a people who are
victims of racism
persecuted
displaced
and starving
and who number 400,000 less than they did just three years ago.

Please don't let something as meaningless as distance be the thing that hardens your heart.

2007-01-14T23:49:00.000-05:00

A Separate ...Piece

As a young person--perhaps as an older person too, but particularly during these first few years out of college--you fight so hard to get each little bit of your life in order. You fight for a good job, for enough money, for respect, for a good place to live, for a work-life balance, for gym time, for down time, for those little things that make you happy, for the ability to live within your budget, for your relationships. Sometimes, if you're lucky/blessed (and I have been, I must say, fabulously blessed in my life), you may even sit down one day and say to yourself,

"Look! I have it all! Nearly."

"Nearly" can come from all sorts of little things. Perhaps you don't know *quite* which school to go to next, or which degree to work for or career to work toward; perhaps (as for nearly everyone everywhere) you could stand to make a bit more money; perhaps you'd rather have a slightly nicer boss/apartment/iPod/neighborhood or a slightly less stressful job/rent/commute/housemate... but on the whole, things are pretty good.

Or,
perhaps,

having it all, nearly, has made obvious the one thing you don't have,
and it's the most important, the most desired,
the very thing whose lack
you were hoping to forget by
surrounding yourself with
every kind of
lovely
thing.

2006-12-19T15:55:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I just need to write
To type away and feel the keys
Beneath my fingers right and write and
Watch the flow of words away
The stream of logos finding taking
All the thoughts and cares and stress and
Letting go with fingers finding
Peace in streaming words away

Outside window big sky blooming
Clouds and blueness big and sky
And calmer calmer than the waters
Streaming quickly words away
Into the space that has no vacuum
Every emptiness is full of
Words that carry stress and progress
Toss them, carefree, words away

And start afresh then, carefree slowly
Listing planning one by one stream
Careful words in new directions
One and two and three in step
-ping stones to take me new directions
Words now listing future tense but
Tendu now becomes a dance to
Greet the future time in step.

2006-12-03T17:38:00.000-05:00

Starbucks

The violet velvet chairs, the relaxing music, the sound of the steamer and the smell of espresso, the holiday decorations, the smiles and the warm cup held in both hands--Starbucks becomes my home away from home, everywhere I go, and even when in limbo between two homes, as now, at the airport coming home to New York from my home in Ohio.

I've been home for the weekend to see my friends and attend a party given for some of the Eight Major Babes, specifically, the babe getting married December 30th, the babe getting married January 12th, and the babe having a babe due January 26th. Last weekend I learned that another babe, Sarah, is expecting her second, and this weekend one of the presents was from "Lydia, Dale, Ty and baby-on-the-way"! Our families are growing, our lives continue and the passage of time continues, as ever, to amaze me. As of January 13th only two of the babes will remain unmarried, and when her boyfriend of four years finally proposes to the other there will remain me.

It's an odd feeling, sometimes, to be in a stage of life that doesn't really exist for some of my closest friends. To be young and travelling the world, to be young and on my own and out and about in Paris-London-New York (next stop Rovaniemi?).

And it's a sad feeling, sometimes, to not get to share my life with some of those who mean the most to me, and to not get to share their lives either, except in bits and pieces, when I can afford a plane ticket, when someone writes a letter.

But then, sometimes, when my daily routine brings me through the marketplace in Union Square or to lunch in Herald, or when I arrive at work with all the tourists arriving at the Empire State Building, I know I couldn't have chosen anything else. My life is here and I am here, oh-so-alive!

2006-12-01T09:39:00.000-05:00

See what will happen if you don't stop biting your fingernails?
Will Rogers, to his niece on seeing the Venus de Milo

2006-10-18T22:27:00.000-04:00

The American Dream indeed...

This morning
in a peaceful haze
I opened my eyes to a room
full of light

sunlight slipping slowly through Venetian blinds

how pleasant
how
unusual

...what time is it?
eleven-thirty.

hmm

what day is it?
It must be Saturday.
no, we had one of those recently, I think.

perhaps Sunday?
don't I usually wake up for church on Sundays?
church starts at 11.

wait a minute
I definitely went to work yesterday
oh yes and the day before
it's Wednesday

[!]

It's Wednesday!
It's eleven-thirty on a Wednesday!
oh man.

2006-10-12T16:06:00.000-04:00

Twice in the last half hour I've made pop culture references to our office manager, and then realized they were based in UK pop culture.

I've also been drinking tea all day, taking extra care to make it just the way Clair and I used to have it while watching our morning "Friends".

...and, upon learning that I could expense today's lunch by virtue of running a firm errand during my lunch break, I *actually considered* going to Pret a Manger. I would never have considered buying a pre-made sandwich (at that price too!) before living in the UK.

London, I miss you.

2006-10-08T00:22:00.000-04:00

Ceasar

My mom sent me an article recently about Christians who had declared bankruptcy (or something), and who therefore were required to put 100% of their income toward their debts, wanting to hold back 10% in order to tithe. The article, to my recollection, didn't give an opinion as to whether these people should be allowed to do this or not, but I certainly formed my own. :) It reminded me of how in the sermon on the mount, Jesus said, "...if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift." (Matthew 5: 23-24)

I just feel that to buy something with money that you don't have and then not pay it later is not right--and these Christians should be reconciled to those from whom they have gotten things without yet paying for them. Jesus also said to render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's and render unto God that which is God's. It seems to me that the money that these people are earning is owed elsewhere--is already Caesar's, so to speak--and that although God does ask for our tithe what he's really asking for is our whole lives--heart and mind and body and soul--and that our tithe is only a small part of that. Perhaps these people should keep track of how much tithe is owed and after they've settled with their neighbors they can give their tithe retroactively.

At the same time--balance, as ever--I don't mean to apply this universally. I am only referring to the extreme situation in which a person is legally bound to pay 100% of their income toward their debts. Between mortgages, student loans and credit cards, there would be few people able to tithe at all if this were universal! I think it's best to stay out of debt, as a general rule (of course), but I don't think debt should be used as an excuse to fail to be generous where generosity is called for. If you are at even a lower-middle income by American standards, you still make much more than the vast majority of people in the world. You make much more than a lot of my fellow New Yorkers, as well. I have a friend here who lost all she owns in a fire; she has a newborn baby and she sleeps in a shelter*, and during her pregnancy I knew her to help out other homeless people in our neighborhood, and even to help out people getting out of cabs who suddenly realized they were short of cash. She trusts in God absolutely, and while her means are modest at best, the truth is He does take care of her. Her space on Park Avenue is usually the sidewalk, but those with addresses there could envy her richness and generosity of spirit. I do.

(It's a mommy-baby shelter.)

2006-10-07T01:14:00.000-04:00

Meandering Memory Lane: Childhood in the 80s

We are all so embarrassed about the 80s and the fact that they occurred. They are like the embarrassing, braces-and-acne junior high self of our collective consciousness. But I was a small child in the 80s, and to me those years and the music that accompanied us all through them are wonderful. The songs remind me of driving to school with my Dad, listening to Scottie and the Fox on Y105 and Dad saying his sayings, like, “My next dream—was a nightmare!” a quotation from “The Seven Dreams”. “The Seven Dreams” were a story read aloud on a record that my parents had, I believe, before they had me, and it was their inside joke which they shared with us even before we understood what it was about. One dream took place on a train and included a child and her mother in the dining car, singing their conversation:

“Are we there yet Mommy? Are we there yet Mommy? Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy are we there yet?”

“No, we’re not there yet. Sit up straight and eat your soup.”

“I WANT SOME ICE CREAM! CAN I HAVE SOME ICE CREAM?!”

This song was popularly quoted in all sorts of situations throughout my childhood. I’m sure you can imagine the many applications, especially as my father’s involvement in the greyhound racing industry led us to take a number of roadtrips that included stop-offs at this training farm or that kennel, to see this breeder or that dog.

Once, on such a trip, it was nighttime as we came to the requisite kennel. It was run by a husband and wife team, and the kind lady offered us sleepy children some chocolate milk. I was excited and agreed happily: "Yay! Our mom never gets us that stuff!" Mom shushed me and I didn't understand why at all. She explained later that she didn't want the lady to feel bad, like she was going against Mom's wishes, and I learned something about self-consciousness and that thoughtfulness requires thinking of what others will think. I learned that people think badly of themselves easily.

I don't know how long it took me to learn how to apply that in a meaningful way, but I think I could still improve in that area, as evidenced by the following recent conversation.

(setting: V has some chocolate G gave her, which I am eating.)

Me: Care for a peppermint patty? G got some for V.

Him: No thanks. Hey! Why doesn't she get me candy?

Me: Maybe she doesn't know what your favorite is. This is V's favorite. What's yours?

Him: Skittles.

Me: Oh, fruity kinda guy, huh? [Meaning, as opposed to chocolate-loving, obviously.]

Him: I am NOT a fruity kind of guy!
[calls G]
My favorite candy is Skittles, and I am not a fruity kind of guy!
[hangs up]

2006-09-22T22:19:00.000-04:00

Midwestern at Heart

Frequently, in New York, I will meet someone during the course of performing some small act of common courtesy—asking, for example, “Are you in line?” at Starbucks rather than simply sortof shoving in and waiting to see if they lodge a complaint. Often enough the courtesy will turn into conversation, and before long the person will ask me where I am from. When they learn that I am a Ohio girl, they are not surprised, because the New York reputation and often the New York reality is callous, self-centered and rude. (This is true especially—may I say this?—among cab drivers—though I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt because there are so many of them and the opportunities for frustration and anger and rudeness abound in New York traffic.)

I do not, however, want to be known as a Midwesterner—and not because I am not proud! No, I think it’s fantastic that the Midwest is known for raising people who are courteous, kind and caring toward others, and I am very grateful to have been raised there. I also think it’s ironic, one of many common cognitive dissonances that I have noticed of late, that there’s a slight attitude of snub toward the Midwest among people from “real cities”, when the same group of people who snub are those who so admire the very fact of not snubbing. Still, I want to be known as a New Yorker, at least as long as I am here, because I want to remind other New Yorkers that we can be kind and caring toward each other, and in so doing make our own lives and our own city that much more beautiful, nurturing, and pleasant. It shouldn’t take a September 11th to make us see past the things that divide New Yorkers into as many strata as neighborhoods. We have better means than tragedies of remembering to treat people as people and the enemy as the phenomena and production of fear and evil and hatred and division—and those things are all in a sense one and the same. Evil generates other evils, or rather, degenerates into them, blending and melting into a destructive and distressing mess of what was once beautiful, full of potential, and utterly unique. Methods of ruin are many but wasted lives look so much the same. I want to be a source of joy and an inspiration to goodness among my neighbors of the City, and I want my life to show visitors to New York that the beauty in the human spirit lives and works here, too, that even here people are made in the image of God.

2006-09-21T19:45:00.000-04:00

Unbelievable

Industrial farming practices that treat animal bodies as though they were machines and nature as though it were an instrument that requires human fine-tuning, and I find it unbelievable that we are constantly surprised when these practices turn out to cause something very bad for the environment and us all. The spinach industry is now experiencing huge financial setbacks because of industrial beef and dairy cattle farmers: rather than letting their cows graze as cows have been doing for centuries, they keep them inside and feed them grain, causing their stomaches to be unusually acidic and therefore an ideal home for the acid-loving brand of E. coli that our stomache acid can't handle. The manure from these cows gets put, apparently, in big pools of manure that are contaminating groundwater, floodwaters and rivers that irrigate spinach supplies--and who knows yet what other crops will be infected by these waters?

Pah. We have all this research on evolution and how nature naturally creates a balance and promotes the survival of the fittest, and then we spend all our time fighting about whether it gets taught in schools. I agree that sound science should be taught in schools, but it can't stop there: put it to practical use! In our land-rich country, industrial agriculture is huge, and too often brutal practices in the treatment of livestock prevail because it helps farms get richer quicker. Heavy use of hormones, lifelong entrapment in stalls, forced feeding, overcrowding and slaughterhouses that fail to ensure quick death make the lives of these animals horrific and their deaths sometimes even more so: to paraphrase Hobbes, their lives have "no sun, no space, no plants, and which is worst of all, continual fear and danger of violent death; and the lives of our animals are poor, nasty, brutish, and short." (And anything but solitary.)

We do this to those who have no means of protest and no power to work for change! We should be ashamed.

PS: I did try to be a vegetarian once but I failed miserably. I was comforted by a (successful) vegetarian who pointed out that one vegetarian does not change an industry. I think she was right: boycotting meat entirely may not be possible, but seeking to procure our meat from humane sources is something all of us should make an effort to do. We need to let farmers know that what we can't see does matter, can hurt us and is our responsibility to do rightly and well.

2006-09-20T01:39:00.000-04:00

The Right Way to Live

Back freshman year, my quasi-roomie Jeannie and I and some others were really good friends with our faculty-in-residence, Dr. Chapman—Chaps (there’s a large facebook group called “we [heart] Chaps”, actually, because he’s awesome). When one of us would start a story with “It’s funny”, he would ask, “Funny-haha, funny-ironic, or funny-not-funny-at-all”, because sometimes it really isn’t funny. So you can decide what kind of funny this is:

It’s funny how people all have these little internal measures of other people, little indicators that help us determine what kind of person they are, what categories they fall into, rather. They’re very subtle and I don’t think we realize we have them, certainly not at first anyway. Like when I was a kid, I tended to think that people who smoked were bad people. Not like I hated them or anything, but they were somehow more rebellious and wrong and a bit shabby and sad, like a friend with the single mom whose hair looked crackly-dry and skin old, and her house always smelled like cigarettes and the shabby furniture would have a dusting of dog hair on it. I associated all of those things with smokers. After growing up and making friends with some smokers I became cognizant of that, and a “healthy sense of the ridiculous”* sent it packing.

A woman I knew in London was a Christian and her husband, a devout Muslim, doesn’t drink, so she never drinks around him or keep alcohol in the house, even though her personal convictions about drinking aren’t quite the same. We were talking about that and how she once was a teetotaler herself (I love that that word is still alive and well in the UK), and she had once felt the same sort of things toward people who drank as I did toward smokers—that, even if she liked them, that drinking a glass of wine with dinner was some sign of a deeper problem. We both laughed about this and how silly we were, and were glad we had become cognizant and gotten rid of those ridiculous little prejudices.

So, now, lately I have been working a lot. I worked all last weekend (the 9th and 10th), even on Sunday, which I said when I left my job at SOS in London I wasn’t going to do anymore. On Monday, Wednesday and Thursday I had to leave work at some point in the evening, but I came back, and I was at work past midnight every night until Friday. On Thursday night I was there past 3am, working on a project I had hoped to finish by Friday even once it became clear that was simply not going to be possible. I had actually been given the assignment a couple weeks before and was meant to have it on the preceding Friday, but I had never done one like that before and had no clue whatsoever of how much time it would actually take—so in spite of working so hard, I felt bad and guilty for having made a promise and broken it. Friday, I finally left and the project was in a condition that the attorney for whom I did it said could be considered finished (it was very kind of her to say so). And I thought about how Allie would send me messages to “come home for dinner!” Or when we had breakfast she would tell me I was working too hard… and it is true, that over the course of the last week I’ve had to make-up those dark circles a little more carefully, and drink coffee in the mornings, and I’ve actually been experiencing small muscle spasms on the outer side of my left upper eyelid, with increasing frequency until finally Friday I called my mom, the ophthalmologist, who said it was due to caffeine and a lack of sleep. I guess that’s logical…

So all of this, and the two invitations I turned down in order to work (to see Roger Waters of Pink Floyd in Madison Square Garden and to go to the Upright Citizens Brigade improv comedy, both of which I would have loved), and my physical exhaustion, and the way Allie was now saying to me that I work too hard in just the same way I recall telling others that they worked too hard—it all made me realize that for so long I had seen spending many hours working hard as having a hint of immorality to it. People waste precious time that could have been spent doing something they love (rock climbing! dance classes! reading for pleasure!) or, even more importantly, with people they love, especially their children, or just seeing the world and making the most of the opportunities and talents they have been given. They spend that time in an office instead, as often as not in a job they hate, doing an amount of work that could have been given to two people while allowing those two to live their lives as well as make “a living”, but this wasn’t done because the company wanted to save money on people’s health insurance and on training.

I do think it’s immoral to waste, especially time, and our youth, and these things we can never get back. I also think it’s immoral to be lazy, which is a different kind of wastefulness. But now that I’m in this position where I have been the one working such long hours—thankfully in a job that very much interests me—and suddenly I have become cognizant of this teeny-weeny little prejudice I have held against people who “work too much”, and I see the silliness of it, the small-mindedness and the way that it manifests an expectation that there is One Right Way to Live, furthermore one which looks like my personal way of living.

The reality is that while there certainly is a right way and a wrong way to live, there is not just One Right Way to Live competing against many wrong ways, which is often the way people view things. Even when we’re cognizant of the differences between people, we do this intrinsically, and we often don’t realize that we’re doing it. I suspect we have to have our own cognitive dissonances shown to us many times before we become aware of them, generally. Another way in which this particular lesson was presented to me was in the lives of my friends Ron and Diego: best friends, roommates, investment bankers. Ron grew to hate his job and many aspects of the industry, and eventually (to my great joy, for his sake), he left to follow a dream of starting his own business. Diego very much enjoys his job and still works the long hours. I used to be sad at how these two people, of whom I am so fond, spent so much of their time trapped at their offices, but I’m not anymore because Ron has escaped and Diego was never trapped.

…Two Right Ways to Live.

*from C. S. Lewis, “The Screwtape Letters”

2006-08-26T16:50:00.001-04:00

Connector

I recently read Malcolm Gladwell's book "The Tipping Point", which is about how epidemics happen--from diseases to fashions to ideas and rumors. He talks about, among other things, the three kinds of people that make an epidemic happen: Connectors, Mavens, and Salespeople. In short, a Salesperson is one who can convince you to do something--clear enough. They're persuasive and personable. A Maven is a person who knows everything about a certain topic--market Mavens, for example, are the pricewatchers that notice and complain to companies when a price goes up, they feel, unnecessarily, and thereby keep the prices better for us all. If a Salesperson tells you to do something you might do it because they're convincing, but if a Maven tells you to do something (relating to their area of expertise), you'll do it because you *know* they're right. They don't have to be convincing; their knowledge speaks for itself. The third kind of person is the Connector, who knows people from all different arenas and walks of life, all differnt kinds of people, and brings them together. A consummate host or hostess.

I am well aware that's it's not objectively better or worse for a person who is any or none of these three types of people. Still, I couldn't help liking the Connectors best. Thinking about why, I was reminded of a 17 magazine quiz that I took in junior high (i.e. at the age of 12 or 13, because those magazines always appeal to the people about 5 years younger than they say they're aimed at. I guess they know girls always want to be older and cooler. (Many women just want to be younger and cooler but those comments are best saved for another day.) It was a quiz about whether you were an introvert or an extravert, and because the questions were based around what you did in various social situations and because I had, at the time, very few friends, I tested as an intravert. I was miserable. I wanted to be an extravert so much and this magazine said I wasn't. I knew that neither one was objectively better than the other but I couldn't help it; I wanted to be an extravert. Later in life (how much later? I really can't say but I think it was about a year) I realized that the truth was that I wanted to be an extravert because I already was...

and in reading this book, I realized the same thing was true: I wanted to be a Connector because I AM a Connector.

cool!

However, there are two distinct parts to being a really good Connector and I think I only have one of them down pat. The one I'm good at is having a lot of friends in a lot of different places. The one I'm not so good at is helping these friends meet and be friends with each other.

So the long and the short of it is, I hope to have a lot of parties in the future and you, my friends, are surely going to be the benificiaries. Aren't you excited!? haha
amazing. :)

2006-08-26T16:47:00.000-04:00

Apple Store!

with free wireless internet.
they were out of geniuses
to play marriage counselor to my PowerBook and iPod
luckily the sales dudes
are also genius
and my iPod software is updated
sweeeeeet.

2006-08-07T14:16:00.000-04:00

King Kong

The Empire State Building:
My new home-away-from-home, as the site of my new position of Paralegal. My desk is on the 57th floor; the window on my right overlooks the East River and provides eye-level views of the tops of the Chrysler and MetLife buildings, as well as a condescending peer onto the UN building that was through much of college my ideal workplace. Will it be in the future? That's what I'm here to find out.

Gorilla:
I saw a lady the other day crossing the street amidst a small storm-cloud of tourists in the blazing heat. She walked at half the pace of the others, bent over and leaning heavily on two short aluminum canes for support. With the extensions of the canes her posture was roughly that of a gorilla walking with his knuckles, though her movement was slow and painful and her frail body had nothing of the loping grace of that giant and powerful creature. It was not possible to tell whether the short canes were a concession to a back slowly broken on the wheel of osteoporosis, or if they were simply the only walking aids available to her with which she was forced to do the best she could.

King:
In New York people don't notice those who are different, or notice and ignore: a homeless man, a crippled woman, a guy with a mohawk, a girl in a leather bra. In many ways it's good to learn to live and let live, and to see the person behind the bizarre getup. In many ways, however, it is just a means of desensitizing ourselves to the pain that we allow to occur around us on a daily basis, that we contribute to by not contributing enough. It is true that no single one of us can fix the problems of homelessness, or addictions, or hunger. But we can help a little bit at a time, and we can treat that person right there like our friend, and we can re-sensitize and reach out to the city, which is after all defined by and composed of the people in it. When we are aware of what happens in our domain, and remain sensitive to it, and act with responsibility for it, then we shall be queens and kings and our city will be a City of God.

2006-07-18T00:14:00.000-04:00

Calm in a Crisis

The Lowdown:

Tara and the other remaining students were removed from the Beirut campus to the Byblos campus of the Lebanese American University while waiting to hear when and how their various embassies would remove them from the increasingly dangerous state of Lebanon. Rumors have continued to fly, including one that the American embassy was charging $4000 to evacuate its citizens from Lebanon while the European embassies were doing it for free. Having heard nothing constructive so far from the American Embassy itself and being squeezed tight for cash as well at the moment my family has spent much time trying to contact the Finnish Embassies (in Lebanon, Syria and Washington, DC) with little success. During this time my sister attempted to join a group driving to Syria, from where she was hoping to get to Amman and stay with friends from her study there a few months ago; however during the drive someone received a phone call saying the roads ahead were being bombed--but this, too, may have been only a rumor. Now she is back in Beirut proper, and heard today that the American embassy was evacuating citizens today for a mere few hundred. She happily sold her unreliable cell phone, ready to pay and get out of there (while we corrected the misinformation that had so far prevented a wire transfer into her account), and then heard that the evacuation had been put off again. Now we are down to email as a method of communication, and are praying that power and connection remain available while she remains on campus in Beirut.

The Uplift:

While we obviously would pay any amount for Tara's safe evacuation from Lebanon, we are glad to hear that evacuation seems both imminent and cheap. We are SO thankful that she remains unharmed and for the many prayers of those who are concerned for her safety. Tara is an incredibly brave young woman, calm and level-headed in a crisis, and more than likely to do the wisest and safest thing at every step in this ever-changing situation.

Hands in prayer... fingers crossed.

2006-07-14T13:28:00.000-04:00

Adnan Hajj/Reuters

This is the picture on the cover of the New York Times today.

This is a picture of Rafik Hariri International Airport in Beirut, Lebabnon, where my sister Tara currently lives.

The university is empty, the electricity is from a back-up source, and she waits for news from the American Embassy on whether they can evacuate her, whether they should, whether she should go to another campus farther out.

Our brother moved to New York after September 11. I was in London when the 7/7 bombings happened, and Tara was in Amman, Jordan when the hotel bombings happened, but none of us has ever been caught in a war zone before.

2006-06-16T00:47:00.000-04:00

Every day is a winding road...

Eleven days have passed since my arrival in New York City, but the events that have squeezed themselves into those eleven days could easily have filled twenty. The applications, the interviews, the new temp job, the lunches, dinners, people-watching, parties, picnics and hours in parks have been at turns exhilarating and exhausting. One day I slept all afternoon, and then laid awake most of the night, trying to determine whether job-advertisement exhortations to send your application and then "no calls or emails please" extends as well to personal visits, or if a well-dressed, well-timed arrival at the office would show dedication, passion, and creativity in problem-solving (not to mention highlight my intelligence, as shown by my snazzy new glasses. It's unfortunate how the sun shines most brightly on the days I can't wear sunglasses because I don't have in my contacts, though).

Another day I spent hours in the Barnes & Noble in Union Square: the first was spent on a history of seduction worthy of a college classroom. The chapter on women who used their feminine charms to supplement their authority in positions of governance would have worked well in my junior-senior seminar on Politics and the Libido, taking its place next to Lysistrata and Antigone. The second hour was in the cookbook secion: I found the cookbook of my dreams and, as per usual, it was the most expensive one in the entire aisle of cookbooks. (It's called "Crave" by Ludo Lefebvre, and it's almost $60. Don't forget, my birthday's coming! ...in November.) The third hour happened right after I was about to leave and then bumped into the table on books for recent-college-graduates-seeking-jobs... I would call that a key moment in this particular job search. (Confidential to Miss Jones*: I would highly recommend a visit to your local B&N in the near future, further to our recent conversation!)

Another day was spent at Riverside Park, all the way up at 175th street, with Laura, Kim, Jono and of course the lovely Jeannie. Prior to the slow, summer deliciousness of those lazy hours, in reverse chronological order: Jeannie taught me how to make a seven-layer dip (yummmmm!), Puerto Rico Day transformed Madison Avenue into Madness in the colors of the Puerto Rican flag and a new church opened its doors to me with a DaVinci code sermon! (New to myself and new to the City at large. It was really nice.)

So life goes on, a chapter opening page by page, day by day making new discoveries about the world around me and the world inside me. It sounds cliche but when you purposefully close a chapter in your life and voyage to a new one, things take on a new light and your perspectives become a little esoteric. It doesn't last; as you build up job/home/social life/pastimes/routine you become entrenched, pleasantly or not, in the day-to-day details of life and your perspective narrows a bit, but for now I am following that winding road,

with the top rolled back and the sunshine shining.

* Look! It's like a Dear Abby column!

2006-05-31T14:58:00.000-04:00

on the prowl...

for the perfect interview suit.

thank heavens for Kim's expert advice--she is definitely smarter than the average bear when it comes to looks, fashion and class. *muah* honey.

2006-05-18T15:45:00.000-04:00

On Things Nice

Waiters and waitresses are becoming much nicer and more caring. I used to pay my check, they'd say "Thank you." That graduated into "Have a nice day." That's now escalated into "You take care of yourself now." The other day I paid my check--the waiter said, "Don't put off that mammogram."
comedian Rita Rudner

I knew my high school graduation was going to be nice because it was being planned by some of my closest friends--in fact, 6 of the 7 girls I've staying in contact with since high school made it. However, I didn't know how much nicer than merely "nice" it was going to be. After all, it's been 5 years since I saw most of the people I graduated with and, to be honest, I didn't miss them or high school all that much. The freedom of college to plan my time and be myself and study according to my interests was much more to my liking. Also, it's like they say, you never get a second chance to make a first impression. My first impression, as a new kid in seventh grade, was awkward and unconfident, with no fashion sense whatsoever and very little idea of what cool was in general. Although I grew up and away from that over the course of high school, I never shed that image completely--until now. Five years with no contact is a lot of time...

Five years was enough time for us all to mature. We recognise differences, and some people will probably never be that close with some other people but we know now that the things we thought mattered in high school were mostly not worth our notice.

Five years was enough time for me to begin living my life the way I dreamed of back then. I've gotten to travel and really experience all these things that so many people only dream of, or are barely aware of, so far are is their everyday existence from so much that is out there.

Five years was enough time for many of the others to settle down. They are Real Adults with spouses, children, jobs, houses, cars or some combination thereof. While I wouldn't mind a job (offer) at the moment, I am actually quite pleased with myself to not have these things (especially the particular combination of children but no spouse). I have freedom and youth and these are things I value more--there will be time for the rest later.

Rachel was sweet enough to be my ride and DD for the night--with the added bonus that when the DJ left and some of us were ready to continue partying, she was one of them. I discovered that on some county road in the woods surrounding Lucas there is actually a club! Furthermore, there were people there that I knew, and who were not legel drinkers the last time I saw them! weird weird weird. But it was a lot of fun, and now when I come home for holidays and whatnot there will be more than my seven girls that I will want to call and hang out with, and that's nice. Home is becoming more home...

and that's nice.

2006-05-15T14:13:00.000-04:00

the Facebook group I should probably join...

Group Info
Name: I Have No Marketable Life Skills
Type: Just for Fun - Totally Pointless
Icon: DEFEAT: "For every winner there are dozens of losers. Odds are you're one of them."
Description:
Do you want to be a future children's book illustrator? Or a ballerina? Or own a bookshop in New Zealand while tending to sheep? Do you major in English or Culanth or Canadian Studies or something equally unlikely to land you a job? Do you eagerly await the day your i-banking/pre-med/pre-law/have-their-shit-together friends make it big so you can crash at their lofts? If so, this is the group for you.

* * *

OK, OK, things aren't that hopeless yet! still, if you're one of my i-banking/med/law/Mary Poppins (practically perfect in every way) kind of friends and you're in New York--we'll be in touch. Soon.

2006-05-10T20:09:00.000-04:00

I love London!

Tonight was my real leaving do--surrounededby some of my belovedest people here (though missing a few)--even Zayd came, who I haven't seen since lsst summer! I'm tipsy, can you tell? I can't believe I have to finish packing now. Thank God David is here to help me pack and make my plane on time... mwah!
I love you all
kisses
:D

2006-05-10T20:05:00.000-04:00

Male Valentine's Day
I learned this from the Oz Jokes website

Every 14th of February you get the chance to display your fondness for your wife or girlfriend by showering her with gifts, flowers, dinner, shows and any other baubles that women find romantic. Every Valentines Day you rack your brains for that one special, unique gift that will show your wife or girlfriend that you really love them more than anything.

Now ladies, I'll let you in on a little secret.... guys really don't
enjoy this that much. Sure seeing that smile on your face when we get it right is priceless, but that smile is the result of weeks of blood, sweat and consideration. Another secret.... guys feel left out. That's right... left out. There's no special holiday for the ladies to show their appreciation for the men in their life. Men as a whole are either too proud or just too embarrassed to admit it.

Which is why a new holiday has been created.

March 20th is now officially "Steak and Blowjob Day". Simple, effective and self-explanatory.... this holiday has been created so your ladies finally have a day to show your man just how much you love him. No cards, no flowers, no special nights on the town - the name of the holiday explains it all.... just a steak and a BJ. That's it.

Finally, this twin pair of Valentines Day and Steak and Blowjob Day will usher in a new age of love as men everywhere will try THAT much harder in February to ensure a more memorable March! It's like a perpetual love machine.

The word is already beginning to spread, but as with any new idea, it needs a little push to start the ball rolling. So spread the word, and help bring love and peace to this crazy world.

2006-05-07T18:48:00.000-04:00

Are you getting somewhere?
Or did you get lost in Amsterdam?
- Guster

Back "home" in London after a gorgeous, lovely, absolutely superb trip to Amsterdam. I couldn't have asked for more perfect weather, a more beautiful and historic city or a better travelling companion. David and I arrived Wednesday morning, tired and hungry--I had stayed up late packing and slept only once we were en-route. We had a breakfast in the sunshine at a happy little cafe next door to our hotel while waiting for our room to be ready, and after a nap we were ready to see the town! Amsterdam is easily walkable and we wandered around the town, finding a wide variety of fascinating and beautiful sights and other forms of wonderful-ness... and I don't only mean in the sex shops and so-called "coffee shops". Among these things were:

- a crowd in Dam Square celebrating Liberation day, the anniversary of when the Nazis were kicked out of the Netherlands by the Canadian army. They were forced to leave behind their tanks and whatnot and so they left by the only means available: bicycle! They stole every bicycle in the city, and to this day at international sports games the Dutch yell that they want their grandfathers' bicycles back! The celebration that we saw consisted of a lot of people standing very still while the queen walked from one side of the square to the other and placed a wreath of flowers in front of the obelisk--after the minute of silence everything was in Dutch and we chose to continue on our way.

- the Sex Museum. I think my primary reaction was "ew", particularly to the section about beastiality. (The S&M part bothered me less than I expected--perhaps I've internalised a "to each their own" perspective more than I realised? Thank you, Eve Ensler.) There were some pieces of art that were quite beautiful, but the primary objective seemed to be a) to show that people have been having and wanting sex since time immemorial --thank you, Captain Obvious--and b) to show as much genitalia as possible. It could have been done in a way that explained more about the historical relations of the sexes, the places of concubines and prostitutes in various societies, the different mythologies surrounding sex in different cultures--you could fill the Louvre with that kind of information! But maybe they figured that people primarily wanted soft porn and decided to give it to them, for a small fee. On the bright side, the man at the desk was the person best able to direct us to....

- the Red Light District. I had heard that the women posed in windows but somehow--silly, idealist me--I imagined it would be nicer and less sordid. I thought the windows would be big, like a department store window, and decorated. They were actually doors, with a big window in the door, one right next to the other: "pretty maids all in a row". The only decorations were the red bulb above, the tiles behind and the underwear on the woman herself, posing in a lean against the door, bored. I had heard that the different women had different "themes"--maybe one would look literary, with her hair in an updo and a book in her hand; maybe another would look a little goth--whatever. In actuality, they all looked the same to me apart from the range of sizes and the one Hispanic woman. All of the rest were black. Maybe the white women already had clients behind those closed curtains. We learned later that a lot of girls come from places like the Dominican Republic, and make enough money in 10 years so that they never have to work again in their lives. There are sex-worker visas, and a union, and a pension plan that kicks in after 10 years as well--figuring that this is an industry where people are better off choosing early retirement. And while the whole thing was sordid and sad, there was also this: The area was safe. The Red Light District itself was small, tucked in among a bigger disctrict of shopping and dancing and dining and smoking. As our tour guide pointed out the next day, you would never voluntarily go spend an evening or two in the part of Los Angeles where prostitution and the sale of drugs occur... and these things do occur, in every major city and most minor ones as well. However, never fear (as I did) that Amsterdam is all sex and drugs. In the first evening alone, there was also…

- Canals! They are everywhere, splitting the city of Amsterdam into over 90 islands. They are beautiful, like tree-lined avenues, some with their own population living in cozy little houseboats. Bridges span them in little arches, like Monet’s garden, and the roads on either side are old-world brick and cobblestone. With all these canals, the idea of an underground transport system is simply laughable, and in such a small city the inhabitants have chosen as their transport method of choice:

- Bicycles. These were everywhere, too! By day 2 we joined in on the fun with a 4-hour Mike’s Bike tour, plus a 24-hour rental of a pair of bikes. I loved choosing different routes to see the city on our way to different destinations; I loved blending in with the locals; I loved sailing along with the wind in my hair. We learned that there are over a million bikes in the city—somehow, more than the number of actual residents. As bike theft is rampant, the rule of thumb is to spend more on the lock than the bike, according to the Mike’s Bikes brochure.

- uuuummmm “Coffee Shops”--less wonderful, still fascinating, thus worth mentioning. They have names like “The Smoking Bull” (western theme) or “Rookies” (defining the target audience) or “Waking Dreams” (fairly to the point, innit?). They have a funny smell, and although you are allowed to merely sit and have a cup of coffee, as opposed to smoking some de-criminalized “stuff”, they weren’t my choice location for that activity (drinking coffee, I mean)—I much preferred the sidewalk cafes...

The next day, as mentioned, we went on a Mike’s Bike Tour of Amsterdam—it was much like the nighttime tour of Paris the Educo kids did while studying abroad, except obviously the location and the fact that it was 4 hours long. The tour guide was a classic easy-going post-hippie-era American guy with a curly ponytail, a great sense of humor and an amazingly international background. He told us at the beginning of the tour that he would tell us 3 lies during the tour, just to see if we could pick them out. I’m assuming that everyone else did what I did, which was forget about that completely, so we swallowed it hook, line and sinker when he told us that they used to give out heroin in a particular park, and that the historic Hilton hotel where The Ballad of John and Yoko was written (this part’s true) was also where the famous Paris Hilton video was shot. I forget the third lie and it’s equally ridiculous—but somehow, in a city like that, anything seemed possible.

When we learned that we’d arrived in Amsterdam during the short window of time when the fields of tulips are actually in bloom, we decided to forego the museums and head for Haarlem instead. We heard a bike ride through the fields was lovely, so we finagled our bikes onto the train. When we got there we learned that the fields were over 20 km away—nearly 4 hours’ ride for a pair who had already spent at least 6 hours brevior saltare cum deformibus viris est vita (Latin for “riding a bicycle until the sit-bones complain vigorously as well as the muscles”)*. We also still had some wee hope of turning the bikes back in by 6pm, so we opted to take the bus instead. It turned out to be a whole-day excursion, but it was well worth it. The fields were just amazingly beautiful, and to see tulips and tulips and tulips was simply stunning. The flowers are planted in long rows that are a few feet wide, with little pathways running along between them, and we watched children chasing each other among the flowers like something in a movie, or a dream.

There was so much else that happened—little things like watching children learn to ride their bicycles or head to the zoo with their parents—bigger things like our dinners out—but the whole of the story is that Amsterdam, far from being the leering sex-pot I imagined (pun intended), was one of the most beautiful cities I have ever been in, and I would really love to live there someday.

*not really. Look it up. :)

2006-05-04T02:06:00.000-04:00

Is it enough to love? Is it enough to breathe? Somebody—rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed. Is it enough to die? Somebody save my life! I’d rather be anything but ordinary,

please.

So much happens that I don't know where to start so I end up not saying anything at all. That, however, is no way to keep you all interested and involved in my life, so, just for you... I'll find a way. :)

* * *

The night before last, while buying groceries for dinner at mine, a friend counted down the days until I leave. There were far fewer than I had imagined and the thought stuck in my throat. I came home with a tub of those chocolate-cornflakey things and ate almost the entire thing, by myself, before noon the next day. The new jar of Cabury's hot chocolate is going much the same way. Listening to Avril probably doesn't help--too much angst. If I'm lucky I'll discover it's my hormones playing tricks on me, but even if it is, that doesn't change the way I feel: I'm worried that I have been and am still wasting precious, precious time in this wonderful city with these beautiful people.

* * *

Last weekend my friend Tim from Duke was in town ('04 grad, not the one I dated senior year). He's working for a non-profit, jet-setting around on free air mileage and assessing the quality of various charities. It sounds like an ideal job for me: maybe I can find an engineering job somewhere and then he and I can swap. :) We took a walking tour of Westminster and pretty much the entire south bank of the Thames, and it was fabulous, borderline magical. The abbey isn't open to visitors on Sundays, but as we were admiring the gargoyles above the door, a wizened Manchester-man-turned-Cockney who had been working at the abbey for 17 years took us unceremoniously under his wing and gave an amazing tour of the area--from Mary Poppins' house to the Royal Cow ("the Queen's sister" was his irreverent characterisation; personally I adore Her Majesty). He dropped us off at a back entrance to a few hidden sections of the abbey that were open to visitors and which, furthermore, housed a small coffeeshop.

From there, classic sights awaited us: vistas of Big Ben, St Paul's from across the Thames and at the end, a glowing Tower Bridge under the evening sky. Along the way as well were the giant trampolines at the London Eye on the semi-circular piazza in front of the County Hall. (I gave them a go! I drew a crowd! I did not scream as loud as the lady before me! I am still sporting a few bruises...) There were also the performances of a clownish French street performer (Zanzibar!), and a man making huge, dreamy bubbles to the music of a bluesy guitarist. We bought lunch at Wagamama, took photos of a woman painting a copy of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and finished off the day with a pint (or, in my case, a double JD and Coke) at a well-known pub on St Martin's Lane and a stroll through Leicester Square. The trip home was actually pretty awful (D*** the night busses! combined with the rain! Thank heavens the NYC subway is 24-hour) but on the whole the day was fantastic.

* * *

My Last Day at Work has come and gone and although I am in fact on a planned holiday I cannot keep the fact submerged in my subconscious for long that I am actually unemployed now. It's a frightening feeling. Still, it is fabulous staying up late and knowing that I do not have to get up in the morning until I am good. and. ready. It's wonderful being able to plan my days exactly as I see fit. And it's great anticipating a trip to Amsterdam starting in only a few sweet hours!

The last day itself was bittersweet, and, never one to finish up early, I ended up staying an hour or so extra to finish up my overtime sheet. Toward the end of the day, I was just turning around to ask a question of the person behind me and found that the whole office had gathered around me, gifts and flowers in hand, delighted they were finally getting rid of me! Haha, just kidding. I was not prepared to give a speech and when one was asked for I just started talking, stream-of-consciousness in my normal way, only this time it was stream-of-subconsciousness and I thought about things that I had barely registered before then:

This was my first Real Job. It was while working at SOS that I became a Real Adult. I learned how to knit, how to cook aubergine and butternet squash, and how to maintain a Work-Life Balance. i took up running. I became Established in London. I dated an Investment Banker. I went to Greece. I became a Real Adult. It wasn't the most SOS-centric leaving speech, but the thing is, my colleagues and managers were such a vital part of all of this growing-up experience. I learned so much from them, and seriously I couldn't have asked to spend 7 months with a better group of people. They're smart and friendly; they work well under pressure, and when you need them to come through for you or help you out of a scrape, they always do. I am really going to miss them. I can't wait to come back to London and see them--not a bunch of Faceless Co-workers but the ones I've learned with and laughed with and barely avoided crying with, once during my last day and once after the Night Shift From Hell, which was among my first and made me fear night shifts for weeks afterward. Still, I made it through even that night, and I am happy with my London experience and proud of all I have learned.

As some people say in what I usually consider a cliche designed to hide the fact that the person saying it is in fact using a cliche...

"It's been Real, man."

Let down your defenses, use no common sense—if you look, you will see that this world is a beautiful accident, turbulent, succulent, opulent—permanent? No way! I want to taste it; don’t want to waste it away.

2006-04-18T07:52:00.000-04:00

The Beginning of the End

The month's notice has been given, the research into housing begun, the flight dates changed, the friends and colleagues one by one told of an upcoming leaving "do".

USA, here I come!

to be continued...

2006-03-27T19:13:00.000-05:00

from an email to my sister

because her advisor keeps telling her she's not good enough to be a doctor. That woman is stupid! My sister is beautiful and brilliant. I told the advisor, very, very nicely, to shut her effing trap. Then I apologised to my sister in case I embarrassed her, and shared (among other things), the following nuggets of wisdom from my short but pretty amazing on the whole life.

...People respect those who show respect for themselves, and believe in those who believe in themselves... and they are right to do so. The person who tells himself he can't will create the truth in his own words.

...Rant and rant and rant, in the mirror and in the kitchen and on the treadmill and in your dreams, and when you've gotten it all out of your system, go to the person who made you mad and explain, politely, calmly, firmly and even a little bit deferentially that you will not put up with this anymore, and that it WILL stop, and then you will find that you will be right. It worked for getting the toilet seat in my flat to stay down and it worked when I told my [humedy-hum, censored], and it works for getting your way in a million ways. Alanis Morisette and Eminem are amazing because they took their anger and they made it into music and it made them millionaires. You can take your anger and mold it so that instead of hurting people with it, you propel yourself forward and make them love you along the way.

...I am powerful when *I* THINK I am powerful. my thoughts are the most powerful thing I have.

Finally: this is cheesy but I was listening to these songs today and both of them reminded me of you. one of them was George Michael's "Amazing". The other I know you'll recognize:

"I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly
I'll do what it takes 'til I touch the sky
I'll make a wish
Take a chance
Make a change
And breakaway
Out of the darkness and into the sun
But I won't forget all the ones that I love
I'll take a risk
Take a chance
Make a change
And breakaway"

What change are you going to make? what do you need to break away from?--we break away from the things that hold us back. Our own fears or the negativity of false friends or whatever. We change when we face our fears.

On that note: I've been haunted by a fear of failure and a feeling of inadequacy regarding running ever since getting consistently lapped in the mile by Heidi Van Dyke when I ran track in 7th grade. I've had other teams clap for me--just for making it across the finish line.

Saturday I bought a pair of running shoes.

Thanks for the inspiration, kiddo.

2006-03-02T23:50:00.000-05:00

Blue Moon

Yesterday I headed out into the cold, crisp evening to dance class without Clair, who wasn't feling her best. Earlier in the day I had sat in a cafe, writing a difficult letter to an old, dear friend, and I had looked up to see that snow was falling in small, hard balls from a deceptively sunny sky and bouncing on the pavement. As I emerged from the tube station, the dark sky above Oxford Street was no longer melting and re-freezing the snowflakes that fell, allowing them to clump until they reminded me of cotton balls, falling and sticking to cheeks and hair and nose, melting gently on the lips.

In a snowfall in London, there are some who don't appear to bat an eyelash whether there is a flake perched on it or not--there are some who appear to simply pull their winter coats tighter about them or, if they've been in London a really long time, pop open the umbrella always kept in purse or pocket--and there are a few, like me, who walk along giggling like schoolgirls, stopping to catch the snowflakes on our toungues, calling friends to say "look out the window!" I passed such a one and she exclaimed to me "It's snowing!" and I replied "Isn't it beautiful!"

In a snowfall in London, you can recognise your kindred spirit at a glance.

2006-02-22T09:57:00.000-05:00

You Know You Have Been in London Too Long When...
courtesy of an Aussie

1. You don't even bother looking out of the window when you get up in
the morning to check what the day is like. You know it is overcast. check

2. You believe that Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and
Saturday are all good nights for drinking. Sunday day is also entirely
reasonable.

3. You can't remember what 'customer service' means. you give and give and give and never receive it back...

4. After a big night out you find yourself looking for a Curry house
and not a 24-hour McDonalds. check

5. You start to accept queuing as a way of life. check... check...check!

6. More than three hours sunlight on summer days seems excessive. check

7. You always call soccer 'football' (check)... and you have a team... and it's not Manchester United. un-check

8. You don't think twice about buying a packaged sandwich. This will never be true; I like to watch my sandwich being made... I can only go to Subway for this.

9. A sunny lunchtime means searching for a patch of grass check and
stripping off practically down to your underwear. un-check

10. You expect men to actually cut, comb and style their hair (using
hair products). And to wear decent clothes. Jeans and a T-shirt are no
longer socially acceptable. check

11. You think 40 quid for a haircut is quite reasonable. I've never gotten my hair cut here.

12. You finish every sentence with 'Cheers' or "In'it", and start
every conversation with Hiya or Ya'right. Actually we finish sentences with "yeah?", and start conversations with "Hello, dahling."

13. You only just realize you have lost your sunglasses - you left
them in Greece 2 summers ago. Or in my case I just came back from Greece where I desperately missed, for the first time, the sunglasses I lost months ago.

14. You start thinking English cuisine isn't all that bad after all, I
mean, it's hard to beat a full English breakfast. check... except for the tomAHtos.

15. You are on to your 6th umbrella and your second overcoat. only a slight exaggeration.

16. You buy a disposable baby BBQ from Argos. This one is for the Aussie expats.

17. You realize your sunscreen is the stuff you originally brought
from home with you. check

18. A day at the beach means wearing the warmest clothes you own while
standing on golf ball-size pebbles and the thought of swimming doesn't
even enter your head. check

19. You actually say, "Sor'ed" or "its all gone a bit pear shaped". check...if only to myself.

20. Wearing a suit in a pub is relatively normal attire. check

21. You have given up complaining about the Victorian-like banking
services offered in the UK. check

22. You have given up explaining why you are half an hour late to work
as no-one notices or even cares. In fact - you may even join the
one-hour gossip session around the coffee machine before booting up your
computer. unfortunately this does not apply...

23. Coming to work with a hangover is entirely accepted and indeed
expected at least once a week. This was true at my last job here.

2006-02-22T06:08:00.000-05:00

Braden Zachary Miller
February 14, 2006
Valentine's Day Baby

This is a tribute to a beautiful little boy who was desired greatly, is loved much, will be missed always. Who knew that in such a short time you could bring us so much joy, especially to your mommy and daddy? Who knew that someone could inspire so much love without ever saying a word? Be a lovely angel for your mommy and daddy. Spend some time with all of us who were so looking forward to spending time with you.

2006-02-21T19:39:00.000-05:00

This is the kind of job I need
courtesy of The Onion

CHICAGO—All 17 customers at Chicago's Urn coffee shop were billing third parties for time spent there. "The people on laptops are web designers, unless they have big headphones—those are either musicians or producers," said the Urn's owner, Maria Carmichael, who wrote her coffee shop's business plan in a coffee shop. "And Mario, who bills for time spent here even though he shouldn't, sells espresso machines." Carmichael added that she conducts her second career, as a theater manager, on her Powerbook, using the cafe's wireless connection.

2006-02-21T19:29:00.000-05:00

Rain/bow

After the last night shift of a series I try to stay awake as long as possible and go to bed at a normal time. Today, to do that, I did some grocery shopping, went to the bank, etc etc, and then I went to pick up the package that came while I was gone. It had arrived actually on Valentine's Day and it was a heart-shaped box of chocolates from the one Valentine who always comes through--my dad. As I was walking back from the post office I passed Traid, a second-hand clothing shop that supports long-term development projects in developing countries. In my area there are a lot of South Asians, especially Indians, so the majority of the women's clothing in the store--or, at any rate, all that ever catches my eyes--are these gorgeous saris and dresses and things, and today there was one on the maniquin in the window that just took my breath away. I've looked through them before but they always look too big for me, but this one looked just the right size. I went in and talked to the girl in the shop--long story short, I came out with a prize! It's a little big for me, but you can see it was for the girl who had it before as well because there's a little wear and tear around the hem. Luckily, there's a tailor less than a block away, and he's hemming the whole, complicated skirt for only 12 pounds! (to hem my dress for Sarha's wedding last summer cost 60 bucks, by comparison).

When I was at the counter I asked for a quote for the top as well. I didn't want to give it to him yet becuase I still needed to determine where exactly it needs taken in, and by how much. He pointed to a little door at the back of the shop and said I should go in there--but frankly he's a little weird and I prefer to do such things in the privacy of my home, and anyway I knew I'd need help with all the little clasps up the back so I said no, I can't do the clasps up my self. The old man who was there to pick up the trousers that had been let out at the waist laughed a little and said, "I can help you out with that!" and I gave him a Look and a smile and said, "I was afraid someone was going to offer!" and we all laughed.

I bought a phone card from the guy who sells them by the door, and had a little conversation with him too, about the weather--i.e., with the man who spends every day in the freezing cold and sells 5-quid phone cards for 3 pounds! I don't know how he does it--and just as I realized I'd left my hat at traid and went back to get it, I marvelled at how I could find a dress so gorgeous and so cheap, and find a tailor and go back to the first store before anyone even noticed my hat! and everyone seemed friendly and kind today, and I'm glad I had a day like that on my humble (yet well-stocked) little high street because coming home from Santorini made it seem very hard not to hate London.

2006-02-20T11:33:00.000-05:00

when I look at Jeannie's profile on thefacebook:

Jeannie is your friend and relative. She was also your housemate, coworker, fellow group member, classmate and travel buddy. You hooked up.

2006-02-20T09:55:00.000-05:00

When you're in love, tomorrow never comes.

Forgetting domani is my primary way of dealing with the encroaching end of a lovely, lovely time of my life. From the end of college to the end of a week-long trip to Greece, my favorite way to enjoy my drink to the dregs is to ignore the fact that there are no free refills.

Amazingly, this dreaded "tomorrow" when we were to leave the island actually didn't come, and although the world will see it as being related to a certain ferry strike, I'd prefer to think it's because I'm in love with the island of Santorini.

Where London is crowded and dirty, Santorini is quiet and pristine--especially in the off-season, when it appeared that the tourists on the island could be counted on one hand (I think we actually may have met them all). Where London is gray and cold, Santorini is sunshiny and warm--or sunshiny and cold, but either way sunshiny, and appears to rain only when the world is sleeping. Where Londoners can be stand-offish and unfriendly, dwellers of Santorini are mostly friendly, often quaint and occasionally a little bizarre... except for the ubiquitous, communal pet dogs, who are uniformly friendly, especially when you have food.

Not all things about London are bad, of course--not by a long shot--it's just that after relaxing on Santorini, eating outside and neither freezing nor getting rained on, watching the sun set and waking up without an alarm clock, I find myself reaching for my London guidebook: certainly this will enthusiastically remind me of all the wonders London has to offer.

One of the really wonderful things about London AND Santorini is my roommate Clair, with whom I now share more inside jokes than I ever thought could be created in the course of a week. Our favorites all start with the words, "Who am I?", and finish with an imitation of some person, animal or event we came across on our trip, and gales of laughter. Soon I'll post some of our pictures (we took 400+!), and let you know more.

love to all! :D

2006-02-14T11:33:00.000-05:00

Tales from Athena

Today Clair and I went and explored the Acropolis, which was amazing. Athens is chilly but the sun is shining brightly and I'm loving every minute of that, just trying to soak it in through my skin--I'd run around naked to soak up the most possible before going back to dreary London, but there are all these Greek men around and I think they might notice. It's really odd how many men are about compared to women--especially when Clair and I were having lunch in this little place, alone with the exposed beams and next to the fireplace (mmmm!), and when I went to pay the man took me across the little alleyway to the other dining room, which was much bigger--but first we had to wait for a huge group of men to file in--maybe 40 or 50! and all I could think was, what have they done with all the women!? I realized eventually that they were all Italian priests; what they were doing en masse in Athens on Valentine's Day (besides eating lunch) I really don't know.

Clair and I were going to give ourselves V-day massages as well, and when we stopped in a salon to ask if they did massage, one of those conversations ensued (like in Lost in Translation, when they're doing the commercial), where the lady behind the counter went on at length and with many gestures, all (naturally) in Greek to us! and then the lady at the table translated the whole thing into--"massage with pain or without?" well, preferably painless and pleasurable really I was thinking, and then a third lady came out and again went on in Greek and I heard a more recognizable word--"with or without peeling?" I asked and Lady 2 beamed--perhaps most of their massages come as part of a package with a facial and so on?--so I said "without peeling" and she turns to Lady 1: "Mono massage", and again Lady 1 goes on and on with many gestures, and then L2 says, "It's 40 euros". This is actually a pretty good price but I wanted to clarify so I said " for an hour?" and she turned and talked and then she said "for 30 minutes... 30 seconds" "Thirty seconds?!" I said, and she said "yes" and smiled and I burst out laughing--it was the funniest thing I'd heard since, well, last night with the Irish coffee. That effectively ended that conversation, and although Clair suspected that L2 was trying to indicate half of 30 minutes, instead of half of one minute, I think that's still not quite worth my 40 euros! haha. We're going to save that for going out on the town instead.

...and since it's not fair to leave you with such a tantalizing hint: last night after our dinner Clair and I ordered Irish coffee with our baklava and creme caramel, and when it came it was stronger than straight JD and completely undrinkable. We used all the suger we had, asked for more, asked for extra milk--twice--and after we had used all of this I took another sip and it still set my throat on fire! I set the glass down making a face (discreetly in the corner of the room) and gestured at the glass with both hands, exclaiming "Good God!" Clair was looking at the waiter at that moment who was looking at me and saw him laugh--I think they must have used ouzo instead of Irish cream or whisky and I think they added a triple shot! By the time we found the drinks actually drinkable we had added the sauce from Clair's creme caramel as well, and by the time they were gone the whole episode had us in tears of laughter! Still, I think we won't be ordering that particular drink as we sit and watch the sun set tomorrow night from the gorgeous island of Santorini...

2006-02-12T23:05:00.000-05:00

Well, I've been awful about updating ever since I moved to a place where my beloved little Powerbook cannot be connected to the crap internet connection... but here's the latest:

I'M GOING TO GREECE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!!

see ya!
:D

2006-01-16T11:22:00.000-05:00

There is so much to talk about and so much that has happened lately but all I really want to do at the moment is sleep, actually. I'll try to give you all a run-down.

- I moved into a new place, which is saving me masses of money. My friend Clair is my new roommate and we have discovered that we are much more alike than we thought--in all good ways--and we have re-painted the living room and parts of the entry hallway, and we are doing the kitchen, and she got the landlord to replace the carpets as well, so the place is looking really nice.

- I am going to have some free time in February at the same time as Clair, and hopefully our friend Andi will be back by then and we can all go someplace together--we're shooting for someplace warm.

- We were thinking Ireland, actually (as a possible alternative to the warm thing) but as my Dad will be coming to Ireland in March I'd like to see him there so Clair and I will go someplace else instead.

- I dated someone for a little while and it was looking pretty promising until he stopped calling... oh well.

- I do still like my job but I've got to admit, the working of nights spread here and there spastically throughout the month is getting really difficult for me.

- I'm looking seriously into my options for the next step in my political career.

- I'm starting to study Finnish and cooking and I've joined a dance school! I'm going to my first class tonight.

- I haven't got my computer hooked up to the internet at home yet and my time at the internet cafe is running out--can you tell?

- I love and miss you, my friends in other places!

cheers--
:D

2005-12-26T01:50:00.000-05:00

no more I love yous
the language is leaving me
no more I love yous
the language is leaving me in silence

...ain't no sunshine when she's gone
it's not warm when she's away
ain't no sunshine when she's gone
and she's always gone too long
anytime she goes away

wonder this time where she's gone
wonder if she's gone to stay
ain't no sunshine when she's gone
and this house just ain't no home
anytime she goes away

Two suitcases packed, the cat napping by my side, as if he knows I'm leaving him tomorrow, giving back "his" room, would be bringing him with me if I could. This Christmas has been so beautiful and so short--Christmas day has been too short since my childhood, but this time the whole Christmas season and in particular my time with my family and my girls has just swept past in a rush. My shifts at work just before leaving were so stressful and I have three night shifts immediately starting upon my arrival back in London--they've been like a sword hanging over my head by a rapidly fraying thread. And there are a few other worries--will I be able to find someone to take my place so I can move out? What will it be like living with Claire, if I get to? And when (if) she and I and Andi find a place, will it be another compromise or will we create our little "House of Dreams" like Anne of Green Gables, with sunny rooms and a cheerful neighborhood and convenient transportation and perhaps even a low rental price?

I wonder how much money you can actually make busking...

I'm exhausted and I'm a bit worried about fitting in the rest of the things I am loathe to leave behind, but I can't make myself pack and I don't want to sleep and miss a minute of being HOME. I love Home. I miss Home. And I really hope that there will be someone who can meet me at the airport, so that I'll feel a little more, at least, like I'm coming to my home-away-from-home instead of just arriving away again.

Today I unwrapped my yearbook from my senior year of college. It is so beautiful and already things start to seem a little far away--Oktoberfest, Lunar New Year, Awaaz, the Old Duke party, Sati's, George's, 9th Street, the MP, the BC (and the walkway that is now gone)--the Chapel--the Gardens--K-ville! I was looking through it and marvelling at the richness offered by the college experience, especially at my beloved, amazing, incredible Alma Mater, and just as I was about to fool myself into nostalgically and melodramatically thinking, never again, I remembered that I live in one of the coolest cities in the world. I went to see a performance of The Phantom of the Opera less than 2 weeks ago , and the music was so beautiful and powerful it literally gave me chills. There are dance classes available for me to go to any day of the week, a Finnish church and cultural centre I have yet to go to, and literally thousands of peices of art that I can see for free in the national museums, not to mention the night spots, the cafes, the ice skating, the shows, the classes, the people, and the travel I could do given the time and money.

hmm...

the New Year is on its way. I had better get started making it as memorable as the old!

Merry Christmas to you all. I love you very much. And now that Advent is over and the real season has begun, please do not forget that there are yet 11 days of Christmas, lasting through Epiphany--eleven remaining days to appreciate the time with family and friends, to enjoy and express your joy in the many gifts you have received, and above all to celebrate in your heart that there is a powerful and loving God, both merciful and just--so powerful that his very thoughts become reality, our existance depending on his holding us in steadfast contemplation, and yet so humble that he emptied himself and became one of us, born in a stable, laid upon hay, so many years ago.

2005-12-20T20:38:00.000-05:00

Independence Day

I'm nearing the end of my three-month probationary period at my job. It's odd because not only has my training group "graduated" from training and begun working for real, so has the group behind us and there's a third group of newbies being taught how to do all of the things we do there.

Still, we all know that you might know a lot about something but you don't truly learn it until you do it, and I began to get that first-hand experience in the three consecutive night shifts I just finished. One of my colleagues called in sick for all three, and when you're operating on a reduced night staff this makes a big difference. Last night he was not the only one, so there were very few of us and several very difficult cases to handle--on top of the usual calls from people whose luggage hadn't followed them to their resort or who needed us to ship them their medication or who needed a doctor sent to see them.

At the beginning of the evening I began to panic a little, and as one by one my evening-shift colleagues left, encouraging me to call any one of the on-call people if I didn't know how to do something, I realized that the impossible was going to happen and I gripped my determination tightly in one hand, casting fervent prayers as high as I could with the other. By certified Divine Providence, someone had left a packet of paracetemol on their desk, and a nice pair (1000 mg) fought off the cramps and severe back pain I already had and helped with the encroaching stress headache as well.

We worked through the night, and it simply wasn't possible to take a break, and by 5:30am I called the manager on call and told her--ok, this is it, we need you to come in because we are simply at this point trying to juggle too many large and fragile balls. She came, and by yet more Divine Providence (complete, again, with certificate of authenticity), another collegue had run into the Operations Manager at a pub after work and she had convinced him to come in at 6am for a little overtime.

When 9am came, instead of going home, I stayed for my mid-probation performance review, because if we left it for much longer it would coincide with my post-probation performance review. And what did they tell me? Well, in a nutshell, they love me, they really love me! Other managers on call had praised my performance on stressful night shifts, I got along well with my colleagues, gave excellent customer service, and was well-informed of all the procedures, I was reliable, proactive and even (dear God!) on time...! I hadn't, to be honest, had too much time to think about the upcoming review, and I hadn't worried about it because I knew I had a lot to learn and that they weren't going to fire me, but I definitely did not expect it to be so overwhelmingly positive. There were, of course, a few little hiccups in the call review, but even those were things I've improved on vastly since the time the calls were actually recorded. On the whole, I was very pleasantly surprised.

It's at times like this that I think back to my high-school cheerleading coach. When I was late, as I nearly always was, she would sigh exasperatedly and say, Deirdre, you're so irresponsible! And what I thought at the time is what I've proved now, finally, to myself and to the ghost of her criticizing me in the back of my head: there is a difference between irresponsible and late. I was never irresponsible, I was just late. Now I'm much less often late, and I'm definitely not irresponsible. My managers, across the board, trust me after a few short months to work on the hardest of cases, and I have not let them down.

Two weeks ago to the day it was Finnish Independence Day. Today, in a sense, it is mine as well. Hooray!

2005-12-16T00:23:00.000-05:00

I've been a bad, bad girl
'cuz I've been careless with a delicate man!

No, seriously. I actually am a really bad person, you all think I'm nice but my head has been producing mean and irritated thoughts for days. I'm hoping I have my period soon so I'll be able to retrospectively blame my hormones. One of the things i've realized from all this irritation is that I'm not as good at letting people know when I'm upset about something as I always thought. Maybe this is my hardcore customer service ("yes" man) training coming into play, but I have hours worth of soapboxing going on in my head and then when I see the person who set it off I realize how sweet they are and I can't say anything. This is primarily true in terms of my living situation, and below is the letter I wish I could write to my housemates:

Dear everyone,

i just wanted to say that I'm sorry for the part I played in creating our horrendous electricity bill by the use of my heater in my room. I accept the blame--that is, the part of it that is mine--since I'm actually really good about turning off lights and appliances, closing doors, and economising my use of the laundry facilities (not to mention--*ahem, ahem*--actually getting my clean clothes out of the kitchen and into my own room). I suppose I just didn't take your warnings about the cost seriously enough, since one of you also informed me you were no longer going to be a part of the same toilet paper kitty since you don't think you use it in equal amounts to the rest of the house, and another of you was worried about the fairness of paying £2 per month for access to a landline phone you (probably) won't use.

I realize that your wallets are the tenderest spot to be hit in, but hopefully you'll feel better when you think about the fact that for bigger rooms and double beds that are not right by the front door, you're paying exactly the same price as me in rent or only a few quid more per month for a practically private bathroom and miniature balcony. If that doesn't help, try combining it with the assistance I provided in getting us all access to more than 6 TV channels, a landline phone, and broadband wireless internet, not to mention usage of my beloved computer--or the free food you've gotten to eat right from my grocery basket! You must haved loved that juice concentrate; it was gone before I actually had any. Anyway, probably by now you've managed to passive-aggressively work out your anger by promising to let one of my best friends sleep in your bed while she was visiting, since you spend nearly every night at your boyfriend's place anyway, and then magically sleeping there for three nights in a row once you knew she was here.

yeah, passive aggression is great, isn't it? I used to avoid it but now I see the light...

Love,
:D

In other news, the office Christmas party was Wednesday night. I got there late because I was working late, and then had to go all the way across town to get ready, but for a little while I was the belle of the ball! I also got to make my grand entrance about 4 times, because it turns out The New Connaught Rooms are in fact very, um, plural, and all of them had been rented out for different parties. As I wandered around looking for my own, I would be caught in the hallway by some sketchy man with a 5 o'clock shadow coming too close and saying suggestively with alcoholic or cigarette breathe that they were glad I finally made it to their party, or asking if they could help guide me to wherever I was going, preferably with one hand around my waist and slipping accidentally downward... so I would say, oh, no, i'm going right there, pointing in a convenient but incorrect direction, and just go.

I had a lot of fun at the party, and I'm glad I was sober because watching my colleagues interact while at various stages of drunkenness was hilarious. I was originally intending to post all my pictures on Flickr or Snapfish for their viewing pleasure but for obvious reasons I've decided not to do that. Don't get me wrong--there was no "snogging" in the corner or sex in the bathrooms or infidelity of any kind that I'm aware of--but smaller things became clear, like crushes and--well, we'll leave it at that. Just because others were indiscreet doesn't mean I need to be--and as my father has rightly warned me on multiple occasions, I don't want to say anything that might one day get me fired. "Today's newspapers will line tomorrow's wastepaper bins" but a cyberspace perceived slight will last for all eternity, and its writer hunted down by the Soup Nazi to be the next contestant at the Soup (Nazi) Kitchen.

watch us again next week, faithful viewers, as the saga continues... maybe by that time I'll have found the cord to connect my camera to my computer and you'll have at least one picture from the party. cheers! :D

top_picture

2005-12-10T00:21:00.000-05:00

accost

worth a smile... I just got one of those spam emails describing how this person with TONS of money just has nowhere to put it and needs my (personal) help, and bank account details, and it began with, "I'd like to accost you with a proposal..."

Best use of the word "accost" I've come acccost yet. (muah ha haha!)

But seriously, folks. There's another accost I'm less amused by, and unfortunately it's written on the price tag of this dress.

top_picture
Originally uploaded by cheerio01.

It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen, and the most flattering one, even in the wrong size, that I've ever been totally unable to afford. And I know there's that perennial question of what would I wear it to--but who cares? I live a fabulous life; I'm sure I'll be invited to the party of the century at the White House any day now, or maybe number 10 Downing Street--which, let's face it, would be a little more convenient at this point--and just when I'm about to say "what on earth am I going to where, and what will I have on when I go?" I will say instead--"I have just the thing!"

And we all know how important that is.

Seriously, I started working it out in my budget. One month's salary, minus rent, telephone, council tax, electricity, my travel card and the dress leaves, in total, for groceries, entertainment, random things like the shoes I had to buy since the old ones broke, and oh yes all of your Christmas presents--a whole £50!

Oh God it's going to be a hungry month.

2005-11-28T18:57:00.000-05:00

It is now 3 minutes until my self-appointed bedtime. Today was a very long day at work, not least because I stayed and worked nearly 3 hours overtime.

I have really been so awful about updating that I don't know where to start. I don't have a hope of catching up. I may, if you're lucky, get around to telling you the story of my wonderful birthday trip to Rome to see Michelle, and the golden day that the Pope smiled at me. (me! little me! I'm not even Catholic and I nearly started crying.) It's a great story with an unexpected twist! I probably shouldn't tell you that because the foretold twist is never, obviously, as unexpected.

My Thanksgiving was wonderful, in its own odd sort of way--two huge dinners spent with friendly people, most of whom I hardly knew at all, and neither dinner on the day itself, when I actually worked late. The best part, by far, was calling home when I got "home" (that ever-slippery concept!) from work that night. Nearly the entire family was in the same room, and I got to talk to them all on speaker-phone. When they heard that I had managed to get people to swap my shifts so I'd actually be able to come home for Christmas, a massive cheer went up and my heart just swelled--it was lovely to think, and odd that I had forgotten, that they might miss me as much as I missed all of them.

My last Thanksgiving-Abroad was in Paris, all of us Educo kids crammed with a few of our visiting Dukies and indie French friends into a couple of small rooms in a large, classy Parisian apartment--filled from the bottom to the brim with over 800 Santa Clauses. The old lady who was the host-family to the girls who lived there and hosted the party--the old lady who happened to be, if I recall correctly, a baroness or similar--was also skilled at restoring gold leaf surface to old objects, and intended to collect 1,000 Santas before she died.

It seems so strange to me that one might have a goal like that--where one's death of natural causes and inevitable disintegration might actually be the thing keeping the project from completion. That was 2 years ago now. I wonder if she's reached a thousand. I wonder if she's dead...

And now here we come to it, slowly creeping round to it from the side--the title, the main point of the post, Christmas, is almost here.

It's coming, and it's heralded not least by the putting up of lights and subtle jutting out of defensive, defining-my-personal-space elbows on Oxford street--and of course by the annual advertisements for things you do want but don't get to keep. The most egregious was not notable until my darling friend Andi pointed out to me the fine print: clearly we all want to get the robotic dinosaur (sortof a bizarre post-modern concept in itself) and have our "psychotic nephew taken care of"--but who is the psychotic auntie paying nearly £90 for such a (forgive me) monstrosity?

But Christmas is also heralded by the whispers of Christmas songs in the air--here in a store, there on a commercial, and over on the corner from the busker with the battered trumpet. Today it was "O Come All Ye Faithful", sung by a gorgeous full symphony choir in my vivid aural imagination with the lead by yours truly, all through the walk home from my Tube stop--getting louder with each passing vehicle and quieting to silence with each passing pedestrian.

And then, just now, another--one I hadn't heard for ages, one for which the words have never meant to me what they do now.

I'll be home for Christmas,
You can count on me.
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents under the tree.
Christmas Eve will find me,
Where the love light gleams.
I'll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams.
Christmas Eve will find me,
Where the love light gleams.
I'll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams.

I listen to the same words and I hear something different now, something exquisitely and cruelly sad, because the lovely, charming and (I may say it now) very handsome young man who swapped one of my two shifts has decided to leave the company--and the shift hadn't yet been changed in the schedule so it appears it still "belongs" to me... So far I'm having a very hard time getting rid of it.

I really can't face the thought of Christmas alone--especially as the very few friends I have here who are close enough friends that it would feel right to spend the day with them will be out of town. I can only hope that if such a thing comes to pass I might be so blessed as to sleep straight through it.

If only in my dreams,
indeed.

2005-11-03T18:31:00.000-05:00

hello squawkbox comments! I paid for you, now come back please!

we'll use blogger comments for this post, so there. pbbbbbt!! :-P

2005-11-01T16:35:00.000-05:00

setting: Saturday morning. 8am or similarly early.

the phone rings. Deirdre slowly wakes up. Who is calling? Caller ID is uninformative. "Hello?"

"Hello, this is M___ from Homechoice. I'm here to install your television and internet. Can you let me in please?"

what?!

For those who have been privy to (or rather, subjected to) the Homechoice Sagas, they have not been pretty. To give a sample, I've actually spent more than the equivalent of my monthly bill in telephone charges while on hold waiting for some customer service. M's arrival was also a surprise because although my original install date was last Monday, I was told it wouldn't be possible to install until on or after Nov 4--when (YAY!!) I'll be in Rome visiting Michelle for my birthday. (yayayay!! so excited. woo. heehee :)

But he's here now, on my very doorstep, so I perform necessary checks:
Homechoice-printed van, check.
Homechoice-logo'ed apparel, check.
Good-looking repairman, check.

hmm.

I let him in, standing there bleary-eyed, and show him where the phone line is, in the corner behind the sofa, and gasp in horror at the pile of dirty clothing, empty water bottles and old newspapers in said corner. Briefest of clean-ups ensues, same with bedroom, same with self. Unfortunately the lack of contact solution in the house had led me to resort to artificial tears, and when I put in my contacts my eyes gave a watery protest for an hour. Awesome.

By the time he left, I had digital TV, wireless broadband, and an invitation for drinks on Sunday, which ensued with appropriate measures of hilarity:
- gay bar (no competition for him!),
- requisite crazy man talking to himself,
- discussion with nearby gay men about usage of ladies room (i.e. the one without an attendant offering towels and requiring tip)
- conversation pondering contents of crazy man's large black bag.

Conclusion: a rope, a revolver, a lead pipe, a knife, a candlestick and a wrench. (The butler? nope, the crazy man in the gay club with the lead pipe.) Conclusion for the evening as a whole: M and I are polar opposites and will probably be awesome friends. Cool.

2005-10-24T13:20:00.000-04:00

Frank & Ernest
Living in London is not as great as I thought it would be.

It takes forever to get anywhere. It's harder to turn an acquaintance into a friend. I don't have the time and I don't have the money to do all the cool things I thought I would do. And I miss you. I miss all of you, and all the things that I used to enjoy doing alone, back when alone was a choice, are not as fun as they used to be.

And it's nice to speak English instead of French, and, yes, it's sometimes necessary to deal with Parisians in their own special way, but I never felt this sort of disappointment with Paris as a city. Paris is still magical to me. Even seeing a Metro map recalls me instantly to sparkling memories of beautiful experiences. I miss Paris and all the friends I had there. I miss Duke and all the friends I have/had there.

Still, I know that things will keep moving up. In a few short weeks I'll be working a few long days a week and getting a few days off--to explore the city, to wander museums, to walk along the river, to see musical and sights and take coffee-table-book worthy photographs and start Christmas shopping. I know that the hours I worked and my so-not-me neighborhood over the summer had a strongly negative effect on how I felt about London, but those things are in the past and the present improves day by day.

Saturday I went to the Tate Britain with my friend Emilie and loved it--loved the walk down the River from Westminster--loved the museum itself--loved the architecture everywhere--loved the park along the river... That is how living in a European capital is supposed to be.

2005-10-24T13:03:00.000-04:00

You are Summer Wheatley and you hate cake.

Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

...Can I be mortified now?

:D

2005-10-22T19:25:00.000-04:00

I did have a post titled,

Second Time Around
Job. Home. Friends. Blog Post.

Half of it is still saved as a draft. The other half was lost because of the [bleep!]ing moron running the internet cafe I wrote it in, so the title no longer applies because this is now the third time around for the blog post. Never fear; I will salvage what is applicable and feed it to you like small dark chocolates filled with caramel.

But you all know what they say...

Tuesdays
Third Time's the Charm

Last Tuesday
I went to my first 85 Broads event. It was a panel discussion on whether and to what extent women have broken through the glass ceiling--or for that matter whether the ceiling has simply moved. The discussion was fascinating and I learned a lot--one thing that didn't surprise me, but which I hadn't actually thought about before, was that part of the reason some companies and even industries are so male-saturated is that when recruiting, they're sending out males (of course), who talk about the thing that studies have shown is far and away the most important thing that men think about when looking for their first job out of college: starting salary. The study showed that women consider 8 factors, which generally center around the culture of the workplace: is it a place where they will respected and their input appreciated, for example. I know my key factors were:
~ Will I use my skills and talents?
~ Will I be helping someone else's life be better?
~ Will I be challenged and learn a lot?
Some companies that are trying to recruit both men and women end up attracting primarily men because they don't understand what appeals to women seeking jobs. Women are much more likely to value work/life balance, and as companies (finally!) begin to realize this, and women begin to demand it or leave for companies that offer it, the workplace will slowly change, to the benefit of all.

The un-fun part of the evening was when an older woman with whom I was chatting and asking about her experiences and advice offered me a bit of advice that I didn't expect: I was dressed "too casually", in chocolate-brown slacks, a collared, button-down shirt and heels. Harrumph. I took it well, was for the moment the "young thing" soaking it all in, pressed further for advice on business-worthy hairstyles as well, and took my leave, thinking of all the very good reasons I had for dressing as I had: I couldn't find my black suit jacket (and still can't); I have only a suitcase-worth of clothing with me and won't wear the same outfit twice in too short a period; I love my job and have no intention of leaving anytime soon and therefore didn't feel as pressured to impress; I had viewed the event primarily as a panel discussion and not a job interview; I didn't expect to be harshly and shallowly judged when among a group of supposedly supportive women.

I told my friend Emilie about it later. She asked, "Does that woman work in finance?"

"For 25 years" I told her. I could hear her nod knowingly even over the phone. So in the end I kept the advice and brushed off the hurt feelings and I will know better for next time, even if I think that woman was, somehow, wrong.

This Tuesday
I will receive, via direct debit, the first check of my short and beautiful life that I did not earn working by the hour. It will be a bright and beautiful day, even if it is raining.

It probably will be raining.

Next Tuesday
will be the first day of November, month of my birth, and of autumn leaves, and of Thanksgiving. I will be looking forward to my 23rd birthday on Friday and, if all goes as planned, to a trip to Rome for the first time, to see my beautiful (brunette!) friend Michelle, whom I miss to pieces.

2005-09-29T07:40:00.000-04:00

haha--I said I didn't have a Proper Job or significant income or significant other--and then I got the job, and soon I'll have the income, and yesterday at the gym I met an absolutely gorgeous man... ;)~ wheee!!

2005-09-26T11:08:00.000-04:00

YAAAYYYY!!! I GOT THE JOB I GOT THE JOB! I will be a logistics coordinator in the Alarm Centre, so if you're on vacation in Indonesia and suddenly need surgery, darlings, you know who to call!

2005-09-17T12:13:00.000-04:00

I'm usually not a huge Maureen Dowd fan but this time she's right on the money.

2005-09-17T11:08:00.000-04:00

Back in London

I was just reading Becky and Tigran's blog, and they had had an interesting conversation about success. What is it? How do you know if you are successful? I can know when I've been successful at a particular task--but what about the overall picture? It makes you take stock of what you have, who you are, what you value and who you want to be.

What do I have? I have a new place to live and 4 fun roommates (+), I have lots of loving friends and family (+) who are mostly very far away (-). I have enough money to pay off my student loans (+) but not to pay for anything else, at the moment (-), and I have a great degree (+) but my only job is in a restaurant (-).

Who am I? hmm, trickier question, and one that's been coming up lately because I'm expected to put my current position on forms when searching for a new job. I am disinclined to write "bartender", which is certainly not how I define myself. But I am young (mostly + but some - because I don't have enough experience to get a really good job yet, I think), a woman (++, I love being a woman), and an international (+++, one for each citizenship :).

What do I value? I value my relationship with the Lord, and doing what is right. I value friendships, and travel, and learning, and people. I value balance, hard work, common sense (but not too much!) and imagination. I value following my dreams.

Who do I want to be? I want to be someone who makes a difference, in the lives of those I meet as well as in the world at large.

So where does all that put me? Well, overall I think I'm pretty successful: I have the degree, the place in London, the people who love me (and whom I love :), the bright future and endless potential. I don't have a Proper Job or significant income or significant other, but I expect at least the first two to change within the next month, so that's good too. On the ten-point scale (which I secretly use all the time), adjusted for age, I'd say I'm about at 6.5--but an 8 as soon as I have a job. Not too shabby!

*****

So my holiday in Ohio is over and I'm back in London. I spent the last evening home at Lydia and Dale's place, as usual, and spent the whole night packing, as usual. I still managed to leave something insignificant but annoying behind, as usual, this time my sunglasses. Early in the morning (as in, 4:30am) Mom and I headed to the airport and said goodbye. At Newark I took the bus into Manhattan, breakfasted with my brother and napped at his place, lunched with Ron and coffee'd with Jeannie before gathering my rosebuds (er--carryon bag) and heading back to the airport, in plenty of time to catch my place. What a great day! I was grateful that none of the movies on the plane interested me, I chose to watch Friends while eating dinner and got a reasonable amount of sleep, making use of a mask for the first time in my life--thank God I had it with me from a previous flight! When I arrived at Gatwick, I found my way into town and struggled to my new home with my massively heavy luggage and high heels (great for New York, not great for day 2 of travel). The missed night of sleep was catching up with me but I got moved in with the help of my landlord (who drives a mouthwatering blue Porsche Boxter which I have now gotten to ride in three times!). A shower, a change, a stop by his place to print off resumes and off I went to a job fair! Which resulted in two interviews with recruitment agencies that took place yesterday and went very well--so well, actually, that one of them called me later on Friday and asked if I could stand in for their receptionist on Monday! yay!

I also worked every night this week except one at the restaurant, and it's funny how different it is than when I first arrived in June. Enough people have left that I'm no longer the new girl, and the pattern is not just familiar but old hat--I'm really good at what I do, and I like that. Still, it's exhausting, and it's exacerbated my usually non-existant jet lag to be up working so late at night--on Wednesday I was awake until 7am! I also only have one night off next week; luckily it's Pub Quiz night and my lovely housemate Becky is the Quiz Mistress. Andy (another housemate) said they're hoping I'll get the American questions. I didn't tell him that I've come to realize I know nothing about American pop culture. While I was home the girls yelled at me (nicely) three times for not knowing who had won the last American Idol... and I've forgotten her name again.

However! Today I watched one of the first shows of the new X-factor, the UK version of the show (including Simon and all). HiLARious!! My favorite was the lady with no teeth who sang like Wing, only higher-pitched and a little whinier. I almost died when Sharon Osbourne asked her, ever so gently, if she had ever tried singing with her teeth in. She looked shocked and said, "No." Even Simon, harsh harsh Simon, who said the trio of girls looked like the before, during and after of Weight Watchers, felt bad sending her away--she seriously had no clue she was horrendous! so I think it's official: I'm hooked on X-factor. And if the glamour model wins, I'll probably blame it on that silly, pervy grin that spread across Simon's face when he saw her. ;)

2005-09-07T04:48:00.000-04:00

I was rifling through the mail tray in the kitchen to see if anything had come for me and there it was: a newspaper clipping titled, "Excerpts from Iraq's Draft Constitution". My eyes fell immediately to the sub-heading in the center of the article: Women's Rights.

" 'Iraqis are equal before the law without discrimination because of gender, ethnicity, nationality, origin, color, religion, sect, belief, opinion or social or economic status.' (Article 14)
'A proprotion of no less than 25 percent of the seats in the Council of Representatives is specified for the participation of women.' (Article 151)."

I started laughing and crying, immediately and simultaneously. Victory. One more small battle won in our ongoing fight. Thank you, thank you Lord.

And no, it's not signed yet. And yes, there is still controversy. But our voices have been heard! Iraqi women, your voices have been heard. My sisters, my sisters everywhere, do you know how my heart aches for you?

2005-09-03T01:25:00.000-04:00

Clarity.

I find, as many of us do, that as I grow older, experience more things and learn more about myself, that I know more and more about the future I want and the future I will have. The latest discovery is quite a big one, on the scale of things one can discover about oneself.

Once upon a time, I did not really know what country or even what continent I would live on when I grew up and settled down. I figured it would depend on all sorts of things--which countries I liked the best when traveling, where my career took me, where my someday-husband would be from and where he wanted to live and where his career took him.

In the meantime, I wanted to travel and explore, to live in other countries and learn other cultures, and for my age I've been blessed to get to do that quite a bit.

And, almost suddenly I find, I have done enough to know this: when it comes time to settle down, to buy a house and live there, to pick a school that my children can go to until they graduate, it is going to be in America. France, Finland and England are all amazing countries with wonderful people, but there's a lot to be said for being from where you are. I understand finally something about what my mother has been saying all my life: that she will always be something of an outsider here in rural America. Though she grew up a farm girl herself, people will always notice a scrap of accent in her flawless English and they will always know that she grew up somewhere else and she will always be just a little bit different. I experience that in the UK, as I did in Paris and elsewhere, and it's fine, but it's not something I want to deal with my whole life. I don't want to always be associated with difference. Someday, I will want to come home and be home, and America is my home.

I told this to Angie last night and she laughed, "I think it's funny how you don't say a city or even a state, just 'America'! " I thought about it a little more: I am a midwestern girl with a northeastern personality. I will never be a southern girl, I am not from the southwest and I am just not a Californian, however much I might like to be. So I was able to narrow it down to that: midwest or northeast.

a little shiver of delight
a little glimmer of the future
becoming clear on one clear night
as fleeting as a secret star

How lovely! to discover something hidden inside yourself.