Q. How many men does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A. One - he just holds it up there and waits for the world to revolve around him.

Let's just get it out in the open: I hate men. I really do. I'm not speaking in some broad all-encompassing gender study kind of way. I'm talking about individually. As a daughter, wife and romantic partner, completely self-centered men have surrounded me. All of these men have expected me to fill some kind of role in their lives - never once considering that maybe I won't neatly fit into a preconceived category just because I have ovaries. They all claim that they support all things feminist, but let me tell you, the misogyny is there bubbling under the surface. When I'm assertive, I'm bitchy (and probably suffering from pre-menstrual syndrome). When I wanted a divorce, I was selfish. When I decided marriage wasn't for me, I was immature and immoral. When I got fed up with financially supporting another man for a ridiculous amount of time while sacrificing my education and career goals, I was accused of not honoring commitment ("...that's what commitment is about..."). When I acknowledge that I'm a sexual being, I'm a slut. When I demand a satisfying relationship, I'm unrealistic. When I express the desire to have a child, it's thought that I'm trying to unfairly "trick" a man into some 1950's notion of responsibility. When I express any intellectual thoughts or theories, I'm patronized, because after all, I'm just a woman. What it all comes down to is that if I'm not living my life without prioritizing the impact it will have on these men first, I'm leading my life the wrong way. The idea that men are so concerned with the image reflected on them by the actions of the women in their life is quite frankly insulting.

Song of the day: "Land of Canaan" - Indigo Girls

I am allergic to everything. Including myself. I just had to let everyone know.

"The Motorcyle Diaries" was absolutely fantastic, and not just because it had Gael Garcia Bernal portraying one of my favorite Marxists...although it did help.

It was wonderfully subtle, which I liked...I was actually dreading a scene where the clouds would part and Che would see the light of crimson tide (that would be communism, folks, not menstruation). And the scenery (besides Bernal) was fantastic.

A lot has transpired as of late. For one, I quit my job. Unfortunately, my last day isn't until January 29, but there's at least a light at the end of the tunnel. I'm moving to northern California with Jason McCann. I know. I surprise even myself.

My family is divided on the decision. Half (my mother and assorted sisters) are supportive and hold their reservations to themselves. The rest (father and assorted sisters) are "stunned and speechless", so much so they have decided to stop talking to me altogether. You'd think I'd announced I was starting a cult or something. Oh well. I can't very well expect these people to treat me as the adult that I am if they don't behave that way in the first place.

In other news, I went back to Maryville this weekend for an extended period of time. Michael Moore was in town to speak at Northwest. Never thought I'd see the day, actually. He gave a solid predictable speech, and extended much warmth to the twelve Young Republican demonstrators. They didn't appreciate it. Actually, I'm not sure they registered it. Every time he spoke directly to them, they looked like a deer caught in headlights. It was a tad funny.

I saw people there I hadn't thought about in years. All the liberals I've known over the years, who all stuck together like glue at that school, came back for the occasion. It was quite a big deal, when you think about it. After Mr. Moore and La Bonita (they still serve bef chucks) and catching up with Lisa and Matt, we Pubbed it. Oh, The Pub. It hasn't changed. There were two bands performing, Vago and Lovetap. Vago had a lead singer/guitarist on remote who finished up the last song playing a solo while running through the bar. I think I may have come close to shooting Diet Coke out of my nose. He almost fell over Lisa and Jason. Good times, kids.

Other than that, there's not much going on. I got beat up by a client while driving on Mass Street on Tuesday. It was so bad, I had to pull into a parking space and wait for someone to come help. During the time I was there, getting my glasses broken, arms, neck and back scratched, hair yanked, clothes ripped, etc., not a single person stopped to see if I needed help. That's kind of disturbing. I ended up in the ER, and got a tetanus shot. Yeah, that was fun. Then I had to go back to work and finish out the other ten hours of my shift. If I hadn't already quit, I would have done so. I thought about quitting again.

The good news is I'm going to see Death Cab tomorrow night. And let me tell you, I need some good times right about now.

Song of the day: "This Charming Man" - Death Cab (covering The Smiths)

"When you are truly desperate, it is hard to care about anything external to your situation..."

Long time friend Steven Melling has written about the unlikelihood of our generation achieving The American Dream (TM). Well, at least before 40.

As I write this, I am making preparations to relocate to northern California, like a Steinbeck character with a naive hope of a better life. Sometimes I think I'm putting off the responsibilities of adulthood, but is it more that a mortgage and a two car garage and diapers are impossible to achieve in this economy? I was never prepared for adulthood in school, just taught enough to "get by". And that's what I'm doing now. Maybe "getting by" will be more bearable without snow and tornados.

You think smoking the Mary Jane is harmless? Well, think again...

"Marijuana Smoker Beheads Two Women"

Anyone told NORML about this?

Random Maryville pic...



Song O' The Day: "And Justice For All My Loving" - Beatallica

Take the quiz: "What Kind of Soul Do You Retain?"

Dark
"You haven't lived an all-so-happy life, and it's taken it's toll. Malice and cynicsm rotate around all your thoughts, and you are always prepared for the worst."

Bet you never could have seen this coming, huh?

Song of the day: "Cruel" - Tori Amos.

Mac. In a "Wheel of Fortune" commercial. (insert hysterical laughter here)

The Official Snack of Hip-Hop!



I swear I am not making this up. I picked up a case of "Master P Rap Snacks" yesterday at Harvesters. I got a box of about 150 of them for $1.50. For those of you who are hankering for a snack named after a has-been rapper, try ordering some from Rap Snacks. Master P not your style? Try any of their varities, such as "Paster Troy Hot Cheezie Popcorn", "Pretty Willie Salsa Cheese Chips", "Lil Romeo BAR-B-Quin' with Honey Chips", "Warren G Cheezie Nacho Chips", "BBD Back At the Ranch Chips", and "Magic Honey Dew Cheese Curls". Oh my god. This is too funny. Evidently from the info on the packaging, they sell these at record stores. I guess they don't have much marketing at the record stores I go to. I'm currently hording packages to pass out, so if you want one, drop me an email. They ain't your baby's daddy's rap snacks. Please check out the Snacktrax, too.

Song of the day: "Mo' Money Mo' Problems" - Biggie

"Kill the people to set them free..."

Song of the day: "Worried Man Blues" - Woody Guthrie

Ok...so I saw "Donnie Darko" in the theater a while back. The new additions, especially the further explanation of Roberta Sparrow's Philosophy of Time Travel really clarified things for me. The music changes, however, get me all upset. The opening scene, which originally featured "The Killing Moon" by Echo and the Bunnymen has been replaced with INXS's "Never Tear Us Apart". Now that's a great song, from a great album, and it certainly does evoke 1988 for a lot of us, but it's just not the same. "The Killing Moon" just hits all the right chords. I think it should be the opening song for all movies...perhaps even for every event in life, in a "soundtrack of your life" kinda way. These include:

* Dramatic relationship discussions

* Opening your federal tax refund check

* receiving difficult medical diagnosis ("Oh the humanity!")

* Walking into any club or restaurant at any time where you're trying to locate the friend you were to meet that didn't show

* Any staff meeting where admin pulls some kind of bullshit and you realize your life is a hollow lie (just picture the zoom in on your face as your frustration festers)

* Any time Grandma Death tells you that everyone dies alone (which happens all the time)

In other news, I have strep throat. Whee. I'm always sick. You know why? Because I never get a break from work. My company only has three subs for 25 houses right now, which means no one gets a break. There are people who have children's weddings to attend, other folks who are going into labor soon, and then those of us who have communicable diseases with fever, and we're all being told to just deal, because there's no chance we're getting staff in. We already work an average of eighteen hours a day (but get paid for eleven!), do back breaking work that includes pointless paperwork, cleaning up bodily fluids, getting beat up on a weekly basis, and running "teaching programs" that are entirely out of the scope of ability for our clients and then have to try to explain to people who've never done direct care a day in their lives why it's not working...and now we can't even use our PTO's when we need to. This is not a job you can choose to just not show up to. Social service can be very rewarding, but not when you're practically slave labor. And here's the best part: our director is having a seminar this week entitled "Turning Over Turnover". Pardon me while I laugh myself right off this chair. There's only so much you can ask of employees, and when you're asking triple or quadruple what can be reasonably done, and then treat them like they're expendable on top of that, of course you're going to have turnover. (Editor's note: She's ranting again.)

Ah well. We can get a big phat referral bonus check for getting other people hired...and man, I wouldn't wish this job on my worst enemy. Except possibly the few government officials who cut federal and state funding for this population. And the strangers who have to tell me how "special" I am to work this job when they see me in public with my guys. Or people who think that all MR/DD people are like Corky from "Life Goes On". Oh man, I hate those people. I think they think that every time I work I learn some important life lesson or something. Ha. I'm just trying to duck the chair being thrown at me while making sure someone isn't bolting out the front door while trying to teach someone how to prepare dinner while reminding someone that it's not appropriate to walk around the house without pants on. I'm thankful if at the end of a shift I still have my glasses intact and no one's eaten off the floor or flushed the medication administration records down the toilet. The only life lesson I'm learning here is, and pardon me if this sounds coarse, is the value of birth control.

Song of the day: "Bukowski" - Modest Mouse ("...who would want to be such an asshole...")

I'm going to see "Donnie Darko" in the theater today and you're not (unless you happen to be five of my closest friends)! So ha.

Song of the day: "Touch You Touch You" - Hot Hot Heat (remember them? they were so great for about two weeks...)

I have had a terrible, awful, really bad day, and tonight's RNC pep rally did nothing to improve it. As if any of us need reminding, the Republican Party is dangerous and scary. All of Bush's empty promises mean little when so many of the citizens of this country try to sleep tonight while agonizing over how to pay bills, how to procure health care coverage for their child, or wondering if and when they'll find a job. What makes all of this worse is I know he will win again. I, and roughly half the population, can get as angry as we want. It's not going to change a goddamn thing. I can't wait to see how beaten down we'll be in another four years.

Song of the day: "American Idiot" - Green Day.

You seriously have to see this movie. I'd try to explain it to you, but it defies explanation. And since when is bagpipe music erotic?

Here's what's been bothering me as of late: I used to care about things. Relationships, politics, the future, my bank account, being somewhat successful...all of these used to hold some importance in my life.

I have found over the past year that I have no motivation to move forward. Moving forward is not the same as getting out of a situation, mind you, which I want desperately. But the very adjectives that used to propel me, or at least nudge me, to wake up every morning and "fight the good fight" now seem monumental tasks that I haven't the knowledge or energy to approach effectively. It's all so fucking pointless. I can't change things, and I seriously doubt you can either. People don't change, the world doesn't change, no matter what good intentions or rationales we give. So why bother?

Remember that whole "Gen X" thing that folks got such a hard-on for about ten years ago? Yeah, it's like that. I know the "misanthropic-quasi-liberal-do-gooder" thing gets damn old...I live it after all.

Rawk, y'all...

Song of the day: "A Favor House Atlantic" - Coheed and Cambria.

I have reluctantly contributed growth to this pithy economy by sort of purchasing a car this week. It's a 2001 Honda Accord. It's nice, or so I'm told. I haven't actually seen it, but I'm going to pick it up tomorrow. Now I have mostly reliable transportation, but more importantly, I have to finally let go of my prized Whitey Mazda. Oh, sad day! Whitey and I have been through some times...let me tell you. I guess I'm going to donate it to some charitable organization, because in reality it's a fine automobile, and desperately loyal and all that stuff you look for in a...dog, I guess. But, it's not practical to have an auto on it's last leg rotting in your garage.



On the brighter side of things, I'm going to see Weird Al again next Friday. This will be the second time this year, and I'm muy excited. I have been pre-concerting for the past month by watching videos and celebrating his entire catalogue. If he plays "Living With a Hernia", it should be dedicated to me.

"Too much bad pain
Good gawd, drives me insane
Can't run, barely crawl
Got a bulge in my intestinal wall
Walk real funny, bless my soul
Can't play tennis and it's hard to bowl
You can't even do the splits now...Better call it quits now
I'm sick of all this dancin' anyhow..."

Song of the day: "A Small Victory" - Faith No More.

And that's really when I started to cry...

The saddest thing happened to me yesterday.

I was bumming up and down Mass (it was payday), and I stopped at Brits, a locally run estab that imports your general Guinness/Masterpiece Theater junk that Americans just eat up with a big old soupspoon. Way in the back, there was a selection of perfume. I normally don't wear perfume, but if I find something that smells pretty and doesn't turn me into a walking bright red ball of hives, I pick it up. They had some rose scented perfume, and it was $25, but I figured I would splurge and pick some up. It smelled heavenly on me, and I had no immediate problems when I sprayed some on my wrists.

You have to understand that due to a very psychologically scaring episode of poverty two years ago, I have a hard time justifying purchasing anything that doesn't directly relate to food or shelter. $25, although a drop in the bucket compared to what I make, seems so much to me, and I was really buying this under pressure from my therapist (who feels I do nothing to make myself happy whatsoever). So I did it, and tried not to obsess about how I could have used the money to pay down the principal on my student loans.

I went from Mass down to the movie theater, where I left my perfume in the front seat of the car. As I was going home after the film, about half way down Kasold, I discovered the perfume bottle had shattered from the mix of the alcohol and the heat, and all of the perfume was in the bottom of the plastic bag it was in.

My eyes started to burn, and I felt the tears stinging my eyelids. I started appropriately enough, with a few big fat tears running down my cheeks, but the more I thought about it, the sadder I got. The "ugly cry" started, with actual wailing and sniffling and mascara running. Jason offered me Crazy Bread from Little Caesars to cheer me up, but I refused.

I cried this way over my useless purchase and money wasted for about 45 minutes. It was really horrible. I suppose I was probably crying over a lot of things that this broken perfume bottle symbolized in a Sylvia Plath kind of way (five paragraph theme, anyone?). But I'm not going to go into all that with you. That's what I pay my therapist for every week.

Song of the day: "Precious Things" - Tori Amos.

I have decided it's time for a change.

Song of the day: "A Praise Chorus" - Jimmy Eat World.