She-burt's Dispatch of the Relevant or Irreverent

the other blog

2007-06-11T14:23:00.000-07:00

shoot...I've actually blogged a lot lately (relatively speaking). Brain splooges all. But I will share a secret. I've been keeping some of my stuff in my lover's blog accross town here:

http://slooshish.livejournal.com/

Oh, blogger.com, do you feel betrayed. You just don't fill all my needs...

stimulation

2007-05-31T06:56:00.001-07:00

What is it about creative people that makes me feel alive and aware? One weekend alone spent in the company of dancers and musicians energizes me to the point where sleep seems almost completely unecessary, an inconvenience and a burden at best. I become stimulated by the energy of it all. It's as though the vibration that eminates from the strings and hollows of musical instruments penetrates right into my core making my soul vibrate. And the heat that is generated by dancing bodies warms and invigorates my own body and urges it to move ecstatically. These effects seem compounded by the creative and harmonious output, a soulful undertaking to which I desire to contribute stimulation.

so fleeting

2007-05-24T10:30:00.000-07:00

What was my redemption the night before is the bane of my existance today. The project that was a gift of inspiration and which seemed to stop time has now become a slow drudgery that moves at a snails pace. I'm full of anxiousness and frustration and I just want to get out and run and run and run right off a cliff.

I haven't been in a more suicidal mood in some time. Not to worry though, my current suicide attempts are little more than obsessively trying to finish my project myself to death. At least it feels like it can kill me.

I feel so guilty. I feel like my time could be so much better spent doing, well, my laundry. And today is the day that I do it or die. Suicide by unclean wash....I wonder if anybody has died that way. I have one remaining pair of clean underwear in my drawer now, so the project I'm obsessing over will have to wait until I can do it with clean wash.

I'm in a very dangerous mood. I nearly spent $300 on Victoria Secret sale underwear, the only thing that stopped me is the thought of more sparkley duds I could spend that same $300 on should I ever make it to Egypt like I planned.

I'm off!

Returning to me

2007-05-23T10:09:00.000-07:00

I feel as though it's been years, but last night was a moment of pure me-ness. I associate a certain creative drive with myself and when I get into that flow I feel so at home, so alive.

Usually, I struggle with fear and self-doubt, particularly when it comes to crative projects. Sometimes I think through things so much and I second guess myself so much it becomes paralyzing and any project I start moves forward at a snails pace as I stop to consider over and over again.

According to this tiny book I got on a whim about my astrological sign, if I wasn't given enough reassurance that I was loved and worthwhile growing up I would develop phobias that I would have to overcome as an adult. I don't put a lot of bank on the stars, but this time the shoe seemed to fit. I was given love as a child, but I was also torn down a lot too. Sadly I did not develop adequate faith in myself and my abilities, despite my outstanding talents. As always, knowlege is power, so now that I know I'm phobic it's cause and it's result, it was time for me to push through my fear and do. (My little book also says that I can do things I'm afraid of, it's one of my traits.)

So last night I did. I had a little project and I worked on it, and when I stopped to consider, I didn't doubt, but just solved the problem at hand and moved forward. When I got tired at 6:30pm I laid down and slept and when I awoke around 9:30pm I got up and worked. I then lost complete track of time as my creation came to life before me, and as dawn broke through my window, I realised I was home. How long it has been since I've forgotton time like that? I finally began to feel tired again around 7am and then I laid down to sleep and when I woke again around eleven, I was spouting poetry to my arrival with consciousness.

Poetry, painting, stories, creativity that takes away my awareness of time. This is my happy place. Now I just need to work in eating, yoga and laundry and I will have a perfect life. Thank God for last night. May I have a million more like it.

Procrastination

2007-05-21T15:28:00.000-07:00

I'm really good at it. In fact I'm doing it now. I feel a little overwhelmed today. I think I'll finish a bunch of stuff instead of sleeping tonight, that way when morning comes, I'll feel ready for it.

Ah, the venom of night, how I delight in it's poison, and how it makes my head spin in delirium. How I crave it's sweet air and its lonely mysteries. I like to wander into night fully alive and battling at that line between duty and passion. I love and envy those people who live nights of music and fire. I carry that fire in my belly and it burns my head and my eyes. It is sure to bring tears tomorrow, tears of sheer exhaustion. Sweet venom.

For Yummy Skin

2007-05-19T07:33:00.001-07:00

I love my esthetician. She is the best. Slowly but surely my problem skin is becoming a glowy healthy organ, despite my insomnia and haphazard water intake.

I would tell you her name here, but that would give away my neighborhood. If you already know me and my neighborhood, then all you have to do is look up the only organic day spa in town.

I will give you my current skin care regimin though.

Morning:
-wash with the remainder of my dermologica dermal clay cleanser (which will be replaced by an organic cleanser as soon as I run out)
-moisturize with Lotus Moon's D20 moisture mist followed by Lotus Moon's citrus honey clarifying lotion.
- supplement with The Eclectic Institute's Vital Force multi-vitamin and The Eclectic Institute's Burdock Root (freeze dried, vegetarian capsules).
- eat organic yogurt (ususally with frozen blueberries mixed in), for the acidophilus.

Night:
-wash with the remainder of my dermologica dermal clay cleanser (which will be replaced by an organic cleanser as soon as I run out)
-moisturize with Lotus Moon's D20 moisture mist followed by Lotus Moon's citrus honey clarifying lotion.
- treat my skin with DermAware's End of the Line (it's a chemical peel that exfoliates and reduces my wrinkles).
- treat my skin with Lotus Moon's blemish control gel on my problem acne areas (I just ordered Visual Changes sulfur sal gel that I think I might replace the Lotus Moon's blemish control gel with. It also has salicylic acid like the Lotus Moon product to treat my blemishes, but I also found the sulfer to have an extra soothing and healing property when I used it in the past, so I think it is a little better.)

About bi-monthly I go in for a facial with my esthetician at this beautiful little organic spa.

And there you go. Now all I have to do is exercise, do my yoga, sleep at night, eat healthy and drink enough water and I will have perfectly healthy skin!

:-)

2007-05-18T09:22:00.000-07:00

What a beautiful lazy day. I will have to do some painting today or I will feel riddled with guilt. What a beautiful day. I feel so peaceful and hazy. My head feels heavy, but I'm happy to be alive.

Good-bye Trouble, it's been nice knowing ya.

2007-05-17T11:58:00.000-07:00

At the prompting of a good friend I decided to listen to warning of my inner voice and completely break off my "friendship" with Zuel. I did this yesterday afternoon. I felt initially sort of bad about it. I felt that I was probably really hurting this man's feelings. But the aftermath was strangely humorous.

I then went with another friend out for a night in DC, a female friend who was also aquainted with Zuel. She actually brought him up and a very interesting conversation ensued. Suddenly all of my guilty feelings were virtually obliterated. Zuel had been caught in a lie. In a whole series of lies, in fact, and I realised all my concern for his feelings was needless.

I'm glad I have friends willing to give me good advice and I'm glad I have an inner voice that warns me when things aren't right (I only wish I listened to it better). And I'm glad to have friends that tell me the truth. It isn't a quality everybody has.

Today, I plan one last meeting with Zuel, if he has the bravery to call me back. I want to leave him with some parting advice (and nice swift kick in the ass - although I will try to control myself in that respect.)

It's a sunny, beautiful day and I'm feeling light and happy. Tomorrow I'm going in for a facial.

seeing blood

2007-05-15T12:37:00.000-07:00

I've been giving a great deal of thought to what it means to see blood.

In modern America we go to war and never see the blood. The blood we see is only the blood we choose to see at the movies or in games, sometimes in the news or in photos. Usually we are a large step away and often it is entertainment for us.

For some people in the world they see the blood virutally everyday. I wonder at the horror with which we reacted to the Viginia Tech shootings. I wonder how it would change us if we had to live with that sort of experience regularly. I wonder how it would change me.

I hope I never find out.

a dream

2007-05-12T11:16:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to a very strange dream.

It began with a car accident.

I was driving my car and as I headed towards a red light at a busy intersection, I discovered that my brakes were only half alive and as I pressed the pedal down as hard as I could I slowly decelerated but finally crunched into the back of another vehicle. The next thing I remember is bring my car to a repair shop with many congenial men running about busily repairing various autos. There was a hispanic man who spoke very little english in the back and I ended up addressing a man probably in in 30s with long dreaded har and a beard, red, but very respectful and knowledgable. I told him I needed to repair my car and he examined it dinted in in the front and the insides mangled. I told him I still owe $3000 on this car, but he looked at it and said I'd be better off selling it for parts; that I might get up to $1400-1600 for it. I asked if he would give me that much, because I was ready to cut my losses and release myself from this headache of a car. He considered it, but then a video came on the television. We both looked up and it was belly dancers, specfically members of the belly dance superstars, all in purple costumes, heavily beaded lycra dresses with cutouts. They were dancing in a music video and the camera panned in close to their torsos, then it took an amazing edit and suddenly we were looking at three completely naked women writhing against one another. I was surprised, but noted that they probably got away with it because the way they pressed their bodies together, they were concealing their nipples and other private parts from the camera's view. But I must have wondered outloud why theses belly dancers would dance nude and in such a manner, because it was then explained to me that these were actually not the same dancers, but some other women that did this sort of dance and that I might notice that their bodies were a little different, a little more voluptous actually. Then I awoke.

As my dreams often do, this one lingered with me. I was feeling it's feelings and wondering what it meant. My husband used to interpret my dreams for me, albeit reluctantly at first, his mother would interpret his when he was young and he became so frustrated by her intrusion that he made it a habit to purposefully forget his dreams. But he softened one day, I don't know why, and started to tell me the interpretation when I would tell him my dreams. But for myself, I usually understand my dreams better than any mystic could divine, because I know myself, my life, my heart.

I know what this dream means and it has very little to do with the true reference to my real life car that needs fixing, once again. It is about my feeling that I'm not completely in control of my own destiny. It speaks of my sexual frustrations and the ambiguity that surrounds my feelings about belly dance. It speaks a little of my secrets.

I met a man once, who invited me to stay in his apartment and share his bed and enjoy a night with him. I told him that I couldn't possibly because I was married and I wouldn't want to hurt my husband in that way. He told me, it doesn't hurt him if he doesn't know. He felt that there was nothing wrong in little affairs, people have affairs all the time, and that if I kept it to myself I could go on happily married for the rest of my life. I insisted he was wrong because I could keep no secrets from my husband, that my relationship with him was totally open and I wouldn't want to have anything to hide. I did not go to his apartment that night and I have not seen him since. But some part of me absorbed what he said. I don't plan on having any affairs, I would be eaten alive by guilt, but I now think perhaps there are some things that should be my little secrets, even from my husband. Some thoughts I shouldn't speak, some feelings I should keep as my own.

I watched a movie this morning. It has been sitting and waiting for me for a month. It was a documentary about Picasso - Magic, Sex and Death. It told his life story and illustrated it with his art and with photographs. His art seemed to change with each new woman in his life and he regularly exanged one women for another until his death and as an outsider you were led to view each woman as she became first goddess and then wretch. I wondered to myself if I would be better able to make art if I were to follow my passions more liberally, if I were to exchange man for man as I found a new one that engaged my attentions, if I were to imbibe in the drugs of life more liberally as he did. But it's a moot point. I will not willingly ever wreck myself in that manner. Slowly but surely I will work to remove the traitor in me. But I do not want to deny myself life.

I will return to myself one day, I tell myself, and paint again my secrets. Maybe today this will happen again, I don't know, but if I paint again like myself, I will feel that I've finally returned home. That my passion has returned home and I will give up on trying to please anybody. I am often jealous of those trained as artists from birth, like Picasso. But what do they have on me? Are they living my life? Can they paint what I may paint? NO! So it is up to me, if it will be said at all, to say it. If death doesn't find me first, hopefully I will return to myself once again.

The Zuel problem

2007-04-23T16:58:00.000-07:00

stupid blog - I can never remember my password.

Anyhow.

My head is a spinning mass of vertigo right now. I'm not sure if it's sleep deprivation, stress, anxiety or the usual self-loathing I have towards my own weaknesses.

Today I hugged a friend, a man friend, and it was weird. If you are a woman and you've hugged a man, have you ever gotton a sideways hug? The one where they are attempting to hide how happy they are to be close to you? Yeah, well that's not the one I got today. He appeared to want me to know exactly how happy he was to be giving me a hug. Well, I've always kind of admired a guy who wasn't ashamed of his feelings, even those kinds of feelings and sideways or not, there's no hiding that kind of thing in a hug.

So the loathing? It's very obvious I'm liked more than a little bit by this "friend" of mine (his words and actions all saying the same thing). He isn't hiding it, but I'm sort of paralysed in the face of it. I give him the back off on the enthusiasm talk, make sure he knows, I love my husband, I like him as a friend only... And I try to avoid touching him and I tell him not to touch me, but in the end if he says, hey give me a hug goodbye, I'm like OK, I've given my friends and family hugs goodbye all my life, then there it is, and I'm feeling a little weird about it. The self-loathing part of me is the part of me that kind of likes the fact that I can give a guy a hard-on without even trying. That the occassional man falls for me despite all my protestations (maybe because of them?). Usually once the situation gets obvious like this, I just stop talking to the guy, avoid his calls, avoid him. But I hate that part. Why I can't I just be real honest to goodness friends with a man? Why is it that men can seem to keep themselves under control? You know hands off the married woman?

Sometimes I think something I do or say brings this on me? But I don't know what. I know I'm cute, but I'm not that hot. I mean there are many, many women out there way more smokin' hot than me. So what makes me so incredibly irresistable. Do I flirt really well unintentionally? When I say, I'm unavailable, do they think I'm playing hard to get? Is it because I like to be nice and I don't like to be mean and I don't want to disappoint anybody? Is it because I generally like and am interested in people? Maybe it's because I give hugs goodbye to people, or because I sometimes slap somebody on the knee when I find something funny and I'm having a good laugh? Maybe I smell too nice? Maybe I sit too close? Maybe I smile too much? Maybe it's because I make eye contact with people? Maybe it's because I'm smart, or maybe because I have a sense of humor?

Whatever it is, this has got to stop. I like to be liked even loved, but this kind of thing just sucks. Where are my damn boundaries? So I'm hoping this "friend" of mine finds some smokin' hot woman to share his affection with so he can chill out around me. But I can't count on that, so even though I like this person, and the only thing that sucks about him is that he likes me too much and ain't shy about it, I'm going to tell him it's been nice but he have to join the rest of the men that I've had to say goodbye to permanently, because they just don't seem to understand what it means to be a friend with a woman. And I don't think I can take on the responsibility to teach him. It's too damn hard... hard....heh...

Stupid men. I think I've found a nickname for this kind of man in my life...Zuel. The first time I went to the Ritz club when I was 13 years old (it was a 16 and older club). My friends and I were boogying and this guy comes up and asks me to dance, so I'm like, ok. And so we are starting out with the typical junior high school dance, my hands resting on his shoulders and his arms around my waist as we sort of rock back and forth in a circle, making small talk, but next thing you know, his arms start creeping around, up and down my back and I'm thinking, "what the?...ewww." But I politely finish the song, politely make some excuse and duck out then avoid him for the rest of the night. I said a dance not a slimey back rub. Sheesh. He introduced himself as "Zuel", I seriously doubt that was his real name, but it was a kind of "gothy" club. It has all gone downhill from there...except for the good boys. God bless the good boys. I wish they were all good boys.

ok.

slayer.

the man gone

2007-03-19T13:00:00.000-07:00

This is a letter Ahmed wrote to his friends to explain his decision to leave his job and take a linguist position in Iraq. I decided to post it here:

Dear friends,
A lot of you think I probably lost my mind when I left a good engineering job with the sharpest and smartest group of individuals at one of the strongest companies in the country. I suppose that your assessment is justifiable. I promised to e-mail you guys and explain the switch from engineering to work as an analyst. So, here it comes:

Well, engineering is and will always be my passion. I can not adequately express the ecstasy of developing cutting edge technologies that could potentially improve the world’s quality of life, protect our fragile environment or assist our soldiers by protecting them from harm in hostile environments. This type of work truly makes me proud to be an engineer. Making a difference in the world by being an engaged and productive member of our society is an awesome and sobering feeling.

But 9/11 had a profound impact on me. It changed everything. On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was sitting in class. That day, the professor showed up late and informed us that the World Trade Center towers were hit by airplanes. I’ll never forget that day. “So, Ahmed, who did it?” a student asked derisively and mockingly. Since that day I have been looked upon with suspicion. In a few instances I have been ridiculed and insulted. I have been called names. One of my favorites is “Sand Nigger”. Because I have some African blood anyway; it gave me a perverse sense of pride. I guess I’m a little weird that way. Anyway, my loyalty to this country has been and is always questioned.

I had a hard time finding a job during my senior year, despite the fact that I was an honor roll student with more work experience in my field than your average graduating senior. By working all of my connections for months and with some personal ingenuity and sacrifice, I landed one job offer in Maryland. When the work climate at that job began to change I had to seek a new employer. This was one of the most interesting periods in my life. My friend, Kareem once sent me an interesting article about race in America. This article stated that highly qualified individuals in America are over looked by companies simply because they have Arabic-African derived names on their resumes. Out of desperation, I decided to examine the merits of this article. I submitted two resumes for every company I applied to. One resume using my name Ahmed and the other resume using a shortened version of my name: Ed “AhmED”. The results were astonishing and quite disturbing. I had on average 2-3 calls a day asking and begging for Ed. I guess Ahmed is not as smart as this Ed guy. This happened with almost every company I applied to with the exception of one company that discovered that the two resumes belong to the same guy. They called Ahmed after they realized that they called Ed. The interview with them was quite entertaining for me. I don’t think that they found this as sadly humorous as I did. But that is another subject that I’ll write about in the near future.

I’m currently here in the South (USA) as part of military simulation exercises, working with world class individuals. And I’m truly impressed by everyone I’m working with. But outside this group, it is disturbing how people in the South make an Arab feel “special”. For the simplest things that I have to buy or get, people on the base have to look at my military orders not once but twice then look at me. It’s so painful to force myself to smile and pretend that race is not an element here. The sad thing about it is I don’t see them asking other more white looking contractors for their orders. Once in the Post Exchange the lady at the register made a scene over a lousy can of shaving cream. “Civilians aren’t allowed to shop here,” she said. I had to get a memo in addition to my orders so I can buy simple hygiene products.

Well, the other side of the story is even more depressing. How do Arabs feel about me? Unfortunately, the picture is extremely distressing. The way they feel about me is worse than my follow Americans. I have lost my relationship with my own family over my loyalty to this country. I have lost friends because I questioned Islam and its values. I can’t even go to the country of my birth because of these issues. I was accused of being an infidel, corrupted by the great Satan (the US), liberalized by homos, brain washed by the unbelievers. What’s most hurtful is when your own family tells you that you’re a mistake.

I hope that you are starting to see my predicament. There is a disconnect here. Am I an Arab? I’m not sure. So what makes me an Arab? Is it blood or principles? I no longer adhere to the principles of Arabism. Then it must be blood. Wrong!! Where I come from we’re mixed creatures conquered by the Africans, Persians, Turks and the British. There is no pure Arab bloodline in me. So, am I an American? I’d like to think so. And this is why: America to me is not just a country, but an idea, not just any idea but a noble one. America is the words of its constitution. Friends, I’m physically tired, very tired from the speechless communications that I get from people saying to me that I don’t belong. It is extremely fatiguing to see the looks in their eyes telling me you’re not one of us. But this America, the noble idea, makes me hopeful. Friends, I’m proud to march into the unknown to take a risk to serve with our soldiers, in spite of my views on the war. I want to be able to say to anyone who questions my patriotism “Fuck you, who are you to judge me? I put my life on the line. What have you done?”

We’re really living in an interesting time where patriotism is misplaced, liberalism is adulterated, diversity is under vigorous attack and intellectualism is considered heathenism. I really have to do this. I just have to. I don’t know if it’s going to help me with my disconnect dilemma or my severe lack of identity. But I have to do something, anything to deal with it. I have to connect the pieces or I’ll go crazy. I have to face this conundrum everyday. I tried to ignore it, but I failed miserably. Believe it or not this is the story of the Arab American man here in America. So, I march into the unknown with nothing but hope and faith in this noble idea.

Barack Obama once said: “There are those who are preparing to divide us … Well, I say to them tonight, there is not a liberal America and a conservative America -- there is the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. There is not a Black America and a White America and Latino America and Asian America -- there’s the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.” I hope he’s right. Keep us in your thoughts and prayers.

God Speed;

AhmED

I feel like the living dead

2007-02-26T10:31:00.000-08:00

My head is in chaos. I have too many things that need me right now and all I want to do is run away, jump off a cliff and never land, just fall and fall forever, floating weightless with nothing to think about or worry about: no possessions, no obligations, nothing but closing my eyes and forgetting.

I don't sleep at the right times. My sleep comes in strange places. My heart is aching and I can't name it. I could but the name woulnd't be right, the words don't exist, it isn't loneliness or emptiness or bitterness, it's more of a yearning, but for something it can't find and doesn't know. In church they say there are times when dark mists rise around you. I feel lost in that mist. I don't know my place like I should. I can't accept things simply without questions. I question too much.

Why do I care about the nature of the universe, about salvation and light? My dreams disturb me. Last night I dreamt about Arabs being hacked up in an American shopping mall. Everybody was looking on and I was trying to find my husband to make sure he was safe. There is a lot of blood. The longer I live, the more I see and the more I carry it in my back and shoulders. Blood and books on anal sex and everything else that I come accross everyday that I don't want to have to see or think about, like the falic symbol being so extraodinarily prevalent all over the globe and our violent male oriented world culture feeling so inescapable. And now I'm wondering again who is God, who is he really. And who am I to God? Someody dear that is loved and cherished, or another unfortunate casualty of this world sliding slowly to my impending doom? Will the war come home to me?

I wish my husband were here. He tempers my flights of fancy and grounds me somewhat, at least when I don't make him ponder the same imponderables I struggle with for no really known reason to myself, except that I've been bred to seek salvation. I desire it as the ultimite escape from the darkness I've seen and felt.

I have work to do.

I'm determined to do right by myself

2007-01-16T08:37:00.000-08:00

for a change.

This is day 2 of hot, kick my backside, yoga - I've decided I'm going every day, whether or not I want to or feel up to it. The first day made me sore, the second day almost made me cry, I wonder what day 3 will bring?

I have always denied myself living up to the fullness of my potential, what do the philosophers call it? Self-actualisation? But I'm determined not to be that person anymore.

If I am good to myself, I will have more power to be good to others. I'm not going to abandon my values, but I'm not going to be afraid of whatever comes, even if it is glorious, even if I become famous or rich. I'm not going to be afraid. I've never been afraid of poverty and anonymity, just annoyed by it, so now, I'm going to try not to fear anything.

Now I must go make art.

2006-12-16T16:20:00.000-08:00

I was going to go to the movies tonight by myself. My husband is studying. But I changed my mind. I feel bad that this blog of mine, that I'm extraordinarily unattentive to, is for the most part just a spewing ground for when I'm in my aggravated moods. When I'm happy, I'm rarely tempted to sit and type. I like to be out and about, strolling the city, calling friends and leaving them messages that leave them wondering about me, dancing around the house or painting.

I've had a weird energy lately. It is a feeling that things are really pretty good for me now. I'm trying to push away the little gremlins that are trying to bug me. I hate to think it, but when things are going pretty good for a while, I feel like I'm just waiting for lightening to strike. How does one teach oneself to just enjoy happiness. I'm the hardest person for me to live with some times. Why am I so hard on myself? And here I go again... spewing.

But what is a blog good for if not to spew a little. So many people voice their frustrations on their blogs. So many people seem to want to change this or that about the world. I know I do. I think everyday about the way I'd like to see the world change. For one, I'd like to see a more equitable distribution of funds when it comes to education or even better funds for education tipped in the favor of the most needy. I'd also like to see more compassion among man kind. I'd like to see profitable businesses actually share the wealth with their employees instead of over compensating their CEOs. I'd like to see more dignity in government and people more interested in finding a solution than fronting or argueing. I'd like to see our government actually looking out for the best interest of all it's people, particularly those who have been the victems of abuses or who are in dire need of a leg up. But I could go on and on like this, as I'm sure many can. Every so often, I look at the bad things that go on in our world and I think, you know, it doesn't have to be that way! It could be different, if people would just be willing and would let go of just a little bit of their selfishness, in the long run it would be better for everybody, and there would be more good to go around.

God help us. I really hope mankind can find it's way.

My wandering spewing blog, and this when I'm anxious, but actually pretty happy, overall. I want to change something about myself. I want to start doing yoga, and I want to eat more healthy. This coming week, I'll see what I can do to change. I just wish I had more money. I could really use some classes. Money is such an enemy to me most of the time, if only I had more of it.

Damn what a day

2006-12-07T18:25:00.000-08:00

You know every day passes and my heart is stricken with anxiety over my impending doom, but the crazy thing, is my doom is my resurection, redemption and survival. Like God's light shining from heaven above, the hopes that smart me are the same that promise me a way out of the foggy world in which I live. The fog of seclusion and and the crawling parasite of poverty.

All I want to do today is to go see a friend and I can't. I hate can't - can't is the worst word I know. It isn't entirely true...I could have bought a train ticket spent a couple hours or so getting down there and then cajoled my husband into bringing me home after his class because the train doesn't run back that late. But it would have eaten half my day and a little chunk of pocket change. Or I could've rented a car, which would have meant more money than I can justify spending right now. On the same note, I don't need a car to do my laundry either. I can just put it in a bag on my back and walk with it the 4 blocks to the laundromat. I really want a working car again. But I think, if I had a working car. Maybe I'd be less obsessively focused on getting my grad school applications out the door with as meticulous attention as I am able to give them. I think that this is gonna be my way out, my ladder to the world of betterness.

Oh, I desire perfection! But is there such a thing? I strain after the impossible every day. I want it, oh I want it. I'm horribly arrogant and humiliated almost in tandem, or more like the two race one another, one pulling ahead, then the other, neither able to outstrip it's competitor and the race never ends.

The perfect life! I'd be warm and fit and healthy and not hungry and dehadrated. I'd feel like I had time and a desire to cook at meal times. The cigarette smoke from my neighbors late night vigils would not seep into my bedroom through the floorboards and wake me with its stench. I would be able to afford to buy CDs of the music I like. I would be able to have friends as a daily part of my life, that I would see in person. I would be productively creating beautiful artworks that are highly sought after and my dancing would be full of grace and meaning. I would be able to do the splits and I wouldn't ever feel paralized by anxiety. I would be able to talk to my neighbors. I would never let another person's apparent disdain of me get under my skin at all. I would have clear glowing skin and no trace of cellulite or bruises or vericose veins in my legs. I would be able to run fast and laugh often and make it through a yoga routine without resting 20 times. I'd have a place for everything and everything in it's place. I'd have color on my walls. I'd have all the artwork I own and want to display in elegant frames and hung on my walls. There would be no rodents in my house or feezing drafts that chill my toes right through my socks. My husband would be around often and would enjoy relaxing activities and romance and we would share mutual friends who are intellectually stimulating and fun. He would be happy and enjoy his work and feel fulfilled by it. No one would refer to me as unemployed. I'd be respected. I would have a beautiful home and a garden with herbs and help with stupid things, like housework, dishes, gardening. I'd have a little family of my own, with children that love me and that I haven't screwed up and that I can take care of because I have the means. That's perfection. I'd never feel like I can't anymore. I'd know there is a way, there is always a damn fucking way!

Oh dear God in heaven help me find my way or let me stop minding the cold.

2006-12-07T10:53:00.000-08:00

Aaaggh, I'm freaking out! Why? Waaaaa!

Proposition for disposal

2006-11-16T10:48:00.000-08:00

As I prepare for my application into graduate school I've been frequently pondering what to write in my letter of purpose, here I would like to sample what I'd wish to write, but I'm not sure would be considered appropriate.

The first draft:

Dear Graduate School,

I am terrified to apply to your graduate art program. I'm simultaneously horrified of both failure and success. I look at my sad little resume and I am filled with insecurities. I wish I could say that it has been a steady journey for me towards my goals in the arts, that I've already had multiple successes and recognitions adorned on me like glittering gems in the crown of my achievement. That has unfortunately not been the case. My artistic pursuit has been fraught with demons. So much of my time and energy has been spent overcoming the effects of long term emotional abuse and negative indoctrination. So much of my adult life has been hampered by poverty, anxiety and a fight to find my path. How dare I even approach you? But how can I help it? My past cannot be helped. I have not outwardly pursued advancement or recognition in art, instead I have let it just be a quiet and steady part of my life, my art hiding behind the other work I do for money and survival. But it is time for that to change.

Have you known those times in your life when you are broken in half? It has been one of those times for me recently. I have felt virtually fit to explode. I knew somehow I had to return to myself again, that I couldn't run from pursuing what I've needed to pursue since I was born. To make art. I can't deny it its place in my life anymore. And though I may sink a little when I've laid out a piece of myself on canvas and it isn't understood or appreciated, it doesn't matter anymore. I no longer want to hide until I've secretly achieved some false vision of perfection. I want to strive in the open among the most celebrated and critical practitioners and assessors in my field. I want to be inspired and humiliated and then find my own place among the best and brightest artists of our time. This is why I am seeking you out.

My earliest memories are of my attempts to render a skeleton or a snail crawling on the delicate arches of a southern Utah landscape. In elementary school I taught my friends to draw horses and swans and to build paper houses. I painted to work through my adolescent issues and to express feelings that were not easily spoken. As I approached adulthood, I was unfortunately, and probably not atypically, squelched. I was expected to relegate my art to hobby status and to focus my sights on a more practical career. And I tried. But I never felt satisfied or happy, a part of me couldn't help but repeatedly return to art making whenever it seemed possible. This eventually led to my attaining my BFA. It was near the completion of my degree that some very serious shifts happened that made me realize that I need to break from my programming and reconsider allowing myself a career in art making.

I was in Germany, finishing up my coursework via a study abroad program. I traveled about from museum to museum, painting plein air out in the streets, then returning to home base in Steele to study color theory and work some more. I got to live just making art. And I was inspired by the art I saw, revelations came. I discovered that bizarre work done by an artist with confidence and reiteration could find itself valued in the annals of art history. I discovered for myself that I was drawn to work that seemed to have a brilliant mastery of color, regardless of movement, admiring alike Vermeer and Kokoschka, Rothko and Picasso. The greatest revelation happened for me in Bottrop in a small museum, set in a garden, dedicated to the work of Josef Albers. I had been studying the Bauhaus and their version of elegant modernist design inspired by respected artists of their time. I found a favorite in Albers. I saw him begin as a school teacher, then expressionist all the way up to the simplest experiments in color theory represented in a series of "Homage to the Square". One standing alone (as I had seen in the National Gallery in DC) was unimpressive. But when confronted with an entire climate of them I was quietly astounded. I always thought it was rather silly of Mondrian and his crew to think you could change human behavior with good design and using the right colors, but here I was being ever so subtly changed. Our world is filled with ever increasing chaos and horror. I used to hide from it, as much as possible, but now I try to be aware of it, and to understand it. But how does one deal with the aware experience of living in an American city with extreme discrimination, poverty, drug abuse and murder? How does one find any peace when they study the effects of American foreign policy on the Middle East and come to an understanding of the horrors with which some members of the human population have come accustomed to as part of their daily lives, an experience which some of those individuals seemed determined to spread?

Art might not be able to directly change human behavior on a grand scale, but it can be a shelter and solace for those that seek it out. It can be an inspiration and an impetus for those seeking already to change themselves. Art is important for communicating an identity of a person or people and I think also important for offering beauty and a moment of repose. Josef Albers, either knowingly or not, created through his experiments with color, a powerful moment of repose for such an unsettled soul as mine.

The series of oil paintings I am currently working on stems directly from my inspiration from Josef Albers. I have sought to simplify the composition, so that it frees me to think about the interaction of the colors I place together. I have however, also chosen to include elements of visual texture, some color blocks more complex in nature than others. I like the point of intellectual connection those blocks create and the mystery they sometimes add to the compositions. These more complex blocks are also a product of my process. I created small scale studies in collage, before blowing each of them up to a larger more arresting counterpart.

My admiration for Albers was not the final revelation for me though it was a powerful one. Another important moment for me came on a miserable rainy day in Berlin. I was in a very low mood, an old demon chewing at my heart and I wandered alone, drenched and in search of a metro station to return to a cold hostel. Then I saw through a gate a very quiet statue, it was a woman curled in a ball clutching a young man's body to her. It was sad and terrible and suited me perfectly. I later realized it was a sculpture by Käthe Kollwitz. I saw much more of her work after that, so much of it full of emotion and misery. Her art was a witness to horror and a personal journey through darkness.

Each day I awake and wander amidst my canvases, works in their various stages of completion. I have to decide what I will make that day. These days I work placing color next to color and luxuriating in their mix, but other days there are different things to say. Perhaps a reaction to my culture, or an expression of the demons that live inside me. Some days I abandon color altogether and work with charcoals. My subjects typically lusting after sleep and escape.

I want to share one final revelation. I've discovered that I value tradition in art. Innovation on its own merit is not satisfying to me. However, I feel it is very important to live in and respond to the present. Tradition and innovation must meet. There are several contemporary artists out there that I feel are continuing to honor the aesthetic teachings we have collected over time and use that collection of knowledge to respond to our time. Some of these artists most certainly include those of you I seek to study with.

This is where I feel I should tell you how great you are and how you are just what I need to have a shot a making art my life for the rest of my life. But you know this. Your status as a great masters program for painters like me is no secret. And now I should tell you I'm offering my passion and commitment, my willingness to struggle and endure and hopefully triumph, whatever triumph there may be in the life of an artist.

Mostly, I just want to continue this journey everyday. Living and then responding to life on canvas and paper until I meet completion, ask him how-de-do? and shake his hand. Please take me on.

Sincerely,

She-burt the reckless letter writer and applyee

Thoughts on Porn and Sex

2006-11-15T17:41:00.000-08:00

well, ok...
Do you think it's alright to be confused on some issues? I was taught to believe porn was bad. It is an addictive behavoir that can sometimes lead to marital indescresions, unreasonable spousal expectations, low self-esteem in women, lower social respect for women, higher sexual harrassment, less career advancement for women, or even violence against women or children, sexual abuse and abberrent public behavoir. I believed this too. They have all those studies out that cite the porn-crime/porn-evil connection. On top of that, in my social psychlogy class, I learned about studies done where men were exposed to certain imagry of women as a sex object then put in situations to interact with women on what is meant to be a professional level (I think it was a job interview situation). The men exposed to the imagry treated those women in a more disrespectful and objectifying manner, some were outright crude, and they took the women less seriously as potential candidates for a professional position and were less likely to listen to what the women said.

But now I'm faced with more than one person I respect that seems to think porn is pretty harmless overall and just provides fodder for sexual fantasy to enhance your personal love making experience and doesn't necessarily lead to all the things I believed it leads to. Some women peops I know even see the sexual "power" exercised by women as a good thing and like to be able to exercise that power. Even I, an exceptionally curious individual, have seen porn or soft porn images (hard to entirely avoid in this day and age) and though as a rule I don't seek porn, the images interest me. I want to understand exactly what it means for a woman to work as a stripper, a porn star or a prostitute. I feel like I've skirted this somewhat myself, having worked as a belly dancer, which to many Middle Eastern men is interpretted as akin to a stripper, although initially, I didn't think of it that way myself. In our popular culture, the music videos and television shows seem to often heavily sexualise women, show them in skimpy outfits, doing vulgar dance moves that really clearly are meant to incite sexual excitement, or imitate the act of sex, which of course go well with many lyrics all about sex, or television plots centered on sex, and this is in religious conservative America. In much of Europe, porn is regular fare on nightime TV and if there is a sex scene in a regular movie (not a porn movie), they often actually show people having sex, even women enjoying it. (Apparently male pleasure is more accepted in the USA movie rating system than female pleasure.)

Sex is a big driving force for us humans. True. But I know if my man were to get into porn, I'd feel hurt by it. I'd feel somehow inadequate like I wasn't good enough or pretty enough to keep him interested or satisfied. Maybe that wouldn't be right for me to feel that way, but I know I would. When I think about it, I even feel hurt by the fact that my man has had sex with other women besides me. Sure, that was before we met, but still. I feel jealous of those women. I wish he had saved himself for me. I can't say I was the symbol of total purity myself, because I had issues with petting and making out with one boy before my husband and I've kissed a few boys, but I can honestly say, I had my first sexual orgasm with my husband, he is the only man to have seen me naked (since I was grown) and he has been my one and only sexual partner and I have every intention of keeping it that way.

When I was little I found my dad's playboys. I looked through them to read the comics, most of which I didn't really get. I also found my parent's massage vibrator, which if I remember correctly I tried out, but then I felt bad about it and hid it all away again, this was a hell of a long time ago, I couldn't have been more than 6 or 7, maybe 8. I saw films when I was little about famous strippers and for a while there thought that would be cool, to grow up and be a famous and well loved beautiful, sensual and sexy stripper. I drew some of my own sex comics, which my mom found and chided me for. I even played pretend stripper with some of my girl friends. Something I'm pretty embarrassed about now. I was pretty young, this would have been elementary school. I knew all about sex. My dad gave us all sex lectures on our family car trips, I think more intended for my older sisters, he explained in detail what sex was, how girls get pregnant, how boys masturbate and his ideas on the evolutionary psycology associated with the sex drive. I think this was a less than healthy developement for me. When I got a little older, they started teaching me in church that you shouldn't date until you are 16 and then it should be in groups and you shouldn't date steady until you are older and looking for a marraige partner. Any kind of sex was wrong before you marry, masterbation was wrong, petting was wrong, french kissing was wrong. I was to keep my mind and body pure. And I tell you I did my level best. My first non-family serious kiss on the lips was when I was 13, from a boy you manipuated me and pressured me into an exceptionally uncomfortable situation, he was 18 and it sucked as a first kiss, he tried to slip me tounge which grossed me out. The dickhead. All my friends at the time had boyfriends that they made out with and I'm pretty sure at least one of my good friends was already sexually active, although she would never own up to it to me, nor did I ask her to. I had a boy friend (not official boyfriend), but we weren't kissing or making out or anything, we just hung out together. We'd give hugs goodbye and we would play fight, wrestle and stuff, and hold hands but that was it for physical stuff. I avoided dating, and I, for the most part, avoided the boys I was seriously crushing on. Until I was 17 or 18, then I met a boy who had some serious issues when it came to sex. He fell for me, because I'm damn cool and pretty unique. Also he wanted to get into church and stuff, get his life on track. But he was very emotionally needy and he would always want to hold me and he would just hold me close and too long, then he'd start to feel horny and so would I, but I didn't want to go there, so it was just super frustrating. We both felt like crap all the time and we fought a lot. I started to tell him I didn't want to get close to him, I don't think he understood how naive and innocent I really was, but he would always need my love and attention, then when I got feeling horny and frustrated and backed off him, I'd blame him, and he'd blame me. It takes two to tango, he told me. Yeah, but he had problems with porn from the time he was a kid, and was sexually active before he ever met me. It was like he had really low self control, and me I was innocent, but (and this is something I wouldn't learn until years later in a very hurtful experience) I had no boundaries. I didn't know how to stop people from crossing into my territory(even now, it's a struggle). I think it was because my parents, especially my dad, didn't let me have boundaries. It was always his way. I didn't have a lock on my bedroom door and he would never knock, even when I was a teenager, he would just walk in. And if he wanted a hug or a kiss from me he would just take it by force, for as long as I could remember, whether I liked it or not. He was always running my life and making my decisions for me, for the most part. He had to control. He was manipulative and abusive. He was the only man in my imediate family, no brothers, and no really close extended family. He was what a man was to me. So every man, especially an authoritative, emotionally manipulative man like my father, could just cross into my boundaries and take what they wanted and I aquiessed, unfortunatley too predictably. I'm fortunate not to have been much more taken advantage of. I'm very lucky to have had a few strong protectors in my life that have helped to keep me out of worse trouble than I got in. Even the kid I messed up with, on another level protected me from people who would most definately been much worse than he was. He actually loved me and didn't want to hurt me. We were just too messed up ourselves to keep everything right like we wanted.

But it's weird, now I'm married and have sex pretty regularly, which I enjoy. Sometimes sexual images I've seen pop up into my head, sometimes not so much, sometimes I just like to be in the moment (my favorite), but if I'm bogged down with distracting worries then I'll dream myself away, but I prefer my own dreams to the one's made for me by the outside world. The outside world makes me feel like I need to be different than I am to be sexy and beautiful, and that I'm forcing the feeling, but my husband thinks I'm sexy now, as I am, I get hard proof of it daily and this after 8 years of marraige and I think he's sexy too. Thing is, I don't want there to be any porn as a part of it. I just want it to be my husband and me. I want to think of us together when I close my eyes and I want him to do the same. Because that way it seems real. Like it's our love that we are expressing and we aren't acting out some fantasy. I want to be respected and adored and not objectified and controlled. And for me porn has no place in that. Porn would be to me like having another woman to compete with and I hate the thought of it. I get one man, and he gets one woman. That's it. Nobody else gets to participate.

I can't judge for my friends, but for myself, I think I still believe we are better off without porn as part of our lives.

About me..more than I would share if I though many people I knew would read this

2006-11-14T10:47:00.000-08:00

10 years ago
I was 20, living on my own in an apartment building that looked like a boat, bought an expensive Bosnian rug, volunteered at the local children's hospital, skateboarded every monday with 2 boys from North Caorlina and wavo-davo, played my guitar and sang songs, worked as a cartographer, had a secret security clearance, rock climbed with Dave, enjoyed my belly dance classes, I was heavily religious, sang in my church choir. Then Dave stopped talking to me for a while, that hurt. I had a couple of girl firends that gleebed on to me and used me for money, rides and info or depressed me with their sad tales. Another one of my girl friends died in a car wreck. 2 girl friends that got unexpectedly pregnant and considered abortions, one chose adoption, the other miscarried. I got in trouble for putting a silver star (my rockin friend Ryan stole from a vegas hotel room door and gave to me) on the door of my apartment (made the other dwellers jealous) and for taking in a stray homeless skater boy who ended up begging my neighbors for liquor and turning my futon pillow blue with his beard. Got asked to leave because of him and moved in with roomates, one with the same name as me who wouldn't open the door unless you did the secret knock, the other Chinese. Quit cartography and became a sweets baker and attempted to go back to school, sleeping through physics every day. I also enjoyed an intense relationship with my future husband, where we fought insanely scary fights and intensely dramatic making up - I tried to teach him to skateboard...it didn't take, I did however get him hooked on snowboarding, he trained me in soccer. My precious little Norfolk pine died.

5 years ago
I was 25 - lived in Artspace in SLC loved that apartment more than any I've had before. I took private belly dance lessons from Andromeda, danced in the Zarandeo "gypsy fusion" belly dance troupe, taught my first official belly dance class in an import shop's back room, graduated with my associates from the local community college in Multimedia Arts. Enjoyed animation emensely, applied to and was denied, to CalArt's character animation program. 3 of my friends also applied to the same program and got in. I landed a job in a print shop, which I didn't take because I then moved to Logan. I was married to my husband who brought us to Logan so he could finish his bachelors in engineering - we had no luck for him with the SLC schools. I took a new job as a telephone person - hated it, hated Logan, got depressed, called my mom a lot, belly danced, fell in love with Nadia Gamal's dancing, taught myself one of her routines off a video. Didn't skate anymore, didn't play my guitar much and didn't rock climb either, snowboarded only rarely. Was getting accustomed to being really broke. Applied to Utah State to be in their illustration department which was on the verge of collapse.

1 year ago
I was 29 - recently moved to the DC metro area, spent 5 weeks in Germany to finish my BFA from Utah State with a painting emphasis. While in Germany, I let a Moroccan man kiss me. That sent my husband into a spiralling depression and me as well. We sought counselling, I found out I had no boundaries and was easily manipulated, my husband found out he had serious trust issues. I also realised how extraordinarily in love we were with each other and how messed up we each were. My husband wanted space, became more of a workaholic than usual. I sought forgiveness, tried to make myself busy, to keep from being a depressed burden on my husband. I started to seek out more belly dance gigs and worked a lot as a dancer. Our relationship slowly began to heal. I began to want to grow up, so I could take control of my life, before I lost what was the most precious thing to me there was: my husband.

yesterday
I was frustrated with my painting. I felt clumsy and akward and not sensitive. I was evaluating the previous day's visit from a dear friend, wishing I felt more natural around her and feeling like we didn't really have the good fulfilling talk we both probably needed, and noticing how difficult it was for me to finish my thought around her that day, but was glad to see her never-the-less. I was frustrated that I seem incapable of getting my own damn car fixed and spoke briefly with the car mechanic I was hoping would do it, who told me the engine I was looking to buy wasn't what he expected. I took two long hot showers to try and chill out. My brain felt like fudge that wanted to swell out of my skull. I took my bandages off my leg 2 days early because I was sick of them. (They were there because I had foam schlerotherapy done on my evil vericose veins). I talked my husband into coming home a little early so we could go to the gym together. While there we played in the indoor soccer room. Both my legs ached and hurt. But it felt good to kick the ball. We didn't talk much, both of us were distracted. He is thinking of going to Iraq to be a linguist and earn money for his PHD. He is also worried about getting a high enough GRE score to get into a good PHD program. He's not sure when or even if to get tested for a learning disability, because he has trouble with reading fast. I'm almost certain he's dislexic. He also isn't sure if and when to give notice at his current job, so he can go to Iraq. I am worried about applying to graduate schools, if I'll get recommendation letter, if I'll get accepted, and if not what will I do and what will I do anyway while my husband is in Iraq. I'm tired of feeling like I'm a burden to my husband. And I feel almost selfish trying to make art my carreer at his expense. I want desperately to be able to support him for a change. I'm tired of struggling to afford basic stuff. Like the money it will cost to fix my car. As we went to bed I wanted to make love to my husband, but he asked me not to ask since he had to study. While studying he fell asleep and dropped his book on his face with a loud thunk which made me laugh.

today
This morning I woke up with a new belly dance troupe choroegraphy going through my head. I read my scriptures and thought about the violent nature of mankind and why it's so hard for us to treat each other good and fairly and why we have to have rich and poor and social classes and discrimination. I later also read a news report on a similar topic. I took a shower. I walked to the post office to deliver a belly dance costume I sold. Back home I fixed myself zatar sanwiches, checked my email, then I read friends' blogs in hopes that I would feel less cut off from the world and less lonely. It helped a little and prompted me to do this little exercise one of my friends did on her blog.

5 songs I know all the words to
Trust in me - from Disney's Jungle BookIn a world of my own - from Disney's Alice in Wonderland
His Eye is on the Sparrow - As sung in Sister Act II
I'm a Child of God - Mormon Hymn
My two Little Hands - Mormon Primary Song
Jingle Bells
I Wont Cry Anymore - Aretha Franklin

okay that was more than five and there are a few more...

5 reality television shows I watch
I don't get a TV signal at my place, but if I did, I'm pretty sure I'd try to watch Extreme Home Makover, Trading Spaces (the BBC version), What Not to Wear (the BBC version), and the BBC's surprise gardening show although I can't remember the name of it now, and maybe that BBC one where people change jobs. I enjoyed these BBC shows when I used to have TV and saw the Extreme one at my Mom's and liked it.

5 television shows I watch daily
Well since I don't get a signal, I do rent netflix and even though I can't say "daily" on a strict basis, I have been working my way through the entire series of "Homocide:Life on the Streets", I own "Charmed" up through season 5, I also have gotton all that's available so far of "the Office" both BBC & American versions, and "Monk".

5 things I would do with $1000,000,000
pay mine and my husband's debts
get my husband his PHD
buy myself a house with a dance studio and an art studio and a kickin' kitchen
get myself an income somehow
pay tithing & a fast offering to my church

5 locations I would love to run away to...
Berlin, Germany
Most any city in Switzerland
San Fransisco, CA
Bali, Indonesia
Zion National Park, UT

5 things I like doing...
rockclimbing - particularly when I have about 200 feet of exposure and can just look out over the world like I'm hanging in the air
playing a good pick up game of soccer with people that know how to play and have fun
snowboarding - especially on a good powder day when you can just float down the mountain, fly off a cliff or a cat track and just flip over mid-air and land with softness and speed - aaah!
belly dancing - when you are with a full band of live musicians who kick ass, and an audience of friends, belly dance and music lovers, and the energy is high, and you can let your whole soul go.
having those beautiful peaceful satisfying moments when surrounded by people I love and enjoy
making love to my husband and holding him close afterwards
okay that's six...but why only 5?

5 things I would never wear...
There is no piece of clothing in existence that I can say I would "never" wear, as I wouldn't put it past me to wear any given thing if I feel the moment is appropriate. But I am however extremely unlikely to wear any piece of clothing that would cost more than a new car, particularly if that piece of clothing is uncomfortable diamond studded lingerie. I'm also unlikely to wear a really trashy halloween costume, particularly if it's made of plastic and/or comes with a tiara and feather boa. And I'm unlikely to wear "units" knit coordinates that were popular in the 1980s, even as a tacky joke outfit, because they are just so extraordinarily ugly and unflattering. I'm also unlikely to wear a Stongbad-like wrestling mask, since they make me claustrophobic. And finally I'm unlikely to wear a brand new full length mink coat, because I think I'd feel too guilty about those poor little minks.

The Dating Wheel of Fortune

2006-09-21T08:25:00.000-07:00

Okay, my title has nothing to do with my content, except the dating bit. I was reading the top tips for dating somewhere - magazine or msn tidbit or something - (not that I'm looking for dates, but I'm interested in our culture and date spot ideas to take my mate to), anyhow, one of the top turnoffs listed in date conversation, right after discussing marraige, was discussing politics.

So sad! What's wrong with being interested in and discussing current events and your thoughts on relevant world situations. World drama plays out in the most fascinating ways, certainly better than the latest episode of Actors on Island Shoving Worms up their Noses then Bad Talking Each Other or something like that. It's been a while since I kept up with tv, but last I checked it was mostly people making asses of themselves, arguing and competing in embarrassing ways for some barely relevant reward, and I'm not just talking about Fox News and CNN. What are you supposed to talk about? Work? fun fun fun!

So, just so you know - the first night I met my significant other - we discussed culture and politics, card games involving animal noises and Monty Python's classic Holy Grail flick. About ten years later and we are still together, still discussing politics and current events, but the card game and the Holy Grail haven't come up in a while.

This is a matter of concern for me. The seeming lack on interest in politics by our general public. At the risk of not really being all that anonymous, I recently asked my friends on another bloggish-like site to share with me what they want in a president and the replies were non-specific and minimalist at best. All love and respect to these people, whom I appreciate and I understand are busy too, but one mentioned they might vote for Oprah another for some other celebrity who isn't coming to mind right now (maybe Johnny Depp, he seems popular right now). Not that I'm totally against Oprah for president. I'd have to take a close look at her stance on a lot of issues. But it concerns me that people (albeit I'm judging on a tiny sampling) don't seem to think about this stuff much. I could and did rattle off 3 pages off the top of my head in what I'd like to see in a president. So I'm thinking, no wonder Bush got elected. He seems like a nice guy you could down a beer with at a BBQ, what more do you need in a world leader? I did get one good idea. This person said they wanted an educated and intelligent president, somebody with a degree in something other than politics or law. That's a solid start.

So I was watching Dave Chappelle's Block Party movie and was impressed with how positive it felt. All the artists on there have "statements" to make, so to speak, but they seem to understand it's important to live too. I'm not sure that makes sense, but I guess for those of us blessed with the good life, we should be grateful for it and enjoy it. Not to the point of being ignorant of the larger issues in the world and trying to say something about them, but not becoming flagellants or the like. I also discovered that I have a small celeb crush on Mos Def. I know all the ladies are liking Johnny Pirate these days, but Mos Def is a little sweeter to me. But it'll pass I'm sure, don't know that I'll ever get a chance to bcome friends with the guy after all, but there is something likable about him. I also saw him recently in an episode of the Boondocks cartoon. I might not keep watching it because it's kindof on the violent side and they say 'bitches' too much for my taste. I'm also annoyed that Aaron McGruder in his little interview kept saying that he didn't want to make any social or political statement, that he just wanted to make something new and interesting and funny for entertainment. I thought that was a chicken shit stance to take. If he isn't bothering to say something important then the show is just really insulting for no reason.

In honor of the joy of living I will now go and do my laundry. Best to you my one reader.

Stay strong!

2006-09-11T10:23:00.000-07:00

I'm currently reading Robert Fisk's "The Great War for Civilization" and to balance the effect of reading page after page of the gruesome and horrifying things that humans do to one another, I'm also reading Roald Dahl's the BFG.

I can't help but say I'm truly disappointed, to the point of being fully ashamed, because of the United States Government's role in perpetuating pure evil in the Middle East.

Some think that it's their own fault, you know the peoples of the Middle East and that they should stand up and make things right for themselves. And I'm all for that, but I'm not sure that, if I were in Iraq anytime in the last decade, for example, and wanted to speak out against the mass killings of thousands with poison gas, for another possible example, I would be terribly effective. Certianly, my progress would seem to stop when they imprison and cook my husband alive on a grill, while dipping him in acid that eats away his flesh, shocking his genitals and slicing of his hands off like they were bacon, then executing him. Then, after that, I watched 2 of my children get shot in the head in front of me, and my infant smacked so hard against a wall that her brains are bashed out, then being forutnate enough to be thrown out with the trash instead of geting killed myself. Now this is a purely hypothetical situation. This hasn't actually happened...to me.

But pretending that it did, I would certainly keep trying to fight for freedom in Iraq. And I don't think I would hold it against the US one bit that they help put Saddam into power - that their CIA advised him and his own on torture techniques and that the US provided chemical weapon technology and logistical support and even at least partially manned or supervised a chemical weapons factory in Iraq. Nor would I mind that they seemed to support Saddam on his invasion of Iran and didn't seem to notice when he killed Iraqi kurds and Iraqi Marsh Arabs by the truckloads and anybody who didn't look right to him.

I would have had the clairvoyance to realise that several years later the US would come in and oust their chosen dictator and create a climate of chaos, disorganization, revenge killings, sectarian violence and the possibility of an extremist religious government almost totally aligned in philosophy to Iran as well as inviting terrorist intimidators of a more pan-Arab variety. The wonderful USA, friend to Iraqis.

So do I blame America for all the problems in the Middle East?

No, not specifically - just because we(the USA), in metaphor, load a gun hand it to them point to to their enemy and then say shoot, (and then proceed to hand guns to their enemies as well) doesn't necessarily mean that there isn't some serious dysfunctional psychology inherent in Middle Eastern, particularly Muslim culture. And don't get me wrong, this isn't a commentary specifically on the religion of Islam - but on the culture - much of which I think pre-dates and somehow magically supercedes to this day Mohammed's miraculous revelations. You know an eye for an eye - a daughter for honor - the leveling power of revenge and killing seems to have become holy practice throughout the Middle East.

On the other hand - the fictional giants in the BFG snatch people from their bedroom windows and gobble them up. It is certainly barbarous. These sorts of things leave us asking why?

Probably because people are much tastier than snozzcumbers and some people are making a lot of money off of chaos in the Middle East.

That's all for today. The next installment will discuss - the wonderful USA - a brilliant and shining bubble of ambivalent democracy - may it never pop.