Waxing poeticially about the moon...and diarrhea

What a week. Seriously. While I had great intentions of writing about my United Nations Association of Utah meeting on Tuesday, and my Salt Lake Council on Foreign Relations meeting on Wednesday, all of my insights went away when I hit my head yesterday morning. I was rushing to get ready for work (I was running late to a meeting) when one of my dining room chairs made a deliberate attempt on my life. I saw stars but as I was late and not bleeding, I still went to work. This is how we know that one day I will die at work....I'll do something stupid and instead of stopping like any other normal human...I'll just continue on until I drop.

Today however, common sense prevailed and I took a sick day. And while I felt much better, there was still a level of strange silliness that governed all that I did. I tried to put together my new desk and if my brother hadn't come over to help me....I still might be trying to put it together.... because, yes, my dexterity was that badly affected by my concussing myself. But the desk is put together and I am currently enjoying a desk situation that makes me want to write....even if it is pure drivel. Also, my desk is now angled in such a way where I can still spy on my neighbors across in the tenement and they really can't see much of me. The new desk also means that my backup hard drive can actually be plugged in and next to my computer for once. So for nostalgia's sake, Jimmy and I looked at the old files and I came across some golden nuggets of writings from me in a file called "Thoughts". They are a collection of short pieces that I wrote in 2002.....just before and shortly after I started blogging. Just like any illicit and vocal reading of a diary....it required a dramatic reading. The results? I come across as a whiny, impatient, privileged bitch. It. was. awesome. And probably, not much about me has changed....except now I have a better knowledge of myself and I know proper semi-colon usage.

For your reading pleasure, I am going to share two pieces with you. Feel free to laugh at my weirdness, because it had Jimmy and I rolling. This first one was written a couple of months before I started this blog:

April 10, 2002

So I meant to write the other day, but well, I acted like I normally do. On Monday I went to the Laundromat to do my smelly travel laundry. So after I had stuck my first load of clothes in the dryer, I was sitting down reading TIME magazine. When I heard that all too familiar and all too traumatizing sound: the crunch of a car accident. Oh damn, I hate this—I start to write and then the words go too fast in my head and all of the cool things that I had to say about the accident—you know, the deep reflections on how the airbag will smoke after it deflates, and the blood on the young guy who hit the elderly couple’s car forehead, drip drip dripping down. And how I wanted to go and take a rag to his forehead—because I felt that I could have been useful, but decided against it. He had a cell phone, he could call for help, and he did. There was one cool guy who had pulled over to the side of the road and started to direct traffic. He didn’t have too, but he did even until after the police and the fire department had arrived.

Today I am allergy sick—I sound awful, I feel just as bad. I have a ton of crap to do too. It sucks. But I like making list, because I like the satisfaction of being able to cross this off on them.

Oh, my love for humanity truly shines through there doesn't it? Meh. The guy did have a cell phone to call for help.

The second one I am going to share with you, I wrote on a day where I actually did a blog posting. Read the first one and then question why I didn't post this one instead....it's definitely more fun...

June 26, 2002

Today our representative told us that his name is “tombul” when he tried to explain what it meant, he said “like Debbie”. It means “plump”.

I like that word, I like the sound of it, how it just rolls off of your tongue and then bounces. Like a grape on a diving board. Plump.

I got my luggage today from Diyarbakir. The moon was so beautiful. It was low on the horizon but bright and soaked in a deep orange. It seemed to hover, not like it was a fixture in the sky, but more of a stand-in, hoping that people wouldn’t notice that the real one was missing.

I am afraid that I might have diarrhea. That would suck.

And there you go.... if you know anyone else who can wax poeticially about the moon and then in two hits of the return button on the keyboard type about their bowel problems, I want to meet them. They could be my soul mate.

2012 Schemey-Type Thingamajigs

To start off....let's just pretend that I have been blogging the whole time and haven't been on hiatus for almost 3 months. However, if you are feeling hurt, let me know and I will connect you with this guy who I talked to on the phone once....then left for a business trip for a week....and when I contacted him apologizing for being non-communicative for a week accused me of a multitude of things including "leaving him on the porch and expecting to him to wait for me"; of "going along and having my fun"; and of finding someone else while I was gone, using them up, deciding that I didn't like them, and coming back to him as the fall back guy. Yeah....it's as crazy as it sounds. But if you are truly angry at me for not writing, I believe that this guy will be willing to hold the presidency of the "I suck" club.

Now on to other matters.....
It's the new year and of course this means a whole new round of yearly goals and harebrained schemes. I reviewed last year's resolutions, and I performed dismally. Out of the five resolutions I had: I completed one, had three that were unmeasurable, and sadly did not figure out a way to say "mea culpa" to someone in a snarky and sarcastic tone and have that person understand what I mean. Dismal indeed.


So what to do with this year? Quite the conundrum that. Let's start with the measurable:

Yearly Goal One: Pay off my private student loan. Last year's plan to lose some financial weight worked really well as I managed to secure a completely awesome student loan payment plan in which if I work full time for a non-profit for 10 years they write off my balance. So now that my gargantuan student loan debt is now relegated to almost utility payment regularity, I should get rid of my much smaller private loan that could not be put into the awesome payment plan.

Yearly Goal Two: To be kissed romantically. I signed up for a dating site, which hasn't been very successful---as the story above relates.... but I decided that I might as well try to date. I just have to figure out a way to date in which I can have a successful long-term relationship. And while this may be a weird place to put it....for those of you who are curious, baby plans are put off until I figure out a way to pay for day care. And for those who think that I am looking for someone to help pay for the day care with me....please note that my goal is only to be kissed at the moment.

Yearly Goal Three: Work on finishing all of those books that I have started. The pile around my bed keeps threatening to fall on me in the night, trapping me indefinitely.

Yearly Goal Four: If I am not going to celebrate on a paid holiday, at least spend some time learning about the holiday. Case in point, today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day and I went shopping at the mall. I am such a horrible, cliche American sometimes! So to purge a little I watched a documentary on MLK today....and learned something....but I should learn more. So I am going to go a little deeper and research some more topics related to Black History Month.

Yearly Goal Five: Master freetime at home. I have a fairly active social life, but that is only due to some amazing scheduling skills that I have developed. But when it comes to unplanned time at home, I have a tendency to pace my house feeling like I should be working. So I must learn to live the axiom "the time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time". Hopefully this will mean more blogging, some crafty-type things that I would like to do, and possibly....just possibly....me doing something that is completely frivolous like painting my toenails.

I think that is all I got. However this year's harebrained scheme has yet to be decided upon. Normally those have to do with something physical.....and I won't finish with last year's scheme (becoming a yoga teacher) until June. Although I am toying with fencing. Let me know if you have any ideas.

Look! It's My Little Brother on the TV!

Sorry, couldn't find an embed link to just post the video here, just click the link below to go to the KSL website.

Zombie Makeup Lesson | ksl.com

I am ill not sick

One of the weird carryovers I have from my time in Turkey is that we are supposed to say that we are "ill" when we aren't feeling well rather than "sick". Why? Because the word "sick" in English sounds exactly like the word "fuck" in Turkish. Which also makes using the phrase "sick fuck" entirely redundant, but I digress...

In any case, whether you call it sick or ill, that's what I've been the past two to three days. It started with a cough late Tuesday night and started to morph from there on. I had tickets to the opera on Wednesday evening and was exceedingly glad that they had coughdrops at the concession stand.

I actually stayed home from work Thursday and Friday, which was annoying, but if I have saved my co-workers from this fate, the boredom that comes from being sick might be worth it. I am not sure if this is a change of season cold or a version of the weird haunted house flu given to me by Jimmy. In any case, the symptoms keep changing as it progresses. At first it was an upset stomach with my ears hurting, then it moved to a cough and sore throat, then it moved into head congestion, swollen glands, and the ever unpredictable post-nasal drip. The body is amazing though. I could actually feel it churning away trying to beat this. About an hour ago my fever broke. I wasn't really aware that I had a fever- but my body felt that it was necessary to wake me up to celebrate this momentous occasion. So I woke up feeling much better and drenched in sweat... But now I'm awake and can't seem to get back to sleep which is why I'm blogging on my iPhone at four in the morning.

Of course feeling better doesn't mean that I am fully well. My sinuses and glands still ache but aren't swollen anymore and I have a productive cough now. Actually I think my body woke me up after the fever broke so that I could take some more cold medicine for this post-fever hangover I've got. I will say this though- I do feel well enough to leave the house today- hopefully I'll still feel the same way after I get some more sleep this morning.

Here's to hoping.

The Post in Which I Claim Big Sister Bragging Rights

Those that know me well, know that one of my favorite things to do is to brag about how talented my little brother is, but it isn't something that I do very often or at all on this here blog of mine. So for the benefit of the extended family who read this blog....here is what Jimmy is up to.

First of all, it is October, which means that unless you are at a haunted house you are unlikely to see him the entire month. It also means that he never really sleeps during this month and takes awful care of himself.....but he loves the work that he does so much that he figures that once haunt season is over he will have plenty of time to recuperate.

"Haunt kids" are a strange bunch. The Halloween fever starts in mid-July, strange characters and voices start to appear from them in August, September is prep for opening, October for performance, and then everyone crashes in November just managing to feel like a normal human again by Thanksgiving.

For the 5th year in a row, Jimmy is working at Nightmare on 13th. This year he is working security, makeup, and fostering his other great talent- that of being an artist. He's done two of the backdrops for the 3 photo booths, updated several of their rooms and even figured out how to paint realistic looking rust.

Each year the various news agencies send out morning remotes to the haunted house. Last week channel 2 was there but all you saw was the annoying anchor-dude. This morning Jimmy was on channel 4 and was featured in at least two of the segments that I saw. If video is posted online, I'll track it down and post it here. Here is a photo of the anchor and Jimmy.

He's was very good in front of the camera. I am very impressed. On Friday, he will be on Channel 13's morning show as one of the Haunt's spokesmen.

Here are a couple more shots of his makeup handiwork. And another...

Jimmy also turned 23 this week. Which just astounds me... he has turned into such a wonderful young man: fun, silly, driven, caring....and oh so many other things.

But most of all, he's my little baby brother who I love so so dearly.

Jimmy opening up his birthday card from Mom and Dad....the distance is hard to take sometimes.

Greetings from the middle of nowhere

Thanks to finally finding the wireless passcode and my pretty new iPhone- I'm now able to blog. Which I would rather do that the suggested "journalling".

So where am I? I'm at a yoga retreat that is five miles outside of a small town that you've never heard of, that is twenty-five miles outside of another town that you've probably never heard of, that is a hundred plus miles from my home base. This retreat is part of my yoga teacher training. While I was expecting it to kick my ass physically- I was not expecting the emotional ass kicking that I also received. The emotional stuff was more than "let's discuss and cry about how much we love everyone" (which there is plenty happening of- believe me)...it was more of a case of not knowing why you are crying and desperately trying to stop crying... But instead you just end up crying so hard you're snorting on the group hike you took after the power yoga class you just had in which you just curled into child's pose and cried throughout. Yeah... It has been a very weird couple of days.

I have discovered that there is a difference between feeling sore and resistance in your body and feeling pain. I've also discovered that you can get very creative in poses if you are trying to avoid re-injuring yourself.

Here are some other things that I have learned-
1. I'm an overly aggressive ping pong player.
2. The world is still pretty small as I met two (count them two) other people here who went to the same elementary, middle, and high school with.
3. I thought that I was the only non-Mormon here but I'm not. There were a bunch of people who were hiding and trying to seem like they were so they could fit in.
4. While we had a co-ed wing of the lodge- I'm the only girl who is actually in a co-ed room. And it's lovely. No strange girly lotion smells and thankfully no glitter toenail painting parties.
5. Partner yoga is a reward in itself and you learn more about your interactions with others and how you approach relationships because of it.

I'm sure that I'll have more insights after I get home tomorrow. I definitely will have more to offer in the discussion at work about what the word "retreat" really entails. Corena- the owner of the studio- said that "vacations were for falling asleep and retreats are for waking up." it's so very true.


Oh! And bunk beds suck no matter what you're age.

The Truth of Fortune Cookies?

I think that I created a perfect storm of overwhelmed tiredness in my life.
A couple of weeks ago I decided that I needed to revisit some of my goals and evaluate how my life is currently going. Oddly enough, all of the goals I looked at had something to do with trying to lessen by 80+ hour work week, increase my quality of life, and make a bit more money. I made little action plan steps and mini-goals for myself...it was quite proactive of me really.

I felt empowered for about 5 days.

And then the realization of how full of stuff my schedule is hit me. How much I make or don't make hit me. How much I love the work that I do and how the work isn't working as hard for me as I am for it hit me.

The result of this is that I am desperately tired. I can't focus because I am tired all the time. I probably have depression denial. And while I know that if I admit that I have depression denial it sort of negates the term, I would prefer to still pretend to be in denial.

Of course through this tiredness haze I have managed to accomplish some very notable things, namely working through a block of anxiety and applying for two executive director positions. At least I've been trying to work on my goals even though acknowledging them triggered this depression that I am still in denial about.

However.......I had two fortunes from fortune cookies that I ate today that I hope are as fortuitous as they claim:

"No obstacles will stand in the way of your success this month."
"Your friends will truly be helpful in your next month's endeavor."

So fingers crossed for good things ahead!
.....And hopefully a nap which results in me finally feeling rested. MMMMmmmm.....nap....

Laid Back? Seriously? Dude.

I haven't seen much of my house the past three weeks. Which I am sure that my house will get over its abandonment issues....its pretty level headed that way, but I think that my turtles are still a little hurt. They were super excited that I came home, but each time I walk into the room they keep projecting the "you aren't going to leave me again are you?" vibe.

Where have I been? First it was off to Portland for a conference in which I got annoyed with everyone's insistence at labeling themselves, burnt my backside to a crisp, and fired the city planner of Portland. Well.....I didn't actually fire them, but I got lost and turned around so much that if I ever do meet them I will do my best Donald Trump impersonation and fire them for making a city entirely too complicated to navigate. However, I did manage to find Powell's Books and enjoyed a nice little birthday with my hot self.

Then I was home for two days in which I still did not clean my house or the dishes in the sink. Although I did try to pour hot scalding water over them so that they wouldn't grow new spores, mold, and fungi.

Next it was off to Larkspur Colorado for a week-long Masonic workshop. Oddly enough, I ended up with more books from that trip then I did going to Powell's. I had some amazing conversations that went into the wee hours of the night, was raised to the 3rd degree, and became much much closer to my brothers.....all while traveling on dirt roads and trying not to have a clandestine encounter with a bear. I think that the most striking thing to come out of this workshop is the idea that everyone seems to think that I am laid back. I don't see this at all. For someone who is the control freak that I am, who rigidly schedules her life out....I can't see this as equating to being laid back. Now, I'll consider myself low maintenance, but laid back? Nope, still can't see it.....it must really reflect upon the side of me that I choose to show to the world.

Oh, I also burnt the front part of me to a crisp, so now my top half looks all nice and tan but my legs still have their own form of thermoluminescence that allows me to no longer need a night-light when I am in my house and not wearing pants. Which can be handy but I am sure scares the crap out of the neighbors that look into my windows (but that's a post for another day).

Perhaps the best thing to come out of the copious amount of travel lately is that Ginger the Red-Headed Stepchild (my beautiful new car) has been properly run in for road trips. She handles great but I am sure that---like me---she'll be pretty content to just stay in town for a little while.

Travel anyone?

As if I didn't already have plenty of reasons to want to travel to Turkey again...... this is so cute! Of course it could explain why everyone claps whenever the plane lands successfully on Turkish airlines....

Taking Up Space

I have been challenging how I think of space, personal space, and the amount of space that I take up. I know that I've written previously about a situation on a plane where a thinner girl in the plane seat in front of me had her chair reclined and refused to pull up her chair when the dinner tray arrived. I had to have the stewardess make her pull the seat up because there was no way that I could eat dinner with the tray resting on my breasts. I mean, I probably could have pulled it off....but it might have had a messy ending. This girl was really mad that the stewardess made her move....this girl also sighed heavily and rolled her eyes when I first sat down anyway.....I could just say that the girl was a bitch...but it was more of a case that she was disgusted with my size. This incident just fuels my theory that thinner people think of space in different ways and that oftentimes when faced with having a fat person in the vicinity they feel entitled to take up as much space as possible. I like to compare it to a little kid throwing their body over their toys saying "these are MINE" whenever a new kid comes to the sandbox....because well, we all know that fat people have this conspiracy going in order to take up all the space possible in the world.

I wish that we could say that we are that organized.

I am very conscious of the amount of space that I take up at any time. And while this sounds odd.....I try to take up as little amount of space as possible. So on a plane, I never use the armrests, rather I hug my arms around me the whole flight. I arrive early to meetings so that I can grab a seat where I am as out of the way as possible.....same with restaurants. When I was in school I would choose seats on the outside aisle so that I could get in and out of the seats without having to move past anyone. I also hate to have my back to any door. Part of this is so that no one can sneak up on me....but there is also a little bit of it so that I can see anyone coming and move out of their was as quickly as possible. I apologize when I have to move past people's chairs...even if they don't have to move. And if I get put in a seat where there is a situation where moving would cause issues.....I stay there for the long haul.....no matter how full my bladder is. And don't get me started on crowds.

The thing is, is that in my head I take up alot more space than I do in reality. Libby and I stood face to face the other day and our shoulders are the same width apart. I really don't take up that much more space than the average person. So I've been trying to challenge myself in how I take up that space.

My first real foray into this was taking part of a suspend and bend yoga class. Basically it is yoga done in a hammock. Its looked fun in the video but I was apprehensive. My first question to the studio owners was if there was a weight limit. By their reactions to my question it was obviously something that they had not thought of. I explained to them that since there was a 15 person limit in the class and that I weighed as much as two people I was concerned that their ceiling might not hold. I know that this sounds ridiculous....but if you are a fat person these are valid concerns. The owners of this studio were cool about it when they realized that I was actually asking a good question. They reinforced the bracings in the ceiling and found out how much weight the swings could take. Its 1000 pounds per swing by the way.

I took a half hour intro course which was mainly focused on learning to trust the equipment. This was -and still is- the hardest part. I mentally could not let myself put my full weight in the swing. I kept trying to keep a foot on the ground. I freaked out a little when I was doing downward dog and the swing was holding the majority of my weight....the pose was way too easy. When I stopped worrying about the swing collapsing out from under me I had alot of fun. The class made me really really uncomfortable though.....so uncomfortable that I decided to take that as a challenge and went and bought a five-class pass. I haven't been back yet because of my schedule, but I am going to do this. I need the challenge.

This is just one step out of many that I have been taking in rethinking how I take up space. Tearing down those barriers has been very freeing. I've been fully extending my arms (and legs) in yoga even if the class has a bunch of people in it. I've been buying clothing because I think that the clothes are cute and not because I've gone through an extensive worrying process on whether or not I think that it will be flattering on me or not. I'm cute, the dress is cute, it will all match up in the end.

The other way I've been challenging this idea of space is by talking to other people about space. I hope that it helps open other people..... I still have a way to go with one of my co-workers who has a mini-seizure everything I say the word "fat". You know that scene in Lion King where the hyena shutters when the other one says the name "Mufasa".....it was just like that when I told her that I was a "big fat fattie and was proud to say that I was fat, and that I gladly rub my own buddha-like belly for luck". I wish that I could have had video of it....it was classic. I want other people to think of size differently as well. I know that I challenge it everytime I am in a yoga class with others. In fact the instructor of that intro class (who had at other times snubbed me a bit) started talking to me where previously she would actively try not to see me. I don't chalk that up to her realizing that I am a fabulous person...I think that it has more to do with me shattering her view of what a fat person is or is not capable of.

I am not sure what the next big space experiment will be besides taking another one of these suspend and bend classes. Although Libby thinks that it should be horseback riding.....which could be fun. I haven't been on a horse since my teens and I'm sure that I could rock riding boots...

Getting It

In an odd turn of events, the past couple of weeks I have felt fully competent at my job. I've felt confident in all of the financial stuff.....that's not the issue. Where I wasn't feeling confident was in the area of training. Coming from a very very different background than the majority of my co-workers I kinda felt that I really didn't have much to offer.....but something clicked recently. Maybe it is the fact that I realized that I have the skills to teach.....which means more sometimes then having all of the knowledge base in the world. After all, knowing alot about a subject means nothing if you can't connect with someone to teach them about it. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I've been a information sponge at work and it is sticking. Or maybe it is because when I finally got to the point where I realized that there was more that I didn't know about in this world that I was able to be open enough for all of that information to filter in.

In this process of "getting it" I've noticed a change in my vocabulary. Or maybe I could just say that I've been using big girl terms without feeling pretentious. In a legitimate conversation today I actually said "that is the essence of white privilege" in reference to some actions of my past. Normally when someone uses "privilege" in a conversation---which happens more than you would think at my place of employment---I would have to suppress an eye roll. In my defense though, I've heard people claim quite often that someone was exercising their "privilege" when they were just being an asshole to someone else. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for trying to understand the reasonings behind a person's actions....but sometimes you also have to call a spade a spade and call an asshole an asshole. I also talked alot today about fat acceptance and referred to myself as a "person of size".....ok.....that kinda makes me giggle a bit, but I was totally serious early...totally.

I think that the interesting thing about "getting it" is that I've managed to re-tap into that activist side of myself that I love and miss. The downside of this rejuvenation is that I've been pulling alot of very late nights and early mornings trying to make headway on the eight-gazillion different projects that I've been working on. Progress is being made but the price is alot of sleep loss. By the time I get to bed at night I'm too tired to read. Which is sad because the books are piling up around me...... if I'm never heard from again its because all of the books that I need to read finally fell on top of me. I wonder if you can learn by osmosis better if you are trapped under what you want to learn from?

Bigger Than A Box of Brillo Pads

Don't stop me if you've heard this story before....just nod your head and pretend that it is the first time, ok?

There are defining moments in your life when you realize that you are incredibly grown up. My first major moment of this kind occurred about 3-4 months after I had moved into my first apartment. I was washing dishes and had a particularly gross pan and I needed a Brillo pad in order to scrub it completely clean. Now when I lived at home, I knew where the Brillo pads were....but in my own home, I didn't have any. As I was in the checkout line with my $1.69 box of Brillo Pads as the only object in my shopping cart, it hit me.....I was a grown up.

And it scared me.

I've had other moments similar to this....mostly times when I took on a new financial responsibility: paying for my own car insurance and gas, making my first payments on my student loans.... Oddly enough, I never really felt like getting married made me adult, but paying for the cheap-as-free wedding did.

This week I had another grown-up milestone....I bought a car.
My old car was starting to die a slow death. I was 16 when my Dad bought it and had been driving it for 15 years and close to 150,000 miles. And apparently in having the car for as long as I did, and for all of the memories that I made in that car, I can only find a photo of the back of the car as Jimmy was barbecuing for the 4th of July.



I had been researching for several months. I had saved up for a decent down payment. I had even asked my Dad to come along for moral support in buying a car while my parents were visiting Jimmy and I last week.

I was more stressed out that I needed to be. There were some financial history issues that brought emotional stuff up, but my credit was much better than what I thought it would be. I was very lucky to have gone through a great dealership....although I couldn't appreciate it at the time. The finance guy was trying to cheer me up but it wasn't working. My mom described my emotional state as "a wet rag twisted up so tight that it couldn't twist anymore"....and that would be an accurate description of how I felt. In the end, I bought a nice car that I can afford. Her name is "Ginger- the Red-Headed Step-child". She is a 2009 Subaru Impreza whose color is called "Paprika".

Things that are awesome about a new car:
1. Working right-hand turn signals!
2. A driver's side window that rolls down!
3. A CD player that actually plays the CDs loaded into it!
4. Being able to drive for more than 10 minutes on the freeway without the engine warning light coming on!
5. Feeling like a grown-up and feeling like I'm transitioning into a new era of my life.

2011's Harebrained Scheme- Yoga Instructor!

Tonight I went to the hardest yoga class that I have ever been too......and it was awesome! I loved every fricking shaking-muscle-burning moment!

So I've been sitting on this decision since March, but now seems to be a good time to announce my greatest and latest harebrained scheme! (I think that I need to make it a yearly thing to have an official harebrained scheme.) I am going to get my certification to be a yoga instructor! I start in July and it will take me a year to complete....so baby plans will definitely be postponed for another year.

Yippee! I am really excited about it! This also means that I will be posting and writing more about yoga and fat acceptance. Whee!

That's the update!

Death and being an American Muslim

On Sunday night I was very conflicted about hearing the news of the death of Osama Bin Laden. Conflicted because his death in many ways was the only option.....he wouldn't have been taken alive....and he wouldn't have survived very long anyway if he was ever brought back for trial. I was also conflicted because I have mixed feelings on capital punishment, let alone state-sponsored assassination....but that is due to my background in human rights advocacy.

What I am most conflicted on is what does his death really symbolize/mean?

I don't feel that his death is that much of a blow to al-Qaeda as his end-goal of martyrdom would be fulfilled. And even with our very subjective justice system, Americans still like the idea of a clear enemy and that that person would be brought to a swift and decisive justice.

For a brief, very brief moment I thought that there might be a chance that Muslims could be openly accepted in the US again.

Let's travel back to a beautiful sunny morning on June 22, 2001. It was around 6am, I was jet-lagged and alone in a hotel room in Istanbul, Turkey. The morning call to prayer was ringing out across the city and the moment felt right to do something that I had been considering for months.... I took the Shahadah, the oath that marks your conversion to Islam. I instantly felt this overwhelming sense of peace and I knew that I had made the right decision for myself. I proudly told others that I was Muslim and explained to everyone that I could that I was a Sufi student waiting for a teacher. Then September 11th happened. I had Middle Eastern friends who were threatened (one of them by a man wielding a machete near Dupont Circle in DC). People would look at me in pity when I told them about my faith (I even wrote a poem about that which was published in a MEC Outreach Newsletter). All of my work concerning the Middle East was looked upon with a touch of suspicion. Of course, I would joke a bit, lamenting that the chadors (the all-black ninja-like outfits that some Muslim women wear which shows only their eyes) I had bought for Halloween costumes were no longer acceptable to wear for fun on a holiday.

Like most in my field, I switched from telling others about the culture of the Middle East to affirming that not all Middle Easterners are terrorists. There is a big difference between sharing a culture and convincing someone that a person isn't your enemy....or that by being Muslim myself that I was not an enemy...that first and foremost I was a white American woman who had exercised my right of freedom of religion.

Time progresses, and I spent alot of it NOT telling people about my religious beliefs. In fact, I never told my Grandfather about my conversion because I know that he would have been disappointed in me that I had allied myself with a group of people that he saw as akin to the Japanese during World War II. He probably suspected though. Over the past few years I've felt that the pressure on American Muslims had lightened a bit and I've been more open about it. Even just last week I was talking to people about how I was about to celebrate my ten year anniversary of being Muslim. Ten years is a long time for anything.....and it is even a longer time to feel like you need to hide something about yourself.

So when they announced Bin Laden's death, I thought that it might be possible that American Muslims could hope to NOT be equated with terrorists anymore.

Nope.

Doesn't really look like it yet.

How do I come to this decision? In items such as a news story that I read today about how a Texas middle school teacher was suspended because he told a 9th grade Muslim student that he had "heard about your uncle, I bet that you're grieving". And by the fact that I received a joke text from a family friend stating the following: "News Flash! All 7/11's and mini-marts will be closed today, there was a death in the family".

Not only are these unnecessarily mean and racist jokes, but there is not a good time for them to be told. This isn't a case where the joke is "too soon" after the event- it is a case where it is just wrong.

I'm done with it. I replied back to that text, and had a phone conversation with the person who sent it. And I'm writing about this here because people need to SERIOUSLY get a grip. Osama Bin Laden was an evil misguided man that I am VERY glad is no longer around to spew his own personal brand of hate.

One man does not get to make an entire group of people guilty by religious association.
One man does not make it acceptable to be racist or classist or any other sort of -ist out there.
One man shouldn't make me feel that I have to hide what I am or how I feel.

And the death of one man doesn't make all the problems of the world go away.

Resisting the Maxim "If you aren't working, you're sleeping"

Lately the only time that I have felt grounded and present has been when I'm on my yoga mat. And as I have only been able to get around to that once a week for the past month it means that I am not spending nearly enough of my time in a present state of mind.

It isn't that I am thinking about the past or that my mind is wandering.....I've just been so mentally busy with work that there hasn't been much past that. I've forgotten how to deal with myself when I have time that is unscheduled. This is a problem with being a workaholic. All of your time is scheduled out and when you aren't working, you're sleeping..... Back in my archaeologist days my dig director, in an attempt to raise morale that tragically backfired, announced at dinner one night that "if we weren't working, we should be sleeping". I was appalled at that comment. So now, 9 years later I ask myself....what the hell changed? Cause that is sorta where I live at the moment.
It's quite sad really.

I've been tempted to ruthlessly schedule out free time activities for myself.....but that is just about as sad as not knowing how to deal with free time in the first place.
I've also decided that I hate it when you get advice such as "oh, you can take 15 minutes out of your day to do (insert activity here)". Yeah, I could take 15 minutes out of my day.....but there are WAY too many things that I would want to take 15 minutes a day doing....so many that I can't figure out what I want to do first.

Anyway.....Earlier this week I met a woman that I've had many people tell me that I should meet. She lives locally and she's Turkish. Most of the time when I am around Turkish speakers I don't let on that I can speak....but that is mostly because the Turkish speakers I come across are male. She and I hit it off and we are going to meet for coffee and gossip in Turkish. I've been trying to review some, I am very very rusty. I also bought a new Turkish album this weekend. One of the songs just transported me back to hot summers on the rooftop of that dreary little motel in Bismil. I loved that rooftop. I loved how new things felt and I even love how naive I was. It took me back to a time where blogging was still taboo and I wrote poetry everyday.
Sounds like I need to go back to basics, doesn't it?

A Tragic End to MEC Outreach Awesomeness

It been over a year now since I left the Middle East Center and it still amazes me at how events that happen there still affect me.....albeit in a very distant way. For the most part whenever something bad happens, such as the director being caught for plagiarism and being put on paid administrative leave, I am filled with a sense of karmic justice. But today...news that that I had heard discretely earlier in the week became public. The latest victim of the decline of the MEC is the Outreach program.

The years I worked at the MEC and more specifically the Outreach Program itself will always be treasured. I had wanted my career to be in Middle East Outreach and it was only due to the Director that I had to make a major job change. There will always be some bitterness when I think of how the administration handled the Outreach program and the directorship of it when I was still employed there. And I was very upset when the woman who replaced me as assistant was made Outreach Director after less than a year there and being less qualified than I. But fate, the universe, and whatnot work in mysterious ways and while I retain a smidgen of angst over how I was forced to leave the MEC, I know that I am in an infinitely better place now- work-wise, career-wise, and mental health-wise.

Having said that, I am truly sorry to see the MEC Outreach Program dissolved. Not only was it a needed program but it was an effective one as well. Complaining about how things are being run is one thing, but actually seeing the loss is something altogether different. This truly is a tragedy.

I've Apparently Misplaced the Entire Month of March

And I'll be damned if I can find where I put it.

No exciting stories....unless you consider the death of a vacuum an exciting story. The death of a vaccuum used to be a horrific event because it would mean that there was some big to-do to be had in trying to find a way to pay for a new one. This would normally involve a desperate scramble with calling all of my credit cards to see if I had any credit on them.....which normally wasn't the case....and then I would have to go buy an overpriced one at RCWilley cause I had store credit there. And it also seemed that I would have one of those overpriced vacuums die on me every year about 2 days after the warranty was up. Paying for a new one this time wasn't nearly as dramatic. I paid for a small one....with cash! The only real hassle in the entire endeavor was the horrible service I got at the Bountiful Kmart where I bought the thing. There was only one register open and the checker (whose nametag announced that she was the lead supervisor) seemed to be dead. It was only the occasional eyeblink that let you know that she was alive. Clearly, she hated her job. Oddly enough, I was forced to answer a customer service question on the debit machine before she could ring me up. The question was "how much would you recommend this Kmart based on your shopping experience?". I chose the "I would never recommend this store" option on the pinpad. If the checker knew my response, it sure had no effect on the speed in which she was checking anyone out.

Did you know that it has been exactly four years since my bankruptcy was discharged? It seems like forever and then it seems like it only happened yesterday. Unfortunately my free credit reports don't tell me what my credit score is, but I am hoping that it is improving with the three and a half years of steady student loan payments I have been making. Now if only I could manage to get the student loan interest rate lower, it would actually look like I'm making progress on those payments instead of only a fifth of my payment going to the principle balance.
One battle at a time I guess.
And I won this one with the vacuum. :)

Who pays for the date? And how it reflects on my bad dating life

I was having a conversation with someone the other day and we were talking about the social implications of who pays on a date. She contended that if a man pays for the meal that it means he is interested and is expecting something further from the date/relationship/whatnot. If a woman pays for the meal or goes dutch it means that she just wants to be friends.

Apparently, I date like a man.

If I pay for the meal/date, I am not doing it to just "be friends".....that's what going dutch is for. If I pay, I'm expecting something more.

This apparently is a problem.....cause I might be the only one who dates this way. It also must be a sign of my lack of success in the dating department.

Am I giving the wrong impression? And if so, how the heck do I fix it?

In other totally random dating thingamajigs that I've been thinking of....
Remember in middle school/high school/college/today when you had a crush on someone and every night you lay awake, listening to some song over and over that reminds you of that person, and trying to figure out how to make that person notice you? (I know that you've done it....don't deny it.) I've decided that I really want someone to be doing that and thinking of me.

Its sort of a nice thought, to be thinking that someone lies awake thinking of you....but in a nice way....not in the creepy stalker sort of way.

Finding a Vice to Give Up

So for reasons I am not going to fully explain here, I am supposed to find a vice to give up. The vice doesn't necessarily have to be an addiction to give up, but it can be something that I don't feel like I am doing well or enough according to my own moral code. This is gonna be a tough one. I don't really have any addictions....at least I don't think that I do. I do have things that I should do differently. I have a couple of ideas, and I might just try to do all of them.

My first idea is that I need to follow some of the precepts of my faith more. I haven't fasted during Ramadan in years, let alone attempting the fast for a day or two each month. I also need to make sure that I read the Quran every year. This is something that I should try to do irregardless of having to find a vice to give up. I should use my language skills more....I should eat ice cream less...especially as I hurts my stomach.... There are alot of little ideas that might make a difference, but I think that I need something that will make a large impact in my life.

My other idea is much much harder....however, recent events have come to light showing me that the need to do this is becoming greater and greater. Basically, I need to stop taking care of my brother. I mother him, I humor him, and I take care of him to the point where I am doing him more harm than good.

Here's the background to this.....
At the moment I am paying for my little brother's schooling. I gave him a scholarship that has very specific rules that I have disregarded or bent to cut him some slack. The primary requirement of the scholarship is that you have to have a 3.0 gpa. His first semester he came close....and I agreed to continue paying because there is a huge adjustment to college lifestyle...blah blah blah. The next semester he did great and made the 3.0. This last semester however he didn't do so well. In fact he withdrew from a class a week before finals....and still didn't get the 3.0. He also waited for over 3 weeks to finally tell me what his grades were and what he did. I feel like he waited for so long in the hopes that I wouldn't be angry with him. At the time, I told him that I wouldn't pay for him to retake the class and that was that. But it still kinda sits there....taunting me. The other requirement in the scholarship is that you have to pay for the next semester, get a 3.0, and I would start paying again. Well he didn't have the money when tuition was due this semester (even though he told me that he would have), and I loaned him the money for school. He still owes me money for helping him with vet costs, and his half of my parents Christmas gift, and now this. Its over $400 now, and he hasn't paid me back a cent. When I've been asked why I am helping him with school....I mainly tell people that since I knew he wouldn't listen to me about his future plans, I hoped that he would at least listen to a professor. There are more reasons however. I have a HUGE student debt load. I had a huge credit card debt load at one point as well. I want to spare him that. Instead, I have made myself his source of credit. There is also a part of me that wants to help him and make sure that he doesn't have any debt because of what my ex-husband did to Jimmy's credit rating. I shouldn't hold that guilt, but I do. And I think that it is depriving my brother of a valuable lesson.

My brother does, for lack of a better term, street art. I've encouraged him in any outlet for his creativity. I look at all of his drawings. I listen to his dreams and ideas. Whenever he has talked about going out "painting" I've always said that if he got caught I would not bail him out. Saying it and acting as to what you have said are different matters. So about two weeks ago, he got caught. I got a phone call about 11pm on a Thursday. When you get a call from a jail they tell you the jail name and then they leave a pause for the prisoner to say their name. When I heard a low male voice say "c'mon Debbie, you know who this is". I originally didn't. I originally had thought that my ex-husband had been arrested and only accepted the call because I wanted to gloat that he had gotten caught. I know that makes me sound like a horrible person. When I accepted the call I discovered that it was Jimmy, and thus began a really REALLY awful 24 hours. I had to notify my parents what happened. I had to contact Jimmy's friends to let them know that he was ok. And I snapped.....I was up at 2 in the morning trying to find out how bailbonds worked on wikipedia. I was contacting the jail. I was trying to get a bond for him once his bail was set......I was at a hysteria point. I was worried he was going to be hurt. I was worried that he might not be released soon and lose his job. I even asked my boss if she would co-sign a bond for me because I was told by a bondsman that I needed to have a house to back it. I had even managed to find $1200 to pay for the 10% bond....I just needed to wait until the banks opened in the morning. (Oh, by the way, if you are going to graffiti, don't mark up a telephone box. It becomes a felony offense as it is a public utility.) In the end he was released without bail as this was his first offense. He was home safe.

The aftermath of this has been frustrating. I've had to listen and argue with him about what he perceives as "unfairness" in the law. I've had to listen to him complain about how he is being forced into this painful artistic box. I've had to be told repeatedly by him that I cannot possibly understand this because I am not an artist. He has this sense of entitlement that is just unreal. I feel like he isn't appreciating how lucky he is not to have lost his job or his freedom....or school....or the fact that his sister was trying to move mountains because he did something completely and totally stupid.

So I need to stop. I need to stop enabling him. I need to stop mothering him and treat him like the 22 year old man that he is. He already has two parents, he doesn't need a third. I don't need to buy him dinner if we go out. He's got a job. I don't need to buy him food. He can feed himself. I don't need to pay for his school when he obviously doesn't find it necessary to do well in it. He needs to shoulder the responsibility of his own adulthood.

And this is where it gets tricky. If the events of the last month have taught me anything, its that while I may say one thing, I may act differently. If this is the vice I am to give up, it will be the hardest of them all.

Bluebeard-And other fairytales that scare the crap of me

I watched this French movie called Bluebeard last night. It is based off of a historical fairytale of the same name....which just freaks me out. I think that this is one of those times when in being an American I am at a disadvantage with fairy tales. The tales that I grew up with always have a clear moral, a happy ending, and the scary bits? all within the realm of the imaginary. They have always been safe allegories removed from really happening in everyday life. This has probably been one of the reasons why I have been so slow to really get into Grimm's fairytales. I feel dissatisfied with them. They always end horribly and the moral is too subjective for me to get. Oddly enough, I haven't felt this way about 1,001 Arabian Nights, but the stories have more clear and logical endings for me.



Back to the story of Bluebeard. It follows that there was a powerful and rich lord, however for all of his wealth he wasn't regarded as handsome but disgustingly ugly as he had a beard that was blue. He was married many times but no one knew what became of the wives as they would disappear after about a year. A local woman with two daughters is recently widowed leaving her and her children completely destitute. Hearing this the rich lord Bluebeard invites the family to stay with him at one of his country houses for a week with the hope of enticing one of the girls to be his next bride. The youngest one accepts him and they wed.

In the movie, the youngest girl is prepubescent and there was a part of me that was horrified that I might have stumbled upon a movie that is going to have child rape in it. But there wasn't....so that was good. The girl was definitely older in maturity than in her years and sees something of value in Bluebeard when she accepts him as her groom. You start to really feel that he is just a poor misunderstood man, one that just needs one woman to genuinely love him. She doesn't ask questions about his past or the other wives, she just tries to get to know him and loves him unconditionally. And for those that know me and my past, you'll understand how I deeply identify with that.....and this probably won't be the first time that I say that in this post.

Bluebeard then has to leave for a while on business. Depending on which version you read, he's left her once before giving her all the keys of the house and telling her that she is welcome to see and look through everything. In any case, it doesn't really matter how many times he has left her alone with all the keys to the house.....it is the last time that is important. As he sets out to leave, he gives her the keys as before and then gives her one extra little golden key. He tells his wife that this key is to a small door in the basement and under no circumstances is she to open the door and look inside. Of course, she goes and opens the door at the first opportunity. Inside the floor is covered with blood and on the walls are hung the tortured bodies of his former wives. She is so upset by this she drops the key and it becomes covered in the blood. Bluebeard unexpectedly returns home saying that he received news that his business had been concluded while he was on the road. He asks for the keys to the house back. She returns all but the small golden key which she hasn't been able to get all the blood off of yet. In the end she returns it to him and he sees the blood. Knowing that she had gone into the forbidden room, he tells her that she must reenter it as well and die like the other women that he could not trust. Again there is some variation on the ending of this story, but the girl manages to stall, get help and have her husband killed. She then inherits everything and life ends well.

In the movie version and in the written versions that I researched last night after watching the film, the story focuses much more on the keys and the discovery of the bloody chamber than in how she escapes. In one version of the story the author noted the moral is that women should learn to guard their curiosity and completely and totally obey their husbands. My response to this is "Paa--leeze, what f-ing planet are you on?" There was another moral to the tale that I am just going to quote here directly:

Moral: Curiosity, in spite of its appeal, often leads to deep regret. To the displeasure of many a maiden, its enjoyment is short lived. Once satisfied, it ceases to exist, and always costs dearly.
Another moral: Apply logic to this grim story, and you will ascertain that it took place many years ago. No husband of our age would be so terrible as to demand the impossible of his wife, nor would he be such a jealous malcontent. For, whatever the color of her husband's beard, the wife of today will let him know who the master is.

These morals also cause a bit of eye-rolling on my part. I think that there are plenty of modern references to similar stories. Let's look beyond the carnage of the past wives in the story. What do they represent? His string of victims, the women in his past that he has kept secret, his history of lies. Bluebeard has used his riches, his knowledge, his worldliness, his eccentricities to draw women to him. He then asks the impossible of them....he clearly sets them up to fail. To the outward observer the "rules" that he has set up in this game of his only make sense to him. Clearly, we are looking at the classic representation of a sociopath.

There is nothing wrong with curiosity. There is nothing wrong with wanting to know the truth about the person that you marry. For a local example of this story, look to the Lori Hacking case. Her husband lied to her about his past and what he was currently doing, when she learned the truth he killed her. This case happened shortly before the whole drama with my ex, and it is a story that I identify with deeply. I feel very very lucky that my version of the Bluebeard story did not turn out the same....and yet the fairytale still remains. Sinister and frightening. Used historically by men as a justification for violence against women; retold by women as a cautionary tale of what the worst could be. Makes sense to me why I was weirded out all last night and couldn't sleep very well.

In any case, it has started me re-looking at some of these more "non-kid-appropriate" fairytales. I have a co-worker who has an affinity for the Red Riding Hood tale as it is an example of a tale warning women of going off alone in the woods for what could happen to them. There is a South American tale warning women off of going off in the woods alone because they will be impregnated by an ogre. How is this any different then telling women that they will avoid being raped if they don't go out at night, or don't wear that short skirt? I recently reread a telling of the creation myth of Medusa. Did you know that she was raped by Poseidon in the temple of Athena....and Athena cursed her with the whole snake get-up as a punishment? Why are the women being punished in these stories? When I do awareness work on rape culture and victim blaming it is so easy to say that we don't really believe that the victim is at fault....and then again....look at all the stories that we have grown up with. It really feels like an impossible climb...and definitely something that cannot be conquered in one little blog post here. As I continue researching, I'll let you know what I learn.

In the meantime, beware of men with blue beards and cross-dressing wolves.

I'm An Ancient Fertility Goddess!

Last year, Libby and I walked (because I did little running that day) in the Pride Festival 5K. We came in last, dead last. You can see the results online - which I looked up today. You can also see pictures of us walking in. And while I am not normally a photogenic person....this one is pretty bad. And yes, I am about to make fun of myself....it isn't because I have low self-esteem, it is because I have a good sense of humor.
Here is a photo of me looking HUGE:

Know what it looks like?


This.


The Venus of Willendorf, baby. I see this as even further proof that you should all worship me. Worship Me!!!

Psst....can I make a small request?

Just as a short plea to all of those who I have talked about my baby plans with.... please, please, PLEASE stop suggesting that I have some random hook-up with a stranger (or suggest that I proposition a co-worker to sleep with me) in order to get pregnant.

I know that you are all excited about my decision. I am too.
But, if I am going to do this, I need to do it in a rational and well-thought-out way.

I know that there are much cheaper ways of getting pregnant than going to a fertility clinic. But I really don't want a "baby daddy" situation. I want a father who is either completely and totally a part of this decision, a part of my life and in the life of my future child, or a father who is not there at all.

So I ask you all to just be patient. August is still the goal. I want to have the money for the procedure and my maternity leave saved up before I conceive. The time will go by faster then you think.

And if you are really adamant about me having a child in a more "traditional" manner....then set me up on a date with someone who is seeking a serious relationship rather than a random "hookup".

So there, that's my rant.
We're still cool right?