Lyrics for a Moment

I huff gasoline from your shirt
And blur the questions that no one could ever answer
I empty my head of all that I know
Seems like the best view is the one from below

We are anti-movements, we are anti-anti
One time we believed but now we don't even try
And I can't cut a rug, without my fashion drugs
Inebriation leads revelation

Gettin' down in the town that makes no sound
You say there's nothing wrong but I don't hear it

I will burn your love letters in a parking deck
Where I have harbored great things that I will never confess
We keep fresh paint on the countenance
Now we keep it simple but make it more complex

We are anti-movements, we are anti-anti
One time we believed but now its passé and cliché
And she'll say anything to make you move again
But is it the truth? I don't care if it is

Snowden, Anti-anti

Watercolored

I took Caspian to the airport yesterday morning.  He is in Montreal right now, typing to me as he sits in his temporary pad.  He started a new blog, abandoning his old one about opera singing and life as a singer.  I hope he hasn't abandoned his lifelong dream of that life.  His new blog, strangely, has been entitled Revenge of Hoss. Mystifying.  Astute though, and amusing.

On the flip side but not really, I am sitting on the black leather couch in the living room of Natty and Pepper, listening to Pendulum, which I told them to buy on iTunes.  I'm using my brand new eeePC with all of the little protective plastic films still adhering to the touchpad and screen.  We just got back from a decadent dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in town, where I probably had too much Greek beer, and definitely too much almond baklava.  I am feeling...  Strangely morose and melancholy, gchatting with Caspian, who is watching fireworks bloom over Montreal.  I feel distant from him in body and mind.  And soul.  Maybe it's the beer?

We hiked the Dragon's Tooth this afternoon.  It was one of the most grueling hikes I've done, but exhilarating!  It's one of the toughest stretches of the Appalachian Trail.  We have excellent pictures, which I will post on another day.  Pepper and I climbed to the very apex of the Tooth and sat on that knife-edged ridge, looking several thousand feet over the misty valley and the velvet tree-smoothed peaks in the distance.  It was raining.  The sound of a billion raindrops hitting a billion leaves hundreds of feet overhead is almost as quietly mind-blowing as the sound of the simultaneous whoosh of the wings of a flock of starlings taking flight from a beech tree.  It was befuddling and my heart was racing with joy.

Today's rain goes with the lush joy and now strange pain I feel.  My colors are fluid and running together, bound and sculpted into their shapes by the whims of the water.

Eloquence

This opinion piece from the New York Times is beautifully-written.  Excerpts:

At their worst, Varronians make flimsy claims on preserving public decorum and solidify the state’s marginalization of religious minorities — as the Swiss did in December 2009 by passing a referendum banning the construction of minarets. Augustinians at their worst expect the state to respect primordial bigotries and tribal exceptionalism — as do many of this country’s so-called Christian conservatives.

Might there be a third way? If, as several thinkers have suggested, we now find ourselves in a “post-secular” age, then perhaps we might look beyond traditional disputes between political and ecclesiastical authority, between religion and secularism. Perhaps post-secularity can take justice and equality to be absolutely good with little regard for whether we come to value the good by a religious or secular path. Our various social formations — political, religious, social, familial — find their highest calling in deepening our bonds of fellow feeling. “Compelling state interest” has no inherent value; belief also has no inherent value. Political and religious positions must be measured against the purity of truths, rightly conceived as those principles enabling the richest possible lives for our fellow human beings.

Whitman may have been the first post-secularist in seeing that political and religious institutions declaring certain bodies to be shameful denigrate all human dignity: every individual is a vibrant body electric deeply connected to all beings by an instinct of fellow feeling. Such living democracy shames the puerile self-interest of modern electoral politics, and the worn barbarisms lurking under the shroud of retrograde orthodoxy.

Those commenters who call Faisal Mohamed obtuse and cannot fathom the crystal clear message of this article are particularly thick-skulled.

Order and Chaos

At our favorite Thai restaurant last night, Caspian, N and I were discussing our natures. N thinks he's what he calls an "organic methodical" person. I am definitely a "chaotic organized" person, and Caspian is an "industrial directive" person.

My mind is so chaotic that I am compelled to order my environment. At my mind's most chaotic, my environment is likely at its most pristine.

N doesn't seem to need organization to impose order upon his mind and is naturally very methodical. His environment tends to grow as it will, higgledy-piggledy, until he has some time away from his methodical work to make it more presentable to the minds of outsiders.  He seems to let nature take its course, and he's a more natural as a person as well, wearing comfortable, cheap clothes and is not finicky about his appearance.

Caspian ALWAYS has a directive. Whatever he is doing, he is doing it for a particular reason or group of reasons. Even when he's watching Law & Order, he is doing so for a very specific reason; whereas, when I watch Law & Order, it's probably because I don't have a directive.  He is not organic.  He's logical and rational (usually) and also emotional.  He likes to be well-groomed.  I think of him as an architect, while N is more of a cultivator.

I am a creature of order and chaos.  I love and hate them both.

There are a few things I do for absolutely no rational or logical reason.  I will never put a bumper sticker on a car because I hate them for no real reason.  I will wait until it is absolutely necessary to get a smart phone, for no real reason.  When people tell me to go somewhere because it is awesome, I will probably go out of my way to not go to that awesome place.  Sometimes I take roundabout routes in the car to familiar places, sometimes wasting significant quantities of time and gasoline, for absolutely no rational reason.  35 minutes feels like it's at least 20 minutes longer than 30 minutes.

GRRR!

Homophobia makes me so ill. Trembling with restrained anger ill.

I read the New York Times everyday, usually perusing it at my leisure, focusing mostly on the Health, World, U.S. and Opinions categories. Well, I clicked my way through to a discussion about a recently-released movie about the family of a lesbian couple.

Some of those comments got my hackles up. Why can't I just click that little X in the corner and shut it all down? Why do I torturously keep reading? To tally up the shots fired by the accepting vs. those of the homophobes? There really is no comparison of logic... The accepting are categorically logical and love-oriented, while the prejudiced are religious and full of hate. Kind of a horrible joke that hate and religion can make such well-matched bedfellows.

And you know why I feel so ill? I can't argue. No matter what approach I take - love, logic, science, you name it - they are all moot arguments in the face of fundamentalist Christianity. There's really no point to even trying. It's so hard being an agnostic with an interest in religion and theology, standing apart from the system, the proponents of which are still so utterly enmeshed that they can't break free enough of the accompanying cultural norms to compose a universal argument. I guess I must be too NON-enmeshed to compose an argument with true clout to those I so desperately wish to sway. I shouldn't even try, there's no point. No reason to, except to try to assuage my own pain, express my own ideas, because my arguments fall into the same empty void as theirs do. I will try to be a void.

I can't fight self-imposed ignorance and religion-backed hate.

Projects and Musings

I should have started taking before & after pictures of our apartment before assembling about 20 boxes and packing up all of our books and some of our fragile items.  The place is in a sort of ordered shambles, with boxes neatly in corners, bare bookshelves against walls, rolls of bubble wrap and packages of unassembled boxes everywhere.  It is going to take ages to pack up the kitchen.

My sewing machine sits on the desk, unused, in its beautiful little brocade drape.  Maybe after Caspian leaves on Friday, I'll make an excursion to the fabric store to start on my new little projects, which I wrote down in Elena, my planner:

- Cases for ugly brown pillows
- Pillowcases for bed
- Knitting bag
- Scrap bag
- Shopping totes

I also have to somehow eat all of the staples we've stocked up, and I have no idea how I'm going to do that.  I have been told that international relocation goes much more smoothly if one doesn't pack food and other consumables.

How am I mind-wise, you ask?  Feeling like my life is finally moving again.  Slightly hungry and about to eat the dry cereal I packed for a snack.  Victorious. Chilly.  Feminist.  Particularly satisfied by the work I've been doing this week.  Happy that thunderstorms are brewing.  Equally sad and eager at the opportunity to live and travel alone for a month.  While my mate is exceedingly fun to be around, I think we will both enjoy being responsible only for ourselves for a little while, and I'm pretty sure he'd agree with me!

I'm not always the easiest person to be around.

On the Fritz

Caspian and I are the reluctant, intrepid heroes of an ongoing air conditioning saga. Currently, where we live, it has been about 100 degrees F every day, with 80% humidity. This is the most rotten weather on the planet. One walks outside for 30 seconds between house and car, and one is drenched with sticky sweat.

A few weeks ago, our AC unit began to give out. Maintenance did a "quick fix" of some sort, which worked until about two weeks ago, and now it's regularly on the fritz. About 4 days ago, it gave out altogether.

It is horrendous to have to exist without someplace that serves as a retreat from the wicked weather. Haze fills the thick air. Every breath is half water. The sun beats down mercilessly, endlessly, torturously. I almost yearn for a Montreal February.

Well, Caspian is furious. He's good at being assertive and angry, so I'll leave it to him to berate maintenance later this afternoon. Yesterday, he declared that he would take a cold shower. I hear him turn on the water. A minute or two passes, and then I hear a rather androgynous yelp, followed by the assertion (in a very deep, impressive voice), "Ahem, that was manly."

Resignation

I just resigned.  It went well.

My sister and I, at the Paramore concert Friday.

Confetti!

P.S. - I just discovered Dream Theater, and I'm impressed.

American Gods

The crowd waits with bated breath, screaming for attention.  The altar is a mystery, lit from behind with fey, wild lights that shoot up into the mists.  The night is hot and black and the devotees howl at the murky stars, chanting the names of the gods, demanding their appearance.  They are barely clothed, dripping with sweat, wrapped in excitement and anticipation that is almost palpable.  Many of them resemble gods themselves, hair in wild, purposeful disarray, dyed in unnatural shades, jewelry and tattoos writhing across their necks and arms.

Suddenly, the altar scene changes...  The lights move urgently, the vast screen that shields the crowd from its secrets is clutched in the hands of backlit silhouettes, larger than life, and shadows of figures race across its enigmatic surface - and with an enormous blast of sound, it is ripped away.

Arcane colors flit across the exultant disciples as they reach their hands toward their beloved deities, chanting, crooning, screeching!  It is a scene of human chaos.  Huge LED screens pour their endless supply of liquid light in white and red and green and blue, flooding, flashing, instructing, sending the devotees into a frenzy of worship as the rites begin!  Concentrated deluges of sound blast through the chests of the worshipers, accelerating their heartbeats, changing the rhythms of their breaths.

The gods and goddess are there upon the altar, crooning into their microphones, glowing.  The worshipers know all of the words by rote and their combined thousands of voices echo, puny, in the massive wake of that of the charismatic goddess who now commands their attention.  She screams and she basks in the sea of light, a lithe, fire-haired figure staring up, spinning, oblivious, uncaring that her crowd of disciples is watching her every move.  She shamelessly takes her pleasure, amazed and bedazzled herself that she is the object of such emotion, for she is a young goddess.  The crowd is at once spellbound and shivering delightedly with jealousy at the simplicity of her power.  They will never be carousing with her on that altar.

With a whip of her hand, she commands the crowd to do her bidding, and it obeys without hesitation.  Her power isn't fear; it's love.  It's music.

I want to be a rockstar, too.

A Piece for the Patriarchs

I have a lot of issues with patriarchy. I think I would have a lot of issues with a similarly motivated "matriarchy" if it existed as a powerful force in American society, but it doesn't and never will. I don't just have issues with patriarchy; I vehemently oppose it.  Those blogs I read that inspire such frustration and sadness in me are usually the blogs of patriarchal women, women who support the concept of men as leaders and decision-makers and women as holy background scenery, homemakers, mothers.  All of these roles are important, but I disbelieve that they are concretely male or female.

I read these blogs anyway, just to find out if these ladies can truly back their claims about gender roles.  Sometimes there is definitely truth in their assertions, and science, and logic - and other times, their sources are biased, their science is outdated and their reasoning is inherently flawed.  Unfortunately for them, scripture will never sway me as a source of ultimate instruction and judgment.  I don't believe in satan, hell, or that the bible is the word of God.  I may be spiritual, but I am also deeply agnostic.  These women are categorically driven by the socialization that they don't even notice is working in their words and thoughts and actions.

So am I, but at least I challenge it on a daily basis.

I also read to find ways to counteract.  To oppose.  We just don't speak the same language.

So often, I hear that women simply are not meant to work in a "man's world."  Women lack the motivation, wherewithal and competitive natures to excel, thus making them imperfect choices as potential employees.  Women should never believe that employers owe them anything, because they are inherently imperfect choices.  I often read the assertion that the dearest ambition of every woman is to become a mother, and if particular women claim not to have this ambition, they are denying their true natures and are pathetic creatures doomed to dissatisfaction later in life.  According to many articles and posts I've read, this inevitable vicious cycle of thought and action on the parts of women relating to wifedom, motherhood and homemaking makes them virtually unemployable, expensive and unable to devote the necessary amount of time and energy needed to excel in a "man's world."  This entire set of assertions is based on one flawed pillar:  God made women to be, ultimately, wives, mothers and homemakers.

It was with satisfaction, agreement and hope that I read this opinion piece published in the New York Times entitled Don't Write Off Men Just Yet, by Nicholas Kristof.  Excerpts:

With women making far-reaching gains, there’s a larger question. Are women simply better-suited than men to today’s jobs? The Atlantic raised this issue provocatively in this month’s issue with a cover story by Hanna Rosin bluntly entitled, “The End of Men.”

“What if the modern, postindustrial economy is simply more congenial to women than to men?” Ms. Rosin asked. She adds: “The postindustrial economy is indifferent to men’s size and strength. The attributes that are most valuable today — social intelligence, open communication, the ability to sit still and focus — are, at a minimum, not predominately male. In fact, the opposite may be true.”

Yet count me a skeptic. My hunch is that we’re moving into greater gender balance, not a fundamentally new imbalance in the other direction. Don’t hold your breath for “the end of men.”
I think we exaggerate the degree to which the sexes are mired in conflict. As Henry Kissinger once said, “Nobody will ever win the battle of the sexes. There’s too much fraternizing with the enemy.” We men want our wives and daughters to encounter opportunity in the workplace, not sexual harassment; women want their husbands and sons to be in the executive suite, not jail. Nearly all of us root for fairness, not for our own sex.  

 So forget about gender war and zero-sum games. Odds are that we men will find a way to hold our own, with the help of women. And we’ll benefit as smart and talented women belatedly have the opportunity to deploy their skills on behalf of all of humanity — including those of us with Y chromosomes.

Unsettled

Kokopelli told me last night at my lesson (which consisted solely of chatting) that there are three events that happen in peoples' lives that are the most unsettling: Divorce, death and moving.

I've been putting off and putting off feelings of grief at walking away from the friends I have here - and some of them ARE dear to me, even if I sometimes wallow in imagined solitude. Caspian and I went out with two unique friends of ours last night to say goodbye. At the end of the night, after I gave my hugs to these friends, despite our pretty casual relationships, our eyes met and lingered and the friendship was transformed into something beyond casual. It was the moment that we both acknowledged that we'd just made our goodbyes to another kindred spirit. I think we both wondered when we'd see each other again.

An Auspicious Day

The air is like syrup and the curls of my hair droop gracefully.  I have fallen back into my old ways - checking Facebook again, reading blogs and articles that leave me frustrated and angry.  My posts are full of facts and banalities and I want to write and scream and delete and write something that is me and not what I think you are.  I laugh!

My coffee is cool and has not enough half and half in it.  I am excited about the new, discounted slipcovers I just purchased for our old mossy velveteen armchair and comfy plaid couch.  The insides of my glasses reflect the side of my face in minute detail and I can see the microscopic mica motes of my eyeshadow - Golden Sunset Perle, by L'Oreal.  I didn't use conditioner this morning because I accidentally bought 2-in-1 Pantene and my hair was like a soft, squeaky fizzly nest of dendrites that took ages to unravel.

This is me, alliteration and selfishness and beauty and everything.

The orchestrated version of Clair de lune is insipid.

Resigning Myself with Style

Caspian's mother has gifted me with a beautiful (and heavy) black lacquered screen from Japan, inlaid with flowers and sparrows.  It weighs more than I do and is at least six feet tall, with hammered copper feet.  Caspian's grandparents are antique dealers and have many, many beautiful and priceless things.  For Christmas just before our wedding, Caspian's grandmother gifted me with a set of the loveliest porcelain dishes shaped like fish and signed by the artist, a national treasure of Japan.  I don't even want to ask what they're worth.  Those, the antique tea set from my uncle, my wedding and engagement rings and my piano are among my most prized possessions.  I don't even open up that marvelous wooden box containing the tea set - it's packed in Japanese newspapers from the 1940s.

I am so excited about hiring some burly guys to move the screen to Montreal for me, where I'll use it to divide up a big room into a smaller room and a bedroom for any guests who might visit us.  I could even put my expensive Japanese futon in that little nook.

I am a happy today.  Two more business days until I resign.

Midnight Adventure Movies

I had a grand adventure dream last night. I don't exactly remember it, but I remember enjoying it. I woke up at around 3, pet the cats a little bit, had about 3 spoonfuls of frozen yogurt (I was starving), and went back to bed.

In my next dream, I was at a brand new movie showing. All of the grand adventures I'd had in my previous dream had been filmed and made into a movie! I was so excited to see how my acting ended up. As the beginning credits were starting, the director came up to see me (incidentally, he had 7 fingers on each hand). He told me that the character I played, Kim, was his favorite. I beamed, and I saw my name come flying dramatically onto the black screen.

Then, Caspian was talking in my ear, and my alarm clock was going off. It had been going off for awhile. He said, "It's time for you to wake up and take a shower." I mumppphed at him, turned off the alarm clock disappointedly and rolled over. I didn't get to see my movie.

The Plan

Caspian flies out permanently on July 30th.  I turn my two weeks' notice in on Monday, July 26th.  Meanwhile, I pack and pack and pack some more.  We already have all of our boxes and bubble wrap.  All I need to do is make sure to write up a detailed inventory as I box things up, since Canadian border control needs that information to allow our schtuff to get into the country.

I already boxed up a lot of Caspian's books - they will probably fill 5 boxes.  My books will also fill 5.  That's a lot of books.  I also boxed up unused linens, curtains, furniture covers and pillows.  Sometime soon, I'm going to have to carefully wrap up our French casserole dishes (which we never use), Japanese tea set, glass pitchers and tea pots, since it's unlikely that I'll need them before August 24th - the day I fly out.  Moving day is the 23rd of August.

Lovely and I are driving together from August 10-20 to west coast Michigan for ten days of sun, leisure, coffee, family and nostalgia.  I plan to hike, have early morning coffee at my favorite haunts, visit my favorite candy store, play cribbage with my grandma, go to the beach, and sit on the deck overlooking the river while drinking root beer and listening to the wrens sing.

More Dreams Come True

WE ARE APPROVED FOR MONTREAL! WE'RE GOING!!!!!

Fridaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

I feel about as cute and sassy as this today.

I think I may have discovered my favorite blog.

That is all.

Opinions, Opinions

Welp, I seem to be getting over this strange cold I've had. This whole week, I wake up barely able to breathe, with swollen and painful tonsils. (This may be disgusting, so bear with me) I also poked around a bit thinking I had a tonsillolith, but nope, nothing there.  This morning, I was more chipper than I've been in awhile, and my throat isn't so sore.  Maybe it had something to do with me drinking over 50 oz. of water every day.

Unforfunately, Natty's husband Pepper was very very ill last night and the night before.  He went to urgent care this morning, where they proclaimed it was food-related and non-communicable and prescribed him some anti-nausea pills, so...  He went to work (he's an engineer).  Insanity!  Two nights of what I'd label as acute misery with work during the day?  That's hardcore.

I spent my break this morning writing an extra-long post on abortion after reading this article in the New York Times.  It tracks the evolution of abortion provision in the United States from its roots to today, when physicians and advocates are taking steps toward covering the family planning as a part of basic women's health coverage. More power to these young, tough, dedicated physicians. They are saving the lives of women around the world.

I am pro-choice.  I didn't start out pro-choice, but I am firmly so now.

I myself would probably never opt to have an abortion - but I have the education, the wherewithal, the authority over myself and the financial resources to be able to prevent pregnancy. I am married to a man who supports me and believes in the importance of my independence and authority. In the extreme case that I become pregnant and don't desire to carry to term, my course of action would be to visit my OBGYN and induce rejection of the uterine lining. In the even more extreme case that this procedure was not effective, I would likely carry to term. If I became accidentally pregnant and Caspian wanted to keep the child, I would be more likely to agree to carry to term. However, he doesn't want children right now and would be happy to have a childless marriage. His opinion might change, but if it doesn't, it's fine by me.

When we began talking about marriage, Caspian and I both agreed that children, while they may be welcomed and joyfully anticipated in the future, were not our primary reason for marrying. Motherhood has never been one of my ambitions; in fact, I believe that motherhood is not an ambition, but an essential experience. I didn't dream of having babies as a child. I didn't reject the idea at all, it just didn't even enter my mind as an option in my future. Don't get the wrong idea - we're not anti-child at all, we don't hate babies (we rather like them, a lot!). At this juncture, we simply do not want to be parents. At this juncture. If we decide too late [to concieve] that we did want children, it is our responsibility to accept that fact, or to accept the costs associated with fertility treatments or adoption.

I believe that women should have the right to control what happens to their bodies. Pregnancy is one of those things. This doesn't mean that I believe that pregnancy, childbirth, and parenthood are not amazing and miraculous, and I'm not rejecting that fact or underestimating the responsibilities that come with these things. Reproduction IS a natural, common thing as well. Sometimes it can be a huge unwanted burden, sometimes caused by sick crimes, that results in suffering, oppression, poverty and neglect. A perfect world wouldn't contain those things, but we don't live in a perfect world.

All women (and little girls, sadly), especially those who can't provide for more children, who are drug addicts, who are raped, who are suffering in conditions of extreme poverty, etc. should ALWAYS and READILY have the option to prevent future needless suffering and neglect. Either it is an initial choice (in which contraception is the responsible course of action), or an option of last recourse, which I firmly believe is a mercy.

I could go into the origins of socio-cultural values that have historically rewarded men and punished women for promiscuity, but I'll leave that for another time.  I could go into the morality surrounding family planning, but I believe that anybody who adamantly opposes family planning (in any of its forms), no matter how soft their hearts are, are either too ignorant to understand its implications, or socialized to support the oppression of women.

I have found that almost all of the alternate solutions to the problems that are solved by family planning, set forth by many who adamantly oppose family planning, oppress women.

Camping Trip Pictures

Without further ado, images from my camping trip with RH:

The beautiful lake.  We camped near its shores.

A beaver dam.

A marvelous, tranquil pool.

 I tried to befriend this calf...

 Sunset in forest, with stream.

 I can pack away the marshmallows.  Ferociously.

 Me, looking at the fishes.

Under the rhododendrons.  Their petals were scattered in our path.

Mr. Mossy, an ancient hemlock tree, maybe a century old.

Bee Tree creek.

The water above the falls bubbles up into my hand.

The mountains in the early evening.

Dreams Come True

This whole "working hard" thing? It's a relief. Even though the value of my work is not at all tangibly apparent to me, at least it's intellectually stimulating. Thus far (and it's only day 4), looks like things may work out between my new supervisor and I, despite our dubious beginnings.

All of my dreams are coming true! The stringent dress code has been relaxed through labor day because of an exceptionally hot summer, I got a [tiny] raise, I'm munching on blueberries (given to me by my work dad, W)... What's next?

During the course of my research for work tasks, I've gotten to read about the certifications required of health care professionals in all fields of health care. And, you know what I think would be a very rewarding and dynamic career? Midwifery! It's attainable through a master's degree, and available through a variety of distance education programs. I can directly see (and hold) the value of my work. It's dynamic and I would get to interact with all different kinds of people. I could choose a more clinical or a more homeopathic setting. I could assist with home births. Having a baby is a joyful event (unlike getting hurt and being admitted to the ER). Lots of nice blood and guts and messiness. Yep, that too is a plus!

Evening Whispers

Caspian was at I's house this evening, playing with I's little daughter and having an otherwise grand time. We'll call her iBaby, since her name also begins with an I.

I began this evening with hurried chores followed by a depressed nap on the living room floor, curled up in a ball with a couch pillow. Caspian sat on the couch, headphones in, reading Anne Rice while listening to Miike Snow (yes, it's Miike with two 'i's). His foot was companionably tucked under my thigh. I was just exhausted.

I woke up to him leaving. I sat a bit and stared, ate some bran flakes for dinner... And then played Harvest Moon (one of the GameCube versions) for an hour on the Wii. Then it was a 30-minute soiree with Haydn, followed by an almost joyful jog for 40 minutes. Now, I sit in front of my little eeePC, showered, content, contacts out and glasses on, a nice cold beer beside me, listening to Caspian sing as does the dishes.

Ah, a little cat just spoke.

Movin' Up

I got a 3.1% raise today. It's my first one since being employed here three years ago. Interestingly, the inflation rate between 2007 and now is 7.8%. Even with my raise, I make less than I did when I started.

Is that a demotion couched as praise?

Hiding in Haydn

The precision of Haydn sets me in order. A year of almost completely Romantic and Impressionistic music does take its toll. To think - these intervals and rests and little notes on their stems bloomed upon a page (of vellum?) 226 years ago.

Sonate in, er, G, is one of my audition pieces.

Today was my first 9-hour day of four this week. I worked all nine of them, and much of it was very cerebral and interactive. Craziness. I came home feeling less tired than I would if I had struggled all day to find something to do.

I came home, and Caspian grilled chicken thighs - don't do it. Grilled chicken thighs apparently don't turn out too well. We fed some to the pleading kitties, and ate spinach salad with eggs, walnuts, mozzarella, avocado and vinaigrette - and split a Blue Moon. Now, I hope to finish the second chapter of Linguistics before bedtime.

Time Management

I'm boycotting Facebook, or at least becoming only minimally active in that sphere. What a waste of time and energy. In the course of deleting about 50 "friends," I discovered that my closest childhood friend had unfriended me, probably around a month ago. I giggle as I write this. It's so inane. I'm completely mystified as to why she unfriended me, but if that's the way she wants it, so be it. If I'm influencing her in a bad way, or if she doesn't particularly care about me, I guess I don't need to be keeping in touch with her, do I? Grump grump. I thought she'd evolved a little bit, maybe, perhaps become more adult? No, no, I can't judge her for it. For all I know, she was jealous of me, and in that case I wouldn't blame her. We should all cull those connections that inspire unpleasant things in ourselves. Honestly, I was the one who reached out to her. I was the one who wanted to connect. The best laid plans of mice and men...

I took another time management course on Friday, and despite its cheese factor, there was a lot of good information to be gleaned from it. It was especially enlightening after my lesson with Kokopelli on Thursday night. She told me to point myself in the direction of my goals, and the rest will happen. See, one actually has to HAVE concrete goals in order to do that, so what did I do on Friday? I wrote down a few of my concrete life goals. Here they are, in no particular order:

- Learn French
- Write a sci-fi/fantasy book
- Relearn Japanese
- Go to music school
- Discover a career that I love
- Become extremely well-read

Now that I have those, I wrote down the activities that I need to involve myself in to reach those goals. For example, for "Learn French," I wrote:

- Buy French books
- Read one chapter per week and complete exercises
- Read one chapter of Linguistics book per week
- Practice every day with Natty (sister, minored in French)
- Work on pronunciation with Caspian (husband, opera singer, sings in French)

For that first activity, I assigned a date to it... And I did it. Next, I have to get my butt in gear and start reading. I'd actually assigned a date for that activity to begin, but was so busy this past weekend that I couldn't either practice piano or read my books like I wanted to. Piano and reading have been rescheduled for tonight, after work.

At this week's lesson, Kokopelli is going to teach me how to practice. Oh, I've done a lot of practicing in my day, but I think she means something completely different. It's another time-management thing. Last week, we established that my three primary goals when I get to Montreal will be: Learn French, find a new career, and prepare for auditions. She told me to stick to a rigorous schedule for all of the things I do relating to those three goals, and said "no fewer than 15-20 hours of piano per week." Which means if I get to Saturday and haven't practiced all week, my weekend is essentially going to be spent in front of the keyboard.

Oh, I also switched from five 8-hour days/week to four 9-hour days and one 4-hour day per week, starting today. We'll see how I do. It's actually a strategy to combat my propensity to take naps right after work. I figure if I have less time to myself, I'll be less likely to squander it in sleep?

Birthdays and Dread

We celebrated Caspian's birthday all weekend, with plenty of homemade dessert, several outings for dinner with good company, and his mother bought us tickets to three season shows of our choice at the Montreal Opera...  I guess it's my duty to see Rigoletto again!  Ha.  It is different every time.

Oops, Jesper (our orange cat) just puked in his water bowl.  Must go take care of that.

Whew, back.  Blech.  Friday night, we spent some time with Rooney, Lovely and my mother at our place, where I made yellow cake and vanilla pudding.  I cubed the cake while still warm, poured the still-warm pudding over it, and mixed it with bananas and strawberries.  We served it with whipped cream, and it was probably the most delicious thing I've eaten in awhile.

That night, our guests were waiting for an extreme line of thunderstorms to pass before driving home.  We sat on the porch at midnight, listening to the rain. Suddenly, a gust blew the raindrops into thick, driving mist, which hit like a wall of water.  That moment, just before the rain wall hit and my face was into the storm-smelling breeze was like the moment you wake up after a deep sleep and you haven't yet remembered that you're supposed to be a living, breathing, productive member of society.

It's my bedtime.  I dread tomorrow.

Dichotomy

You know, I'm a strange dichotomy of craving [intellectual] hard work and being terrified of it at the same time.  Maybe I'm just terrified of working hard at something I dread and find utterly banal.  We'll see how I do next week as I'm borrowed by a new supervisor whom I find interesting personality-wise, although I'm worried about a new management style.  I think I am found pert and uncensored.

There has to be a place for me.  I started reading my Linguistics textbook.  Immersing myself in material that's actually around my reading level was like swimming in cake.  Or something.  I even got out a highlighter and marked passages I found particularly interesting and information that I hadn't known before.

Dreaming of Montreal

Still no news from Montreal International, but we're hopeful that information will find its way to us soon.  Caspian took a test to apply for a really dynamic and neat position in his company, and it was brilliantly written and backed by a whole lot of passion (not to mention some neat concept art by one of his best friends).  I probably shouldn't be as optimistic about his chances as I am, but hey, optimism is fun!  Despite my moods, I consider myself to be a pretty optimistic person.

In addition to local news, the New York Times, occasional forays to CNN, PolicyWatch, the Washington Post and the Chicago Tribune, I've started reading the Montreal Gazette to learn more about the political and social environment there.  Looks like the heat wave that has gripped SE USA is plaguing Quebec as well, but on a smaller scale.  I'm comforted to hear that it does indeed get up to 90 degrees in Montreal...  But the thought of winter is pretty terrifying to me.  I guess if I have all the right clothes...

I have several books going right now, a couple of which I've already read.

Currently Reading:

Kushiel's Dart, by Jacqueline Carey - Probably one of my favorite books/series of all time.  The passionate, sexy, brilliant and dynamic story of a very unique courtesan and how she changes a world.

Sabriel, by Garth Nix - The first of the Abhorsen trilogy, it's the story of a young necromancer and her fight to save her father from an unknown fate.  A compelling universe with fascinating characters, and one of my most favorite books.  Another interesting, flawed heroine.

Walden, by Thoreau - An old classic detailing Thoreau's sustainable, responsible, purposeful existence in a small cabin at the edge of a pond.  His dated prose can be both ponderous and poetic.

Buddhist Scriptures, Edward Conze, ed. - A survey and an introduction to important Buddhist writings.  I really need to pick this one up again, I got a bit frustrated with the male centrism.

Books I Intend to Read:

Linguistics, Adrian Akmajian et al. - I have this weighty tome waiting on my shelf and I haven't been able to forego my favorites to start relearning about one of my passions.  Probably a prudent read now that I'm about to be forced (happily) to learn Quebecois!

Quebecois Dictionary and Phrasebook, Renata Isajlovic - One of they very few I could find that wasn't for rookies or basically a children's book.  We'll see how it performs when it arrives in a few days.

Berlitz Self-Teacher:  French, Berlitz editors - An older French textbook and very substantial, from what I read in the reviews before purchasing it used.  While I'm a veteran language-learner, I haven't spent much time at all studying romance languages (does Latin count?) and should probably begin at the beginning.  I don't think I'll have a huge problem with grammar or writing, but pronunciation, on the other hand...

Happenings and Ponderings

I'm starved of creativity, and I'm of a mind that employers should be lucky to have me - not the other way around.

When I started knitting a set of 8 cotton washcloths two weeks ago, I had no idea that knitting was a skill - I just thought it was something you do, or you don't.  Nope, it's something that you can do poorly, and improve at with practice.  My first washcloth contains two dropped stitches and is about the shape of Alabama.  My second one is better, but still gloppy around the edges.  They continued to get better and better until the 6th and 7th cloths, which are perfectly square and evenly knit, and then I attempted to make another one out of the remnants of three different yarns, alternating yarns every 6th or 7th row...  And I'm back to misshapen and gloppy.  Clearly, I was ready to graduate from simple knitting to simple knitting with multiple yarns.  Maybe someday I'll be proficient enough to make a non-gloppy sweater!

At  mile 4 on the treadmill Sunday afternoon, I kept thinking about three short stories that I'd written as an undergrad for a project in a graduate-level class.  Our professor gave us minimal instructions; we simply had to answer a question as thoroughly as possible in whatever medium we wanted.  Most people just wrote academic-style papers.  I wrote one of those, then created an abstract painting in acrylic on canvas.  My final project was this series of three short stories, each illustrating one thing in a completely different way:  I believe that there is deep value in existing without logical analysis, consuming inputs and enjoying the experience of their beauty, regardless of historical culture and the motivations of the people who brought them into being.  Something like the yogic "mindfulness," but with a media twist.

Of course, that's anathema to academia, which is all about critique and analysis.  I thought that class went way overboard in the analysis department, and said so - but in a strange way, since the three stories weren't about the class topic at all.  One of them is, I think, a fine example of reflexive, interesting and well-written science-fiction/fantasy.

I've been brainstorming a longer story/fiction work idea based on the world that I barely sketched out in that short story.

A Sham

I haven't done anything particularly great or noble with my life recently.  That stagnant feeling is back, probably because of the waiting game we're playing with Montreal International.  Work has become exceptionally meaningless in the face of the excitement of this move.  Here I am, one of the most educated people in the organization, barely mustering the initiative to complete any tasks.  I can't find the purpose in any of them.  Sometimes I'm absolutely positive that there are marvelous things in my future, other times I worry that I won't find the paths to those great things, won't follow them - or won't recognize them - for whatever reason.

The 9 days I've had off out of 10 have been both good and bad for me.  I spent time in the wilderness with one of my best friends and her family - ack, she's so special, smart and beautiful, and loved by so many.  I have this irrational fear that my subtle love might be lost in the face of the affection of so many other brighter stars.

Not feeling like much of a star.  I haven't employed the full extent of my talent and initiative more than a couple times in my life.  Few things can pull that out of me, and I'm terrified that I won't get another chance and my passion will atrophy.  Maybe it's already gone.  Somebody ask me to work - work hard at something, somebody challenge me.  Even at work I feel useless, since my work is accepted as good.  I'm praised for this stuff.  God, I'm such a sham.

New Graphics

I'm not a fan of using templates.  I'm a creative person and the idea of having a space, place, an idea without imbuing it with a piece of oneself is depressing to me.  So, I was fiddling around in Photoshop and came up with this very simple, colorful scheme.  RH took so many beautiful pictures that I'm sure that one of them will be part of a layout in the near future, so you can probably expect another change.  If you've stopped by via a feed, please visit!

Vacation Success

I hath returned!

RH and I are back from the mountains, where we spent four days traversing the deepest, darkest, most tranquil valleys and the sunniest, breeziest of knolls.  We tried to befriend cows we met in mountain pastures.  We fell into raging creeks as they tumbled from massive, boulder-strewn outcrops.  We crouched in nooks and crannies that have sheltered thousands of years of humans.  We didn't shower, we got dirty, we got sunburned canoeing on the lake.  We danced nimbly around poison ivy and were petal-strewn by millions of rhododendron blossoms.  It was fabulous.

It was so nice to see Caspian, my husband, again.

RH took bunches of pictures, but you'll have to wait until she returnes to Los Angeles to see them!