Friday, September 12, 2008
[Fighting the lack of] HOPE
This morning I wish I could agree with my dad that it will be some neo-conservative conspiracy that will keep a right-wing, fundamentalist government in power that only benefits the wealthiest and greediest Americans. But after some of the things I’ve heard in the past few days, I think it is racist and fearful American voters who will stop progress and prevent an era of hope, quality of life, and compassion.
The first blow to my naiveté came from a story from my mom about a volunteer she knows, who despite agreeing with all of Obama’s policies, just can’t bring herself to vote for a black man. She said it’s just the way she was raised – she never interacted much with “them.” Following that came a story on NPR about race as a factor in the election. At first everyone said they had no racial biases, but through the discussion it became clear that they did.
I’m not voting for Barack Obama because of his race. I would not vote against someone because of their race. I’m voting for the candidate that I think could create the kind of future I want to see in this country – a future where everyone has equal opportunities.
In the same vein, I would not vote for the McCain/Palin ticket because Palin is a woman. Any candidate who hunts animals from airplanes, fights to get polar bears off the endangered species list, has an agenda that includes banning books and replacing comprehensive sex education with abstinence-only education (even with a pregnant teenage daughter at home), left a town of 7500 with a $22 million debt after coming into office with a balanced budget, and considers our occupation of Iraq as a mission from God is not the candidate I want representing me. And McCain picking this governor for his running mate has made it clear once and for all that he is not a maverick – he is another Republican candidate pandering to the far-right, Evangelical Christian, single-issue voters.
One more note on Governor Palin: May I remind you that the last time we voted for a likable yokel from a big oil state we got 8 years of W?
Vote Obama.
The first blow to my naiveté came from a story from my mom about a volunteer she knows, who despite agreeing with all of Obama’s policies, just can’t bring herself to vote for a black man. She said it’s just the way she was raised – she never interacted much with “them.” Following that came a story on NPR about race as a factor in the election. At first everyone said they had no racial biases, but through the discussion it became clear that they did.
I’m not voting for Barack Obama because of his race. I would not vote against someone because of their race. I’m voting for the candidate that I think could create the kind of future I want to see in this country – a future where everyone has equal opportunities.
In the same vein, I would not vote for the McCain/Palin ticket because Palin is a woman. Any candidate who hunts animals from airplanes, fights to get polar bears off the endangered species list, has an agenda that includes banning books and replacing comprehensive sex education with abstinence-only education (even with a pregnant teenage daughter at home), left a town of 7500 with a $22 million debt after coming into office with a balanced budget, and considers our occupation of Iraq as a mission from God is not the candidate I want representing me. And McCain picking this governor for his running mate has made it clear once and for all that he is not a maverick – he is another Republican candidate pandering to the far-right, Evangelical Christian, single-issue voters.
One more note on Governor Palin: May I remind you that the last time we voted for a likable yokel from a big oil state we got 8 years of W?
Vote Obama.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Hold me!
Since we moved to FoCo, I think we had this unspoken bond that we would not drop the F-bomb (Flagstaff, of course, for those of you with dirty minds). We refused to miss it, we would not talk about it, we would continue to list all of the reasons why our new city was infinitely better than the one we had left.
And for the most part it’s really true – we sat on this big grassy hill overlooking a lake filled with Canadian geese which is just a couple of miles from our apartment and couldn’t believe how excited we had gotten about a 20x100 yard expanse of flat grass behind our apartments in Flag. We have great shopping, great restaurants, great parks, close mountains, and the actual realistic prospect of someday buying a house.
But it was silly to think that we wouldn’t miss our little Arizona mountain city – the city where we met, the city where we first lived together, the city where we had our first fajita/margarita night, the city where we made such good friends who we could sit around talking with in coffee shops or at the Wine Loft or playing Frisbee.
This is not my big, “We’re moving back to Flagstaff” post, in case that’s what you were wondering. We’re happy here, I like my job, I like the college, being an hour from RMNP is pretty sweet, and our -4 year old loves the parks and good schools. But there are still the Thursday nights where I dream about going to Barnes & Noble with Bryan and Colleen, wish we could go play pool with Becca and Kevin, or meet for drinks at the Wine Loft with people from Steve’s work.
So I guess what I’m saying is sometimes I’m a little homesick. And I wish everyone I knew was independently wealthy so we could just spend all of our time visiting each other.
And for the most part it’s really true – we sat on this big grassy hill overlooking a lake filled with Canadian geese which is just a couple of miles from our apartment and couldn’t believe how excited we had gotten about a 20x100 yard expanse of flat grass behind our apartments in Flag. We have great shopping, great restaurants, great parks, close mountains, and the actual realistic prospect of someday buying a house.
But it was silly to think that we wouldn’t miss our little Arizona mountain city – the city where we met, the city where we first lived together, the city where we had our first fajita/margarita night, the city where we made such good friends who we could sit around talking with in coffee shops or at the Wine Loft or playing Frisbee.
This is not my big, “We’re moving back to Flagstaff” post, in case that’s what you were wondering. We’re happy here, I like my job, I like the college, being an hour from RMNP is pretty sweet, and our -4 year old loves the parks and good schools. But there are still the Thursday nights where I dream about going to Barnes & Noble with Bryan and Colleen, wish we could go play pool with Becca and Kevin, or meet for drinks at the Wine Loft with people from Steve’s work.
So I guess what I’m saying is sometimes I’m a little homesick. And I wish everyone I knew was independently wealthy so we could just spend all of our time visiting each other.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
The Grandma Jean that I knew…
Sitting in her memorial service and going through her things made me realize how little I knew about my grandma. I didn’t know the woman who exchanged funny, flirty anniversary cards with her husband, was an excellent seamstress, and an impressive musician. To me she was always just my grandma, and the things that I’ll remember about her are much different:
• At Christmas and Easter, the notes that came from Santa or the Easter bunny were a squiggly version of her handwriting (obviously carefully disguised).
• At her house we would always eat peanut butter and jelly on wheat bread with carrot sticks and apple slices and fewer chips than either of us would have liked (eating crusts, especially on wheat bread, was slightly horrifying at the time).
• When she would babysit us, she would be the pitcher when we would play with the Snoopy baseball set. When it was too late to play outside, we would play Yahtzee.
• She could easily trade joking (or at least half joking) insults with my dad.
SIDENOTE: My only social skill - starting conversations with something sarcastic and inappropriate - came from my dad. So I’ll blame him for implying that my cousin was on drugs in front of the minister. But that’s another post for another time…
• We would try on my Mom’s wedding dress in the yellow room (my mom’s old room) where she kept all of her old formal dresses. We would sit at the vanity and look at ourselves in all the different lights on the makeup mirror.
• In her house she had a pink bathroom and always had Aquafresh toothpaste which was the best because it was stripe-y. She also had a plastic cuticle pusher that I thought was very cool even though I had no idea what it really did.
• She would pay us 10 cents for every acorn we picked up in her yard.
• She would let us play with Mom’s old dolls, Debby and Cathy
• She would let us drink out of the brightly colored aluminum cups that were in the “bar” in the basement.
• We would put on fabulous roller skating shows on her driveway.
• When we stayed at her house for long periods of time, we would get to watch As The World Turns with her.
• She always made sure that we were taken care of – fed, clean, clothed, and equipped with the resources to take up any opportunity that came our way.
• She was practical and strong. She loved us, and we loved her.
I wish any of this brought any sort of closure but I think I’ll always have to remind myself that she’s not in Lincoln welcoming a visit when we can break away from our busy lives.
• At Christmas and Easter, the notes that came from Santa or the Easter bunny were a squiggly version of her handwriting (obviously carefully disguised).
• At her house we would always eat peanut butter and jelly on wheat bread with carrot sticks and apple slices and fewer chips than either of us would have liked (eating crusts, especially on wheat bread, was slightly horrifying at the time).
• When she would babysit us, she would be the pitcher when we would play with the Snoopy baseball set. When it was too late to play outside, we would play Yahtzee.
• She could easily trade joking (or at least half joking) insults with my dad.
SIDENOTE: My only social skill - starting conversations with something sarcastic and inappropriate - came from my dad. So I’ll blame him for implying that my cousin was on drugs in front of the minister. But that’s another post for another time…
• We would try on my Mom’s wedding dress in the yellow room (my mom’s old room) where she kept all of her old formal dresses. We would sit at the vanity and look at ourselves in all the different lights on the makeup mirror.
• In her house she had a pink bathroom and always had Aquafresh toothpaste which was the best because it was stripe-y. She also had a plastic cuticle pusher that I thought was very cool even though I had no idea what it really did.
• She would pay us 10 cents for every acorn we picked up in her yard.
• She would let us play with Mom’s old dolls, Debby and Cathy
• She would let us drink out of the brightly colored aluminum cups that were in the “bar” in the basement.
• We would put on fabulous roller skating shows on her driveway.
• When we stayed at her house for long periods of time, we would get to watch As The World Turns with her.
• She always made sure that we were taken care of – fed, clean, clothed, and equipped with the resources to take up any opportunity that came our way.
• She was practical and strong. She loved us, and we loved her.
I wish any of this brought any sort of closure but I think I’ll always have to remind myself that she’s not in Lincoln welcoming a visit when we can break away from our busy lives.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
Do they make a medication for this?
So normally I like to think of myself as a pretty logical person. Hopefully not like the clueless FBI agent/CIA agent/police officer/museum curator/professor in the movies that is always saying, “But this can’t be! I’m sure of it!” right before the alien/killer pandemic/ghost/prehistoric curse offs them (after all, I have seen all seven seasons of Buffy at least 4 times plus the first graphic novel). But in general, I think I’m fairly level-headed.
But my normally logical thinking completely breaks down with my belief in some weird karmic scorecard where the universe is constantly weighing everything I say or do and altering our lives because of it. And not in systematic ways, like if you try hard and think positively things will work out. No it’s like a guessing game of random events that I’m sure will determine our fate.
Take for instance, the potential of Steve working here on campus. Everything I say about it, think about it, and even completely non-related events affect, in my mind, the chances of this happening. If I mention it too many times, then we want it too badly and the universe will teach us a lesson. If I don’t mention it enough, then we don’t want it badly enough and it will go to someone else who wanted it the proper amount. Since Becca got her job in Flagstaff, maybe that means that the universe will be balanced by Steve not getting his. Maybe me running into another advisor he would work with is a positive sign, or maybe the fact that I didn’t ride my bike to work enough this week will result in punishment.
Flying is another one that gets me. If I don’t worry at all about flying will the universe try to be ironic and make that the time the plane goes down? Or if I worry too much will I project negative mojo on the plane and make it worse than if I were thinking positively? How can I possibly keep the perfect balance of positive and negative thoughts that are obviously the only thing keeping the plane in the air?
After reading this post, my mom will be thinking that I need more to do. It’s probably true.
But whatever your idea of positive thinking, praying, altering karma, could you please try to do it for Steve to get the job here? Maybe your system will work better than mine.
(Too bad this blog post will do no good since my hope that Steve gets his job is semi-selfish and the universe only rewards completely altruistic thought. Foiled me again, universe!)
But my normally logical thinking completely breaks down with my belief in some weird karmic scorecard where the universe is constantly weighing everything I say or do and altering our lives because of it. And not in systematic ways, like if you try hard and think positively things will work out. No it’s like a guessing game of random events that I’m sure will determine our fate.
Take for instance, the potential of Steve working here on campus. Everything I say about it, think about it, and even completely non-related events affect, in my mind, the chances of this happening. If I mention it too many times, then we want it too badly and the universe will teach us a lesson. If I don’t mention it enough, then we don’t want it badly enough and it will go to someone else who wanted it the proper amount. Since Becca got her job in Flagstaff, maybe that means that the universe will be balanced by Steve not getting his. Maybe me running into another advisor he would work with is a positive sign, or maybe the fact that I didn’t ride my bike to work enough this week will result in punishment.
Flying is another one that gets me. If I don’t worry at all about flying will the universe try to be ironic and make that the time the plane goes down? Or if I worry too much will I project negative mojo on the plane and make it worse than if I were thinking positively? How can I possibly keep the perfect balance of positive and negative thoughts that are obviously the only thing keeping the plane in the air?
After reading this post, my mom will be thinking that I need more to do. It’s probably true.
But whatever your idea of positive thinking, praying, altering karma, could you please try to do it for Steve to get the job here? Maybe your system will work better than mine.
(Too bad this blog post will do no good since my hope that Steve gets his job is semi-selfish and the universe only rewards completely altruistic thought. Foiled me again, universe!)
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