BLOCKED BY THE INDIAN GOVERNMENT

well... I have not been able to see my own blog for a couple days now, and I just found out that the reason is because the Indian Government has frigging blocked Blogger.

Yes I am serious. So I can post but I cannot see my own site or read anyone else's site on Blogger. But I can read your comments because they come to my email.

Thought I moved to the largest democracy in the world. Apparently I was mistaken.

PS... for those of you who are curious to read about it, just google blogger + india. or turn on the news if you are here in India. The government has admitted it was them who ordered the block.

POLITICAL RANT

I am infuriated. OK that is not strong enough a word. I am incensed. I am angered to my core. I am violently pissed off.

That video. Have you seen it? That man, who might or might not be a US marine singing a song about killing Iraqi girls? With glee?

When I saw it on the news here last night I could not believe my ears.

This is what war does. It turns people into monsters. Monsters that can make a joke out of murder. Out of murdering children.

In vietnam ordinary boys were turned into killing machines. They were twisted and warped and dehumanized so all they knew how to do was kill. I am not giving excuses. I do not believe in this war or any war. But I do think the troops, most of whom do not believe in the war either, are in a very very bad position. Maybe that is what happened to this asshole. Or maybe he is just a very very evil man. Either way, this is just another symptom of what war does. People are senselessly killed, and other people go mad.

Thanks Bush, yet another disgusting act to chalk up to your asinine persuit of wealth and greed at any any any cost. Do us all a favor, take your singing pal (and Carl Rove while you're at it) and go to hell.

And She's Back!

Well, I have made it to Bangalore... all my baggage made it in one piece, and I am safe and sound in my new apartment. It is centrally located and really, really spaciaous and airy. Lots of balconies and we have a private terrace that is the same size as the apartment itself. I have never had so much room to set up in my life.

So thanks, everyone, for the well-wishes. I am sure this will take some adjustment, but I am very much looking forward to exploring my new home. :)

More to come. I am thinking of starting a separate blog about my journies. What say? something like "adventures of a firang squirrel in India" ?

UPDATE: Adventures of a Firang Squirrel can now be found here. I will continue this space as well until I figure out what I am doing.

So I Guess This Is Goodbye

One week from today I leave, so that means I am in the depths of frenzied packing.
It also means that Thursday my computer goes into storage with the rest of my belongings that are not going to India with me.

I have been spending time with friends, but mostly I have been at home sorting my life into cardboard and plastic bins... or simply similing at something one last time before it heads to the compactor. I still have more shite than I know what to do with. How does a girl accumulate so much crap? Sheesh!

So! Everyone take good care of yourselves. I will check my email when I arrive or shortly thereafter... if I have a computer.

And whatever God(s) you believe in, please put in a good word for me. I can just hear a faint voice saying "And watch that last step, it's a doozie!"
(insert grin here)

cheerio!

Home is where the... uh...

right.

Well right now home is where the chaos is. So, sorry I have been absent. I think I may have lost a great many of you by now, cause I know I haven't been a prolific correspondant lately.

I am in packing hell. And firmly ensconsed in a flurry of lunch dates and hair appointments and phone calls and change of address forms and... well, every other detail that accompanies moving one's life to the other side of the planet. I have "to do" lists posted on every surface in my apartment. I have copier boxes and trash bins everywhere. I have bags of clothes and shoes to go to Goodwill overtaking what used to be my dining room. And I have angst creeping up on me in the middle of watching West Wing.

One minute I feel fine and the next I am teary eyed because that was the last time I will probably eat at El Pollo Rico or see a particular friend.

I'll tell ya right now, I am not a girl that loves change. And after the 30th of this month, there is almost nothing about my life that won't change. Now, I love a good challenge. And I am looking forward to what's ahead, for sure. But I am, well, as they say in India... I am shit scared . (FYI, in the US we say scared shitless.) Learning a new city, a new culture, a new working environment. Completely changing the way I dress, the way I eat. My way of life is undergoing an extreme makeover... sans Ty Pennington, t h a n k g o d. These things would be stressors in and of themselves. Combine them together and they look a lot like insanity.

I know it sounds like I am being negative. I am not. I am excited for this move, these opportunities. But I don't think wanting to do something and being fucking scared out of one's mind about it are mutually exculsive.

Anyway, that is where I am now. So I am sorry I have been absent. And from the first of June until mid-July I will be really absent. Well, OK, I will really be in Pondicherry, Rome and Florence, but that is beside the point. My apologies ahead of time for the spotty postings. I am sure you will all forgive me in the end.

So You Had A Bad Day

Yesterday was... um... ugh.
Well, it started out OK. Stephan came over to help me with some heavy lifting, we had some brunch, and then went to run an errand. What we came back to was horrific.

See, I have 2 cats. Sabina and Lucia. Lucia is Sabina's mother. I adopted them both in 2000. Lucia had her first litter when she was just a kitten herself, and these two cats were very very bonded. Lucia had been viciously abused, so she was understandable skittish, and Sabina was just a normal kitten.

Fast forward six years and I have two enormous kitties. Lucia got over her fear of people for the most part, and Sabina turned into a big fat spoilt princess. I love them both like they were my human children. And they love each other. They sleep curled together, wash each other, eat from the same bowl and use the same litter box. If one is in the kitchen, the other comes following soon after. They hate to be apart.

So anyway, we get back to my apartment. And something is very wrong. Stephan had brought a plastic sack with him earlier containing items for him to notarize some documents for me, and had placed it by the couch before we left. When we returned, the stamps were strewn around the livingroom floor, half the ink pad was in my bedroom and Lucia was cowering under my dining room hutch.

I went into my bedroom to find the inky half of the ink pad when the noises started. Oh my god, I thought, where the fuck is Sabina? And what is that yowling?

I went to look under the chair and was met with an ungodly howling and hissing combo, the likes of which I have never heard from a common housecat. Then I realized the plastic bag is missing. And I see blue under the chair with Sabina.

Oh FUCK. It's wrapped around her neck.

So we lift up the chair and she sprints under the dresser. And I suddenly smell shit. And she is HOWLING like she is being murdered, the poor creature. And she surely will not let me anywhere near her to remove the bag.

I called animal control, who arrived about 20 minutes later (NB: Hey Alexandria Animal Control... expect a call from me later. The tool you sent to my house was a total bastard and made me more upset than anything. And he was abusive to my cat. I am pretty sure that the best way of removing a plastic bag from around a scared cat's neck is NOT to stomp on it as the animal runs past you) and eventually the cat was freed from her captor.

I think Sabina is alright. She is insisting on walking frightfully slow and will not go near the bedroom. But the most distressing thing is that she will not let Lucia anywhere near her. She hisses, she growls, she postures. And she slept directly in from of the food and water all night and blocked Lucia's only path to the litter box.

So I reluctantly went to work this morning, but all I can think is that my cats are tearing each other to shreads. And now after all this trauma, how do I subject them to a vet visit in a couple weeks, and a 2 day flight to India in a couple months?

Oh god, these poor animals.

A GIRL, TODAY
IN SOWETO, SOUTH AFRICA
HAS A GREATER CHANCE OF BEING RAPED
THAN LEARNING HOW TO READ

this is what I learned today.
it made my soul ache.

Leaving... well, not New York exactly, but....

This is how I feel today... much like REM's song "Leaving New York"

Much easier easier to understand if you watch the video, but here are the lyrics:

It's quiet now, and what it brings is everything
Comes calling back a brilliant night, I'm still awake
I looked ahead I'm sure I saw you there
You don't need me to tell you now, that nothing can compare
You might have laughed if I told you
You might have hidden the frown
You might have succeeded in changing me
I might have been turned around
It's easier to leave than to be left behind
Leaving was never my proud
Leaving New York never easy
I saw the life fading out

Now life is sweet and what it brings I tried to take
The loneliness, it wears me out, it lies in wait
And on our lost till in my eyes, shadow of necklace across your thigh
I might have lived my life in a dream, but i swear, this is real
Memory fuses in shatters out glass, but carry your future, forget the past
But it's you, it's what i feel.

You might have laughed if I told you (it's pulling me apart)
You might have hidden the frown (change)
You might have succeeded in changing me (it's pulling me apart)
I might have been turned around (change)
It's easier to leave than to be left behind (it's pulling me apart)
Leaving was never my proud (change)
Leaving New York never easy (it's pulling me apart)
I saw the light fading out

You find it in your heart, it's pulling me apart
You find it in your heart, change...
I told you, forever, I love you, forever (you find it in your heart, it's pulling me apart)
I told you ,I love you, I love you, forever (you find it in your heart, change)
I told you, forever, I love you, forever (you find it in your heart, it's pulling me apart)
I told you, I love you, I love you, forever (you find it in your heart, change)

Annoyance at Giant

So I left work early yesterday to go to the grocery store. Last night was the first night of Passover, and as always I was pushing the envelope of timiliness. There was chametz (leavened food items) all over my kitchen, and I still was unsure of exactly where I was going to seder that night.

I decided I had better go to Giant on the way home, just in case (Giant is the local grocery store). See, at the very least I always stick to the commandment that all Jews must eat at least one olive-sized piece of matzoh on the first night of Passover.

I get to Giant, grab a few things and head to the kosher food section. And when I get there, I stare blankly at the shelves. No, it's not what you think. It's not that they are OUT of matzoh. Oh no. The shelves are full of it. But why? Well it's because all the boxes are Kosher, but not Kosher for Passover. There is a difference. At Passover, nothing can be left to rise for more than 22 minutes. So even regular Kosher matzoh is chametz at Passover.

So I go to the customer service desk, and I ask the guy standing at the counter. I can tell the kid is Arabic, and he's really nervous I am going to yell at him. Sweet kid. Not like it's his fault there is no proper Passover food. So finally the manager comes and asks me what the problem is. I tell him there is no Kosher for Passover Matzoh. He tells me there is. I say "OH!" releived, and he walks me back to the section and points to a row of boxes.

"Um, I am sorry, but I cannot eat that." I say to him. I try to explain to him why that is, and he interrupts me. He tells me that it's not his fault that I do not like that particular kind of matzoh. He gets bitchy with me.

"It's not that I do not like it. It's that it's egg matzoh... and technically although that is Kosher for Passover I am not supposed to eat that either. It's for the elderly and kids and stuff."

He stared at me like I am making this up. But I am not. Seriously.

I grab the side of the box and show him where there is a statement by a rabbi stating as much. He shrugs his shoulders and basically walks off.

Nice.
I hope he breaks a toe.

So anyway, Happy Passover folks.

The journey before the journey

It is strange to think that two months from now I will be living in a different country.

I was coming home from a night out with a friend on Friday night... a glorious dinner at Oyamel complete with pomegranate margaritas and my favorite rice made with black mushrooms and mexican soft cheese. Anyway, it was the first truly warm evening of the spring, and I was driving home on the highway with the windows down. As I drove into my neighborhood I was suddenly intoxicated by hundreds of cherry trees in bloom. I pulled over by the lake that is right by my house, and sat there for a while in the darkness, feeling very nostalgic.

I have never been an exraordinarily sentimental person about the U.S. I have my issues with this country, and I will talk about them unabashedly. But as my time comes to leave, I find myself really valuing certain things here. The fact that I know just where to go to get anything I need. And that I *can* buy anything. But I realized the other day that I don't have the first clue where I would go to buy mascara in Bangalore. Never mind that I am sure I will have to give up on wearing only Stila and Laura Mercier cosmetics when my stash runs out. And peanut butter? Can one get Skippy brand crunchy peanut butter? I guess I will eventually have to seek out the help of some expats whove been there a while and have sniffed out the location of some of the essentials.

And before you ask, yes, I adore Indian food. But let's face it, I am sure I will crave the same things there which I crave at home. Which leads me to ask... what are my chances of finding a nice crisp dill pickle? Or hickory smoked bacon. Oh my god... bacon. Don't get me started. And where will I shop for shoes? Don't tell me everywhere. I think there might be a difference between what I am thinking about and what you have in mind. I mean Kenneth Cole. I mean genuine leather with a 3 inch stiletto heel. No chance of there being a DSW in Bengaluru, is there? Illa? Thought not. Yes I know there are high end boutiques. I need something just a little more affordable than Ferragamo (but it's nice to know I can still go and drool over something on the weekends).

No I am not so materialistic that those are the only things I will miss. I will miss my friends. I cannot even focus on that right now, because I have never been apart from them for more than a month. I will miss my family. I will miss being able to drive. I will miss the security of knowing where I am going. Of driving on autopilot because I instinctually know the way. I will miss that I do not have to calculate time zones to talk almost everyone I love. I will miss meeting the girls for dinner or brunch or coffee or Desparate Housewives. I will miss my job. I will miss not living in a city.

But despite it all, I am excited. It is a new phase of my life. A wonderful opportunity to begin a new life. Not many people get this chance. It took a lot for me to decide to take it.

Now to tackle the job of sorting out a lifetime of belongings.
Note to self: where the hell did you get all this shit????

Hooray for Television

There has actually been a lot of great stuff on TV lately.

Last night I caught this documentary on Sundance called Pack Strap Swallow. No, it's not a porn film. It's about these girls from all over the world who are in a prison in Ecuador for drug trafficking. Amazing. These girls range in age from mid 20's to mid 40's. Some were duped into being mules, some were just naive, and some were willingly engaging in what they were imprisoned for.

I felt especially bad for this one woman in her mid 40's. Apparently she went on vacation with her boyfriend, and he switched suitcases with her. The suitcase he gave her was filled with like 4 kilos of heroin, and she got caught. There is not much her lawyer or the US government can do for her in the end, and I forget the exact sentence, but it was something like 12-14 years in prison.

It was scary because just as you're thinking to yourself "well this doesn't look so bad. I mean, they have their own rooms that look like college dorm rooms, and a little kitchenette, and wow.... not so bad, really!" Then some girl gets stabbed in the eye during a Christmas celebration, and you realize... this is prison, and these girls are surrounded by bad-asses.

I am also excited because beginning next Monday at 9 PM on the Travel Channel, you get to travel all around India with none other than JEREMY PIVEN! In the first episode he goes to Southern India (yay!), and does all kinds of crazy things. The second part covers North India. Anyway, you should watch this... first of all because Jeremy Piven is fabulous, and second because I think he is not doing the normal touristy things.

Anyway, that's it for now. Sorry have not been blogging too much. After all the excitement dies down I will get back into the game. I will have a lot to talk about.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR KIIIIIIISHOOOOOOOOOOOORE!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!!!!!!!!!

Here's to wishing Kishore a very happy birthday with many happy returns!

Language Rant

Yeah. I am one of those. When I say Puerto Rico it does NOT come out sounding like Porto Rico. I say it correctly, as it would be said in Spanish. Do I expect everyone to? No. But I took 9 years of Spanish in school, and although I am not fluent in it, I am conversant.

When I talk about Italian cities have I in the past said Firenze instead of Florence? Yes. Should that surprise you? Non, e va fan culo, stronzo!

But give me a break. I am also a linguist.
No, seriously. I have a Master's Degree in Linguistics.
So, let me preface this story by saying "I am an artist and I am sensitive about my shit."
Ahem, OK.... that was an Erykah Badu quote, but you catch my drift. I am sensitive to/about language.

Anyway, so I am walking into the building where I work this morning, and out in front is this refrigerator truck with huge lettering on the side:

BOO KOO ENERGY DRINKS

I nearly lost it. I did not know whether to laugh or be annoyed. I rolled my eyes and stood there staring in disbelief.

Let me break this issue down for you. "Boo koo" is southern urban slang for "a lot".
example: Mario makes boo koo bank, yo!

It comes from the French word beaucoup. And stuff like this happens all the time. Words get co-opted from another language quite often. We use them in everyday speech, and we do not always pronounce them correctly. Like, for example, croissant. I am just fine with this phenomenon.

And then there is slang. I am good with slang, too. I use it myself. But for the most part, slang is something we use in conversation. We speak it. We do not often write it.

And this just looks dumb in print. BOO KOO?!??!?! And not only in print, but as the name of a sports drink?

Now before you accuse me of being anti-urban or something, let me mention that if you go to the product's home page, it is all about Xtreme sports and motocross. Uh. Not so urban. More like suburban schoolkid, yeah?

So what gives? Am I just getting old and crochety? Or am I bothered cause this is a linguistic nightmare? Probably a little of both. Or maybe that company just needed to dig a little deeper to find a krunk name for a new sports drink.

Especially because last time I checked "boo koo" was about as played out as calling someone "boo" or saying something was "bumpin". And if my white ass knows that, it's time to update.

end of the day, armabol beach, goa
february 1st 2006

I have no idea what I did on this particular day. All the days blended seamlessly. Each began with two glasses of milk coffee had at a large wooden farm table. Some days I followed the coffee with fruit, yogurt muesli for breakfast, on others I had an omlette. Heavy decisions.

One day we took the ferry to Tiracol Fort and on the way we stopped to talk to some migrant workers desilting the river. The children of the workers were captivating and I took shot after shot while they goofed off for the camera. That afternoon ended with a surprisingly good bowl of spaghetti aglio e olio in a hole-in-the-wall italian joint in Arambol. One day we went to Anjuna. Was it Anjuna? Now I am beginning to forget. The rest of the time was spent rescuing starfish from low tide, thinking up yummy dishes to persuade the hotel owners to cook, and generally being a sun and sea worshipping, tender-coconut drinking, laze-about. Oh, and there was that French apple and almond pie.

I need to go back there. Now.
Anyone up for a road trip?

There are a lot of stories I will tell in the coming weeks about my trip to India. It was a whirlwind of activity. I arrived in Bangalore and within a few days landed in the enveloping heat and crowds of Mumbai. But oh god the kebabs, I still have the taste in my mouth, taunting me. Just as I had begun to get used to the seething masses of people, I found myself on the top berth of an overnight train to Goa listening to the neverending chant of the hawkers... teacoffeetomatosoup... teacoffeetomatosoup. Stepping off the train into the blinding sun, I was immediately confused. The more salt I could taste in the air, the better I felt. Days melted together fueled by watermelon juice, milk coffee and pounding surf. Dinners had by candlight at low tables sitting on cushions, a kitten named Thali for entertainment. One more overnight train and I am back in Bangalore. There is a rush of activity. My life is changed forever. I am back on the plane going home, staring at the mehendi on my hands wondering where the month had gone.

The Squirrel Has Returned

Hi there everyone.... and thanks so much for all your well wishes when I was away.

I have returned home... exhausted and under the weather, but happy. There are lots of stories and it was a great trip. Sadly I barely took any pictures as I was exceedingly busy.

I will catch you all up when I can. Right now there are over 400 msgs in my inbox, and I think I might have to be sick again. Work sucks after a month off.

If I click my heels three times can I go back to Goa?

Cheers, all... and hope everyone is well!

Squirrely Adventures

OK people, this will be my last post for about... well, probably for quite a while. I am off on another adventure and I am not sure I will be near a computer or that I will have the time to post anything.

I am headed back to India, this time for nearly a month.

I will miss all of you... oh wait, I will be seeing a bunch of you very soon. ahem. OK, I will miss the rest of you. And I promise to post lots of pictures and stories when I get back. This should prove to be a very interesting, hectic, and exciting trip.

So cheers, good luck and take good care while I am gone. I should be back online around Feb 20th.

The rich are getting... stupider.

So I spent most of today cleaning my apartment, washing clothes and getting ready for my trip. As I was running around I had the TV on for some background noise. One of the programs on TV caught my attention and waylaid me for a full hour as I sat on my couch wondering what this country is coming to.

The name of the show is Party Party, and it features two families from different parts of the country and how they go about planning and executing similar types of parties. They have shown weddings, anniversaries, graduations... that kind of thing. Well this one was sweet 16 parties, and I nearly lost my mind.

In case you are not from the US, in a lot of regions here families celebrate the 16th birthday of their daughters with special parties. I never had one per se because my parents don't go in for that kind of thing (they did take me out for a rather nice dinner), but some of my friends had parties with all their friends. Mind you, I came from an affluent suburb of Boston where very few people were hurting financially. Moreover, some of my classmates' families had $2 more than God, and nobody had what I am about to describe.

So one family from the show was in CA. The daughter Samantha can only be described as an overprivildged, spoiled, obnoxious shit. She needed a solid smack in the head. Her mother needed a massive whack, because she was the one feeding this little monster's warped views.

For Samantha's 16th birthday party her parents spent well over 35,000 dollars. They rented a hall in a hotel, had it catered, and brought in entertainment. But it doesn't stop there. They got her a 3,000 dollar a night room at the hotel, 5 dresses to choose from for the party, and had her and her close friend picked up in a Rolls-Royce and taken for a day of pampering at the spa.

And what is Samantha's reaction? Well, first of all, she gathers her highschool cheerleading squad and passes out invitiations to her party... conspicuously leaving out a few of the girls. What a nasty little bitch. Then she has a meltdown because he parents do not buy her a brand new BMW, and only give her theirs as a gift. She also had a fit about a host of other things, obviously unable to show any sort of gratitude. Let me just say right here that if I had EVER spoken to my mother the way this child did, my life would have been over. OVER. And no one would have found my body, either.

Meanwhile what were her parents thinking? First off the mom was having a crisis of her own, topped off by her showing up to the party in one of Samantha's dresses (all of which were made for a 20 year old... NOT NOT NOT a 16 year old OR a 45 year old). But the weirdest thing was that she was surprised by her daughter's ungrateful nature.

Uh, HELLO you asinine cow... you spoilt your child beyond any imaginable means, and then you wonder why she acts like Kelly Osbourne in princess get-up? What child... no, wait... what ANYONE needs a friggin $35K birthday party? OK forget need... why? Why would anyone spend that kind of money.... ugh....

I am done thinking about it. Thank God my parents raised me correctly. I got exactly what I needed (as opposed to what I wanted) with a few surprises thrown in. Nothing extravagant. But that's alright. I do not think that is how parents should show their children love.

PANDA LOVE

(picture courtesy of the national zoo website.. they don't let me attend his physicals, but I wish they would!)


OK, so before work today I went to the National Zoo and went to go see Tai Shan.

All I have to say is this... he is probably the cutest thing I have ever seen in my life. I forget how old he is now, but he's clearly still a baby. When we got there he was running (read: waddling) around in the outside enclosure while his mom ate bamboo.

After a while he was playing around on this log. His mom came over and they were play fighting and wrestling. He kept biting his mom and being a typical baby... too cute for words. A couple times he fell off the log, down about 5-7 feet and everyone gasped. But he just got right back up and climbed up on the log. A few times he was playing too rough with the mom and she hauled off and cuffed him, or she would put one of her massive paws right in the middle of his head. And a couple times she just grabbed him off the log and held him like a human would hold an infant. He stayed still for a bit but eventually wrigged free of her grasp and went off to play.

If you live in DC here is a good way for you to go see the panda if you cannot get tickets. Go very early in the AM. We got there at about 7:45 and there was PLENTY of parking. (Also, you do not have to pay for parking before 9 AM, so if you get in and get out, you're golden.) Tai Shan is outside most mornings, and you do not need tickets to view him when he is outside. Don't tell anyone I told you! :)

tip for photographers: bring a telephoto lens... the outside enclosure is tricky photog wise... you're shooting through a fence into the sun in the AM... and it's a relatively far distance. I did not have mine and so I did not get any useful pictures.

First Squirrely Rant of 2006 (almost)

Yeah yeah yeah... call me old, call me conservative (!), call me anything you want. But I do not see the need for movies like Hostel.

This film topped the box office this weekend, and I was left scratching my head. What is wrong with this country that we think a movie that features nothing but rape, torture, and dismemberment is entertainment?

Now OK, I have not seen the movie. And I do not think I ever would. I do not have anything against horror movies as a genre, and I have actually liked a few. But what the hell is going on that we would sit down, watch graphic scenes of brutal and violent suffering, and think that is entertaining?

It is one thing when a movie uses graphic images to further a plotline. Not everything need be shiny and pretty. But when the entire plot of a movie revolves around gore, what is the point? Is is curiousity? Is it that we are all so overstimulated that we need more and more and more over the top shit to get us to feel anything?

Why is viewing human suffering, fictional or not, considered entertainment?

I think this is a major problem with our society. I think it is distubing that we are so desensitized to violence that we use it as timepass. I think it is disgusting that parents think it is alright to let their children watch this shit. It is not art. It is not open to interpretation. It is not an allegory. It is a grusome movie meant to titilate. We are mixing sexual arousal and violence and calling it entertainment. That is a very very dangerous path to walk down.

Crusin' for a Divine Bruisin'

Uh, maybe I missed something, but when did God leave Pat Fucking Robertson in charge of his public relations?

What an assmonkey. In case you have not heard, the PM of Israel, Ariel Sharon, is very sick. He has had 2 strokes and is not expected to fare well. I might not love his politics, but I do not wish that hardship on anyone.

Anyway, apparently Pat "assmonkey" Robertson did not support the pull-out from Gaza (for the record... I was pro pull-out.... very much so). And so Robertson has declared that Sharon's stroke is God's retribution upon him for dividing "God's land". (read the article here)

First of all, shut up Pat.

Second.. who the hell do you think you are, saying something that offensive? If I were a member of Sharon's family I would get on a plane, fly to the US, smite the living shit out of Robertson and call THAT divine retribution.

Why do we give this man a platform? OK, yeah, free speech and whatever, but come on. Not everyone needs to be provided a free venue to air their hate speech. Let them pay for it. It's bullshit sensationalism, and this man just wants some publicity. Same as his stupid comments about Chavez (he compared Chavez to Hitler and called for his assasination).

Maybe we just need to up Robertson's meds, pull the plug on his mic and call it a day.

And oh yeah... SHUT UP PAT. In case you did not get my point.

p.s. a big "shut up" also goes out to Sienna Miller.... cause yeah, you're NOT a victim when you purposefully stand on the tracks when the train is headed right for your ass. That, my dear, is called suicide.

This is me... walking down a little road near the top of the hill at markandeshwara temple in india. I think it says a lot about my year. Some of it I will explain and some, well... some you will have to wait and see.

2005 has certainly been an interesting year. One that has been full of surprises. I realized something last week, something very important. I finally feel mostly content with my life. For once I like my job. OK so the work itself is not earth shattering, and it's not my life dream. But I really like the people I work with, and I feel respected and valued. I have also been shown that I have people in my life who care about me and respect me for who I am. And as hokey and schmoopy as this sounds, I learned a lot about love and healing.

This is all very ironic... because my life as I know it is poised to change drastically in 2006. I am not going to jinx it by telling you all about it now. But as the pieces fall more firmly into place I will let you know. Suffice it to say that I am happy and nervous and enthralled and scared shitless.

Which leads me back to 2005. Without the things I have learned this past year, it never would have happened. If I had not balanced precariously before I walked, I would have simply fallen. I might still fall yet. Who knows. But I am walking. And I am moving forward with my life. So while the path before me is a little like the picture above, and I cannot see exactly where I am headed, I am hopeful about where it will lead. And I am grateful for those of who who have chosen to accompany me. Thank you, and hold on tight.

Looking Forward to a New Year

I made it through Christmas... which, with my family, is sometimes a feat. Don't get me wrong, I love them dearly. But you know what I mean. There is always something at those kinds of events that make you want to lose it... and this year was no exception. I won't get into the details, but I will say there is a good reason why we all call my uncle "Dick". The good part was that I had a nice time at home overall (barring the Dick incident), which was important given that this might be my last Christmas at home for a while. And I got an iPod Nano, which made me really happy.

Anyway, 2005 has been interesting. It has been a year of learning and exploring. I will do my 2005 recap in another post... but yeah. Interesting. I leave to go back to India in a few weeks. That will be fantastic. And scary. And wonderful. And hectic.

So anyway, more details as they emerge. Hold your horses. And your questions. I know, I know, annoying, yeah? Be quiet and eat your leftover Christmas pudding. Hee. Just kidding. Kinda.

Cheers.

CONFIDENTIAL TO JOHNNY DAMON

OK, this is hard for me to say.
Actually, I lied.

YOU SUCK. Have fun with the Yankees, you bastard.
Couldn't have waited until after the holidays, yeah?

I hope you break a finger.

MERRY
CHRISTMAS

I hope everyone has a happy holidays!
I am off to New England for a few days of gluttony and snowy family fun.

My gift to you is this.... go here and watch the baby panda on the panda cam.
It is seriously IMPOSSIBLE to be grouchy or upset or stressed out while watching this adorable ball of pudgy fur roll around and be his adorable fat self.

Cheers, and I hope santa brings you everything you asked for. Especially if you asked him to bring me an elephant, a meerkat or a panda. I would settle for a giraffe (but I would need help feeding it) ;)

Nightswimming

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night
The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago
Turned around backwards so the windshield shows
Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse
Still, it’s so much clearer
I forgot my shirt at the water’s edge
The moon is low tonight

-Nightswimming, REM


I do not remember whose idea it was, going to the lake at night. I drove with Darcy. We took my father's car. I had never been to this lake, and it was a hike through the woods on a narrow, badly-defined trail. I wonder how she knew the way. We were inseparable yet she knew something I did not.

They boys were already there when we arrived. They were not hard boys. These were soft, just past adolescent boys, just now getting used to their new selves and trying them out for all they were worth. They had built a fire in a well-used firepit and were pulling from a flask. I only knew one or two of them, but Darcy, she knew them all. Another secret. Another time.

I sat next to one of them, a boy at least 3 years younger than myself. We talked about the night, how clear it was, how round the moon was. I watched Darcy. She was talking to Josh. I knew that look on her face. Finally something about her I was sure of. One of the boys wanted to take his canoe out on the lake. A few others went with him. I stayed by the fire wondering how long summer could last.

Someone suggested swimming. We all shyly peeled off our clothes and ran for the water. It was warm, enveloping. Something about the solid blackness of the water and the sheen of the moon, like an oil slick sliding across the surface. The boys in the canoe were talking and their voices carried across the water. One of the others told them to shush and enjoy the night. I was grateful for the silence.

A while later, I think a couple years later actually, Josh died. He had leukemia. I did not really know him, but whenever I pass that spot on the road where Darcy and I parked, I wonder if his life now is as calm as that night on the lake.

God did NOT ask you to annoy me...

so please, don't even bother acting like He did.

I got on the elevator today to go get lunch, and there was a woman standing in the back. OK. Normal enough. So she waits until the doors close and then says "Hi, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure!" I said. I am a friendly enough girl. I figured she needed directions or something. Or maybe she was going to ask me where I got my boots. They are cute.

"Have you signed the Lamb Book of Life signifying that you have accepted Jesus Christ into your heart as your Lord and personal saviour?"

Oh FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK.
Come off it with this shit, will ya?

I look at her right in her face and said "Yeah. No. I am Jewish."

OK so that is not entirely accurate, but I was pissed off. Why can't I go to lunch without being accosted by a zealot? Here's my thing. Is someone proselytizing on an elevator (or anywhere else for that matter) actually likely to get someone to convert? No. They are probably just going to succeed in annoying people, and that is about it.

I never got this approach. Religion is a very personal thing. The best way to get someone to understand your religious or philosophical beliefs is to live them and then hope that people learn by your example. You cannot just go around saying borderline cultish shit to busy people on an elevator and expect them to have some kind of breakthrough and accept Christ/Muhammed/Buddha/Whatever by the time the doors open at the lobby.

So do me a favor. Cut it out with the accosting me. If I have any questions, I'll ask. God lets me talk to Him without you.

World AIDS Day

I remember when I first started hearing about AIDS. I was probably in high school. We all thought it was something only gay people got. The talk was that it came from monkeys in Africa. There were all kinds of asinine rumors like that. Stupidity. Then the movie Philadelphia came out, and we all started to wise up. The newspapers and TV stopped referring to it as the "gay plague" because, as it turns out, straight people were getting it too.

And the world was forever changed.

Now we're still facing a crisis. And I think it's worse, really, because nobody seems to be scared of it anymore. People laughed when they recently released Rent as a movie, saying it was no longer relevant. There are drug cocktails that will prolong your life. You don't see too many people walking down the streets covered in Kaposi's sarcomas anymore. It's all been sanitized. Made to look so much more easy to deal with. And it is great that we have made huge strides in treatment. But this also means that many local clinics, such as the Whitman-Walker clinic here in D.C. are losing funding. Cause people don't see AIDS as a crisis anymore.

Tell that to one of my friends who has been living with AIDS for years now. Tell him it's not a crisis when he gets pneumonia and almost dies... again. And because he's been too sick to work regularly, tell him it's not a huge issue anymore when he doesn't have enough money to pay his mounting hosptial bills. Or when he falls on the floor at 2 AM, too weak to stand up, and there is no one there to help him up.

And this story repeats itself all over the world. Children by the millions all over Asia and Africa are AIDS orphans. The dad contracts AIDS from a prostitute, brings it home to mom, and they both die. Sometimes the mom has kids that are also born with AIDS. There is no sex education in these villages, and no anti-retroviral medicines that would easily stop the mother from passing the virus on to the child during the birthing process and prolong her life.

AIDS is still a very serious threat to the daily lives of millions upon millions of people all over the world. THERE IS STILL NO CURE FOR AIDS. IF YOU GET IT, YOU WILL DIE.

What can you do? Give money to a reputable organization, either locally or globally. Even better, volunteer your time.

SHAMEFUL

OK, so as many of you know, I am both Jewish and Catholic. I do not really consider myself any one thing although I was baptized and had my first communion in the Catholic church. But like many Catholics, I am way, way, way past "lapsed". And as I have grown older, I have found elements of other religions and philosophies that make sense to me. I choose not to limit myself.

Anyway, I have always wondered if maybe one day I would return at all to Catholicism. And I received my answer today... a resounding HELL NO.

Why? Well, today the Vatican published a document that now bans homosexuals from entering the priesthood. And I think that is ridiculous on so many different levels I have no idea where to start.

Let me begin by saying I think this marks a time where Catholicism has formally blamed the wrong group for it's own shameful sex absuse scandal. The abuse of those young boys (and sometimes girls, too) was *not* committed by homosexuals. It was committed by pedophiles. And these two are NOT NEARLY the same thing. Pedophiles may commit their crimes against a child that is the same sex as them. But I would not consider them homosexual. They are simply pedophiles. Homosexuals are people who have consentual, adult relationships.

Apparently someone forgot to tell these bigoted, backwards assholes that.

So. If they REALLY need someone to blame for that horrible mess, all the church needs to do is look in the mirror. They allowed it to happen. They covered it up, pushing pedophiles from one parish to another in hopes that if they prayed hard enough it would stop. Cardinal Law should be held personally responsible for the broken lives he created. But instead is has a cushy post at the Vatican.

Anyway, the point is that the Catholic church has not even bothered to solve the issue. By banning homosexuals from the priesthood they are not addressing the issue of pedophilia whatsoever. And on top of that, they are stopping many many men who are more than qualified for the preisthood from entering.

This makes absolutely NO DAMNED SENSE!

I mean, OK, so all priests take a vow of celibacy when they enter the priesthood. A homosexual would be able to stick to that just as well as any heterosexual. So at the end of the day, who cares if they are fighting off impure thoughts of Javier Bardem instead of Salma Hayek? But a pedophile... well, that is a sickness and they are most often not able to resist the urge that makes them abuse children.

Why punish homosexuals for this? It makes no damned sense! It's like saying "I want to stop weeds from growing in my yard!" and then painting your house red to help out. Total frigging stupidity. And it is borne of hate, and misunderstanding, and bigotry.... and it is shameful. Because what it proves is that the Catholic church cares nothing for its parishoners. It only cares about the quick fix and saving face.

You know, I had managed to somewhat bury my other problems with Catholicism. I was not pleased that they were against condom use... even within marriage when one partner has AIDS. Their stance is that sex is for procreation only, so.... Right. OK. I got that, but I really, really disagreed. In a fundamental way. I am outraged that the church seems to care little for the poor while lining it's pockets. I was saddened by the inclusion of Opus Dei as a personal prelature, as I believe it is a cult. Their ban on gay marriage was disappointing and infuriating, but not surprising given their beliefs on the purpose of marriage. Their refusal to allow woman into the priesthood is draconian.

But this, my friends, this right here is the end for me.
And hey, Pope Benedict... don't worry... no excommunication needed.
I remove myself.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

OK so some of you live in countries where you don't celebrate it. But... weeeeellll... we should all have things we are thankful for, yeah? And some of you are in the UK, and I think we were celebrating providence after leaving you all, but that is no reason to be cranky. Look what we ended up with for leadership! LOL. And I know some of you are vegetarians... so turkey is out. But grab a plate of tofurkey and mashed potatoes and go wild.

I, myself, will be eating turducken.
Yes, that lovely southern speciality involving the careful placement of a boneless chicken inside a deboned duck inside a turkey, which is then roasted and then eaten with glee.

I will be spending the day with friends, which will be nice.
So I am thankful today. For my friends who stand by and support me, for my family who does the same... and for my future...

I hope everyone has a lovely day.