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Cool!
October 31, 2003
I just made a chat room. I might just leave the window open during the day and pop in and out if you want to try it out. Does anyone want to set a time for a big group chat?
An Announcement and a Request
October 31, 2003
First, I would like to announce the re-launch of the radical homeschool blog. Read it, post to it, love it. If you aren't already a participant and you would like to join, e-mail me and I will hook you up. There are still a few minor adjustments I would like to make to the site, but people have started to post cool content, so I wanted to tell people about it now.
Second, I am searching for someone who enjoys designing blogs who might want to do me a redesign. You will have my undying affection and gratitude in return, and perhaps a mix cd or whatever I can give you that you would like. I pretty much want the same features that I currently have, with maybe one or two additions. I'm just kind of getting tired of this layout and want to try something new, but I know if I attempt to design it, it won't be very cool at all...or it will take for-fucking-ever.
Enjoy, and thanks!
Excerpt from Chuang Tzu: The Inner Chapters
October 30, 2003
"Li Chi was the beautiful daughter of a guard on the frontier border at Ai. When she was first captured by the Chin Army, her dress was bathed in tears. But then she found herself in the king's palace, sharing his fine bed and savoring imperial food, and pretty soon she wondered why she'd ever cried. So how do I know that the dead don't wonder why they'd ever clung to life?"
One of those days...
October 30, 2003
I'm having one of those days where i don't feel like I have anything particularly interesting to talk about, and if i attempt to post something, it will just be a laundry list of complaints about my ex, and I Don't Want To Go There.
So, I'm turning this around...talk to me. I've noticed that I get comments from the same group of people just about every day, and they are wonderful...but I wanna know who else is out there. speak up. Say something interesting. Entertain me.
I am a poseur and I don't care...
October 29, 2003
I have to cop to the fact that, while I talk frequently about anarchism, I am NOT a scholarly anarchist. I say this because a few people have asked me about anarchism, looking for good anarchist texts to read and, quite honestly, I didn't come to anarchism by reading about it...and, in fact, for years and years I avoided calling myself an anarchist because so many of the people I knew who claimed to be anarchist were either stuffy, pseudo-intellectual freakazoids or immature kaos kids. OK - maybe not ALL. I mean, there's Profane Existence and Slingshot and other cool collectives that really embody what I think is the true spirit of anarchism...but I conveniently ignored those shining examples and chose to focus on the negative, as I am prone to doing.
What brought me to anarchism, though, was the gradual but persistent awareness of the fact that humans are meant to be free, and that - yes - all beings are inherently good. I truly believe that people are born with a desire to do right things, and it is the system that engenders greed and competition that drives people to act in a way that is contrary to our inherent good nature. I have a sense, through my limited exposure to anarchist texts, that I have a natural inclination towards anarchism, and everything I do read reinforces that sense...but I do not tend to follow textbooks or tenets - which I'm certain solidifies even further that I am, in fact, an anarchist. (I'm probably a Buddhist too, to a great extent, but I feel like I would need to know a lot more about Buddhism to identify as such)
The best anarchist text that I have read, though is the one upon which the Negativland/chumbawamba song "ABC's of Anarchism" is based.
For so long, I refused to refer to myself as "the 'a' word" because the philosophy behind anarchism is so misunderstood...but at one point I came to the realization that if I didn't start calling myself an anarchist, then there was no possibility of being able to explain the philosophy (which kind of defies explanation, particularly when dealing people who are so immersed in society as it is that they can't conceive of there being "another way") to people who might be interested in exploring other methods of co-existing and collaborating. I might add, this is how I felt about feminism for a long time before I finally "gave in" and started to identify as a feminist. Now I look around me and I see many, many people who I consider to be true Anarchists, who would never even think to identify as such. Which is totally cool with me, and probably makes them even more anarchist than I am (ha ha).
So, I may be a poseur anarchist who would fail "intro to kroptkin 101" miserably, but I know in my heart that people are meant to be autonomous as well as interdependent, and that external governance and an economic system based on scarcity only serves those who have the privilege and power to influence our representatives.
And, while I believe that an anarchist "state" is possible, and is likely to be the only means of sustainable existence, I'm not really interested in waiting around or rooting for a bloody revolution. Instead, I allow the philosophy of anarchism to affect my life by helping me to define how I want to interact with the world on a personal level. I am informed by the idea that, essentially, the ideal way of doing things is by relying on myself and the various communities of which I am a part to accomplish my goals in life. Melding autonomy with interdependence is a common practice among parents, and...I'm finding, is particularly useful in the homeschooling community. We all have our strengths which can be shared, and together we are able to reduce our reliance on government entities to educate and nurture our children and ourselves.
Dude, that doesn't take any fancy book learning. That's just plain ole common sense.
"is this thing on?"
October 29, 2003
I don't know if I've mentioned this, but lately Monk is TRYING to make the blog. This is a scenario that just occurred:
I walked out of the room to get some clothes on, and when I walked back in, both kids were panting and eating their lunch by putting their faces in their dishes and not using their hands.
Monk: We're pretending we're dogs, mom.
Mom: Well, ok, then...I guess I should feed these table scraps to the little humans in the backyard and throw some dog food on your plates.
Monk: No! We're pretending people food is dog food and we're eating it!
Mom: Should I take that as an insult on my cooking?
Monk: No, you should take it as a compliment about our imaginations.
Mom: *laughs*
Monk: Oh, and...you can put that one in your blog.
an e-mail to my brother
October 29, 2003
...in which I once again attempt to explain the concept of unschooling (he's been very patient with my efforts so far) AND in which I come out as at least an anti-capitalist. I'm wondering where that is going to lead. And also in which I, in not-so-subtle-ways question the rosy picture that some of my family members have painted of our childhood.
Before you click to read more, I should say that I really think my family resents the fact that I never went to college. I hear from them all the time that they were jealous of the fact that I got straight A's throughout my schooling, seemingly without effort while they all had to struggle for B's and C's...but they all seemed to turn out OK. It's funny how grades have seemed to make them feel as if they are somehow less worthy than me of being called "smart" or whatever. I was "the smart one." I need to add something about this to the actual e-mail before I send it.
[cross-posted to the radical homeschool blog]
Hey Michael...
I want to preface what I'm about to say by saying that I think Mom did the best that could be expected of anyone in her position. She had 7 children to care for, and I'm growing to understand more and more that she was probably battling with some pretty serious depression while we were growing up, with all that entails.
That said, I simply can't compare my childhood (nor can you compare yours) with what my children are experiencing. First of all, there are only two of them. Second, they get at least three hours of direct attention from me on average every day - which is more than I ever got from mom and school combined. This means that we can have discussions about drugs and depression and pharmaceuticals over our lunch, which is a conversation that we had yesterday, which springboarded off of Monk's desire to eat ALL of the vitamins, which prompted me to relate a story about a friend of mine who had a seizure after eating an entire bottle of vitamins, which led to a very deep discussion about the side effects of drugs, after which we further explored how depression can be cause by external drugs that are ingested as well as internal chemicals gone awry.
This conversation lasted about 30 minutes, but I think it was probably the equivalent of a week of lessons in a modern scholastic setting. Plus I was able to present the idea of drug addiction to monk in real terms with real consequences, and I was able to reiterate to him that he will be responsible for his own body one day, but until then, I am in charge of making sure that when he becomes an adult and gains that responsibility, he has the tools necessary to do a good job, as well as a relatively clean slate with which to work.
I would never tell someone that they have to unschool their children for them to be happy. That's just ridiculous. However, I feel that unschooling, or something resembling it, is the right solution for my children. I do intentionally sit down with them for "lesson time" three times a day for an hour or so, but mostly that time is spent reading books that they enjoy listening to, working on puzzles that they enjoy, having discussions about things we have observed or done together, and sometimes just reading a good goosebumps book together. Today, I sat down to do morning circle. I lit the candle, I started reading, and they were far more interested in dressing up in costumes from the dress up bin to bother with listening to me...so I closed the book, blew out the candle, and here I am. Why push it? Yesterday and the day before, we did a tremendous amount of reading about all sorts of things, and I feel like a lot has been accomplished this week...and I trust that if they are disinterested enough to be distracted by silly hats and beads, then they aren't really going to learn anything anyway.
This afternoon, we're going to a concert at our homeschool co-op, so there won't be a "lesson" - but they'll get to hang out with some friends. The other day, out of the blue, Monk started talking to me about fractions...he told me that 2/5 plus 3/5 equals a whole. I have no idea where this came from or how he figured this out, although math problems come up in our converstaions quite often. I am simply not able to prevent them from learning. It happens. It's like growing taller...they just learn. Perhaps my children are just freaks, but I doubt it.
As far as your experience and wishing you had more structure...my kids do have structure. I guide them. Hell, I downright boss them around sometimes...but I also trust their judgment AND I make it very clear that they are responsible for their actions - including their learning. If Monk doesn't want to write, that's fine for now...but he has dreams, Michael. Just like every kid, he wants to amount to something when he gets older...and so every time he talks about something he wants to "be" - I talk about what he needs to know to "be" that. And when his desire to be something is great enough, he learns the things he needs to know to do that. It's no different than it would be if he was in school. It's no different than it was for me. I was dreadfully bored in history class, so I never learned historical dates and facts past cramming for tests. It was never taught to me in a way that was meaningful. Now I'm totally fascinated by history and politics, but I learn them by researching things that are interesting to me, and by the desire and the need to put important events in context. When you talk about your desire for more structure, it sounds less like you needed more academic structure and more like you needed more guidance from an adult who cared about you. Just about anyone has the ability to learn the necessary academics in a chosen career, it's the choosing that can be difficult. And I don't think high school students are old enough to make those choices anyway, which is why I think all of us should have the ability to change our minds about what we want for our future well into adulthood.
I had no idea what I wanted to do when I was in high school, which is one of the main reasons I never continued my formal education. I happened to stumble into a career that is fulfilling, and then I found a way to apply my talent in that area in a job that is probably better than I ever could have dreamed up on my own. My lack of a degree might hinder me if it were to come to having to find a new job, but there's no REAL reason for that, other than societal expectations and a good deal of class prejudice acting as the norm. I know as much or more than any college graduate in my field, and I have the proven ability to apply my knowledge in a real-world setting. The importance of degrees and college education is real, but it's a social construct that isn't valid outside of the context of our social system. In my situation, the only thing a college degree would prove is that I was able to afford the leisure of being able sit in classrooms and study things that I instead learned on my own, in my own time, motivated by myself.
Which is not to say that I necessarily know more than any college graduate out there, but I certainly don't necessarily know less due to my "lack of education." It just means that I am differently educated - as are many people who don't have degrees or diplomas or even any formal schooling at all. In my job, I have met some very brilliant individuals who never set foot in any sort of institutional learning facility, and I frequently wonder how much of our ability to label people as "stupid" or "uneducated" has more to do with our bias towards what I consider to be a completely unnatural educational philosophy and less to do with the actual brainpower of the labeled individual. And it is a completely self-perpetuating bias, because those who have the power to change the system are products of the system, and no one wants to admit that the system must be changed. That takes risk, and there aren't too many people out there who want to accept that risk because if you go outside of the accepted norm, you have no excuse. Like if I sent my kids to school, and the public school system failed them, it wouldn't be my fault...I could blame the system. But pulling my kids out of school and taking on the responsibility of their emotional and intellectual development is, I must admit, a courageous act. I got no one to blame but myself and my kids. And if I fail them, I really do fail them. The thing is, though, deep down I know - and I think we ALL know - that the responsibility for the well-being of children should fall primarily on the shoulders of the parents of the children regardless. Going along with the crowd provides a surface-level immunity from responsibility, but we all know that's a farce. We learned it the first time someone told us "If your friend jimmy jumped off a cliff, would you do it, too?"
Anyway, I'm rambling, and I'm afraid you are going to think I'm completely insane or, as you say, "on crack." I am not either, but I am very passionate about parenting and educational choice and I'm also very critical of the capitalist system and its views on education. I think there's more to life than learning things to increase your employability...but at the same time, I completely understand that there are certain things that my children must know and learn to be able to survive in this world, regardless of my opinion about their validity and overall usefulness. So I'm compromising...I'm teaching the kids about the world around them as it exists, and encouraging them to learn as much as they can, while hopefully demonstrating to them that success is a relative term, and to me, success means happiness, love, and the ability to connect with individuals and communities on a real level.
Anyway...I have to go because the children are tormenting each other as I write this, and I think I need to step in and help mediate this one.
Take care...sorry for the diatribe.
livelifelove
Drucilla
Commercialization
October 29, 2003
It's a surreal world when the owners of huge media conglomerates feel totally comfortable (and justified) coming right out and saying stuff like this:
"If anyone said we were in the radio business, it wouldn't be someone from our company. We're not in the business of providing news and information. We're not in the business of providing well-researched music. We're simply in the business of selling our customers products." Lowry Mays, founder of Clear Channel
I would go into a treatise about anarchism and the right of people to live without the invasion of commercial interests in all aspects of our lives, and the need for the rights of individuals and collective society as a non-corporatized entity to be respected and defended, and the fact that our elected officials are no longer interested in preserving the interests of the people, and...and...and...
But I'm having such a difficult time maintaining any level of concentration here long enough to hit a groove in my writing because coley is in a "constantly talking" phase, and even though he's totally happily entertaining himself, he is just talking and talking and talking and I simply can't concentrate on what I want to say. So, maybe later. For now - i hope you enjoy the link. Er, rather "enjoy" the link.
Fat like my ASS
October 29, 2003
Sorry...I just feel the bile rising whenever I think about this stuff, and Tish reminded me today of that STUPID "Fat Like Me" "documentary."
*sputter* *sputter* - I think I'm too full of rage right now to muster a good rant, and that says a lot. I'm just wondering how many people WORKED on that film without noticing that it was counter-productive and offensive. And certainly among them there was one fatty...or more. How could it be that something like this could even get to production without someone on the staff voicing concerns over its idiocy.
I did not watch the show, but Tish's post on this subject made me cry. Not because I feel forlorn and depressed about my size, but because I feel forlorn and depressed about the stupidity that is perpetuated in the name of "caring."
And - to the mama who was uncomfortable hugging holding the hand of her fat child - you don't deserve to be a mother. I know that sounds extreme, but you don't. As a mother, I've cleaned up the worst diaper catastrophies you might ever imagine, and to think that this mother probably does that, but then refuses to touch her fat child...well, I know whose face I'll be thinking about rubbing in it the next time coley has a load.
Like I said...I get a little angry. I'm going to carry on with my day and pretend like the stupid fucking people who generate this kind of fucked up bullshit don't exist.
Coley's First Words of the Day
October 29, 2003
(lifting up his shirt to expose his wee nipple) - "You be the baby, and I'll be the daddy with the boobies."
Boatman's Call
October 28, 2003
I was listening to Boatman's Call by Nick Cave on the bus today. This is the perfect time of the year for that CD. A little bite in the air (or at least there will be on the way home) and some bittersweet feelings about love and remembering past love. There's a line in one of the songs that goes:
You come for me now with a cake that you've made
Ravaged avenger with a clip in your hair
Full of glass and bleach and my old razorblades
O where do we go now but nowhere
And, listening to it, I was reminded of an ex-boyfriend who was a comic book artist who drew all these pictures of me with a grinning mouth of razor blades and hypodermic syringes for arms. Sure, he drew all of his women that way, but why on earth did I put up with being portrayed that way? I mean, clearly this was his impression of me, and it is not my impression of myself.
Just like L really has a way different impression of me than I have of myself. And for years I have thought that somehow his interpretation is more accurate than mine. What royal bullshit that is! How can anyone know me better than I know myself - particularly if someone is so messed up that they can't even account for their own shortcomings. And even still, why on earth would someone stay in a relationship with someone who has razor blades for teeth and dental drills for hands? Is it my problem if they do? Because if my hands are chainsaws and butcher knives to you, certainly no matter how I use them, it will hurt. And even the most delicate kiss is going to kill if my teeth are razor blades.
I'm tired of feeling responsible for the way I've been interpreted by other people. I'm about as out there as I can possibly be. I hang out all over the fucking place. I'm not afraid to say what I think at a given moment, and I'm not afraid to apologize for it five minutes later if I'm persuaded to look at it from another angle from which what I've said looks shitty. I've not been the most mentally stable person in the history of the world, but, damnit, my hands are made of the smoothest skin and my lips can heal wounds if they're allowed to.
So, anyway, on the bus, listening to Boatman's call is a religious experience. It's a religious experience anyway, but something about the way that album is composed makes me look at people and search for that quality that makes other people fall in love with them. Because we've all been loved, whether it's been copped to or not. I fall in love with people all the time and never say a word so I possess the supreme arrogance to assume that others have fallen in love with me silently and unrepentently. I just have to believe it.
And I was thinking about the kiddos and my earlier post about my conversation with Monk. At one point in the conversation, Monk asked me if I was sad that L didn't live with us anymore. I told him, no. I told him that I don't hate L, but that I feel much happier now because I had a really hard time living with his papa. Monk said "Yeah - I'm happier too now, because now I can run around and be all hyper." Which saddens me in a way - all of those years that they, Monk in particular, had to be quiety so papa could sleep. It must have sucked. And I'm not exactly good at allowing the children to be noisy in the house, but I don't put a cap on it unless it's dangerous or I'm just not in the mood to hear loud shouting.
And on the bus, I thought of this...and I thought about being in a relationship and being out of a relationship. And I truly feel like my life is complete as it is. Whole. And that I can and maybe even will get involved with other people romantically at some point, but it's really not a necessity. I don't feel the slightest bit lonely. Damn, it was lonely, though, living in that house with L and being completely unable to get through to him - to communicate with him. THAT was the loneliest I think I've ever been. Right now, I have my kids and even they are not the secret to me being not lonely...even if they went away for a week I don't think I would feel lonely, because I just feel so full of love of life - a feeling I've worked hard to maintain in the past, but which now seems to be my center to which I always seem to return. It's this unabating bliss, this rampant joy...it's amazing. And the only tinge of loneliness I feel is in the knowledge that it would be nice to be able to share that with someone - but I'm just cynical enough about love right now to feel like sharing it would deplete it somehow - that this is better to hold to myself for awhile and savor. That sharing will come, certainly, but that for now it's best to just sit and enjoy these moments I have with myself and with my beautiful children. And sit and watch the people on the bus and revel in the awesomeness of life. Forever and forever and forever.
Totally High on Love Right Now
October 28, 2003
For all of these years, I've been scoffing at the idea of having sit-down meals with the kids. L would never do it, and I always felt like I spent so much time with the kids that we didn't need to sit down together at meal time. So, up until very recently, I have spent meal time kind of eating and surfing the web or cleaning the house or reading or doing anything BUT sitting down with the kiddos and talking.
"We do enough talking" i always thought.
But for some reason this week I have decided to try to sit down with them and eat lunch. Perhaps it's because I moved the table in the kitchen into a position where there's actually room to sit down. And it's been amazing. I can't even begin to describe how amazing it has been.
Today, Monk started our meal by proclaiming "It's too bad scientists don't have the technology to figure out how the mind works, because I'd really like to know how the mind works." And then we were talking about my stinginess with vitamins, and I told the kids about a friend of mine who ate a whole bottle of vitamins and had a seizure and we talked about drugs and how they can cause unpredictable results and about how kids' bodies are still growing, so it's best to only put things in the body that we know are good for the body.
And we talked about depression. Monk knows a lot about depression, but I was relieved to hear him say that he has never been depressed, but he knows what it's like to be depressed because he plays "the Sims" - which is kind of amazing, really, for him to learn that particular object lesson from that game, but it does extrapolate...because if you are a depressed sim, you don't want to do any of the things that help you out of depression, so it gets harder and harder to become happy again...See? Bet you didn't think the Sims could be used for homeschooling! But it totally works.
And then Monk started talking about the depression of someone in our family. He mentioned that this person is depressed, and he knows this person is depressed because this person is "grouchier than anyone else in the family." He said that this must be because this person is secretly doing drugs, or maybe it's because of the cigarettes.
So we talked about how some people who are depressed just ARE that way, not because they are taking drugs that make them depressed, but because their bodies make chemicals that get them depressed for some reason. But we also talked about smoking and how it is bad for you and about addictions and habits and how hard they are to break. I don't want him to feel like depression is some sort of moral thing, or that addiction is, either, really. But I want him to have a sense for how difficult it can be to quit something you are addicted to. I hope I did ok.
But I was just blown away by the whole conversation. He's such a perceptive little guy that it takes me by surprise sometimes when he says stuff. Apparently he has been watching KidsWB a lot at night while I'm at work, and they have a lot of "say no to drugs" commercials which have heretofore gone totally unexplained. I think it's important for him to have context, because it would be counterproductive for him to go around believing that drug users are worthless pieces of shit who deserve no sympathy when, like, half of his family are users and/or abusers. In recovery and otherwise.
I also want him to have the sense that it's about choice. All drugs. We talked about how even drugs that are legal and drugs that doctors prescribe can have side effects, which is why I try not to give them any drugs unless it's ABSOLUTELY necessary...and which is why I don't want them to have caffeine or anything like that.
And he seemed grateful when I told him that the reason I'm so careful about the things he puts in his body now is because I want him to make those choices for himself when he's older. I'm responsible for making sure he is healthy now, and when he's old enough to take that responsibility on for himself, I want him to be free to make choices without having to worry about the side effects of the various drugs (legal, prescription, or otherwise) that I have addicted him to.
We ended the conversation with hugs. And I'm sure I will be sitting down to lunch with them tomorrow. I wonder what we'll talk about. I'm so thankful. I can't even put into words how very, utterly, tears-of-joy thankful I am that these beautiful children are in my life. I wish I could bottle the way I feel right now and give it to everyone in the world, because if I did, we would all just drop whatever the fuck we were doing at any given moment, find the closest warm body, and just hug and hug and hug with tears of absolute bliss streaming down our cheeks. That's how fabulous I feel.
Livelifelove
drucilla.
What's the Point?
October 28, 2003
I've started posting a word of the day on our little white board in the hallway, and I signed up for a couple of word of the day e-mail reminders to ensure that I have good words to choose from. Today's word is ravel, and this is the definition:
What does it mean? 1 a : to separate or undo the texture of the threads of b : to undo the intricacies of : disentangle 2 : entangle, confuseHow do you use it?
When Becca was learning how to knit, she often had to ravel the snarls that ended up in her yarn so she wouldn't get knots in her sweaters.Are you a word wiz?
Which of the words below means the same thing as "ravel"?A. unravel
B. snag
C. knit
D. smoothAnswer:
It sounds crazy, but "unravel" is a synonym of "ravel." "Ravel" is from the Dutch word "rafelen," which describes a thread unweaving from a fabric or spool and becoming tangled.English speakers understood the Dutch word two ways. From one point of view, it suggested unweaving, which lead to the sense of "ravel" that means "to disentangle." From another point of view, it suggested becoming tangled, which lead to the sense of "ravel" meaning "to entangle." People took the "to entangle" meaning of "ravel" and logically created "unravel" to mean "to disentangle." As a result, "ravel" has contradictory meanings, and "ravel" and "unravel" are synonymous.
Can someone tell me what is the point of this word if it means two completely opposite things? And how confusing would it be to have to explain this to a 6 year old?
I think I will go wite "penumbra" or "occident" or "tortoise shell" or "avatar" or "prescience" or "largesse"...or just about anything other than "ravel."
War Family Values
October 27, 2003
I could go on and on about the ways in which post-World War II militarism has eroded American family life. (I do go on and on elsewhere; see the chapter on the military vs. the family in my WITH GOOD INTENTIONS? REFLECTIONS ON THE MYTH OF PROGRESS IN AMERICA.) Divorce, dispersal, disruption of courtship patterns: ye shall know the warfare state by its rotten fruits. These include even the people-scattering Interstate Highway System, which was conceived during World War II by the top-down planner extraordinaire Rexford G. Tugwell and made concrete by a deracinated general named Dwight Eisenhower, who had admired Hitler's autobahn and got one of his own: the tellingly titled National System of Interstate and Defense Highways. Cohesive working-class neighborhoods in countless American cities were sacrificed to the Road Warriors.
Bill Kauffman: George Bush, the Anti-Family President
Resistance.
October 27, 2003
Some of my least favorite warbloggers are still talking about how there is a small minority of Iraqi resistors of the occupation. Certainly, it is true that there is a small number of ARMED resistors, but I am not at all sure that you can ignore these numbers reported in the Observer:
A poll released this week showed that 67 per cent of Iraqis view the American-led coalition as 'occupying powers', more than 20 per cent higher than a survey conducted shortly after the fall of the former regime. According to the poll, conducted by Iraq's Centre for Research and Strategic Studies, the number of Iraqis who view the coalition as a 'liberating' force has dropped from 43 to 15 per cent, and very few feel safe in the presence of the police or foreign armies controlling the country.
It's bad news over there,
US Secretary of State Colin Powell, speaking on NBC'S Meet the Press, said: "We are in this insurgency sort of situation where people strike and run and it's a much more difficult security environment . . . We didn't expect it would be quite this intense this long."
and in spite of what michele at a small victory believes, I am not in the mood to be crowing over being right about the clusterfuck we have gotten ourselves into. Instead, I'm mourning for all who have suffered and continue to suffer due to our poor planning and negligence. Including Iraqis. Including our troops. Including children. Including all of the people who are paying for the mistakes of the pigs in power.
You just can't brush that away by claiming that the "other side" is gloating over deaths of innocent people. And fuck you, Michele, for uttering it.
Lunchtime
October 27, 2003
Look at these two beautiful boys - don't you wish you could be me and be sharing a nice tasty lunch with such delicious looking children?
er...
on second thought...
This Woman's Wisdom
October 27, 2003
Dawn, at this woman's work has a wonderful entry in which she describes a conversation with her son about loving our imperfections while improving them.
I'm glad that I started blogging, too, Dawn - because it helps my self-esteem to read of others in my same situation AND because together we all share this collective wisdom which enriches my life to such a great degree. I'm thankful for people like Dawn, and many of the other wise women whose words I read every day. And I'm thankful for the wisdom of the people who comment here and help me talk/think through my experiences.
Thank you for sharing this story, Dawn.
Blog Dream
October 27, 2003
I had a dream last night about a blog meme that was going around - about spaces. About bloggers inviting others into their homes by posting pictures of the spaces they inhabit. The intimate corners of their spaces that no one else notices or ever sees, or the most comfortable parts of their spaces...or whatever areas are important for whatever reason. How strange. I woke up this morning wondering if it was a blog I surfed last night that actually had this meme going, or if it truly was an invention of my subconscious.
Just in case it was an original idea - here are some pictures of some of my favorite places in my house:
(click to make it bigger)
This is an old mailbox, painted by a dear old penpal of mine way back when I was in high school and MAILED to me. The joke was that it was the truest form of mail-art ever. I've never been sure of what to do with it, so it's sitting on the craft table in the kitchen doing nothing right now. I might use it to give the kids little surprises or words of the day or thoughts of the day as soon as I get my shit together enough to get in that habit.
The unfinished ceiling of the purple room. I'm thinking yellow would be a good color, but I'm not sure. I'll bring paint samples into the room and figure it out when I actually have enough money to buy the paint. Isn't it lovely, though? I was worried that the color would look gross, but I'm loving it. I'll be painting a thick stripe of the accent color through the middle of the room so we can make a timeline/collage.
I have a big oak tree in my front yard, and one in my backyard. This is the view of the front yard from my bedroom window. I love this tree. Some of its branches are currently touching the roof of the house and weighing on the power lines and I need to get someone to trim it at some point, but I think it's lovely all overgrown. I also like the way the lawn looks. It's wild, it never gets cut, and it just stays at about that length all year. I think my neighbor hates it, because he's always mowing half of my lawn...but I love it, and I don't care if it never gets mowed.
Cole's first proclamation of the day
October 27, 2003
"I'm clapping my hands and grabbing my sippy cup and shouting UNNNN-DERRRR-WAY-UR! That's a good idea. And drinking my miwk."
(and he is)
Money stuff
October 26, 2003
It's ironic that today's episode of NOW was dealing with poverty, because I discovered that I am once again broke. Not broken, and certainly not completely destitute. I have a paycheck coming in a week, and I spent a good portion of my last cushion on little gifties and foodies for coley's birthday, among other things. But I'm out. And I'm really just going to have to start doing some serious bean counting from here on out. Which I'm OK with.
I looked at my bank statement, and it really looks like I'm spending all of my money on food and little toys and things for the kids. I think the kids deserve good food. I'm willing to compromise only so much of that. I'm not willing to give them crap because it's cheaper. But I can do better about the little things I buy here and there for myself. It's not much, but it's enough to bring me just a little over the line, spending-wise. And I can do better about the little toys and things I get for the kids, although there was the change of seasons and cole's birthday which convinced me to spend a little bit more than maybe I should have.
Of course, the biggest expenses these past few months have been therapy for me and upkeep for the house. The therapy is gone for now. And I'm fine with that. I'm ready to fly solo for a little while. But I still have a lot of upkeep to do here. Thankfully, I think I can tackle projects one at a time and still be ok. As long as I'm careful.
My B-I-L came over today and painted the back room, which will from here on out be referred to as the purple room. He found this deep discount paint for me - shopped at several places to find it - mixed a bit of white in to make this really cool mauve-y looking color, and slapped it all over the walls with the speed of a real pro. It's lovely. He started to paint the ceiling first, and realized he didn't have nearly enough paint to finish it, so I think I'm going to shop around for a can of yellow-y paint to go on the ceiling and trim. And he left the walls I'm using for chalk and magnet walls totally unpainted. He's going to sand them and paint them for me whenever I can afford the paint. It's really lovely back there, though - and I'm very grateful for his help. I fed him a big bowl of chili and a slice of the birthday cake, and I gave him 20 bux for supplies, and that was that.
One room at a time.
The floor still needs work, but my new scheme is that I'm going to slowly amass mix and match tiles of various types of flooring and just piece them all together into an interesting mosaic-y pattern back there. There's carpet down now, but it's thoroughly disgusting. And I've pretty much given up hope that L will honor his agreement to have the floor professionally cleaned and finish cleaning up the bathroom - So I'm just going to take care of it. I'm thinking of painting the bathroom the same yellow that I'm using for the trim in the room - and I would paint the trim in the bathroom the mauve-y color, but we don't have any left.
B-I-L also informed me that he has the wood to reframe my pain-in-the-ass gate. I'll have to bake him a huge batch of cookies if he does that. That gate has been the bane of my existence for years now. It's missing a picket, for one thing, so the dogs can get out of it if you don't block the hole. Plus it scrapes the ground and doesn't open all the way, which is a HUGE pain in the ass when I'm carrying the baby in one hand and a bag or two of groceries in the other. I hate it, hate it, hate it.
So, yeah, that will be a good thing, too.
And I'm surprisingly unpanicked about money right now. I have enough. I can make it until Friday with what we have in the house to eat easily, I just need to get dog food, and I have enough for that. I have enough to pay for Monk's November field trips with the field trip co-op, and I have enough to get to work and back every day. I have paid all of the bills that are due in October (which is part of the reason why I'm broke now!) Plus we have tons and tons of legos, to keep us all entertained. And we are having great fun with them. I need to focus on getting that room ready for use as an income generator of some sort...I'm going to run by the re-store on my way to work whenever I happen to drive and check on cheap flooring. And just wait for the money to regenerate. I'm really hoping that at some point L decides that, you know, being financially responsible for his children is actually a pretty good idea, but even if he doesn't, I'll be OK. Monk needs new shoes and I need new boots, but we're ok on clothes. It's cold tonight, and I'm glad I bought some new blankets, because we lost two to dog chewing and general wear and tear.
We have library books and internet access. I need to have L removed from my auto insurance policy to see if that will reduce my rates. I already managed to get my monthly mortgage escrow payment reduced by like a hundred bux because they were overcharging me for property taxes. My electricity bill is going to be lower since there is no need for air conditioning, and my gas bill won't go up too much because I'm not using the dryer and there is no need for heat. I will spend the winter squirreling away extra bits of money, plotting alternate ways of generating income, conserving...and really thinking about my relationship with money, and what I can do to live on less. I've already managed to learn to live on about 1/2 of what I was making when Coley was a newborn...now I need to learn to live on 1/3, so I'm not reliant on other people for emergency situations, and so I can save something up for later.
But it's been a long, grey day. I'm tired. Coley's been in bed since 7, Monk is playing with Legos after having slept all day because he was at a slumber party last night and I don't think he got any sleep. I think I'm going to retire early tonight...snuggle up with my little newly-three and have sweet dreams of dreamy sweetness all night long.
"as the Lord's humble fruit inspector, it sure looks suspicious to me."
October 26, 2003
I'm watching this interview right now, and I want to cry. This man is so passionate and so right on, and I wish the other so-called religious people in this country would listen to him
It is about whether Democrats and Republicans who are sensitive to this move, where people who are sensitive to this move in our society politically, are able to get the will to say, "Enough is enough." I mean, let's stop this business, and let's look again and ask the question, "What will really make this a country that we can be proud of, and one that that pays attention to all the people, not just a few."
This should come as no surprise...
October 26, 2003
but it still
sucks:
Few newspapers routinely report injuries in Iraq, beyond references to specific incidents. Since the war began in March, 1,927 soldiers have been wounded in Iraq, many quite severely. (The tally is current as of Oct. 20.) Of this number, 1,590 were wounded in hostile action, and 337 from other causes. About 20% of the injured in Iraq have suffered severe brain injuries, and as many as 70% "had the potential for resulting in brain injury," according to an Oct. 16 article in The Boston Globe.
It Feels Good
October 26, 2003
I just danced for an hour - silly as can be, letting it all hang out, listening to "Stay Human." Not worrying - no self-consciousness. Allowing myself to acknowledge my clumsiness but develop my grace. It feels good.
I had good conversation earlier. Some angry conversation, but fruitful. I felt wholly dysfunctional, but I needed to feel that way. The more I hear about other peoples' reasons for ending their relationships, the more justified I feel about ending mine. I wasn't hearing the very real trauma in my relationship with L this time last year. These days, when I tell my stories with the lack of emotion that comes from having fully justified the actions of L, I notice the horror on peoples' faces. I realize it must have been there before, and in some respects I maybe internalized that feeling and stopped talking about it - as if the horror I was seeing had something to do with the person I was rather than the person that L is. A year ago - two years ago - I learned to not talk about it, for fear of being judged by his actions, as if I welcomed them into my life. As if I somehow did something to deserve them.
Now, I'm pretty sure I know better. Well, I mean, I always on a conscious level was aware that I am not responsible for another person's actions - but I'm recognizing that faster these days. These days, I can choose to not react to L's bullshit if the situation warrants non-action...or I can choose to react to the bullshit. I need to allow that to happen without judging myself. Part of my self-doubt is due to the fact that not only did I have to deal with the bullshit, but I also had to deal with the fallout from the bullshit. I wasn't "allowed" to respond in anger to situations that were anger inducing. Somehow, anger was a weakness that was my doing and my fault, in spite of the fact that the situation that caused the anger was not my doing or my fault.
Anger is an emotion that has to be let out somehow. I can no longer allow myself to associate with people who fear my anger. I have to concentrate on allowing people into my life who accept the range of emotions. If I get angry, that does not make me an angry person. I choose to be a joyous person. This is how I identify. And I will not allow someone else to define me otherwise.
I'm smiling. My life is so good and happy. There is so much in my life that is just kick ass. Good people, good music, beautiful kids, loads and loads of laughter. I will not let the ill-will of one person make me forget all of this or forgo all of this so I can knock myself out trying to express my joy in a way that he will understand.
Because I have lived the last three years doing just that...I have felt guilty for my own happiness because of his inability to feel joy. I have tiptoed around the house for fear of skipping and laughing and existing in the sheer ecstasy of living. It felt like a trap. A cage where anger and bliss were discouraged and reacted against. And not just that - there was the frustration of being in close proximity with a person I once loved so very much. Someone who used to laugh freely and enjoy my company, who suddenly clammed up and became dour. A person who just didn't find any joy in the world anymore. A person who, instead, sought out things to hate and despise about the world.
And, while I understand that depression played a big role in this behavior...and that depression is an illness over which L has little to no control, I still don't deserve to live beneath the yoke of someone else's depression.
Tonight, kate and i were laughing/crying chatting over the shit we've had to deal with and she blurted out something about how I had a lot to recover from. I had just told her about not being able to take a fucking nap in this house for three years. How it's always been that if I am in the house, the kids are dumped on me. I call in sick to work - I end up having to care for the children. Even in labor with Cole, I had to deal with that bullshit. My alternative would be to push the children away or to just deal with it. I have done both. I'm not happy with having had to do either.
I'm thankful that I am patient. In the past, I have gotten myself into relationships by default. I've always been so happy alone, but I always end up meeting someone who seems neat, but who also imposes himself on my life in ways that are inappropriate. I need to recognize this. I need to value my alone-ness, my autonomy, my singularity. I'm so treasuring my freedom to just laugh and laugh without having to be self-conscious about it. I am certain that I can and will allow positive people into my life who won't drag me down. I am certain that I can learn to differentiate between the kind of depression I can be a friend to and counsel someone through - and the kind that will only traumatize me. I am confident that all people are inherently good, and that I can recognize and respond to that goodness without fear.
Roni Sums it Up
October 25, 2003
This post by Roni, sums up many of the reasons why Wal-Mart sucks ass.
Phew.
October 25, 2003
The party is over, the last person left at around 10:45, the kids are asleep, and I am BEAT! Good Lord am I beat.
I spent all day cleaning and cooking. L came by at around 12:30 - half an hour later than he's supposed to be here - and took the kids for about 2 hours. I spent the first hour that they were gone cleaning up and rearranging the house. I discovered that when L replaced the window he broke, he left all of the broken glass laying on the front porch. So I swept that up, and put all of the crap that was sitting on the front porch back in the back closet. It was mostly boxes of baby clothes that were waiting for some charity organization who clearly forgot about us months and months ago to pick them up. So I'll probably wash all that stuff and just drop it off at Safe Place when I get a chance.
So, anyway...I cleaned and cooked until 2:30, when I was so tired and hungry that I thought I was going to pass out and at that point I plopped my tired ass on the couch and watched Rikki...and of course, within 10 minutes, L reappeared with the kids, and I was treated to that look that says "I can't believe you are laying here watching television."
It's funny how I still respond to that look, even though I no longer have to. I never had to, but I have even less of an implied obligation to do so. But this is just an idea of his sense of entitlement. If he had his own place and was watching the children there, it wouldn't matter what the fuck I did when he was gone. But since he refuses to take that responsibility, he walks in whenever he pleases and feels like he can give me judgmental looks about what I've been doing with my time. And I jumped up and turned off the TV. Bah.
Which was actually fine, because I had more stuff to do...but I really need to work on not allowing him to affect me that way.
Aaaaanywaaaay.
Me and coley went out to get the store-bought carrot cake. Damn is cake expensive. No wonder I had planned to make it myself. I'm vowing to begin baking once a week. This is my vow. On Sunday, I will bake.
I came home from the grocery store, and laid down to take a nap. L was supposed to stay until 5:30 - so I figured I had some time. About 10 minutes after I laid down, L basically dumped Coley into the bed with me. This is pretty consistent with his behavior. I was EXHAUSTED. I had been running around all day, preparing for the party and I was very tired. It's really not that difficult to keep the children out of the bedroom for 30 minutes or so while I'm napping. I know this, because L basically slept all day for the last 2 years of our relationship, and I can't remember ever having to dump them on him while he was trying to sleep.
Fuckr.
Did I say that out loud? Sorry.
And what was I going to do? It's coley's birthday, I'm not going to send him out. So I tried to get him to snuggle down to sleep with me, and eventually he lost interest and left the room. I managed to get another 20 minutes or so of sleep before I felt like I should probably get up and finish up the prep for the party. It was around 5, and the minute I stepped into the kitchen, L was all "I guess I'll go then." And, again, what am I going to do? Yell at him? Tell him "No, you are supposed to stay until 5:30, you asshole?" At this point, I was kind of glad to see him go...but this is the kind of bullshit that happens on a regular basis. He, of course, sees nothing wrong with this - and on an isolated basis, there isn't a problem...but it's this little chipping away of the time and the kind of weird power play that occurs with the children between us like a shield.
At any rate...I was tired, but I quickly recovered and finished up the food prep, and I was able to settle into a chair and read the most recent issue of King Kat Comix, which was the best kind of therapy. I love being in John P's world for a little while, it's calming - and it reminds me that good, kind people really exist out there somewhere...and they love me. I have that kind of love in my life, so there's no need to fret too much about the unkindness.
And it was nice when kate arrived - and then everyone else arrived, and food was eaten and the kids had a great time and it was very nice and very fun and very, very exhausting. And I totally forgot to give out the goody bags.
And now I'm just ready to go to bed. So, that's what I'll do.
Cake Performance Anxiety
October 24, 2003
I did not bake the cake last night, and I'm suffering from some sort of weird anxiety about doing so now. I keep giving up and deciding to go buy one at the store, only to re-decide that it would be so much nicer to make one myself.
I'm not at all sure why I'm suffering from this anxiety, perhaps it's the fact that I have about 20 gazillion things to do today to prepare for the party, and cake baking is the thing on the list that I'm least good at doing. Perhaps it's because my oven doesn't work really well, and I'm worried that I'll burn it and/or undercook it.
Fuck it. I'm going to have to dive in and do it. I even got some cute halloween sprinkles so Coley can decorate it himself, and it just wouldn't be the same with a store-bought cake.
OK, I'm going to do it. I have officially psyched myself up. Thanks for listening.
Extra Sugar, Extra Salt
October 24, 2003
I'm about to attempt to make a cake for my baby boy, who will officially be three years old tomorrow. Three. Years. Old. And Monk lost his third tooth tonight. Three. Teeth.
I'm sure I'll figure out something sappy to write about cole at some point during the day tomorrow between frantically cleaning the house and cooking, but for now I want to tell a sappy story about Monk. About both of my kids.
This morning I was feeling really grumpy. I mean, REALLY grumpy. I was trying to write that rant, and it wasn't coming out right and I kept getting caught up and Monk kept interrupting me with his endless questions which I really should be thankful for but this morning I was so not thankful for it because it was totally breaking my concentration and coley kept poking me with legos and I was not in a happy mama place and so...I yelled. I yelled twice. I told my little Monkey man that he needed to stop interrupting me and I told him in a not very nice way, and loud.
I could instantly tell I hurt his feelings, because he got that little pouty face going and I felt bad, but I was too frustrated to express that I felt bad because any apology would have come out with a "but" attached and that's just not a good way to apologize. So I stewed, sitting here on my bench.
And before I could make amends, suddenly Monk was hugging me. He just quietly walked over to me and put his arms around me and hugged me. He knew. He knew I was frustrated and that I didn't mean to take it out on him, but I told him anyway. I told him it wasn't his fault that I was upset and that I shouldn't have made him feel like he was doing something wrong. And he just hugged me and looked up at me with his beautiful blue eyes and he said "Thanks mom. I know."
What a great kid. Later on, after everything had cleared up and the kids were happily playing with Legos together, I sat down across from him on the floor and told him that it wasn't his responsibility to make me feel better, especially when I'm acting like a butt, but that his hug was the perfect thing and it really did make me feel better. And of course that I loved him.
And a little later, he got mad at cole for breaking his lego pyramid...and he yelled, loud, at Cole, and then he ran into his room and slammed the door, and I went in after him and I told him "Look, I yell - you yell...we all need to really work on not yelling at each other when we are frustrated because it doesn't do any good - so I want you to go make amends with coley and I will tell coley to make amends with you for breaking your pyramid." And I did...and monk apologized and coley apologized and they hugged each other and went on playing with their legos.
These kids are so great. They really are. I am, like, the luckiest mama in the whole world. I have always led a pretty happy and fulfilled life, but I can't even imagine what I would do without these guys. What would I do without Coley waking up and demanding that I tie a scarf around his neck so he could run around proclaiming that he is "super village!" all day - and that I am the crimefighter who is to defeat him and his villagious ways! What would I do without Monk's pumpkin-faced wisdom and silly stories?
It all makes sense. I really can do anything, because I have to - because they deserve everything. I might not be perfect. I might get frustrated and angry. I might not always be the best mama in the world, but I love those little guys so much...and I just always hope the know how very very much I do.
Stupid post stupid interruptions
October 23, 2003
I've spent about an hour a day for the past week attempting to record my feelings about recent interactions with L, and every time I start, it turns into this really long involved post about politics of relationships and dealing with people who are unreasonable and/or mentally ill - and the double-edged sword of DESIRING productive interaction, knowing I'm not going to get it and wanting to vent about it but feeling guilty about it because a part of me understands that L is fundamentally and profoundly unable to cope with relationships. And the fine line between understanding that and being sympathetic...and allowing abuse to happen and feeling compromised because of it. And wanting to accommodate but, again, not wanting to be compromised.
And all of this in a swirl with societal expectations of women and men and how drastically they differ and how it's assumed (and rightly so, I might add) that I would never in a million years even consider walking out on my children or even not financially supporting my children in a significant way - and yet the threat of L walking is palpable and the reality of L not financially supporting the children is waved away by him as a mere technicality because isn't he doing me this HUGE favor of watching them while I'm at work? And shouldn't that mean that he has absolutely no other obligation to them or to me...and included in that lack of obligation is the obligation to find his own place to live so I'm not expected to open my home on a daily basis to someone who time and time again has proven that he has absolutely no respect for my autonomy.
But I'm the nice one. I'm the workhorse. I'm the responsible one. I'm the mama.
Even though the way he sees it is that I'm the bitch, I'm the lazy one, I'm the spendthrift...
And what I really want to do is scream in his face. What I really want to do is get up in his space and see how he likes it. What I really want to do is take him to court and shake him down. What I really want to do is tell him he is a worthless piece of shit. What I really want to do is sky-write in huge, unmistakable letters "Your children are YOUR responsibility, too...and fulfilling your obligation as a parent is not a favor you do for the other parent, but a BARE-MINIMUM requirement of being a parent."
And then I feel like staying out all night so he has to wonder if I'm ever going to return and take care of the kids. Staying out all night with no way for him to contact me so he can know what it feels like to watch the clock, and hear the children sigh disappointedly, knowing that I'm supposed to be there, and I'm not. Staying out all night so he has to feel the panic of not knowing how he's going to care for these kids without the help of the other so-called adult who brought them into this world. Staying out all night so he has to take the baby to the emergency room, spending the last of the money that was set aside for therapy, without any hope of seeing that replenished by the other person who is RESPONSIBLE for helping with bills. Staying out all night until he really understands what it's like to know that the other parent CAN'T be relied upond. Staying out all night so that he has to scheme up backup plans, and backup plans to backup plans. And all the while the children are walking around with this disappointed and let-down look on their faces, because what staying out all night really does is teaches them that they can't rely on their parents to provide the care that they need.
So, I won't stay out all night. I'll come home at my designated time and hug them and hug them and hug them and I'll push down all of the "fuck yous" and "assholes" and every other descriptive adjective that rises like bile when I think about his hubris and sense of entitlement - when I have to look at that fucking adolescent smirk or that bloodshot look of indigence caused by his own inability to pull his shit together and be a fucking adult.
***
PS - this was a RANT, not a state of mind. I don't need advice - I don't need sympathy - I just needed to let this out so I can go about the rest of my day without jawclench and eyetick.
Drug Pushers
October 23, 2003
I have to preface this post by saying that I love the clients I serve where I work. They are, in general, wonderful people who really care about our program and treat us with the utmost respect.
Which is probably why about 2/3 of my class was trying to get me hooked on allergy medication when I was sniffling in class yesterday. I got to hear stories of weekly shots and daily pill popping - things people do to control allergies around here. I heard a lot of "Oh, you need to get rid of that! This stuff will knock it right out of your system."
And I kind of wonder what exactly allergy medicine does to your body. Since allergies are really just a symptom of an over-active immune system, does a person who is what can only be described as absolutely addicted to allergy medication eventually end up compromising his or her immune system?
Personally, I can't touch the stuff unless I'm absolutely dying. Any medication I put into my body makes me feel dopy and sleepy - so much so that I am absolutely worthless to anyone. And if I'm going to have to call in sick to work anyway, I might as well just take a hot eucalyptus bath and go to bed...
...which is what I did yesterday, and I woke up today without a sniffle.
It's not an adjective, either
October 22, 2003
Among my criticisms in the first column, I noted that GHETTOPOLY's biggest offense is reinforcing the notion of the ghetto as a free-standing cultural space, whose residents are caught in a tangle of pathology because of their own depravity, ignorance, addiction, bad choices, and incompetence.In fact, as I explained with historical evidence, the ghetto is a creation of the political and economic elites who sought to restrict black residential mobility to the urban core, even as whites were being subsidized to move to the suburbs. The ghetto, in other words is not the product of the people who live there, but those who don't: it is the geographic detritus of institutional racism and economic oppression.
In the second of a three-part series at the Black Commentator, Tim Wise lives up to his name.
For that is the biggest white privilege of all: namely, the privilege of remaining oblivious to the real world, ignorant to the workings of your society, enraptured by the fantasy created by your history books, teachers, preachers, parents, Boy Scout leaders and politicians.It is the privilege to never have to think about the things you don't want to think about.
It is the ability to live a lie every day, and most of all to insist upon one's innocence long after that innocence was delivered still-born, and to swear that the baby, so to speak, is still breathing.
It is the privilege of thinking that poverty is a game, precisely because you and yours have rarely if ever had to play it from the inside, have never been the chess pieces moved around by someone else's hand.
It is the ability to say "lighten up, it's just a joke," precisely because the joke is not on you or anyone you know.
Rock on, brother.
Much Needed Help
October 22, 2003
My brother in law came over today and again offered to paint the back room for me and fix the gate on the privacy fence in our back yard. That gate has been an annoyance to me for years now, because it sticks and doesn't open all the way and there's a picket missing so the dogs get out. It's just a huge hairy fucking pain. He says he's going to buy some wood and build me a whole new gate, and he's going to shop for cheap paint and take care of the back room for me - at least a primer coat in a neutral color. Once that's done, and once I can afford some of the chalkboard paint and some of the magnetic paint, he's going to sand down the two walls I want to use for that and paint it again.
I'm so thankful for the help. BIL is a good guy. He has some problems (who doesn't) but the kids love him and he's always been very nice to me. Today, he brought over this cute little homemade rocking horse that his girlfriend found in someone's trash. He cleaned it up for us and gave it to Coley, who adores it.
I don't have any family in town here, so it's nice that they are putting forth the effort to maintain a relationship with me and the kids. It's difficult to accept help from L's family, but I think I need it, and I think the helping helps them, too. Plus it's good for me to practice receiving from others, as well as giving.
Hipmama
October 22, 2003
I love the way Coleen so nonchalantly points out that hipmama is "back." Cool.
Crazymama on National Marriage Protection week
October 21, 2003
I really don't feel qualified to write about the sanctity or importance of marriage as I am in the midst of becoming demarried, so I'm glad that crazymama has written about it. Go read.
Redistricting in Texas, The Photo Essay
October 21, 2003
Excitement Machine hooked me up with this link, which is...well, it's laughably depressing.
Ben Weasel has a Blog
October 21, 2003
Hey everyone, Ben Weasel has a blog.
And I'm not sure if I mentioned it, but while I'm on the subject, I might as well shout out to Jim Munroe, who also has a blog.
I wonder how many people I have known/known of in my past are blogging now. It seems like there should be a lot of ex-zinesters out there with blogs, but I haven't run into too terribly many of them.
Make yourself heard! Zinesters (and ex-zinesters) with blogs, unite!
Sniffles.
October 21, 2003
I hate this fucking weather. I really do. It gets down to about 50 at night, and up to the 80s in the day, and every day the trees and plants think "Yay! It's spring again!" And I get the sniffles and the drippy nose and the whole she-bang. Which isn't so bad. I mean, I would rather have the sniffles than the sore-throat inducing post nasal drip (that comes later, during cedar season) (wouldn't you like to live somewhere where seasons are defined by the allergies they cause rather than by actual meteorological differences?) But, yet, it IS so bad, because I am supposed to stand in front of a room full of people and teach them things without sniffing every five seconds (which is annoying) or wiping my nose on my sleeve (which is disgusting) - both of which I regularly do when I'm not standing in front of a room full of people.
I suppose shoving facial tissue up my nostrils is out of the question, too.
*sniff*
Moyers on Education
October 21, 2003
Quite honestly, the left doesn't get it. The so-called Houston "miracle" (which is actually more like the Houston educational scandal) was not merely a symptom of bad educational policy - it's a symptom of our shitty political and economic system of capitalism.
However, last week's show was an absolute inspiration to continue fighting for educational reform and/or revolution.