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« April 2004 | Main | June 2004 »
We Have Brains Collaboration Topic: Feminist Men.
May 31, 2004
I swear I had a better collab topic yesterday, but a gnome ate that part of my brain. So I give you Roni's lame ass collab topic of the year (yeah, it's early, I can still out do myself):Who are the top 5 feminist boys/men you love? And why?
These can be your dad, Moby, or Prince Charming. On your marks, set, go!
I'm probably more than a little jaded about men in general, but I really don't think there are any men that I know that I consider to be feminist. I think there are definitely feminist allies and men who are helpful to the cause of feminism, but I'm really wary of giving that title to any man.
I guess in my experience, the only men I've known who call themselves feminists are really NOT actually even close to being feminist. In fact, it almost seems like the louder a man talks about his feminist ideology, the more apt he is to be completely NOT in touch with his privilege.
Which I suppose is a consistent symptom of privilege in general. Those who really understand the depth of their privilege, it seems, have too much work to do to really believe that calling themselves something will help in any way.
A thought about gore's remarks...
May 31, 2004
I'm not a huge fan of Gore*, but can you even IMAGINE our current president using the term "Faustian?"
(*and I really don't actually agree with much of what he says in this article, but he says it elegantly and intelligently, and I respect that.)
Breaking the Silence, Taking Back Your Birth
May 31, 2004
startle the echoes: babies, breasts
we've got to break this silence. We've got to take back this miraculous process and share it with other women. They need to know. We don't live in close communities anymore where children grow up around it, hearing it, helping out with it. It's hidden in a hospital room, controlled by people who have been trained to intervene. Seriously, doctors are trained to do something, they're not even comfortable with letting the process happen on its own. That's another blog story. It's late. Let's keep talking about this though. Hey, I know what to do - let's shout it out!
My first baby was born in a hospital. I fell COMPLETELY for their "You get to tell us how you want it to be, and we will honor your request." That's the last thing they told me in the examining room, the FIRST thing they did in the hospital room was tell me to lie back while they shoved the IV in my arm, ignoring my protests.
I think hospital workers, consciously or not, are well-trained in the art of disempowering their patients. But a disempowered birth is an arduous birth. They didn't have my cooperation because they were forcing me to work AGAINST my body to birth my son. I got tired. I got exhausted. I got demerol. And I got even more tired. I don't even remember moaning.
My second birth was at home. I was treated like the authority of my body. It was the exact opposite experience. I chose the position (or, rather, my body chose it) and birthed on my hands and knees. I was supported by my midwife and some wonderful women who were present, and I had a sense of euphoria and power through the entire process. It was wonderful.
I can't tell women enough how much of a difference a homebirth made in my life. I owe a lot of my own rebirth to the experience of birthing my second son. I did learn a lot during the hospital birth, too...but I wish I had NOT learned those things, whereas with the home birth, I am so very grateful for all I learned.
There was pain. Lots of it. But my body found a way to position itself to minimize the pain. For instance, I absolutely COULD NOT sit down or lay down, the pain was just WAY too intense. Which is odd, because I spent the entire hospital birth laying down on my bath, asking for them to please let me get up and walk around, and being told that wasn't an option for me. I'm certain that it would have taken less time and pain for my first birth had I been allowed to make my own choices. I'm just thankful it wasn't WORSE than it turned out.
I am afraid that women cringe when they think of homebirth. That perhaps women are afraid of the pain, or perhaps they are afraid of the mess, or perhaps they just feel like "modern"=better. Cole's birth was a journey for me. Well, it was the end of a journey which started at conception. It was wonderful, painful, beautiful, strange, enlightening, scary, and altogether integral to who I am today.
Blogging about Blogging, and my life.
May 31, 2004
I just looked back at the last week's blog entries, and I realized I haven't been writing a lot. In general, for the past few months, I feel like that's the case here. I'll link and throw a comment in or maybe write about my day, but I haven't really been able to muster the energy to write with any detail about anything.
I think, too, I freaked myself out a bit teaching that blog class. I was talking about focus, and looking at all of these really cool blogs with a specific focus, and I started to feel like my blog lacks focus. That it is, in fact, an excercise in complete and utter vanity and there's really no point. Blogistentialism?
Plus, the major events of the past week haven't really been things that I feel comfortable posting here. Things about the upcoming divorce. Things that I feel I need to keep private for whatever reason. I share those things (mostly complaining, really) for my livejournal friends.
But I suppose there are some things I can share at this point, since I've already shared them with L. I'm having him served at work. I felt like I had no other option. I didn't want him served here at the house while he was watching the kids because I didn't know how he would respond, and I don't (didn't) have an address for him. I still don't have an address for him, but I know where he will be living after today.
I felt like I needed to give him fair warning that he would be served at work. It was a risk, I admit. I was warned not to do it, but it didn't seem...nice. I dunno. I have this thing about niceness. I have this thing where I feel like he needs to know all of the options. Plus, I really have listened to everyone who has told me that "I know him best" and that I really can't take anyone else's advice on how to deal with him. I didn't exactly feel safe telling him, but weighing the options, I felt safer telling him in advance than I would have if he had been surprised/caught off guard.
He wasn't pleased when I told him, but he's been acting more reasonable since I told him than he has in a long, long time. I even ended up telling him that the visitation order was going to look like a decrease in the amount of time he spends with the children. This also made him angry, but I told him that "reasonable people can come to an agreement outside of that order." I told him that he hasn't been consistent and I felt that I needed to protect myself and the children from his inconsistency. I have no idea how that is going to work out.
I find it odd that after MONTHS AND MONTHS (maybe even a full year? But it's been like this off and on for several years) of not being able to say more than three words at a time to L without being silenced, I'm suddenly able to have conversations with him. Of course I recognize this as part of the cycle. It's familiar to me. But it doesn't feel completely safe. I know that at any minute (of his choosing) he will snap back and stop talking again. So I make reasonable requests while I can, and I raise issues while I can. And, while I do still care for him as a person...I am thankful that I will soon be severed from him legally, and not obligated to him in any way.
So, if all goes as planned, this coming weekend will be my first weekend in my house without the children present. I'm apprehensive, but sort of excited, too. I worry that Coley will have difficulty adjusting. I'm not as worried about Monk, but it's a transition for both of them, and perhaps I should worry MORE for Monk, since he doesn't really talk about how he feels about it. Coley's not afraid to talk about it. Coley's seeing monsters in the dark. He gets scared. I'm almost certain that at some point this weekend he will be returned to me. I've already told L that this is OK with me. I just hope I don't get a call in the midst of the Rasputina show.
Yesterday, I rearranged my kitchen. I'm not sure if I like it, but it's different, and sort of cool. I cleaned the counters and scrubbed the floor. I cleaned the toilet that was stinkiing up the entire house (the kids don't have very good aim). I imagine after next weekend, the house will be fucking spotless.
Or maybe I'll just read a good book. Several of them.
I will listen to music loud. Take a long bath. Walk around the house naked. Watch scary/sexy/funny movies. And miss my little guys madly.
Sigh.
white privilege and moving to canada
May 30, 2004
bigfatmama has some thoughts about moving to canada to escape our regime:
i hear someone write or say that if such and such does or does not happen they are moving to canada nearly everyday. i don't share the sentiment and as another person accused me, i am judgmental about it. i think it exhibits the same kind of imperialist mind that created this fucked up empire in the first place. so if you leave the US and move to canada you are no longer complicit in the photos, in the war, in the apartheid this country practices, you can just move to another mostly white, mostly english speaking country and leave it all behind.i do think that most of the people saying this are white. and that folks who have benefitted from this empire (white people) have an obligation, if they don't like it to fight to change it. the thing is, i think that what most people want is to alleviate their white american guilt and keep their privilege. move to canada!
Definitely a LOT to think about there. I am reluctant to move mostly because it just seems like it's a lot of work for what is probably very little difference. If the Bush Administration is really powerful enough to change elections, or if no one can stop this forward momentum, it doesn't seem like it would make much difference WHERE I lived. And I probably wouldn't want to live as close as Canada if I did happen to move.
Either way, I had never consciously considered the argument of privilege in this, and I'm thankful to Angela for pointing it out. It's very similar to the argument for keeping kids in school rather than homeschooling them, and we all know which way I lean on that one. But this, to me, is more compelling somehow.
Richard on National Healthcare...
May 30, 2004
...or the lack thereof.
I sometimes wonder why there isn't more public outrage over the lack of health coverage in this country. There is concern, but there is no collective outcry, and I don't see people taking to the streets. It could be because the majority still have some form of health coverage, even though it is gradually costing them more and more. It could be that too many people have been brainwashed into thinking that national, "single-payer" healthcare would simply cost too much money -- though more and more evidence comes out that the strategy of government working through HMOs costs even more (and let’s not get into the vast amounts wasted on other corporate welfare and global mass murder).The people of the United States have a remarkable ability to remain passive or apathetic about social problems that affect their own lives. You can get lots of people out into the streets to protest a foreign war or other overt forms of brutality that are perpetrated by the government, at least some of the time. And, that is great. But it's much harder to get that kind of collective reaction in response to subtler forms of brutality, especially here at home. And, make no mistake about it, when people get sick and even die because they can't afford adequate treatment in a supposedly affluent society, that is definitely a form of brutality.
The New Being
May 27, 2004
By Kenneth Patchen
They'd make you believe that your problem is one of sex,
That men and women have mysteriously become
Strange and fearful to one another - sick, diseased, cold -
And that is true. But no loss of a father-image or of
Any other image, did this. Why don't you face the truth for once?
You have accepted the whole filthy, murderous swindle without
A word of protest, hated whomever you were told to hate,
Slaughtered whomever you were told to slaughter; you've lied,
Cheated, made the earth stink with your very presence - Why
Shouldn't you despise and hate one another? Why shouldn't
Your flesh crawl everytime you touch one another?
Why should you expect to make 'love' in a bed fouled with corpses?
Oh, you poor, weak little frauds, sucking around
Frantically for something to ease your guilt -
Why don't you face it?
Your birthright, liferight,
Deathright, and now your
Sexright, you've lost. What
Did you expect? How
Else could it be? You've
Made property and money your only gods -
Well, this is their rule,
This is what you wanted.
And now they'll wipe you out.
Why don't you face it?
Stop sucking around.
Your pet witch-doctors can't help you,
They're all sick from the same thing.
Your pompous intellectuals can't help you,
They're all sick from the same thing.
Your sly, vicious statesmen can't help you,
They're all sick from the same thing,
Why don't you face it?
No, your problem is not one of sex -
Your problem is that you have betrayed your animal
Into hands as cruel and bloody as your own.
Man is dead.
I don't know what kind of thing you are.
Need more help for my blogging class!
May 27, 2004
I'm looking for links to blogs that are "well-crafted" - meaning they follow a focused theme, or they have an interesting presentation, or the posts are extremely well-written.
I could just post my entire blogroll, but I'm worried about presenting too much bias, so I want to hear from you. Please help me give my class a more balanced look at blogging.
I'm also looking for your favorite "prompt" sites. Memes, themes, prompts - lay them on me.
And while we're at it, lay some of your favorite blog tools on me.
Please. I'm begging you. The more comments and suggestions I can get, the better this class will be. And, besides, if I have to sit around all day tomorrow hunting for this stuff, I'll have to skip the protest, and I want to be out there to support the mamas.
Thank you so much!
Meet me at Waterloo Park to agitate for healthy babies
May 26, 2004
I can't find information to this ANYWHERE online, which peeves me immensely (where the fuck are all of the activist organizations on this issue?) but a bunch of people are going to be gathering at Waterloo park tomorrow (may 27th) from 11 AM - 2 PM to protest the decision by Brackenridge and Seton hospitals to lay off and cut back all or most of their lactation consultant staff.
This "budget cut" is absolute bullshit, but I suppose it's smart business. Not only are they reducing costs, but they're ensuring more profit as fewer breastfed babies will equate to more sick babies. Yay, capitalism!
'O My Darling Troubles Heaven with her Loveliness
May 26, 2004
By Kenneth Patchen
O my darling troubles heaven
With her loveliness
She is made of such cloth
That the angels cry to see her
Little gods dwell where she moves
And their hands open golden boxes
For me to lie in
She is built of lilies and candy doves
And the youngest star wakens in her hair
She calls me with the music of silver bells
And at night we step into other worlds
Like birds flying through the red and yellow air
Of childhood
O she touches me with the tips of wonder
And the angels cuddle like sleepy kittens
At our side
(best. love poem. ever.)
What is the Beautiful?
May 26, 2004
by Kenneth Patchen
The narrowing line,
Walking on the burning ground,
The ledges of stone.
Owlfish wading near the horizon.
Unrest in the outer districts.
Pause.
And begin again.
Needles through the eye.
Bodies cracked open like nuts.
Must have a place.
Dog has a place.
Pause.
And begin again.
Tents in the sultry weather.
Rifles hate holds.
Who is right?
Was Christ?
Is it wrong to love all men?
Pause.
And begin again.
Contagion of murder.
But the small whip hits back.
This is my life, Caeser.
I think it is good to live.
Pause.
And begin again.
Perhaps the shapes will open.
Will flying fly?
Will singing have a song?
Will the shapes of evil fall?
Will the lives of men grow clean?
Will the power be fore good?
Will the power of man find its sun?
Will the power of man flame as a sun?
Will the poer of man turn against death?
Who is right?
Is war?
Pause.
And begin again.
A narow line.
Walking on the beautiful ground.
A ledge of fire.
It would take little to be free.
That no man hate another man,
Because he is black;
Because he is yellow;
Because he is white;
Or because he is English;
Or German;
Or rich;
Or poor;
Because we are everyman.
Pause.
And begin again.
It would take little to be free
That no man live at the expense of another.
Because no man can own what belongs to all.
Because no man can kill what all must use.
Because no man can lie when all are betrayed.
Because no man can hate when all are hated.
And begin again.
I know that the shapes will open.
Flying will fly, and singing will sing.
Because the only power of man is in good.
And all evil shall fail.
Because evil does not work,
Because the white man and the black man,
The Englishman and the German,
Are not real things.
They are only pictures of things.
Their shapes, like the shapes of the tree
And the flower, have no lives in names or signs;
They are their lives, and the real is in them.
And what is real shall have life always.
Pause.
I believe in the truth.
I believe that every good thought I have,
All men shall have.
I believe that what is best in me,
Shall be found in every man.
I believe that only the beautiful
Shall survive on the earth.
I believe that the perfect shape of everything
Has been prepared;
And, that we do not fit our own
Is of little consequence.
Man beckons to man on this terrible road.
I believe that we are going into the darkness now;
Hundreds of years will pass before the light
Shines over the world of all men...
And I am blinded by its splendor.
Pause.
And begin again
Razing Abu Ghraib
May 26, 2004
"It's not the place that matters, but who occupies it"
Just...something to think about.
He's Dangerous.
May 26, 2004
You know that cat in Shrek 2? Puss in Boots?
You know how he makes his eyes all big and does the cute litle wayward kitty act?
Well, Monk has decided to adopt that technique for his own nefarious purposes. He stops what he's doing, looks at me, makes his eyes go all big...and I can't. say. no.
It was bad enough on its own, used sparingly. But yesterday he combined it with his "I'm looking at you like you are from another planet" look, and I nearly went over the edge from the parental mind control.
And today! Today he inadvertently did the "poor kitty" look...without even trying...and I realized that I am in deep, deep trouble.
I just hope he doesn't teach it to Coley.
spike goes to school.
May 25, 2004
Ah, today has been an exciting swirl of adventure...I don't want to go into the gory detail, but it involved a "quick" trip to the library which ended up taking longer than expected (and included a scene where a triumphant cole, after drinking at the drinking fountain for an hour and a half, declared "I'M PEEING ON THE LIBRARY FLOOR!") a thwarted attempt at getting a smoothy or at least a decent lemonade at Austin Java Company (I think they just put lemon juice in a cup and called it "fresh squeezed lemonade" - so I tried adding sugar, but it just wasn't going to make Cole happy no. matter. what. Monk liked it, though...so it wasn't a total loss, even though I realized too late - on the way home - that they double charged me for it) and ended with a merry chase through the playground for an escaped dog on an escapade. The various helpful children kept point us in a circle around the school until we ran across a group of sweet little boys who were on their way to returning Spike to my house. I felt bad, because I think they think that I thought they were trying to take him, but I was just so relieved to see the dog that I couldn't hold back the "That's my dog." and even though I didn't MEAN for it to sound like "That's MY dog." I'm sure it did. So I thanked the boys profusely and they told me that Spike had come into their classroom and they fed him a little and gave him some water and poor old spike was only too happy to be carried home, where he collapsed in a wheezy heap on the floor.
Whew.
So, I'm treating myself to a little air conditioned bliss while coley watches some sesame street and Monk reads one of his library books. I might have some coffee or a little snack, get some of the remaining bits of work done that I was hoping to get done this afternoon before I had a dog hunt on my hands, and then get ready for another blog class at work tonight.
Hope your adventures aren't quite so...hot and sticky and rife with stinky dog breath.
Hanging Laundry Again
May 25, 2004
I have developed a really good new rhythm for myself and the kiddos now that it's spring and the weather is changing, but hasn't quite become unbearably hot and muggy.
We wake up in the morning, usually around 8, sometimes as late as 9. This morning, I woke up at 8, and the kids slept in. Monk woke up around 8:30, Cole around 9. I do my writing/reading between 8 and 9:30 - making breakfast for everyone and myself while scanning blogs, reading news, and figuring out what to write about.
Then I have my coffee and eat my breakfast, and at around 9:30 or so I do the dishes and hang out a new load of laundry, taking in yesterday's load. The kids sometimes watch Between the Lions at this point, and then from 10-11 I have dedicated story/learning time - depending on what the kids want to do. Today, we read an excerpt from _The Wind in the Willows_, and some silly poems, and another exerpt from a book about Living with Owls, or something.
At this point, the boys have a choice between going outside for playtime, doing a chore so they can get some computer time, or just hanging out for freeplay. I knock around, read, write, clean up, and prepare lunch.
We all eat lunch together and have silly conversations about all sorts of things. The other day, Monk was telling me about how he was going to die "either of old age, or by freezing to death." Um, OK.
After lunch we either have more outdoor play time or we run errands or we do a project or experiment. Sometimes we do this right after lunch, sometimes I clean up a bit after lunch and they play by themselves for a bit. Either way, I try to set aside an hour of face time in the afternoon, either helping Monk with a workbook or helping cole with artwork or alternating between the two.
Then I go to work, and when I come home I generally have one-on-one time with Monk, which has always been a really important activity for us, but L has decided (on his own without consulting me...which, really, I need to talk to him about) to start putting Monk in bed by 10. This isn't a problem normally, because I try to get home by 9:30 or so, but lately I've had to stay out until 10 or 10:30 (due to car trouble and other obligations) and it saddens me when Monk is asleep when I get home.
At any rate, when Monk is allowed to stay up to his normal bedtime, we typically play a game or read or sometimes we watch the Simpsons or a movie together and eat popcorn. I think it's a good time for us to bond. Frequently during the day Coley is getting the bulk of attention, as we take frequent "cuddle breaks" at his behest. Monk likes to cuddle, too, but coley is extremely territorial about it, so it can be difficult for Monk to get access to me during the day without causing disturbance of one kind or another.
I've been trying to give myself breaks from housework - to allow the children's needs to trump the dishes, for instance. It's hard when things pile up and I don't have energy left over (or when we have lots of exciting out-of-house activities planned) on the weekend and the house starts to get kind of gritty...but I just have to constantly remind myself that the kids don't seem to care as much when the house is clean as they do when they have a happy mama to play with...and who is responsive to their immediate needs and desires.
I'm enjoying this rhythm. I'm sure it will change a bit over the summer, and again, pretty drastically, when the time changes in the fall. For now, though, it's working out great.
I've been thinking lately...
May 25, 2004
...about how difficult it is to be a parent. And I was going to write a bit about it, but thought I would maybe not, but then read this post by Dawn, and figured I might as well give it a shot.
I think the thing is that lately, I have not been parenting as effectively as I would like to. I think Dawn is so right that parents need to be mindful of how their histories are playing out in their relationships with their children...and when there are numerous distractions or stressors, it can be difficult to allow for that mindfulness to surface when things become tense with the children.
Lately, I feel as though I have been mean with the children. I have had to tell Monk "NO" more than usual, and I've felt frustrated and annoyed with Coley's high level of curiosity and activity. Neither of them are really doing anything unusually wrong, but both can be difficult to deal with, especially when they gang up on me.
The important thing that I need to remember is that we are ALL going through a stressful time. It's so difficult to balance forgiveness of myself on top of the anger I feel when they violate my space or my authority. I don't ACT as angry as I FEEL most of the time, but I add it into the equation and it's a formula for guilt.
Additionally, it's frequently true that their behavior IS inappropriate, and there are times when my anger is the natural consequence of their behavior. I have come to realize, after years of thinking otherwise, that anger DOES have a place in a parent-child relationship. The key is that the parent must learn how to express anger appropriately. How to focus the anger on the specific behavior that is causing the problem, and how to apologize and forgive. Anger is a HUGE emotion for me. If I were to continue to expect myself to not be angry. EVER. with my children, I would be even more frustrated and stressed out than I am right now. It's a genuine emotion that must be dealt with as genuinely as any of the other emotions we express with each other on a regular basis.* The key is to learn to express it productively or constructively, and apply it to lessons about learning to get along better.
And I frequently ask THEIR forgiveness. This is something that was never part of my relationship with my mother. An apology was never offered by an older person for a youth to accept or reject. It was just assumed that the elder was right and the youth was wrong, regardless of the reality of the situation. So EVERY time I offer an apology feels like excess to me, even if it only happens once or twice a week (although, I have to admit, I've had my days where I feel like I have been fucking up and asking for forgiveness several times an hour).
I always knew it was difficult to be a parent. It's not something that is innately programmed. In fact, for most of us, what IS innately programmed is directly in conflict with the skills that are needed to BE a good parent. There are times when I feel as though I am hacking through a jungle of overhanging crap to reach that postage stamp sized meadow where decent parenting exists.
But when I get there, we all sit and relax and enjoy. And I get there by being mindful. I get there by declaring upon waking "Today is going to be a good day for all of us." or "Today I'm going to really work on not losing my temper." or something equally cheesy. Some goal that it feels like it should be a no-brainer to achieve, but which I seem to struggle with a lot these days.
*It just occurred to me that anger is an element that is missing in the relationship children have with the "experts" we allow into their lives. Teachers, I'm assuming, are encouraged to not act angry with their students, even though the students are there a good portion of the day, and I imagine teachers get pretty freaking angry sometimes. I think there's a difference between controlled anger, and genuinely expressed, but directed (and not over-expressed) anger...if that makes sense. Or maybe I'm just finding another excuse to keep my kids out of school
Echoing Adam
May 25, 2004
Jeffrey Veen: Ringtones and Torture Pictures Want to be Free
In the face of the atrocities committed by US Soldiers guarding prisoners in Iraq, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld has banned cameraphones. Banned cameraphones! This harkens directly to his testimony before Congress last week when he lamented the new digital world that allows anyone to effortlessly beam information from where ever they are. Restated: We're very truly sorry we got caught. We'll take steps to ensure we get away with this from now on.
[link via Randomwalks]
Another couple of Patchen Poems
May 25, 2004
Death Will Amuse Them
A little girl was given a new toy
That needed no winding and would never run down
As even the best of everything will
And all day she played with it
Following happily over the floor of heaven
Until finally it rolled under the feet of God Himself
Who said: 'You must give it back now.'
Then He pointed down at two soldiers who were staring up
Hopefully
'You see, it is a very popular toy.'
And He tossed it down to them
Whose eyes would stare up in earnest when they touched it.
-Kenneth Patchen
Have you Killed Your Man for Today?
In these hands, the cities; in my weather, the armies
Of better things than die
To the scaly music of war.
The different men, who are dead,
Had cunning; they sought green lives
In a world blacker than your world;
But you have nourished the taste of sickness
Until all other tastes are dull in your mouths;
It is only we who stand outside the steaming tents
Of hypocrisy and murder
Who are 'sick'-
This is the health you want.
Yours is the health of the pig which roots up
The vines that would give him food;
Ours is the sickness of the deer which is shot
Because it is the activity of hunters to shoot him.
In your hands, the cities; in my world, the marching
Of nobler feet than walk down a road
Deep with the corpses of every sane and beautiful thing.
-Kenneth Patchen
(one more)
Nice Day for a Lynching
The bloodhounds look like sad old judges
In a strange court. They point their noses
At the Negro jerking in the tight noose;
His feet spread crow-like above there
Honorable men who laugh as he chokes.
I don't know this black man.
I don't know these whit men.
But I know that one of my hands
Is black, and one white. I know that
One part of me is being strangled,
While another part horribly laughs.
Until it changes,
I shall be forever killing; and be killed.
-Kenneth Patchen
obscenity?
May 24, 2004
San Francisco Examiner: Patriotic or obscene?
"If you can see genitals in my painting and call that obscene, then I think you need to look at the actions taken by these people in the prisons in Iraq," he said. "That is where you will find the real obscenity."Colwell calls himself a patriot.
"I have worked for peace and justice most of my life. I think that is a very American thing to do," he said. "I am not anti-American, I'm anti-torture. I'm anti-cruelty. I'm anti-hypocrisy. I don't want to be lied to any more by our government, and I stand by my work."
+--+
May 24, 2004
-
+My sister offered to send me money so I can join them in Nevada for a camping trip
-I can't imagine having the energy to do a solo road trip in the near future
-My kids have fought over EVERYTHING today, most recently: Who Gets The Biggest Strawberry, and Who Gets To Sit In The Hammock First
+My boss just called and canceled our Monday meeting.
I DON'T WANT TO STARTLE YOU
May 24, 2004
I DON'T WANT TO STARTLE YOU but
they are going to kill most of us
I knew the General only by name of course.
I said Wartface what have you done with her?
I said You Dirtylouse tell me where she is now?
His duck-eyes shifted to the Gaurd. All right, Sam.
I saw a photograph of the old prick's wife on the desk;
Face smiling like a bag of money on a beggar's grave.
Who is that fat turd I said - he hit me with a jewelled fist.
While his man held me he put a lighted cigarette on my eyelid.
I smelt the burning flesh through his excellent perfume.
On the wall it said Democracy must be saved at all costs.
The floor was littered with letters of endorsement from liberals
And intellectuals: "your high ideals," "liberty," "juman justice."
Stalin's picture spotted between Hoover's and a group-shot of the DAR.
I brought my knee up suddenly and caught him in the nuts.
A little foam trickled from his flabby puss. All right, Sam.
They led me into a yard and through a city of iron cells.
I saw all the boys: Lenin, Trotsky, Nin, Pierce, Rosa Luxemburg...
Their eyes were confident, beautiful, unafraid...
We came finally to an immense hall protected by barbed wire
And machineguns: Hitler, Benny Mussolini, Roosevelt and all
The big and little wigs were at table, F.D.'s arm around Adolf,
Chiang-Kai-shek's around the Pope, all laughing fit to kill.
As soon as a treaty was signed, out the window it went;
But how they fumbled at each other under the table!
I snatched up a menu:
Grilled Japanese Soldier On Toast
Fried Revolutionaries a la Dirty Joe
Roast Worker Free Style
Hamstrung Colonial Stew, British Special
Gassed Child's Breast, International Favorite
Wine list - Blood 1914, '15, '17, '23, '34, '36, '40 etc.
So much fresh meat I thought! A butchers' holiday...
The General paused to enjoy the floorshow:
On a raised platform little groups of people stood.
Flags told their nationality; orators told them what to do.
As the bands blared they rushed at each other with bayonet.
The dead and dying were dragged off and others brought on.
Sweat streamed from the orators; the musicians wobbled crazily.
The Big Shots were mad with joy, juggling in their seats like monkeys.
And they never get wise the General said as we moved on
Out in the air again...
A line of petty officials and war-pims waited before the door.
As we approached they drew aside respectfully to let the General in.
I heard a woman moaning and I knew what they wanted there.
Now do you know what we've done with her the General said.
To go mad or to die...
They forced me to watch as the General went up to her and
Her eyes were looking at me.
***
The Origin of Baseball
Someone had been walking in and out
Of the world without coming
To much decision about anything.
The sun seemed too hot most of the time.
There weren't enough birds around
And the hills had a silly look
When he got on top of one.
The girls in heaven, however, thought
Nothing of asking to see his watch
Like you would want someone to tell
A joke - "Time,"they'd say, "what's
That mean - Time?", laughing with the edges
Of their white mouths, like a flutter of paper
In a madhouse. And he'd stumble over
General Sherman or Elizabeth B.
Browning, muttering, "Can't you keep
Your big wings out of the aisle?" But down
Again, there'd be millions of people without
Enough to eat and men with guns just
Standing there shooting each other.
So he wanted to throw something
And he picked up a baseball.
-Kenneth Patchen
********
The Fox
Because the snow is deep
Without spot that white falling through white air
Because she limps a little - bleeds
Where they shot her
Because hunters have guns
And dogs have hangmen's legs
Because I'd like to take her in my arms
And tend her wound
Because she can't afford to die
Killing the young in her belly
I don't know what to say of a soldier's dying
Because there are no proportions in death.
-Kenneth Patchen
I'm wondering that, too...
May 24, 2004
Except...maybe not in those precise words:
I mean, sure, good news for a change so people don't think the entire rest of the planet is a non-stop chamber of horrors, all well and good, but how many fucking frisbees does it take to equal someone getting a chem light shoved up their ass is what I'm wondering.
Patriotism.
May 24, 2004
I've been too busy and/or tired to post here these past few days, and I'm not really up for posting right now either, but I hate that the "Crises all Sizes" post is stuck at the top of the page...
And, by the way, what the fuck is going on with this country?
In March 2003, a teenage girl named Courtney presented one of her poems before an audience at Barnes & Noble bookstore in Albuquerque, then read the poem live on the school's closed-circuit television channel.A school military liaison and the high school principal accused the girl of being "un-American" because she criticized the war in Iraq and the Bush administration's failure to give substance to its "No child left behind" education policy.
The girl's mother, also a teacher, was ordered by the principal to destroy the child's poetry. The mother refused and may lose her job.
Bill Nevins was suspended for not censoring the poetry of his students. Remember, there is no obscenity to be found in any of the poetry. He was later fired by the principal.
After firing Nevins and terminating the teaching and reading of poetry in the school, the principal and the military liaison read a poem of their own as they raised the flag outside the school.
You can read this horribly unpatriotic poem here. You might want to use a public computer, though, so they can't trace you performing this act of sedition.
Crises, all sizes.
May 20, 2004
So, I've had a pretty crappy 24 or so hours. I guess it started when I dropped the kids off at my friend's house. The one who watches them for a few hours a week so I can get to work on time at least twice a week. She was having a birthday party - a HALF birthday party - for her son. I wasn't invited. I suppose she might have just figured that I was going to be dropping the kids off anyway, but there has been some passive aggressive bullshit between us for the past month or so that I just don't even think I can begin to muster to energy to put to rest. So, whatever. I felt like crap, but I had an appointment with my lawyer, so it's not like I could have stayed, anyway. I'm just tired of dealing with pettiness - that of mine or others.
So, I make the trek out the the lawyer's office, and everything looked good with my paperwork, and he gave me some good advice and step by step instructions for how to file. But he also gave me a new angle to think about, which was something I hadn't considered that I am now forced to consider. And that's about all that I can say of that here.
So I swung by k8's house, which was one of two high points of my day, and listened to her read stories to her kids, and we chatted a bit about divorce angst and made some plans.
And then I had a thoroughly unpleasant dinner with my co-worker and my boss. It would have been a lot more pleasant if I had not, yet again, had to listen to endless prosyletizing about a certain diet plan. I mean, Maude fucking damn - I talk about my KIDS less than this person talks about her diet. It's INSANE.
At any rate, I managed to survive dinner, and I went back to work to deliver a "thank you" dessert to my co-worker. I was there for all of 30 minutes or so, got back out to my van, and the key wouldn't turn in the ignition.
Fuck.
So, J came out and tried another key which also didn't work, and then drove me home (seeing J was the second high point of my day)...and today I called a locksmith to try to fix the problem, and they sent someone out there to fix it (after J, who is my favorite person of the week, dropped my key off over at their offices)...The service person just called to tell me that he fixed the key problem, but now the engine won't turn over.
Gack. I'm tired of all of this. In addition to this mess, I've suddenly decided that I need to change the entire curriculum of my blogging class so that we will spend all night tonight using Blogger and then both class periods next week using TypePad...which, I guess, won't be too difficult a switch, but it's still somewhat of a headache. And I still need to rewrite at least today's portion of the agenda and hunt down links, and there are these kids running around here and I have a meeting tomorrow that I don't have childcare for and I think my head is going to just completely explode...
...but I can't let that happen, because then I'd have to be the one to freaking mop it up, and there's no time for that now.
Hope yr having a good day.
Today.
May 19, 2004
Today...I see my lawyer. I'm pretty sure my paperwork is all in order. My stomach is turning at the thought of what comes next. I hate that it has to be all about lawyers and courts and orders and all the impersonality it entails. This unraveling. It feels like it should be personalized.
But, I find myself explaining my situation here, and I think that maybe some people might not believe me when I say L does not even speak to me anymore. He comes into MY house, or, I think in his mind, at LEAST the space I occupy the majority of the time, does not speak to me when I muster a sincere "Hello!" sits with the kids, and now he's putting the kids to bed before I get home and waiting at his car so he can leave without even seeing me.
This is not the optimal situation for co-parenting children. And it has been his choice all along. If I do try to speak with him, I am told I'm being mean or rude or inappropriate, and I am shut down.
Meanwhile, Monk called me last night to inform me that "Papa says _A Cartoon History of The United States_ is NOT educational, mom." Great. What the fuck is that about? Does L even realize these sorts of proclamations put me in the direct position of having to contradict him? Or that they directly contradict me? I respond "Well, I'm sorry he feels that way, Monk...but you can still read the book. I think you'll still learn something from it." Monk seems relieved, and I hang up, puzzled yet again by L's efforts to really just cause trouble.
Look, I'm not perfect. Sometimes I say things that aren't very nice. Sometimes I'm sure I undermine L's parenting. But things like this, and changing bedtimes for the kids to almost an entire HOUR earlier, so I no longer have alone time with Monk when I get home from work, are just ridiculous attempts at asserting some sort of power and/or control. And it's counterproductive. And, really, all it demonstrates is that co-parenting with L without the aid of some sort of (court-ordered?) counseling is potentially very damaging to the children. And I do not want my children to become damaged simply because their parents are.
So, today I see the lawyer, and I embark on a journey that I NEVER wanted to take, even after I realized that divorce was the only solution for us. I'm inviting the state into my life in a way I would have never wanted. And, in a way, this whole process directly contradicts my beliefs in autonomy and self-government...I'm still trying to figure out how to recover from that. How to wrap my brain around relationships and institutions and what they mean to each other. How much relationships are dependent upon the institutions within which they are created.
I have to tell you that it was very difficult to go to the marriage rights march and project strong feelings about the rights for everyone to marry. At this point, I feel the same way about the right for people of all orientations to marry as I've ever felt about the right for people of all orientations to join the military. But I was there, and I do feel strongly about it...because the society within which we live makes marriage an institution that bestows privilege and benefits upon its participants that others are not granted.
I'm sure that eventually I will get over my negative feelings about marriage. I already can see the appeal of the legal benefits and privileges living, as I am, without insurance for the kiddos and without a partner to rely on financially. And, in time, I will probably heal emotionally and remember what it was like to believe in eternal love long enough to actually marry someone. I have that privilege. I think it should be a right.
Blogging 101
May 19, 2004
My class got off to a so-so start last night. I'm a little disappointed in the number of people who showed up, but sort of looking forward to working with an intimate number of folks.
During the day preceding the class, I got the idea in my head that I would introduce them to blogger in addition to typepad. Perhaps it's the fact that I no longer consider myself a huge fan of movable type, or perhaps it's because I'd like to see if people would be more apt to blog on a regular basis if they had a choice of tools to use. At any rate, we got as far as signing up for blogger accounts last night, and posting to blogger blogs. I think I might actually have to change my entire agenda to allow for use of blogger on Thursday, as well, and perhaps start using Typepad on Tuesday. After next week, the clients can decide which tool they would like to use, and we can proceed with non-blog specific content.
I always feel like a big freak when I'm teaching a blog class...because I AM a big freak about blogs. I feel like blogs are the perfect communication device for breaking down physical barriers that separate us, and they are a logical continuation of the zine movement that began in the 80's and perhaps several other movements which might be considered part of the same movement. I think blogging is bigger than the sum of the individual blogs.
Perhaps that's why I feel so angry about the new pricing structure of Movable Type. I guess I always felt like the folks at 6 apart understood the importance of blogging as a social tool, and that's why they were offering their product on a pay-as-you-can basis. I always felt like the ability to spontaneously generate new blogs from the same application was a way to encourage more people to utilize the tool, and innovate. I was never discouraged from this act, in fact, I was told that one of the strengths of Movable Type was its ability to support an infinite number of blogs.
It's always disappointing when a tool or activity that I enjoy is no longer affordable to me. I suppose I've lived a pretty priviliged life in that I've always found ways to barter or otherwise contribute something intangible to the people whose tools and services I need in exchange for those tools and services. When I was a poor punk rock kid, I made flyers for the promoters of shows so I could get in free (I also won a lifetime free pass for throwing a tutu on my head and dressing up like a flower nee "bad acid trip" on Halloween one year). Those clubs closed down, and I've never really been involved in a music scene as heavily since then. When I started doing a zine, I got a job in a copy store to take advantage of discounts and freebies. My bosses usually knew what I was up to, and never seemed to care. I paid out the ass for postage, and eventually that became unaffordable, too. When I was publishing a zine regularly, I got comped a lot - CD's, other zines, admission to shows. I repaid my benefactors by reviewing their projects and communicating with them.
It's much the same with blogging. I am hosted by a couple of very generous people who offered me space that I am using. I hope I am contributing enough in one way or another to justify that decision on their parts...and I'm returning the favor to as many other bloggers as I can. I'm doing my best to show gratitude for the privileges that have been granted to me. I'm also at the lowest point, financially, that I have been in my entire life...so, really, paying for a service that was once relatively free is out of the question for me.
And there are people who have more modest means than me who I would like to bring to blogging. I'd like to see more voices out there. I would like for there to not be a dividing line. I would like for there to be room for people who want to talk about their experiences or submit their recipe for pie. I'd like for people to fucking acknowledge that when they say "10 dollars isn't a whole lot to ask" or "50 dollars isn't unreasonable" to consider what 10 dollars means to someone who can't afford freaking bus fare.
I'm not saying that 6A has the responsibility to "blog the world" but I am saying that discussions about what is "affordable" and what is not need to be qualified. Fifty dollars for a license is affordable to me. And I am saying that much of this sanctimoniousness about the unwashed blog masses who are getting "something for nothing" and having the nerve to complain when they are asked to pay is utterly classist. If you have just enough to get by, and someone offers you a tool to use for free, you use it FOR FREE. You might throw a couple of bux out there when you have extra, if you get extra, but you might never pay someone what they feel their product is worth.
Movable Type isn't the only tool out there, but I considered it to be one of the best. I actually think the whole concept of blogging is or can be pretty revolutionary. But I can't throw my energy behind something that prices out all of the people who I think should be using the tool, including myself, because they have a business model to follow. It's nothing personal. It's not even EMOTIONAL. It's simply a fact. Just as when I closed the zines down when postage became unaffordable and found another tool to use to get my words out in front of other people, I will find another tool here.
What I'm hearing from a lot of people is that I need to be appreciative of all that Ben and Mena have done for the world of web publishing, and I need to consider that when I fork over more money than I've paid for my kids' medical expenses in the past year. What I'm not hearing is any sincere appreciation from Ben and Mena about the community that has supported them and showered them with praise, in addition to testing and offering suggestions and generally using their product in every way possible over the years. I don't think Movable Type would be the product it is today without the many people who have used it. not to mention designed endless plug-ins for it. But I"m supposed to forget about all of those people now that there's a business to run and people to pay.
OK, I'm sure I'm not making any sense, and at this point, I'm trying desperately to get my kids to stop distracting me for FIVE MORE MINUTES so I can get to the point and it's just pissing me off. I"m just going to have to post this and clarify later.
I guess, in summary, where scripty goddess goes, I go. Nothing personal, Trotts. Just like you have a business to run, I have a household to support. And there's only a certain amount of money I can spare for my hobbies and art.
UPDATE: I'm reading more, and on that Scripty Goddess thread, Jay Allen talks about how unlimited licensing "cannibalizes" the user base. That's fucking ridiculous. The blogs I support on fullbleed are there because the people who post to them do not have the time or the know-how to install and maintain their own copy of Movable Type. They are people who have things to say that is important for others to hear, so I have set up blogs for them so they can yak away without worrying too much about the technicality of it all. That's the power of blogs. Damnit. Gah. If everyone who had a blog was a techie capable of managing a domain and an MT installation, the blog world would be even less diverse and inclusive than it already is. Unlimited license allows for this and, again, it's what I was always TOLD MT was designed for. So stop calling my subhostees freeloaders.
Stinky mama
May 18, 2004
Coley and I were snuggling and talking and reading and goofing around in the big bed earlier today, and I said to Coley "Mama's sort of stinky."
Coley sniffed me and said "I don't think you are stinky. I LIKE the way you smell. Don't EVER take a bath AGAIN."
Later, I'm in the shower, and coley walks in to use the potty. He pauses, then exclaims, "HEY! Wait a minute! You are destroying your stinkiness!"
How Do I Use Movable Type
May 18, 2004
Six Log: How are you using the tool?
Good question. I have a lot to say about the new version of movable type, with it's greatly increased price tag. I haven't had time to write down all of my thoughts on the subject, but this is a good place to start:
At Fullbleed.net I subhost 24 non-commercial blogs, 13 of which are personal blogs (of which, only about 4 or 5 update on a regular basis). I have 73 Users who post on those personal blogs, as well as on 6 group blogs (some of the authors have NEVER posted, but I have added them in hopes that they will post one day). I also have about 5 or 6 test blogs and blogs that COULD be included in my main, randomwalks blog as categories, but I wanted to make them separate for whatever reason.
I frequently meet people in my line of work who are curious about blogging, and I make a blog for them to play with. 3-4 of the blogs I've counted as personal blogs fall under this category. Of the 73 users, I'd say only about 10-15 post more than once a month. Some (like 5 or 6) of the 73 users are pseudonyms for other users. I should also add that many, MANY of the bloggers who are included in the group blogs are people who already have movable type blogs of their own, hosted on different servers.
The cost for this level of usage would prohibit my continuing to introduce people to blogging/movable type this way. Several people who were once hosted at fullbleed.net have since moved on to start blogs elsewhere, using movable type. I should add that I have never once asked for technical assistance for any of my blogs, and have only on occasion perused the help bulletin boards, and maybe posted requests once or twice. There was one issue that I had that I brought to the bulletin boards which was never resolved, and i just found a way around it.
What WOULD work for me is to ask my users to contribute 10-20 dollars to 6 apart once they decide that they would like to continue using the tool. I would not mind paying up to 50 dollars for the software itself, as a non-commercial host. Anything above that will force me to seek an alternative solution for my needs...
I have more to say on this subject, but I'll have to save it for later, as I don't have the time at this moment to articulate my thoughts adequately right now.
Blog Class...getting the links on
May 18, 2004
The blog class so far. If you have any suggestions, please please please let me know!
Thanks.
Good Day, Good Week
May 17, 2004
Dawn has declared this a Good Week(...or else?) And her post made me smile, thinking of coley's daily proclamation of "Ahhhh...what a beautiful day!" first thing upon waking.
I've mentioned this before, and I've been sort of wondering where he came to have such a positive attitude first thing in the morning, and it didn't hit me until I read that post by Dawn.
I've mentioned before that L "left me" when I was 7 months pregnant with cole (basically, he decided he was through with me, but refused to actually leave. Later, he would tell me that he planned to stick around until I started "acting right.")
The remainder of the pregnancy was hard for me. All of my illusions about marriage and family were totally shattered. All of my hopes and dreams that this life we had created would somehow magically get better needed to be dealt with. And I was 7 months pregnant, with all that entailed.
Every night, I would draw myself a lavender bath, put on a mellow CD, sit in the tub with a candle lit, and talk to Cole. I told him all of my dreams. I told him about all of my heartache. I cried. I laughed. I insisted again and again that he was loved and wanted.
After he was born, it got even harder. L was here, and he helped, but we didn't communicate. It was almost as if he was a part time nurse/cook. Most nights, I went to bed crying, and most mornings, I woke up crying.
Cole cried a lot, too. I didn't get much sleep at all in the months after Cole's birth. L was there, but rarely offered to help. Even when he was already awake, I had to BEG him to please hold the baby so I could get some sleep. And even then...even when I begged, crying from lack of sleep, he would refuse more often than not.
At some point, I decided that I needed to pull myself out of it. I don't even know when I started doing it. Was it in the 10 days or so after Cole was born and before I went to Chicago? Or was it after I returned from Chicago and set about trying to figure out how to live my life as a single parent? I don't remember. What I remember is that at some point, I realized that I just couldn't rely on L for anything, that I might as well face it, and that I might as well try to figure out how to make the most of things as a single mama - even though my co-parent was living in my house with me.
So I began to wake up in the morning, first thing, and carry coley outside in the sling, every morning, and declare "Oh, Look! another beautiful day!"
Sometimes I would say it through tears. Sometimes I would say it through clenched teeth and jaw. Sometimes I would laugh at the hilarity of it all - at the fact that that damn sun kept coming up every fucking morning, mocking my sorry ass.
And now, here's coley, three years later, tumbling out of bed every morning, rubbing his eyes, giggling, smiling in my face, "Wake up, mama...it's another beautiful day!"
Another beautiful day. Another beautiful day, indeed.
It's that time again...
May 17, 2004
I'm teaching my weblogs class again tomorrow, and would love to get some suggestions for blogs or recent posts that you think demonstrate something important (I'm leaving that very loosely defined...or completely undefined, actually) about blogging. Leave a comment if you have something for me. The more the merrier.
Thanks!
Fun with Google results
May 17, 2004
I just get a tremendous kick out of the fact that this blog is #5 on the google hit list for overthrowing+a+government and #6 for breastfeeding+photo.
Just further proof that mamas kick ass...
Or that this site comes up in a lot of searches by perverts and miscreants.
One or the other.
My Weekend.
May 17, 2004
I had a pretty good weekend to go along with the good week. On Friday, I parked my car somewhere down on the drag and dragged my happy ass over to Spider House for coffee and websurfing. Actually, before I did that, I treated myself to a yummy southern fried tofu sandwich at wheatsville, but I was plagued by a couple of persistant bees who probably were drawn to my lavender and lemon spritz perfume. So, that was somewhat annoying.
But Spider House was nice and mellow, in spite of the fact that I have a habit of planting myself by the restroom, and have to deal with a million people walking in and out.
When I finally pried myself away from the internet, I still had a bunch of time to kill, so I took a walk over to Oat Willies to see if I could find someone a birthday present. After that, I walked to Half-Priced Books to browse around. I found some books I've been looking for for the kids: _A Cartoon History of the United States_ by Larry Gonick, _Lies My Teacher Told me_ by...er...someone whose name escapes me, and _The Unschooled Mind_. It was a pretty good score for cheap...or so I justified.
I know I've said this before, but I'm anxiously awaiting the day when I can spend my "alone" time AT MY HOUSE. It's so hard to find things to do for 4-5 hours while L is in the house with the kids without spending any money. Even though I was enjoying myself, I kept feeling like I would have rather been at home reading or cleaning or doing SOMETHING other than spending money i don't have on books I've convinced myself I need. I guess coffee shops are OK, I can usually squeeze 2-3 hours out of one cup of coffee, but...you know? It's just hard to not spend money when I'm wandering around with nothing to do.
Anyway, I headed home, put the kids to bed, hung out by myself for awhile, playing sims.
L told me before he left Friday that Monk's baseball game was early the next morning and didn't specify WHEN, so I woke everyone up at around 7 and got them fed. Monk insisted that L had his uniform, so I couldn't get him dressed. And we waited. And Waited. Ane Waited. L showed up at 10, his usual time, and when I asked him when the ball game was, he answered "noon" in his nonchalant "oh, did I inconvenience you?" manner. I said "You know, I wish you would be specific about the times so I don't end up waking everyone up at 7 AM to get ready. It's not fair to the kids." I was, of course, ignored.
Later, I tried to talk to him about summer camp and homeschool curriculum that monk has requested. I was told that I was being "mean." I guess, in L's definition, it's mean of me to request that he contribute financially to the upbringing of his children. Of course, he also reminded me that he "will not pay for Oak Meadow Curriculum." To which I responded, "Well, can you tell me what you WILL pay for, because I'd love to get some help." I think he said something like "You are only nice to me when you want something." and I replied "You know, you haven't given me anything in THREE YEARS, and I've been pretty darn nice."
Back. off. fucker.
Anyway, yeah. It was a low-key disagreement, but it still kicked me into gear as far as re-writing my divorce papers goes. I've been lax in getting them done for some reason - probably because it's hard work and there's a lot of thinking involved and it's just in general not a very pleasant task. But I was determined to get them written by the end of the weekend.
So I sat at my desk after work, and contemplated doing them...but then I started feeling hungry, so I got a bite to eat. And while I was eating, I was scheming on doing them, but my mind started wandering to the dollar cinema. "I wonder what's playing?" I asked myself.
So I called k8. And I asked her to please allow me to come to her house, and please don't allow me to do anything else until my homework was done.
And she did. And I finished the paperwork. And I gotta tell you, it's very gratifying indeed to finish something like that. I think they will be ready for submission once my lawyer gets a look at them, and I think I did a damn good job.
So, then I got to hang with k8 for a little while before trouncing home, feeling victorious.
Sunday, we dawdled for awhile in the morning, and then we headed out for the marriage rights demonstration by bus. The kids had a great time at Republic Park playing in the fountain and rolling down a hill. Monk did the whole march all the way to the capital, and coley fell asleep on my shoulders on the way. Then we met up with k8 at the capital, and all of the kids had a blast rolling down the hill there, and playing and arguing and having fun. And then, later, k8 brought her kids to my place for a bit so she could have some yummy mama time.
The kids played with Monk's pitching machine for awhile, until it got too dark outside, and then they came in and watched "Angels in the Outfield." I think everyone had a pretty good time. I'm impressed - and I was impressed all day - with the amount of looking after one another that they do. Monk and A (one of k8's sons) were helping coley with his balloon earlier, and retrieving him for me when he wandered too far away. They're good kids by themselves, but together ... especially lately...the GROUP of them together is just such a joy. They comfort each other when someone falls down or gets hurt, and they share and take turns like pros. I'm just really impressed with all of them. It makes it a pleasure to host gatherings and playgroups. I feel like it's totally no extra work at all, and in fact is often easier than watching just my kids.
So anyway, that's about it. It was a pleasant weekend, and I'm hoping it's a pleasant week. Wish me luck on the lawyer tip! I need to call him and make an appointment. I'm hoping he approves my work and I can file by the end of the week.
Rally today. You still have time to make it.
May 16, 2004
AUSTIN, TX
Join hundreds of supporters on Sunday May 16
Save Our Constitution RALLIES & MARCH
2:00 Meet at Republic Park at 4th & Guadalupe for a pre- Pro-Marriage Rally sponsored by the Austin Coalition for Marriage Equality
3:00 Step off for MARCH from Republic Park to Capitol grounds
4:00 Save Our Constitution Rally at the Texas State Capitol sponsored by the Austin Coalition for Marriage Equality; Lesbian Gay Rights Lobby of Texas; Human Rights Campaign; Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays; Family Pride Coalition and others!
For more information visit: www.lgrl.org or write to auscme@austinmarriageequality.org
It's been a great week.
May 14, 2004
I think I've made some real progress this week, with respect to coming to terms with myself and my situation and all that entails. I think at some point this week, I snapped to the fact that these children, in addition to being my joy and complete fucking privilege to be akin to, are also little people with whom I will have to share my home and life for the next however many years they choose to live with me.
What this means is that I have to learn to be myself around them. To, yes, adjust to their needs...but also to help them to adjust to my needs. I have to fully be myself with them. There's no sense pretending or faking. There's a certain degree of striving to be better, but I've no desire to live the rest of my life being completely selfless and catering to their every whim or desire.
So, the other day, when I told Monk to "get his ass in here and listen to what I"m about to read" because it was something I knew he would enjoy, and his refusal to participate was just stubborn rebellion with no point on his part...he laughed. He laughed because he knew that I knew he was playing a game with me. And I laughed back, because I was able to speak in terms that were comfortable to me without having to worry about shattering a fragile ego.
Because they are fragile...immensely so...but they share my acerbic attitude and wit. And they understand me. And if I command them to listen every once in awhile, it's not going to harm them. And if I show anger when their behavior or attitude sucks...they'll learn what makes me angry. And as long as I am constantly examining whether my anger is appropriate and appropriately expressed, and apologize for when it's not if I can't control it up front, I think we are all better off with the freedom to express ourselves. I realized how quickly I forgive THEM, and I think I understand now that I'm worthy of that same forgiveness. And what they can't communicate, understand or forgive now...I'll be there to take responsibility for and apologize when they bring it to me when they are older.
I love those little boogers. They are so much fun to have around. I find myself lately wanting to share them with everyone. I wish I could convey with my words what an absolute riot life is here with them - even when I'm frustrated to the point of insanity. It all opens me up to life so much. They do. They are little human beings with so much capacity for love and joy and resistance and beauty and light. They inspire me. They help me to truly believe that all people ARE inherently good. I know they are. I wish you could meet them.
More on Cole's Cuteness.
May 14, 2004
Coley woke up this morning, as he has every day this week, exclaiming "Ahhhh...it's a byoo-tee-ful day!"
Sort of makes it difficult to be all surly with that kind of cuteness greeting me first thing.
Yesterday on the way to the grocery store, the kids were examining flowers and bugs. Coley was smashing bugs, and Monk and I were protesting this behavior. Midway to the store, coley stooped to examine a roly poly who was curled up in a ball, no doubt trembling with fear, as coley's shoe had recently flattened a nearby relative (the other day, coley mushed a bug that Monk had brought into the house. I told coley that it wasn't a good idea to mush bugs, and Monk started to agree with me, but then he stooped down and said "Well, at least now I can examine the insides of the bug." Fucking crazy-ass kids!) So, anway, coley stoops down and picks up this curled up roly poly.
"I LOVE this roly poly," Coley declares. "She's my favorite."
"It's a girl roly poly?" I ask.
"yes," says Cole. "I SMUSHED her BROTHER."
hahahaha. Coley named the roly poly "curly" and held her tightly in his hand for the rest of our journey.
Unbelievable cuteness.
May 13, 2004
A couple of weeks ago, the boys and I were taking a walk through the neighborhood. We walked past my midwife's house, and I r