Periodically I get unhappy with the direction my life is going. Read: I get jealous of other people I know who are doing things I wish I were doing. New year seems like a good time to explore these feelings. The new year always comes with a sense of possibility and change. I realize this is largely a construct, because what makes December 31st different from January 1st is about 30 seconds of sunlight, but it's good to look back and look forward at a significant time.
I never really want to go out and party for new year. Or any other time, really. I'd much rather have a private party with my friends. But this year, Andrew and I are in Phoenix essentially alone. So, the only option besides staying in alone with the cat is going out with strangers and feeling connected to the world at large instead of basking in the glow of friendship. But I imagine the hassle of getting there and back, the MONEY OMG it's not cheap to go to the Fiesta Bowl block party, and the boredom that comes from standing in a loud crowd for several hours doing nothing, and I don't really want to go. But I don't really want to stay at home alone. I feel like to make my life worth living I should be out doing interesting and unusual things to mark the passage of time.
Which of course brings me to my thoughts on the direction my life is headed in general. I love traveling. When I hear about friends who get to travel all over the place for their school or their jobs, or get to meet interesting people in the course of their work... I think about how I mostly watch Star Trek and surf the internet and wonder how I can make that into a jet-setting career path. I get so jealous. And what better time of the year than new year to think about changes I can make to have the life I want? Yet, it doesn't seem likely that getting my degree in rhetoric and composition will further those goals.
Not that I don't love my master's program! I do. But I wish I could make it more amazing. I wish I knew what I wanted.
31 December 2009
09 December 2009
American Bed
My dad’s life is simultaneously representative of the iconic American journey and a life of unusual stories. When I think of the stories he tells that stick with me, I think of the ones where he was sleeping somewhere unconventional. From his youth sleeping on a cot on the screened-in porch during the Wyoming summers (there wasn't room anywhere else in the tiny Wyoming homestead) to his feather-soft queen sized bed in Moses Lake on which he sleeps next to my stepmother these days (his back pains him after years of wrestling and flying, and two consequent surgeries), where my dad has spent his nights highlights the path his life has taken.
The cryptic reference to the hotel bathtub he used as a bed in Hong Kong from his navy bachelor days represents a time in his life that remains largely hidden from me. The night my mom died, his bed was empty. He had rushed her to the hospital, and that’s where she died. That night, he didn’t sleep at all. And the next time he did get to sleep, she wasn’t there. Tonight he is about to go to sleep on my air mattress in my guest bedroom in Phoenix, Arizona. He and my stepmom are visiting me, and we’ve had a lot of time to just talk because I’m currently getting my Master’s degree and it’s finals week, so I can’t go out and do anything interesting with them.
It seems to me like where and how you sleep can say a lot about what you’ve been doing during the day. That’s why I think it’s interesting to imagine all the nights my dad has had in his life. Everyone shares the night, but my dad’s nights symbolize the stories that make up one unique American story—one of many American stories that make up this American life.
The cryptic reference to the hotel bathtub he used as a bed in Hong Kong from his navy bachelor days represents a time in his life that remains largely hidden from me. The night my mom died, his bed was empty. He had rushed her to the hospital, and that’s where she died. That night, he didn’t sleep at all. And the next time he did get to sleep, she wasn’t there. Tonight he is about to go to sleep on my air mattress in my guest bedroom in Phoenix, Arizona. He and my stepmom are visiting me, and we’ve had a lot of time to just talk because I’m currently getting my Master’s degree and it’s finals week, so I can’t go out and do anything interesting with them.
It seems to me like where and how you sleep can say a lot about what you’ve been doing during the day. That’s why I think it’s interesting to imagine all the nights my dad has had in his life. Everyone shares the night, but my dad’s nights symbolize the stories that make up one unique American story—one of many American stories that make up this American life.
11 November 2009
Breaking Point
I was watching an episode of Quantum Leap on Hulu the other day, in which Sam leaps into the life of an adult with some sort of mental disability and the IQ of a twelve year old. I'm sure that's not the PC way to say that, but I mean no harm. Anyway, he finds himself making mistakes and acting klutzy all the time as people treat him like he's less than human. It made me think about my time at Fred Meyer. Towards the end, I could hardly handle a day of work. Especially in the home department. I would go home and cry almost every night. I would even cry before work because I didn't want to go. This is an excessive amount of crying, even for me.
But I just couldn't take people treating me like I was less than human anymore. As I mentioned, I've been reading notalwaysright.com lately, and it's made me realize just how many truly horrible people I encountered. Almost every day I would experience somebody ignoring my polite small talk, rolling their eyes at me, questioning my answers, talking down to me, or doing something to make me feel like my life was worthless to them. Of course, the majority of the people I met were just shopping, neither evil nor good. But I think I took the evil ones worse than most people did. I think the work that I perform as well as my emotional reactions are very strongly related to what people expect from me and the way they treat me.
Towards the end I even started being nasty back to customers. I asked (in not a nice tone) that woman who wanted to speak to a boy why she needed to speak to a boy instead of me. And once, a customer came in while I was at the register in the home department and asked me if we had any tomato cages. I told him I wasn't sure, that they could be found either right around the corner on aisle 79 or in the small garden area at the front of the store. He became angry and asked me why I didn't know, insisted he didn't have time to look, indicated that it was my job to know the name and location of all (285,000 items) in our inventory. I asked him if he would like me to call my manager and ask if we had any. He yelled at me, "do you even KNOW what a tomato cage IS?!" I told him, yes, I do know what a tomato cage is, but I do not know if we have any.
He stormed away, yelling sarcastically, "Thanks, you've been SO HELPFUL."
I yelled something after him. I don't remember what I yelled, but it wasn't nice. I have to imagine he didn't hear me or I would have gotten hell from my manager, or the guy would have come back.
Normally you're supposed to just grin and bear it when customers yell at you, but I don't think that's fair. Everyone has a breaking point, and I think it would be better if retail employees were encouraged to say something like, "You are being rude and abusive, and do not have to serve you if you continue to act that way toward me." Just a statement of fact. That way it doesn't devolve into a shouting match, and rude customers don't get to just keep being rude to their fellow human beings.
But I just couldn't take people treating me like I was less than human anymore. As I mentioned, I've been reading notalwaysright.com lately, and it's made me realize just how many truly horrible people I encountered. Almost every day I would experience somebody ignoring my polite small talk, rolling their eyes at me, questioning my answers, talking down to me, or doing something to make me feel like my life was worthless to them. Of course, the majority of the people I met were just shopping, neither evil nor good. But I think I took the evil ones worse than most people did. I think the work that I perform as well as my emotional reactions are very strongly related to what people expect from me and the way they treat me.
Towards the end I even started being nasty back to customers. I asked (in not a nice tone) that woman who wanted to speak to a boy why she needed to speak to a boy instead of me. And once, a customer came in while I was at the register in the home department and asked me if we had any tomato cages. I told him I wasn't sure, that they could be found either right around the corner on aisle 79 or in the small garden area at the front of the store. He became angry and asked me why I didn't know, insisted he didn't have time to look, indicated that it was my job to know the name and location of all (285,000 items) in our inventory. I asked him if he would like me to call my manager and ask if we had any. He yelled at me, "do you even KNOW what a tomato cage IS?!" I told him, yes, I do know what a tomato cage is, but I do not know if we have any.
He stormed away, yelling sarcastically, "Thanks, you've been SO HELPFUL."
I yelled something after him. I don't remember what I yelled, but it wasn't nice. I have to imagine he didn't hear me or I would have gotten hell from my manager, or the guy would have come back.
Normally you're supposed to just grin and bear it when customers yell at you, but I don't think that's fair. Everyone has a breaking point, and I think it would be better if retail employees were encouraged to say something like, "You are being rude and abusive, and do not have to serve you if you continue to act that way toward me." Just a statement of fact. That way it doesn't devolve into a shouting match, and rude customers don't get to just keep being rude to their fellow human beings.
10 November 2009
Cashier Memories part II
So, I've been reading notalwaysright.com lately, and remembering how I once imagined writing down all my cashier experiences for posterity. I really don't want to forget all the hilarious, horrible, and wonderful things that happened to me. Here's a rundown of some of my "favorite" experiences.
When I was working in the electronics department, this woman came up to me and asked me if I could help her find a certain type of battery. She held up a AA battery and asked me if we had any "Ay-Ay minus 2010" batteries. I thought maybe she was joking, only she looked like such a normal baby boomer type woman. She was looking at the expiration date and the polarity and assumed that was part of the type of battery! I decided that I would explain a little about batteries to her, because I guess we all have to learn sometime. I walked her over to the batteries and showed her the four and eight packs, and she was so confused. She was so certain that she needed a AA2010, but the only number she could see was the 4 and the 8; she couldn't see the date on any of the batteries we had. I finally convinced her it didn't matter. She also told me that it came from her electric beater and she wasn't sure how to put the batteries back inside. I explained to her how most electronics have a little diagram showing which direction to put them in. She eventually left with some batteries after thanking me for taking the time to explain it to her. She was nice, but skeptical the whole time I talked to her. I told her we all have to learn sometime.
While I was working at the electronics department, I didn't really know everything that was going on there, because it was widely known that I wasn't going to be working there for more than a few months, and I never worked there more than 20 hours a week, usually less. Everything I learned was sort of on the fly. I of course asked a lot of questions and tried to learn as much as I could, but not being a big techy, I got asked a lot of questions I didn't know the answer to. My uncertainty was more a problem than my lack of knowledge. It always has been. That problem was compounded by the fact that the customers treated electronics customers like a virtual database of all things that run on electricity. In many ways it was nicer to work in electronics because the customers treated us with some respect because they assumed we knew something they didn't. People were often frustrated with me, and complained to my manager (who was awesome about it--really a nice guy who just wanted his employees to be happy and productive) a lot. But the worst was when people would ask me if they could talk to a male employee when they felt their needs weren't being met. Sometimes I really didn't know the answer, in which case it makes sense that they would ask if anyone else knew they answer, but the fact that they would say OUT LOUD that they wanted to talk to a male is just horrifying. How could anyone think that it's okay to say such a misogynist thing out loud to another human being? Even if men traditionally or statistically know more about electronics than women, shouldn't the question be "is there someone else who knows?" instead of "can I talk to one of the guys?" Not even "ask" one of the guys. They didn't even want to talk to me. I even had one woman (yes, even women did this) who wanted to know if we had a video in stock. When I told her we didn't, she asked to talk to a guy. What on earth would a guy know about our inventory that I didn't find on the computer? One time towards the end of my time there, when I was increasingly unwilling to grin and bear it when customers were horrible, a woman on the phone asked if she could talk to a boy, and I called her on it.
"Why do you need to talk to a boy? What can they tell you that I can't?"
She just stuttered at me. I eventually transferred her to my manager, who is male.
Not everybody was horrible. There was a homeless man who used to come in to the store pretty regularly and mostly just return bottles for money, sometimes buying a bit of food or something. He was always nice, although odd. One day while I was cashiering in the home department he came through my line with more things than he usually got, and less practical: I believe he had some beer and cookies. He explained to me that it was his birthday so he was buying himself a treat. I wished him a happy birthday and rang him up. He pulled out a little plastic bag full of coins and counted them out carefully. Then, when I gave him his receipt, he pushed the little bag with the rest of his coins toward me.
"Here's a tip for your service," he said. "You're a good girl."
I was stunned.
"Thank you, but I can't accept that."
But he insisted I take it, saying he appreciated me. So I did, with another "thank you." When he left, I wasn't sure what to do with it. I looked down at the little bag, with maybe $5.00 in it. The beer and cookies had been worth less than that. It was probably literally all the money he had, and he wanted to give it to me, on his birthday, because he appreciated me. I felt a little like crying as I finally dropped the money into the little box at the end of the checkstand that collects change people leave for a local kids' charity. It just didn't seem like that five dollars in change would mean as much to anyone else that got it as it did to me.
I still think about him sometimes when I feel overwhelmed by all the evil in the world. Even Fred Meyer had its good moments.
When I was working in the electronics department, this woman came up to me and asked me if I could help her find a certain type of battery. She held up a AA battery and asked me if we had any "Ay-Ay minus 2010" batteries. I thought maybe she was joking, only she looked like such a normal baby boomer type woman. She was looking at the expiration date and the polarity and assumed that was part of the type of battery! I decided that I would explain a little about batteries to her, because I guess we all have to learn sometime. I walked her over to the batteries and showed her the four and eight packs, and she was so confused. She was so certain that she needed a AA2010, but the only number she could see was the 4 and the 8; she couldn't see the date on any of the batteries we had. I finally convinced her it didn't matter. She also told me that it came from her electric beater and she wasn't sure how to put the batteries back inside. I explained to her how most electronics have a little diagram showing which direction to put them in. She eventually left with some batteries after thanking me for taking the time to explain it to her. She was nice, but skeptical the whole time I talked to her. I told her we all have to learn sometime.
While I was working at the electronics department, I didn't really know everything that was going on there, because it was widely known that I wasn't going to be working there for more than a few months, and I never worked there more than 20 hours a week, usually less. Everything I learned was sort of on the fly. I of course asked a lot of questions and tried to learn as much as I could, but not being a big techy, I got asked a lot of questions I didn't know the answer to. My uncertainty was more a problem than my lack of knowledge. It always has been. That problem was compounded by the fact that the customers treated electronics customers like a virtual database of all things that run on electricity. In many ways it was nicer to work in electronics because the customers treated us with some respect because they assumed we knew something they didn't. People were often frustrated with me, and complained to my manager (who was awesome about it--really a nice guy who just wanted his employees to be happy and productive) a lot. But the worst was when people would ask me if they could talk to a male employee when they felt their needs weren't being met. Sometimes I really didn't know the answer, in which case it makes sense that they would ask if anyone else knew they answer, but the fact that they would say OUT LOUD that they wanted to talk to a male is just horrifying. How could anyone think that it's okay to say such a misogynist thing out loud to another human being? Even if men traditionally or statistically know more about electronics than women, shouldn't the question be "is there someone else who knows?" instead of "can I talk to one of the guys?" Not even "ask" one of the guys. They didn't even want to talk to me. I even had one woman (yes, even women did this) who wanted to know if we had a video in stock. When I told her we didn't, she asked to talk to a guy. What on earth would a guy know about our inventory that I didn't find on the computer? One time towards the end of my time there, when I was increasingly unwilling to grin and bear it when customers were horrible, a woman on the phone asked if she could talk to a boy, and I called her on it.
"Why do you need to talk to a boy? What can they tell you that I can't?"
She just stuttered at me. I eventually transferred her to my manager, who is male.
Not everybody was horrible. There was a homeless man who used to come in to the store pretty regularly and mostly just return bottles for money, sometimes buying a bit of food or something. He was always nice, although odd. One day while I was cashiering in the home department he came through my line with more things than he usually got, and less practical: I believe he had some beer and cookies. He explained to me that it was his birthday so he was buying himself a treat. I wished him a happy birthday and rang him up. He pulled out a little plastic bag full of coins and counted them out carefully. Then, when I gave him his receipt, he pushed the little bag with the rest of his coins toward me.
"Here's a tip for your service," he said. "You're a good girl."
I was stunned.
"Thank you, but I can't accept that."
But he insisted I take it, saying he appreciated me. So I did, with another "thank you." When he left, I wasn't sure what to do with it. I looked down at the little bag, with maybe $5.00 in it. The beer and cookies had been worth less than that. It was probably literally all the money he had, and he wanted to give it to me, on his birthday, because he appreciated me. I felt a little like crying as I finally dropped the money into the little box at the end of the checkstand that collects change people leave for a local kids' charity. It just didn't seem like that five dollars in change would mean as much to anyone else that got it as it did to me.
I still think about him sometimes when I feel overwhelmed by all the evil in the world. Even Fred Meyer had its good moments.
12 October 2009
The Future
Today wasn't a great day. I spent all day questioning my own reading of everything. I must constantly try to orient myself again around the central goal that brings me here to Arizona, getting my degree in Rhetoric and Composition. I have to remind myself that I don't want to end up in academia, so my frustration with academia doesn't bog me down and make me feel at a dead-end. What I'm reading and doing right now seems to be focused around academia. Certainly my research methods class is teaching me how to enter into academic discourse successfully and authentically. But it seems disingenuous to try to be authentic at this point, because I am so new to this, and I don't feel that I need to be able to do it other than to pass the class. And I hate feeling like what I'm doing is for nothing. However, even though I keep telling myself I don't want to end up in academia, I keep finding myself thinking about how children can be better prepared for life and more successful in academia while they are required to be there. (This could very likely be because I like to blame my education for my deficiencies, and I hope that a carefully planned life course would make the road smoother for future generations). Mostly my ideas revolve around ways to make education less rigid and scholarly, with the hope that students will learn better that way, even though it seems counter-intuitive. Maybe I can somehow link my recurring thoughts of education, literacies, digital and social media, and the environment together into some grand idea that will change the world. On the other hand, changing the world seems so unlikely, since today has confirmed for me that I'm ignorant, lazy, and possibly mentally deficient. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day to reexamine these ideas.
More Time
Attention: anyone who can help me find more time.
I just need a few more hours to finish my homework. I promise I won't squander them like I did with my hours today. I needed those hours to rest, so if I just had a few more hours, everything would be perfect.
Actually, if you could give me a whole day, that way I could be sure to be rested in time for the next day, and maybe get ahead a little. Or maybe a few days, so I can really make the most of this presentation I want to do.
I just need a few more hours to finish my homework. I promise I won't squander them like I did with my hours today. I needed those hours to rest, so if I just had a few more hours, everything would be perfect.
Actually, if you could give me a whole day, that way I could be sure to be rested in time for the next day, and maybe get ahead a little. Or maybe a few days, so I can really make the most of this presentation I want to do.
Really a whole week would be better. Then I could have some time to spend with my husband, maybe go take a little vacation.
Since I'm asking, maybe two weeks would be better. Then I could call up my friends, too, catch up with them, and still have time for my husband and my work. Or would it be too much to ask for an extra month? Then I could spend time actually visiting the people I haven't had time to call.
But maybe a month wouldn't be enough. Maybe I need a year, or ten years, or a lifetime to spend with someone who may not be around in a year, or a month, or a day.
So if you could please give me just one more lifetime to spend with the people I love so I don't miss a minute doing silly things like homework, so I can look them in the eyes and tell them what they mean to me, that would be ideal. Then everything would be perfect.
Megan
30 September 2009
Consensus
I've been reading through a couple of books that discuss the politics of religion and the environment to try to gain some perspective on the topic I'm writing about. (I decided to go with the Christianity and sustainability topic, mostly because I had done the most work on it so far and I didn't want all that time to go to waste, but so far I'm finding it pretty interesting).
God and Country looks at the religious history of America, pointing out the constant struggle between our Puritan and Enlightenment histories that characterizes our national debates. Its tone is objective and conservative, and by conservative I mean that it is reserved about casting blame and cautious about suggestions for change--acknowledging that both "sides" of America must reach consensus. I found myself drawn in to the ideas presented, and thought its perspective on America's religious history insightful and illuminating.
The Last Refuge takes a more aggressive approach against all right-wing politics. The introduction launches into a series of accusations about the Bush administration. Further investigation reveals some of the accusations to be based on sources such as "Two Years Before 9/11, Candidate Bush Was Already Talking Privately About Attacking Iraq, According to His Former Ghost Writer." I don't recall hearing about this, but I don't pretend to remember everything that happened when I was 13. However, I do recognise that a lone former ghost writer is not really a credible source. People make up accusations about famous people frequently, as I understand it. However, I do recall in the fall of 2004 feeling that there was nothing I wouldn't believe about Bush. I was so angry that he had somehow won another election, I may have bought into the radical accusations of the type The Last Refuge is flinging. Now, though, I have some perspective, and a president who is oodles better than Bush, no matter what his faults (ahem, gay marriage?), so I'm more willing to be reasonable. And I find this book to be too extreme to be believed. Even though I'm sure the book echos many of my own beliefs, I don't feel the solidarity with its positions as I did with God and Country.
The introduction of The Last Refuge claims that Americans have a fault of following a leader blindly. It claims not enough Americans understand that "automatic obedience to power is merely subservience" (page 11). In the conclusion of God and Country the author assumes that "most Americans--Puritans and Modernists alike--are willing to abide by laws they disapprove of, if they are confident that those laws were passed by fairly elected legislators who listened to all sides of the argument and voted on the basis of their best judgment" (page 231). I don't really think that's the case. Now that Obama is in office, the people who were supposedly blindly obeying the authority du jour are raging against everything that is happening under Obama's administration. Likewise, I think that a lot of Americans want laws that reflect their own personal beliefs, even when those laws obviously exclude the rights of a group of people with opposing beliefs, and that Americans are more than happy to break laws they find inconvenient--especially laws that aren't regularly enforced like speeding. I think that Americans simply choose a side or an authority figure that they can mostly trust and then relax and let that specific authority figure (be it a president, a media agency, or merely a civilian exemplar) do the moralizing for them.
The media, as is pointed out in both books, has become partisan. An American can choose a radio station that agrees with her point of view and make it one of the presets on the car radio and never hear any views or opinions that oppose her own. But I don't think that is entirely the fault of the media itself selling out. Americans want to be able to position themselves on the political spectrum early in life and then choose the channels they want to watch for the rest of their lives and let other people do the thinking for them. It's much more pleasant not to be on the defensive all the time. I know, because I mostly just listen to NPR, and when I do venture over to foxnews.com, I feel a headache coming on. And it is this artificial partisanship that is really causing schisms in our communities and delaying action at the federal level on important issues.
Consensus building is necessary to create action. But how can we build consensus when we don't even know how "the other side" defines its terms and its goals? I think that most Americans probably agree that it is important for us to live within our means economically and environmentally. Obviously, most people do not want to fell every last tree on earth to build bigger houses, extract every last iron deposit in the ground to create better technology. If sustainability means living within the means of the next generation, then I think the majority agrees that sustainability is a good thing. Most people understand the need to budget. If buying CFLs saves money and electricity, then who could argue that CFLs are a good thing? The problem is, people do argue just that. And I think the reason they argue that is because they are so steeped in the rhetoric of their own chosen place on the political spectrum that they can't understand that we all want essentially the same things.
God and Country looks at the religious history of America, pointing out the constant struggle between our Puritan and Enlightenment histories that characterizes our national debates. Its tone is objective and conservative, and by conservative I mean that it is reserved about casting blame and cautious about suggestions for change--acknowledging that both "sides" of America must reach consensus. I found myself drawn in to the ideas presented, and thought its perspective on America's religious history insightful and illuminating.
The Last Refuge takes a more aggressive approach against all right-wing politics. The introduction launches into a series of accusations about the Bush administration. Further investigation reveals some of the accusations to be based on sources such as "Two Years Before 9/11, Candidate Bush Was Already Talking Privately About Attacking Iraq, According to His Former Ghost Writer." I don't recall hearing about this, but I don't pretend to remember everything that happened when I was 13. However, I do recognise that a lone former ghost writer is not really a credible source. People make up accusations about famous people frequently, as I understand it. However, I do recall in the fall of 2004 feeling that there was nothing I wouldn't believe about Bush. I was so angry that he had somehow won another election, I may have bought into the radical accusations of the type The Last Refuge is flinging. Now, though, I have some perspective, and a president who is oodles better than Bush, no matter what his faults (ahem, gay marriage?), so I'm more willing to be reasonable. And I find this book to be too extreme to be believed. Even though I'm sure the book echos many of my own beliefs, I don't feel the solidarity with its positions as I did with God and Country.
The introduction of The Last Refuge claims that Americans have a fault of following a leader blindly. It claims not enough Americans understand that "automatic obedience to power is merely subservience" (page 11). In the conclusion of God and Country the author assumes that "most Americans--Puritans and Modernists alike--are willing to abide by laws they disapprove of, if they are confident that those laws were passed by fairly elected legislators who listened to all sides of the argument and voted on the basis of their best judgment" (page 231). I don't really think that's the case. Now that Obama is in office, the people who were supposedly blindly obeying the authority du jour are raging against everything that is happening under Obama's administration. Likewise, I think that a lot of Americans want laws that reflect their own personal beliefs, even when those laws obviously exclude the rights of a group of people with opposing beliefs, and that Americans are more than happy to break laws they find inconvenient--especially laws that aren't regularly enforced like speeding. I think that Americans simply choose a side or an authority figure that they can mostly trust and then relax and let that specific authority figure (be it a president, a media agency, or merely a civilian exemplar) do the moralizing for them.
The media, as is pointed out in both books, has become partisan. An American can choose a radio station that agrees with her point of view and make it one of the presets on the car radio and never hear any views or opinions that oppose her own. But I don't think that is entirely the fault of the media itself selling out. Americans want to be able to position themselves on the political spectrum early in life and then choose the channels they want to watch for the rest of their lives and let other people do the thinking for them. It's much more pleasant not to be on the defensive all the time. I know, because I mostly just listen to NPR, and when I do venture over to foxnews.com, I feel a headache coming on. And it is this artificial partisanship that is really causing schisms in our communities and delaying action at the federal level on important issues.
Consensus building is necessary to create action. But how can we build consensus when we don't even know how "the other side" defines its terms and its goals? I think that most Americans probably agree that it is important for us to live within our means economically and environmentally. Obviously, most people do not want to fell every last tree on earth to build bigger houses, extract every last iron deposit in the ground to create better technology. If sustainability means living within the means of the next generation, then I think the majority agrees that sustainability is a good thing. Most people understand the need to budget. If buying CFLs saves money and electricity, then who could argue that CFLs are a good thing? The problem is, people do argue just that. And I think the reason they argue that is because they are so steeped in the rhetoric of their own chosen place on the political spectrum that they can't understand that we all want essentially the same things.
23 September 2009
Dr.
On Monday, I had an appointment with a doctor about this fatigued feeling I've been experiencing lately. I had my blood tested, and on Tuesday I found out I have low thyroid levels and high potassium. The potassium is completely out of the blue for me, because I don't take supplements or anything that might cause that, and the two things aren't, as far as I know, related. However, the Thyroid thing was somewhat expected. My mom had major thyroid problems, and even had hers at least partially removed. Still, it was a shock to hear it and to be put instantly on medicine and told I would have to take it every day for the rest of forever. Today was my first day taking the pill. I think I feel better already, but it's really impossible to say, now that I am being ultra vigilant about how I am feeling. I'm already imagining that the medicine is causing me to feel like there is a hair brushing my left arm, when in fact there is nothing there (it's so annoying! I keep brushing at it, but it keeps coming back!). So, I would like to think that this thyroid issue is what has been causing all my problems. I'd like to think that I'm just around the corner from having all my problems solved, and I can use this to excuse anything I've done wrong over the past, say 3 years. Unlikely.
16 September 2009
Dilemma
I've been thinking of writing my paper for this semester on religion and science. I have to write the paper "in the ballpark of sustainability" as my professor put it. I'm not really sure if that's what I want to do because it doesn't really have anything to do with my research interests, which I guess are literacy theories, digital literacy, technology, and maybe popular culture? So another idea I have is to research why science fiction always portrays a Utopian view of the future as a cityscape. Or something about science fiction that would allow me to watch star trek. How do science fiction writers suppose that the future came to be so great and sustainable without any apparent conservation? Now that's a question. But it doesn't really have anything to do with my research interests either, with the possible exception of the fact that I am generally more interested in popular culture and contemporary examples than with older texts. I would like to integrate popular culture into my studies because I find it more compelling.
I have a problem with texts that are overly analytical and theoretical and philosophical. I just realised how silly that sentence sounds. What I mean is, when I encounter a text that is steeped in numbers, with lots of complicated formulas and scientific things I don't understand, I find it frustrating. I doubt I will ever understand or be willing to really try to understand them. I would have to acquire a lot of specific knowledge first. So, the kinds of texts I prefer to encounter would be literary analysis texts, which require no numbers. I can say "Shakespeare has Viola cross dress very successfully: this is a subtle criticism of her sexuality," and all of my evidence is right there, easily verified, if easily refuted. The problem I have with texts that try to persuade on an emotional level in a similar fashion, without much qualifiable evidence, but rather appealing to a persons humanity or morality, is that it can be so easily refuted, particularly about important things such as sustainability, where facts are key to causing change. And this is similar to my problem with philosophy: they have tried to mingle empirical evidence with abstract traits like morality, which is difficult for me to understand, let alone believe. And it doesn't appear to help them be irrefutable anyway. Philosophers are the ones I understand the least, probably because it combines the worst of all my dilemmas. So where does this leave me? What can I study?
I have a problem with texts that are overly analytical and theoretical and philosophical. I just realised how silly that sentence sounds. What I mean is, when I encounter a text that is steeped in numbers, with lots of complicated formulas and scientific things I don't understand, I find it frustrating. I doubt I will ever understand or be willing to really try to understand them. I would have to acquire a lot of specific knowledge first. So, the kinds of texts I prefer to encounter would be literary analysis texts, which require no numbers. I can say "Shakespeare has Viola cross dress very successfully: this is a subtle criticism of her sexuality," and all of my evidence is right there, easily verified, if easily refuted. The problem I have with texts that try to persuade on an emotional level in a similar fashion, without much qualifiable evidence, but rather appealing to a persons humanity or morality, is that it can be so easily refuted, particularly about important things such as sustainability, where facts are key to causing change. And this is similar to my problem with philosophy: they have tried to mingle empirical evidence with abstract traits like morality, which is difficult for me to understand, let alone believe. And it doesn't appear to help them be irrefutable anyway. Philosophers are the ones I understand the least, probably because it combines the worst of all my dilemmas. So where does this leave me? What can I study?
04 September 2009
Time Management
Thoughts for today:
I need to manage my time better. The trouble is, I find that I procrastinate by doing work that isn't strictly necessary, or spending longer on a task than is needed. So, I've stopped hiding in my room watching Desperate Housewives or playing the Sims, but I haven't really progressed much.
I need to manage my time better. The trouble is, I find that I procrastinate by doing work that isn't strictly necessary, or spending longer on a task than is needed. So, I've stopped hiding in my room watching Desperate Housewives or playing the Sims, but I haven't really progressed much.
09 August 2009
Cashier Memories
It didn't take long after leaving Fred Meyer for me to begin feeling like a human again. Almost immediately, I began contacting my friends and getting work done towards going to grad school, cleaning up after myself more around the house, playing with the cat, and in general smiling a lot more.
People rarely treat me rudely anymore. There was a woman who cut in front of me at the supermarket (and I only had one item) but that's it. Nobody leaves when I'm in the middle of a sentence. They don't roll their eyes at me when I tell them something they already know. It's amazing how the absence of these little things can make such a big difference in my self worth.
Of course, if those people could know that their actions affected my self worth, they would know that they won. I don't think most of them try to do it on purpose. I think they're just impatient, angry, and selfish. Not evil people whose dearest ambition in life is to make uncertain clerks feel bad about themselves.
I didn't meet only bad people, though. When I started at Fred Meyer, I was both a clerk and a human resources assistant, telling other new hires what they needed to know. I always took some extra time to tell them a little about what to expect from the people. "Eventually, someone will treat you badly," I would tell them. "You have to keep it in perspective. Only one in a hundred are the mean ones. You just don't notice the people who treat you normally as much. But if you ever feel like the world is filled with mean-spirited people, try to notice the people just doing their shopping."
And then I would tell them the story of my first day of work, when I was cashiering for the first time after being trained. I didn't know any of the produce codes, and it was taking me a long time, as I couldn't even tell the difference between zucchini and cucumbers. I don't remember what else I did that was so egregious, but the customer I was serving had had enough and was eager to express her displeasure. "You're an idiot, aren't you," she sneered at me. "This is ridiculous." I was so shocked and frustrated that I began to cry, right in front of the woman and everyone else in line behind her. (Those of you who know me will know this is not a shocking occurrence, but notable nonetheless). When I was through with her and she was on her merry way, the customer who had been in line behind her said to me, "Wow, she's a mean old lady. You cry if you need to, take a few deep breaths, and don't worry about her a minute longer than you have to." I was probably too upset to properly thank her for being so nice to me. But I find that it's an interesting example of how you get the best and the worst of people in supermarkets.
People rarely treat me rudely anymore. There was a woman who cut in front of me at the supermarket (and I only had one item) but that's it. Nobody leaves when I'm in the middle of a sentence. They don't roll their eyes at me when I tell them something they already know. It's amazing how the absence of these little things can make such a big difference in my self worth.
Of course, if those people could know that their actions affected my self worth, they would know that they won. I don't think most of them try to do it on purpose. I think they're just impatient, angry, and selfish. Not evil people whose dearest ambition in life is to make uncertain clerks feel bad about themselves.
I didn't meet only bad people, though. When I started at Fred Meyer, I was both a clerk and a human resources assistant, telling other new hires what they needed to know. I always took some extra time to tell them a little about what to expect from the people. "Eventually, someone will treat you badly," I would tell them. "You have to keep it in perspective. Only one in a hundred are the mean ones. You just don't notice the people who treat you normally as much. But if you ever feel like the world is filled with mean-spirited people, try to notice the people just doing their shopping."
And then I would tell them the story of my first day of work, when I was cashiering for the first time after being trained. I didn't know any of the produce codes, and it was taking me a long time, as I couldn't even tell the difference between zucchini and cucumbers. I don't remember what else I did that was so egregious, but the customer I was serving had had enough and was eager to express her displeasure. "You're an idiot, aren't you," she sneered at me. "This is ridiculous." I was so shocked and frustrated that I began to cry, right in front of the woman and everyone else in line behind her. (Those of you who know me will know this is not a shocking occurrence, but notable nonetheless). When I was through with her and she was on her merry way, the customer who had been in line behind her said to me, "Wow, she's a mean old lady. You cry if you need to, take a few deep breaths, and don't worry about her a minute longer than you have to." I was probably too upset to properly thank her for being so nice to me. But I find that it's an interesting example of how you get the best and the worst of people in supermarkets.
06 August 2009
Cemetery
It's always unnaturally quiet getting in the car after visiting the cemetery. The cemetery itself feels quiet, but the difference between the noise of the wind, the birds, and the insects that carry on unnoticing and the empty silence that presses on your ears in the car is unnerving. Thoughts of life and death that took over conscious thought as you brushed grass clippings from the headstone are displaced by the need to locate the correct key, turn the ignition, put the car in gear. It seems wrong, somehow, yet equally wrong to interrupt the new silence with the radio or a conversation. But of course, that feeling of displacement can't last forever. Eventually you start driving away.
05 August 2009
Blogging to Nobody
This blog is such an odd thing. I keep imagining it has all kinds of potential, but of course I have done nothing about that potential, and so I would never dream of imagining it would have any sort of readership, and without an audience, what can it be? It is public, so it can't be a diary. I wouldn't want that, anyway. Maybe one day it will simply coalesce into something worth reading.
We're about to move to Arizona. Saying goodbye to Chris was one of the hardest things about moving. We've had to scrape together money, eat whatever we could mooch off people, move heavy furniture, find a place to live and convince someone to let us live there. But saying goodbye is never easy. This is the biggest move we've made yet. We're going where we know no one and the people we do know are days away. And we're going where we can't look back. Once our paths sunder, I know it will be hard to ever bring them back together again.
Sitting on the grass in his front yard, looking up at the stars, it felt like a scene from a movie. Inside the house, we had cheerfully noticed it was getting late, we were all getting tired, and it was time to go. Stepping out the door and crossing the wet lawn to the car was like crossing from ignorance into denial. The moonlight and starlight that made me feel like I should be part of some epic coming-of-age story simultaneously reminded me that this night would soon give way to the morning. Tomorrow would come and deprive us, without comment, of a friend.
We stopped at the car. One of us said, "See you never." It was a phrase we had started saying when Jon and Ashley left for New York. We said it all the time when one of us would leave town. Saying it like that, flippant, like it was something you were supposed to say all the time, made the reality of it easier to ignore. We had already gone through this sort of goodbye before--the uncertainty when we would see our friends again. In the short walk from the house, the three of us had realized that this wasn't just goodbye for the night. This felt like goodbye forever.
Once we leave the Pacific Northwest, we won't be home anymore. And we probably won't be coming back. We have to go wherever the jobs are. And then we'll want to settle down and have a family. And then we'll tell our children about our friends from college, the ones we visited when they were little, too little to remember. Their kids are just a little younger than you, we'll say. They sent a picture with their last Christmas card.
So it really wasn't like a movie at all. We sat in silence under the stars, occasionally moving to scratch an itch or adjust for comfort, listening to Chris's dog whining from inside the house. "I'm cold," said Chris, shivering a little. We sat a little longer. "I'm getting pretty tired. We have to go eventually," I said, sounding heartless in my own ears. We all stood up. I opened the car door. The inside of the car, suddenly illuminated by the dome light, seemed like a prop that had been accidentally left on the stage of our little drama. We stood there, unable to see one another's expressions in the dim light of the early morning. Andrew moved around to the driver's side, opened that door, too. I looked between them, unable to read their expressions. I sniffled. I needed a Kleenex. At last, I sat down in the car, leaving the door open. "Goodnight," I said. Not goodbye. "Bye," said Andrew. Nobody moved. Then he just got in the car, and we just left, while Chris waved and his dog whined in the background. It wasn't poetic at all. It was just like leaving every other time, only this time felt worse. This time, we wouldn't be coming back.
We're about to move to Arizona. Saying goodbye to Chris was one of the hardest things about moving. We've had to scrape together money, eat whatever we could mooch off people, move heavy furniture, find a place to live and convince someone to let us live there. But saying goodbye is never easy. This is the biggest move we've made yet. We're going where we know no one and the people we do know are days away. And we're going where we can't look back. Once our paths sunder, I know it will be hard to ever bring them back together again.
Sitting on the grass in his front yard, looking up at the stars, it felt like a scene from a movie. Inside the house, we had cheerfully noticed it was getting late, we were all getting tired, and it was time to go. Stepping out the door and crossing the wet lawn to the car was like crossing from ignorance into denial. The moonlight and starlight that made me feel like I should be part of some epic coming-of-age story simultaneously reminded me that this night would soon give way to the morning. Tomorrow would come and deprive us, without comment, of a friend.
We stopped at the car. One of us said, "See you never." It was a phrase we had started saying when Jon and Ashley left for New York. We said it all the time when one of us would leave town. Saying it like that, flippant, like it was something you were supposed to say all the time, made the reality of it easier to ignore. We had already gone through this sort of goodbye before--the uncertainty when we would see our friends again. In the short walk from the house, the three of us had realized that this wasn't just goodbye for the night. This felt like goodbye forever.
Once we leave the Pacific Northwest, we won't be home anymore. And we probably won't be coming back. We have to go wherever the jobs are. And then we'll want to settle down and have a family. And then we'll tell our children about our friends from college, the ones we visited when they were little, too little to remember. Their kids are just a little younger than you, we'll say. They sent a picture with their last Christmas card.
So it really wasn't like a movie at all. We sat in silence under the stars, occasionally moving to scratch an itch or adjust for comfort, listening to Chris's dog whining from inside the house. "I'm cold," said Chris, shivering a little. We sat a little longer. "I'm getting pretty tired. We have to go eventually," I said, sounding heartless in my own ears. We all stood up. I opened the car door. The inside of the car, suddenly illuminated by the dome light, seemed like a prop that had been accidentally left on the stage of our little drama. We stood there, unable to see one another's expressions in the dim light of the early morning. Andrew moved around to the driver's side, opened that door, too. I looked between them, unable to read their expressions. I sniffled. I needed a Kleenex. At last, I sat down in the car, leaving the door open. "Goodnight," I said. Not goodbye. "Bye," said Andrew. Nobody moved. Then he just got in the car, and we just left, while Chris waved and his dog whined in the background. It wasn't poetic at all. It was just like leaving every other time, only this time felt worse. This time, we wouldn't be coming back.
23 July 2009
Cashier Memoir
I started working in the Home Electronics department a few months ago. Since then, the great things that customers do and say have increased tenfold. I really should have thought about blogging about it then, but only a few weeks ago did the thought cross my mind. And now it's almost over. In six hours' time, I shall be free from working in retail forevermore.... or at least, probably until I finish my masters. And now I hear that the genre "cashier memoir" is taking the world by storm (mostly Europe so far) so I haven't even been the first person to think of making something out of my experiences, so I don't have to feel as though the last 2 years of my life were a complete waste. Nevertheless, the fact that I am not the first person do write about it won't stop me from doing so. I have to do something to make the last 2 years worth it. So I shall begin by telling stupid customer stories and reflecting on my time, now that I've escaped. Almost. Must go find my lovely black apron now, work starts in 50 minutes.
24 April 2009
Barrier
Today at work a little boy wandered into the home electronics department. He couldn't have been older than 3 and a half years old, probably closer to 3. My co-worker and I looked down at him and smiled. He stopped in front of us. "What do you need? Do you need to buy that?" my co-worker asked. He looked a little uncertain. Then I heard a voice speaking Spanish coming from the other side of the aisle, just outside the department. The little boy looked bemusedly from us to the speaker, who I assume was his father. Then I realized what was happening. The little boy was being sent into the department to buy the DVD he was holding or ask a question for his father, who was standing 10 feet away using the aisle as a barrier between himself and my co-worker and me.
This awkward moment sort of symbolized the struggle of the family, of our culture, and of our country as a whole to co-exist with others whom we don't understand. This little boy was so young he can barely speak either English OR Spanish, yet was forced to be a go-between for grown adults because neither side of the aisle had been given or taken the opportunity to learn the language of the other side. This lack of ability to communicate, and the innocent caught in the middle, and most interestingly the barrier that separated us, this obstacle, this bulwark, evoked an image of partisan politics that wrenches our country apart and leaves us standing confused and unable to function. Somehow we've become a nation with so much mistrust and shame that we've become the father, the son, the employee, and the store itself, unable to ask for help, unsure what help to ask for, and unable to give help even if we did know what was needed, and everybody spending valuable time and money trying to figure it out.
This awkward moment sort of symbolized the struggle of the family, of our culture, and of our country as a whole to co-exist with others whom we don't understand. This little boy was so young he can barely speak either English OR Spanish, yet was forced to be a go-between for grown adults because neither side of the aisle had been given or taken the opportunity to learn the language of the other side. This lack of ability to communicate, and the innocent caught in the middle, and most interestingly the barrier that separated us, this obstacle, this bulwark, evoked an image of partisan politics that wrenches our country apart and leaves us standing confused and unable to function. Somehow we've become a nation with so much mistrust and shame that we've become the father, the son, the employee, and the store itself, unable to ask for help, unsure what help to ask for, and unable to give help even if we did know what was needed, and everybody spending valuable time and money trying to figure it out.
15 April 2009
Fat
I think I'm getting more conservative in my old age, which makes me sad. But I can't help it if I feel like obese people should have to pay for two seats if they take up two seats. My airline ticket price shouldn't go up because other people have medical/ size issues. Airlines will certainly lose money if they have (half) empty seats that aren't paid for, which will probably cause all ticket prices to increase. Am I becoming more greedy? I think poverty is taking its toll on my values. I'm not sure what the old me would have thought of this. And I know I'm no republican--not by a long shot. I'm just not so sure that fat acceptance is a great movement. Being fat is deadly, and we should be doing what we can to stop it in a kind, inclusive, non-discriminatory way. I don't think that making accommodations with possible economic repercussions for everybody is the way to stop it.
14 April 2009
Neighbors
People tend to seek homogeneous neighborhoods. It makes them feel safer to live with others like them. It seems almost wrong to have a neighborhood of inter-income facilities. But it also, on a much deeper level, seems more right.
22 March 2009
Which Way the Wind Blows
How many loads must a man lay down before it makes a stink? The answer, my friends, is blowing in the winds of Malibu. Rock poet Bob Dylan's newly installed porta potty sits where the winds hit heavy on the borderline of his property and that of his neighbors Cindy and Dave Enninger... the Enninger's home has been tangled up in the blue chemical smell in what they describe as a "...carcinogenic toilet plopped down next to our home." City officials have been unable to to force Dylan to remove the potty. Aware there something is happening and they don't know what it is, Dylan's history shows it ain't no use to wonder why he does these things. In the mean time the Enningers are advised to keep a clean nose and use a change of clothes and look at the bright side, they don't need a weather man to know which way the wind blows.
29 January 2009
Near Earth Objects
http://neo.jpl.nasa.gov/
Here's a website you might want to bookmark: near earth object tracking by NASA. What that means is you'll get a preview of any asteroids that might destroy the earth and what NASA might do about it. Such as the one that might graze the atmosphere in 2029. That gives you 20 years to build a safe room!
Here's a website you might want to bookmark: near earth object tracking by NASA. What that means is you'll get a preview of any asteroids that might destroy the earth and what NASA might do about it. Such as the one that might graze the atmosphere in 2029. That gives you 20 years to build a safe room!
16 January 2009
09 January 2009
Incorruptible Corpses
Today I learned via HowStuffWorks.com's podcast: "Stuff you Missed in History Class" about incorruptible corpses. Apparently there are hundreds of examples of bodies that have not followed the usual eaten-by-maggots road to becoming a skeleton in under a year, and have in fact not been eaten by anything or become skeletons at all. These corpses are of varying states of decay, but some of them are amazingly well preserved. Some of them are Catholic, and some of them are not. I've compiled a list of URLs to look at the best photos I found on the web of these incorruptible corpses. Of course you can always read more about them on HowStuffWorks.com. There are even some books out there that might be worth reading, but as I haven't read them yet, I won't recommend one yet.
*keep in mind, I selected these links because of the pictures, not for the content*
Guanajuato, Mexico mummies: This link is to the HowStuffWorks.com site about the mummies. The site doesn't have many pictures, but this is one of the best pictures of the child-mummies found in Mexico, preserved by the dry, salty ground. Note that they look quite dead. Some of the Saints faired a little better, although that may not have been an act of god. See below.
(Also you could read his translation of Beowulf. It's quite melodious. It captures the rhythm of the original (so they tell me) as well as the grandeur and excitement.)
Catherine of Bologna: A 600 year old corpse sitting upright! Click the right arrow for two more pictures of closeups, but only if you really want to see a creepy closeup of undead corpseface and corpsehands. She is NOT in the same condition as she was the day she died, but still, pretty amazing considering you and I will most likely be showing a little somethin' skeleton before she is.
Saint Sylvan: Scroll about halfway down to see several pictures of this 1700 year old corpse. He was martyred--check out the neck wound. Here's another site with some better closeups.Saint Vincent de Paul (#4): for those of you who love second-hand clothes, here's something that might make you feel vaguely uncomfortable. Also, the site has a pretty good picture of Saint Bernadette (#1) and Saint John Vianney (#2).
07 January 2009
Very Yes
Things I like currently that help me stay informed no matter where I am:
Podcasts! I totally dig free podcasts from national public radio and its affiliates. Its easy to download them using the iTunes search feature on my iPhone. You can also search for them on your regular iTunes on your PC. But just for kicks, I'll link some of my favorites.
NPR Podcast Directory has a variety of different podcasts.
Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me! is a hillarious and informative radio call-in game show/interview forum hosted by Peter Sagal.
Stuff You Missed in History Class from HowStuffWorks.com
Think Out Loud from Oregon Public Broadcasting
Audiobooks! It is SO easy to read Crime and Punishment when you can't escape it on your morning commute! Check out Marco Polo's hefty tome The Travels of Marco Polo from Audible.com. You have to create an account to purchase books from audible.com, but it's a good way to downoad digital audiobooks, especially if you go through a lot of them. Their website claims the average reader gets through only 5 books a year! I would be willing to guess that if they factored non-reading adults into that equation that it would be an even lower number.
HowStuffWorks.com! If you are addicted to surfing the internet, this should be on your RSS feed.
Hulu.com! Watch tv and movies for free online! And it's perfectly, undeniably legal, because the networks help fund it. Some of my favorites recently have been Crawford, a documentary of the town that our soon-to-be-ex-president Bush called home: it discusses the media, the place, and, most poignantly, the people (brought a tear to my eye! But then, so many things do) and The Times of Harvey Milk, an excellent Oscar-winning 1984 documentary about the first openly gay man to be elected to public office and his and mayor George Moscone's tragic assasinations.
Books! Good old-fashioned books. Right now I'm reading The Wordy Shipmates by Sarah Vowell.
Podcasts! I totally dig free podcasts from national public radio and its affiliates. Its easy to download them using the iTunes search feature on my iPhone. You can also search for them on your regular iTunes on your PC. But just for kicks, I'll link some of my favorites.
NPR Podcast Directory has a variety of different podcasts.
Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me! is a hillarious and informative radio call-in game show/interview forum hosted by Peter Sagal.
Stuff You Missed in History Class from HowStuffWorks.com
Think Out Loud from Oregon Public Broadcasting
Audiobooks! It is SO easy to read Crime and Punishment when you can't escape it on your morning commute! Check out Marco Polo's hefty tome The Travels of Marco Polo from Audible.com. You have to create an account to purchase books from audible.com, but it's a good way to downoad digital audiobooks, especially if you go through a lot of them. Their website claims the average reader gets through only 5 books a year! I would be willing to guess that if they factored non-reading adults into that equation that it would be an even lower number.
HowStuffWorks.com! If you are addicted to surfing the internet, this should be on your RSS feed.
Hulu.com! Watch tv and movies for free online! And it's perfectly, undeniably legal, because the networks help fund it. Some of my favorites recently have been Crawford, a documentary of the town that our soon-to-be-ex-president Bush called home: it discusses the media, the place, and, most poignantly, the people (brought a tear to my eye! But then, so many things do) and The Times of Harvey Milk, an excellent Oscar-winning 1984 documentary about the first openly gay man to be elected to public office and his and mayor George Moscone's tragic assasinations.
Books! Good old-fashioned books. Right now I'm reading The Wordy Shipmates by Sarah Vowell.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)