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As I busy myself with futile attempts to sift through the heap of lies served up by our president the other night, my writing time is limited. Still, I wanted to comment on the momentous decision made in Spain yesterday, on the heels of the excellent news out of Canada earlier this week.
Thank you, Spain and Canada, for the simple act of treating your citizens with equality. It's refreshing and reassuring to witness that some people in this world still believe in tolerance, open-mindedness and fairness. That means equality for everyone, not just for faithful followers of those who think their own beliefs are the only worth observing. The Head Bigot pope (and other arrogant clergy who pride themselves on being bastions of faith and virtue) could learn a lesson or two from people who not only preach compassion for others but actually practice it. A novel idea.
Oh, and I have every intention of visiting Spain again, as nearly every person I met during my travels there last year treated me kindly in spite of my nation of origin. Viva Espana!
Am I the only one who, when compelled to slaughter a largish spider, subsequently lies awake wondering whether the unfortunate victim's surviving sibling/parent/child will swiftly venture forth from dark places within the walls, seeking to avenge his murdered loved one's death like some arachno Inigo Montoya?
"You killed my father. Prepare to die."
It looks as though Humboldt County (my present and temporary home) has up and joined the 21st century with the advent of its very own Craigslist page. This will prove most helpful for those times I simply must:
a. buy or sell shit
b. score some weeeeeeed, dude (were I so inclined and unaware you can get it on just about any corner, assuming you're not growing your own)
c. peruse Missed Connections for amusement
d. learn about upcoming barefoot vegan hygienically-challenged tree-hugger dreadie gatherings (so as to maintain a safe distance)
e. rant about barefoot vegan hygienically-challenged tree-hugger dreadies who insist on referring to themselves using Grateful Dead song titles (as in "Hi, I'm Ripple!")
It's especially useful for unearthing amusing little gems such as this, which almost none of you will understand but may elicit a chuckle nonetheless with its informative look at the folly that is living here.
Sunset over the Pacific Ocean, 9:24pm, as seen from my front doorway on the longest day of the year.
"There's an increasing tendency in our society to glamourize people who have no talent." - Nick Hornby, one of my favorite writers, last week on Fresh Air
"I'll bet Suge Knight could find Osama Bin Laden." - My younger brother, last night over dinner
Last night, I returned home around 8pm from my usual weeknight gym date and, upon entering my sun-drenched flat, was somewhat puzzled not to be greeted by two purring felines circling my ankles as they typically do when I arrive home after a long day's absence.
"Where are you, girls?" I called out into the vast expanse of my palatial, 400-square-foot abode. No response. Very curious.
Moments later, as I peeled sweaty workout clothes from my aching muscles, I noticed four little yellow-green eyes peering from under my bed and encouraged their owners to venture forth (which they did, after some hesitation). Very curious, thought I.
Entering the bathroom, I flicked on the perpetually-tuned-to-NPR radio perched atop the toilet (as I tend to do immediately whenever entering the loo... I like company while I do my business, especially Harry Shearer or the Car Talk guys).
Flushed from my workout, I stood there entirely unclothed, listening to what initially sounded like an emergency broadcast system test but which turned out to be (dunh-dunh-DUNH!) a tsunami warning. Pardon me, but... WHAT?
Blah, blah, blah... 7.4 magnitude earthquake... blah blah blah... 85 miles north... 90 miles offshore. I froze. Why in the bloody hell had I, in my constant state of earthquake hyper-awareness, not felt this rather weighty tremor? I had exited HealthSport only moments before the reported quake time of 7:50pm. Was I driving so fast in my zippy black Jetta that I didn't feel a major friggin' earthquake? Am I that oblivious to the world beneath my wheels?
All signs point to yes. But I'm glad that, for once, I was able to essentially "sit out" a natural disaster that would have had me sufficiently spooked had it occurred 15 minutes later, while I was lathering up and rinsing from my skin the glistening proof of the ass-kicking I'd received in my cycling class.
The somewhat disjointed news reports warned that an earthquake of that magnitude could cause a tsunami within 30 minutes. I looked at the clock. Could I squeeze in a shower before the panic and mass destruction set in? Yes, I think so. The calming voice on the radio warned those of us in coastal areas (um… that would be ME) to seek higher ground. I busted out the body wash.
Thankfully, the mile or two separating my house from the Pacific Ocean is swathed with sandy dunes, not to mention the many blocks’ worth of other structures that would easily deflect much of the wave’s power before it struck my little haven. Plus, I live on the second floor. That’s high enough ground for me, I thought as I lathered, demonstrating infinite bravery and pluck by intentionally disobeying the orders of authorities to flee!
No sooner had I towelled off than the phone calls began pouring in--concerned friends who’d heard news of the giant quake checking to make sure I was alright, that my house hadn’t washed away with me in it, wanting to know just where in the hell was Crescent City, anyway? Far enough, said I. This time.
Faced with a plethora of interesting items crossing my desk today, I thought I'd do the righteous thing and share some with you:
Brilliant:
"If you love Will & Grace and you aren't pro gay marriage... fuck you!" - Margaret Cho
Infuriating:
"Saddam Hussein... I believe is involved with this World Trade Center and Pentagon bombing. I believe you're going to find out that money from Iraq flowed in and helped this happen." - the ever-careless Bill O'Reilly (from this would-be-hilarious-if-it-wasn't-so-damn-sickening piece, via Vidiot)
Frightening:
"40% of Americans say they consider talk show host Bill O'Reilly a journalist - more than would define famed Washington Post reporter Bob Woodward the same way." - Associated Press
More frightening:
"(Of those polled) more than a quarter said Rush Limbaugh was [a journalist] - AP (and we intelligent humans wonder why this country's going to shit?)
Fantastic:
Losing America: Confronting a Reckless and Arrogant Presidency (title of Senator Robert Byrd's upcoming book)
Lies (or, at the very least, unproven truths):
"The individuals at Guantanamo Bay are dangerous terrorists who seek to do harm to the American people." - Scott McClellan (that's right, Scotty, keep trying to scare us into agreeing with your illegal and immoral policies)
Truth:
"There has never been an administration, I don't believe in our history, more intent upon consolidating and abusing power to further their own agenda. Why can't the Democrats do more to stop them? It's very hard to stop people who have no shame about what they're doing. It's very hard to stop people who have never been acquainted with the truth." - Hillary Clinton
Encouraging:
"About one-third of adults said they think the country is headed in the right direction, while only 43% said they approve of the job being done by Bush. Just 41% say they support his handling of the war." - AP
I don't generally believe polls to be entirely accurate, but they sometimes make me hopeful nonetheless:
"Congress gets even lower grades than Bush, a potentially troubling development for those seeking re-election next year. Only about three in 10 polled approve of the job being done by Congress." - AP
You voted for these clowns, you 51% who thought it better to stick with what we have and raise the conservative consciousness in this country to new heights with your Bible-thumping, homo-hating, intolerant, racist senators and governors. Let's see how far it gets us these next four years (assuming we aren't bombed to oblivion before then by people we've bullied into action).
Ten days into June and I'm still cranking up the heat before shuffling my sleepy self off to bed at night. The heat. In June. In Cal-ee-for-nya.
The mind boggles.
Well, I can think of at least two residents of my home who don't seem to mind:
See Phoebe casually resting her back paws on Melody's butt? So far that's the closest these two furballs get to the act of actual cuddling. They do, however, frequently engage in some sweeter-than-hell licking of each other's heads. Perhaps they're merely saying, "Yo, dirty bitch, you needs a bath!" but still, the cuteness factor is almost unbearable.
After a fine Memorial Day mini-vacation, I returned to a mini-mountain of work. Add a mammoth freelance project to my usual workload and you have yourself one shitload of writing to be done. See the helpful equation I've devised below:
Regular writing job + big freelance writing project = one shitload of writing
My brain, it is tired.
And since my manner of earning a living is solely through the magic of the written word, I've found it a challenge keeping up with blogging, which (in case there was any lingering doubt) pays squat. Actually, I'll be frank and admit I've been seriously considering sending AyeletLikeItIs out to pasture. Now, don't get your knickers all in a twist and start your email campaign, begging me not to stop blogging, as if the absence of my sporadic whining would facilitate a major disruption in your life.
The honest truth is that keeping this blog has affected my other personal writing in that I hardly do any anymore. 2004 was the first year since I could pick up a pen that I didn't painstaking record my personal thoughts and stream of consciousness for the benefit of my own sanity and mounting wisdom. That is, anywhere aside from this public forum. And that's simply (for lack of a better expression) no good.
Yes, it is true that I periodically spew forth a bounty of personal contemplation here on this site. And it's true that many entries incorporate emotion, opinion (ya think?), sentiment, you name it. Yet my inner censor will never be fully quieted when writing anything with the remotest chance of being seen by anyone other than whomever will have the unfortunate task of sorting through my journals once I’m gone. I genuinely envy those who write with abandon, expressing their every emotion for the entire blog universe to absorb. How can I write about my job when a co-worker might read it? How can I write about my siblings when they have eyes and brains and Internet access? How can I write about my love life when parents and exes are reading (not to mention certain impressionable young ‘uns)? How can I articulate my distress over all the divorces around me when those breaking up read my blog to distract themselves from their personal drama by means of my insistent seething? I make every attempt not to censor what goes in to my posts and I can honestly say that, once I commence ranting on a subject, all manner of suppression evaporates. Yet there are countless topics I dare not touch, for fear of offending or hurting those I care about or damaging my professional prospects. So I stick to what’s reasonably safe, limit my deepest emotions, curb my need to spill all.
I am fully aware that I will need to get over my fear of offending anyone and put aside the self-consciousness that exists in terms of my writing if I ever want to publish anything of significance. That's a considerable hurdle in and of itself, one I'm sure countless writers battle in their quest to express themselves on paper.
Another reason I often consider discontinuing this site is that I simply can’t devote as much time to it as I’d like. Each day presents me with innumerable new fixations about which I yearn to write, yet couldn’t possibly tackle entirely. My utter contempt for our government foremost (and sadly, perpetual) among topics, I also stumble upon various bits throughout my day that pique my relentless curiosity about the world and practically induce me into writing. I read something interesting or maddening in the news and I yearn to chat about it here, but (as often befalls me), the news is sorely outdated and anger diminished by the time I get around to expressing my thoughts on the matter. I keep a tiny green notebook with me at all times, in which I’m constantly scribbling thoughts, questions, oddities, concerns and intriguing little tidbits I hope to share on this blog and yet weeks sometimes pass before I’m availed of the time.
It’s an everyday struggle for just about every adult to devote as much time as they’d like to whatever creative or leisure pursuits strike their fancy. For me, the added dilemma of battling my inner silencer makes for a sizeable challenge. I’m entirely up for the fight, though I realize the chances of anyone ever winning are slim.