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![calgary sept 06 046[1].jpg](http://www.ayeletlikeitis.com/archives/calgary sept 06 046[1].jpg)
Aaaaaaahhh... don't you feel more relaxed now?
(More photos here.)
Still waiting on Calgary and Banff photos to share with you (I didn't take my own camera, since it's on the fritz, so I must wait patiently for a certain friend... ahem... to upload the photos we took!).
Meanwhile, on my last birthday I was given the gift of a day-by-day calendar based on Jon Stewart's highly amusing America (The Book). The calendar is, of course, very funny and elicits a smirk from me each morning when I arrive at work and excitedly tear off the top page to reveal that day's hilarity.
One recent day provided me something especially smirk-worthy. Enjoy:
C-SPAN Drinking Games
"Asshole"
While the collegial nature of Congress prevents members from coming right out and calling each other "asshole," senators and representatives constantly say as much in elaborate false displays of courtesy. When a congressman uses a phrase like "with all due respect," "my distinguished colleague," or "what the junior senator from Montana fails to realize...," he is really saying "asshole." Drink!
Of course, this new development transpires one day after I return home on an international flight. Figures.
More on my lovely extended weekend in Calgary & Banff a bit later...
My second semester as a grad student has me overwhelmed, to say the least. Still, as I've pointed out to friends, I'd rather be overwhelmed than underwhelmed. And I chose to embark on this path, which is a fact I'd sometimes prefer to forget, as it has been known to make me want to impale myself with sharp objects.
Last night, the class causing the overwhelm-ment (overwhelmance? overwhelmity?) was Advanced Topics for Professional Writers, a concept so vague that, four weeks into the semester, I am still unclear on the breadth of what we'll be covering.
We students had submitted a paper and I was pleased that our instructor selected mine to present to the class as an example of clear, concise writing style. I tried not to smile (must be humble, must be humble!), but gave myself a mental pat on the back for a job well done.
That was the first hour of class. By the third hour, I was so flummoxed over the requirements for our next project that I was ready to break my own bones just for a distraction. I dogged our instructor repeatedly with questions, potentially alienating my classmates by monopolizing all of her time when it seemed everyone else in the class understood the lesson perfectly. I was that student; the one her fellow students fantasize about choking with sticks of chalk.
My instructor was kind enough to stick around after class and patiently attempt to explain the assignment so that those of us with apparently limited mental faculties (i.e., ME) could grasp it.
Afterwards, I limped to the train station, bewildered and weary, doing my best to force that nagging, ever-present what the fuck was I thinking and how will I ever get through this? feeling out of my head.
Then, this morning, I received the following email from a classmate:
"I was sorry I didn't jump in to agree with you last night -- because I was also confused... I felt bad I left you 'hanging' there. I was just about to jump in and didn't -- I apologize for not supporting you! Actually, I'm almost positive that 90% of the class was in your situation -- but just didn't say anything. I admire how you can do what you did last night. You don't know how many classes I've left not knowing what was due for homework because I was hesitant to ask questions..."
(emphasis not mine)
I felt infinitely better upon discovering that I'm not the only one who is exasperated and overwhelmed by our challenging coursework and knowing that someone appreciated my wearisome questioning. I am not alone in the world of educational bewilderment. That is very good to know.
More Americans Have Died in Iraq Than Died on September 11.
I love the Thomas Mann quote at the end: "War is a cowardly escape from the problems of peace."
When does it end?
Also, I was very moved upon reading Keith Olbermann's speech from the World Trade Center site on yesterday's emotional but completely overstated anniversary. I encourage you to read the entire text here. Some excerpts:
"The only positive on 9/11 and the days and weeks that so slowly and painfully followed it was the unanimous humanity, here, and throughout the country. The government, the President in particular, was given every possible measure of support......History teaches us that nearly unanimous support of a government cannot be taken away from that government by its critics. It can only be squandered by those who use it not to heal a nation's wounds, but to take political advantage.
Terrorists did not come and steal our newly-regained sense of being American first, and political, fiftieth. Nor did the Democrats. Nor did the media. Nor did the people.
The President -- and those around him -- did that.
They promised protection, and then showed that to them 'protection' meant going to war against a despot whose hand they had once shaken, a despot who we now learn from our own Senate Intelligence Committee, hated al-Qaida as much as we did.
The polite phrase for how so many of us were duped into supporting a war, on the false premise that it had 'something to do' with 9/11 is 'lying by implication.'
The impolite phrase is 'impeachable offense.'
...How dare you, Mr. President, after taking cynical advantage of the unanimity and love, and transmuting it into fraudulent war and needless death, after monstrously transforming it into fear and suspicion and turning that fear into the campaign slogan of three elections? How dare you -- or those around you -- ever 'spin' 9/11?...
Who has left this hole in the ground?
We have not forgotten, Mr. President.
You have.
May this country forgive you."
Unfortunately, Phoebe's head is a bit blurred due to her vigorously licking the side of Melody's face. I love how Melody buries her head in Phoebe's belly as she's being bathed by her much younger counterpart. They rarely do this in full view of me (or any other human, for that matter), but I happened to sneak up on them just long enough to capture their sweet ritual on film.
Note: I look forward to getting a new camera soon, thus vastly improving the quality of my photos! (Of course, this assumes that the flaws in my photos lie in the camera and not in me as a photographer, a notion which I realize invites some skepticism, so skepticize away!)
Oh, and I loved this anecdote from Bill Maher (courtesy of my friend Aviva):
"President Bush says he read 60 books [this year]. We did a little math here. Sixty books in eight months. That is a lot of reading. That's a lot of "free time reading." In which, if you're an average reader, which I will generously give President Bush – an average reader – it would take you at least two-and-a-half hours a day. Now, there are jobs in the world, and then there are big jobs. When you have a big job, you don't have time to read for two-and-a-half hours a day."
One year ago today. No regrets, whatsoever!
During a fabulous visit from my friend Christopher a few weeks ago, we happened--on our way to shoot some photos in Alamo Square--to stroll through the Fillmore District, one of the leading jazz centers of the '40s, '50s and '60s. South of Geary, Fillmore Street has crafted its own "walk of fame," along which the neighborhood pays tribute to some of the greats who have lived or played there. Somewhere amongst the dozen or so names carved in the faux-brick concrete, I (forever the editor) was saddened to spot this:
That's quite the loving tribute, considering whoever designed it couldn't be bothered to spell the man's name correctly. Oh, the humanity!
AP headline: Bush Reminds Americans U.S. Is at War
Right, Dubya, you useless lump of flesh. Tell it to my friend Craig, currently in his NINTH month of his THIRD tour in Iraq. Tell it to his wife and daughter, who have lived their lives without him nearly every day this year and numerous months before. Tell it to the THOUSANDS of other troops and families and ordinary Americans for whom this war has far more significant consequences than it will ever have for you and the deplorable men who created it and all the new enemies we have because of it.
Tell it to the THOUSANDS of widows and orphaned children, both in the U.S. and Iraq. Tell it to the THOUSANDS upon thousands of injured and maimed soldiers, returning to life in the U.S. without limbs while you enjoy a cold Bud Light with Rummy at the Crawford ranch, never losing a minute's rest over whether or not your health insurance will cover your catastrophic injuries nor whether you'll need a shrink for years as you struggle with post-traumatic stress from all the horrors you've seen.
Fuck you, Dubya. No one needs reminding that we are at war more than you and your cronies do.
Took this shot from my fire escape earlier today:
The two grey figures, big and small, head to toe, reminded me of the movie Dumbo--I could just see the baby elephant, with his trunk, holding on for dear life to his mother's tail.
P.S. Nice job blocking the fire hydrant, Mr. Minivan Driver.