Thursday, December 18, 2008
There's so much excitement now, too. It's almost Christmas (when did that happen?), there's a giant snowstorm about to hit, and I get to go home in only a few more days! Before that happens, though, I get to go out with my girls for one last outing before we all go our separate ways for break. And, I'm have two hot dates coming up. One is between my ass and a stadium seat to finally see the new Bond flick (purrrrrr....also, yay to having time to go to the movies!! I may even go to a matinee...double yay!). The second is with the boy I went out with last week...just googled his name (so informative) and apparently he's a genius in just about everything. Wow....just wow. Smart is hot. Anyway, here's a belated haiku:
Best when spent under covers,
Sleeping in all day.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Friday, December 05, 2008
From 1987 to 2006, Alan Greenspan was Chairman of the U.S. Federal Reserve and a major force in shaping the world's most powerful economy. When the recent troubles hit, Congress called on him to testify. With shocking humility, he confessed that there had been a flaw in his model of reality. All those years he'd believed that "free, competitive markets are by far the unrivaled way to organize economies." Now he saw he was wrong. While I'm sorry for the collective pain his mistaken ideas have unleashed, I'm elated for him personally: How many 82-year-old men are open to the possibility that their philosophy of life needs adjustment? For that matter, how many people of any age are receptive to changing their ideas about how the world works? I invite you to take your inspiration from Greenspan, Capricorn. Be curious about how your own major theories might need revision. Doing this heroic deed will energize you with good karma and fresh mojo.
Time to think about my own major theories...
Sunday, November 30, 2008
thankful for. Here's a short list of some of the things that make my
I'm thankful for:
friends, family, my health, and all those things that everyone always
says when they go around the table
black tea lattes
living in the first world
dark chocolate covered anything
grilled onions on burgers
lilacs, peonies, and tuberoses
cheap plane tickets
friends, family, my health, and all those things that everyone always
says when they go around the table and really truly mean
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
Happy shoulda, woulda, coulda.
Today marks the 6th anniversary of what was. And now...what is? I am less able to answer that question than I was a year ago, when we were still freshly broken up.
I believe you've recently read what was left for you in your storage box, which puts you at somewhat of an advantage, since I no longer remember the exact words or sentiments. If memory serves, both letters were along the lines of "I love you...Why don't you love me the same? WTF?". But, that is an indirect recollection.
Is it wrong that I think those questions are less answered now than they were when I wrote them?
For those who are not in the loop, I loved him. With every fiber of my being. So much so that all I saw in my future was him. There was other stuff, of course, but he was the only defined thing that I saw and knew I wanted. And I still do. Though, I am admittedly confused about how much is about him and how much is about "us" and my recollection of what "we" were. How do you let go of your future? And should you?
I believe I wrote that I looked forward to the day when I stopped caring. But, that hasn't happened yet. Will it ever? Those are the thoughts that haunt me. What if I never stop caring? What if I always regret walking away?
A classmate of mine recently described (wistfully) waiting for her boyfriend to propose. How could I crush her dreams with my own reality? I kept my mouth shut. She's given 6 years. Maybe she's better than me, with my 4 and a half. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you...perhaps I should have given that without any stipulations of legal bonds or rings. Who will ever know? Was your indecision right? Was my insistence wrong?
I didn't ask for much. Not a ring, not a date. Just a promise to love me. And all you could say was "I don't know." The women who'd been in similar, even longer situations, marveled and applauded my "strength" in walking away. I'm not sure now if it was strength or weakness.
I love you. How much is loving you and how much is loving what we were...I don't know. I wish there were some way to right everything, to know which path was the right one. To receive some sign. But, there is only life, lived every day, moving in some direction away (?) from who we were together and who we could have been. Which makes me so sad, because we were always so happy. And despite all the confusion and indecision, I know that I will always love you, even when I shouldn't.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
I love you still. Time heals,
But does not erase.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
lunching with friends on the hard concrete steps,
I see you out of the corner of my eye
and I'm reminded of a time
long past, but quickly refreshed.
Did you know?
He and and I were in love,
maybe unconsciously then, but outwardly
and abundantly later.
You had hurt in your eyes
and I, admittedly, was blind in my approach.
But, it was worth it, don't you think?
You have her and I have memories.
I think I catch your glimpse as I pass,
could be mistaken,
might not even be you,
but I flutter inwardly, regardless, at the thought.
-October 7, 2001
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door.
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Knows what to answer to 'how big is my behind?'
I pray that this man will love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.
A MAN'S POEM:
I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast nymphomaniac with huge boobs
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Monday, June 09, 2008
Furnishing an apartment is expensive, especially when I'm in love with things like this lamp and this mirror. And I'm moving in with zero furniture or housewares. Fun times shopping, but definitely not cheap!
Also, I'm obsessed with wood, faux bois style, and natural materials right now. Maybe it's because of the wood decorating feature in the latest issue of Martha Stewart Living, but I'm loving it.
Over the last few months, I've accumulated a short list of online boutiques that sell the cutest stuff. So, in the interest of generosity and keeping these wonderful e-tailers open, I thought I'd share the links.
www.shopmodi.com (love the Mr. P tape dispenser!)
http://rarebirdfinds.typepad.com/rare_bird_finds/ - they profile other online shops and hunt out the best stuff
www.kikkerlandshop.com/ (I'm all about the little campfire votive holder)
www.etsy.com - this is the motherlode for all sorts of handmade goodies by individual sellers
http://threepotatofourshop.com (the birds and nests dessert plates are calling my name)
www.blueribbongeneralstore.net - I love 5 and dimes. Seriously, I could spend days in a well appointed Ace Hardware. So, of course I love this stuff!
www.rightbrainterrain.com (I'm so getting the peace poster)
And, yes, this is how I spend my lunch hours - window shopping through my computer screen. :)
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
(Because this is cheaper than therapy.)
I don't know what to do with the fact that you emailed me. I responded, but in an intentionally dull, disinterested way. In a way meant to hide the fact that every one of my brain cells were pinging wildly around in my head. And that my heart was racing and that I wanted to vomit a little from all the nerves. Four months of blowing me off and now you decide to get in touch with a little howdy do?? If the phrase WTF was ever meant for something, it's this. WTF. Where have you been? What are you doing? Why are you getting in touch now? Why not four months ago when I was ready to lay it all out. Perhaps that's the biggest question. Why *are* you getting in touch? What are your intentions? Do you even think about stuff like that? Was it just a fleeting moment of nostalgia? The ice cream and old pictures get you thinking, "Oh yeah...her."? I cried (briefly) last night just from the clouds in my head. It's the first time I've done that in four months. WTF. You've got me thinking, but I don't know what to do with it.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Couldn't decide whether or not to call you on your birthday. Apparently, not calling got your attention more than calling would have. Let's just say, my tidy little dim sum lunch has been forgotten. That was not the email I was expecting to see when I came in. Call me floored. Now what to do with all this shu mai?
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Friday, May 09, 2008
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Monday, March 31, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?" The girl said
"NO!". And the girl lived happily ever-after and went shopping, dancing,
camping, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did
whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, traveled more,
had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself.
She went to the theater, never watched sports, never wore ' lacy
lingerie that went up her ass, had high self esteem, never cried or yelled,
felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was pleasant all the time.
Per Jon Carroll in today's SF Chronicle:
"And I'm not that crazy about Valentine's Day. I know it's a bogus invented holiday, but that doesn't bother me so much - every holiday is bogus and invented, one way or another. The arcane solar/lunar formula for determining Easter is just as artificial. Not everybody signed the Declaration of Independence on July 4. Some patriots said, "You know, I'm going to have my people kick this around, and I'll get back to you." Only they said it with all their s's looking like f's."
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Monday, February 04, 2008
“Goodbye To All That” was my (in)famous 1970 essay breaking free from a politics of accommodation especially affecting women.
During my decades in civil-rights, anti-war, and contemporary women’s movements, I’ve resisted writing another specific “Goodbye . . .”. But not since the suffrage struggle have two communities--the joint conscience-keepers of this country--been so set in competition, as the contest between Hillary Rodham Clinton (HRC) and Barack Obama (BO) unfurls. So.
Goodbye to the double standard . . .
--Hillary is too ballsy but too womanly, a Snow Maiden who’s emotional, and so much a politician as to be unfit for politics.
--She’s “ambitious” but he shows “fire in the belly.” (Ever had labor pains? )
--When a sexist idiot screamed “Iron my shirt!” at HRC, it was considered amusing; if a racist idiot shouted “Shine my shoes!” at BO, it would’ve inspired hours of airtime and pages of newsprint analyzing our national dishonor.
--Young political Kennedys--Kathleen, Kerry, and Bobby Jr.--all endorsed Hillary. Sen. Ted, age 76, endorsed Obama. If the situation were reversed, pundits would snort “See? Ted and establishment types back her, but the forward-looking generation backs him.” (Personally, I’m unimpressed with Caroline’s longing for the Return of the Fathers. Unlike the rest of the world, Americans have short memories. Me, I still recall Marilyn Monroe’s suicide, and a dead girl named Mary Jo Kopechne in Chappaquiddick.)
Goodbye to the toxic viciousness . . .
Carl Bernstein's disgust at Hillary’s “thick ankles.” Nixon-trickster Roger Stone’s new Hillary-hating 527 group, “Citizens United Not Timid” (check the capital letters). John McCain answering “How do we beat the bitch?" with “Excellent question!” Would he have dared reply similarly to “How do we beat the black bastard?” For shame.
Goodbye to the HRC nutcracker with metal spikes between splayed thighs. If it was a tap-dancing blackface doll, we would be righteously outraged—and they would not be selling it in airports. Shame.
Goodbye to the most intimately violent T-shirts in election history, including one with the murderous slogan “If Only Hillary had married O.J. Instead!” Shame.
Goodbye to Comedy Central’s “Southpark” featuring a storyline in which terrorists secrete a bomb in HRC’s vagina. I refuse to wrench my brain down into the gutter far enough to find a race-based comparison. For shame.
Goodbye to the sick, malicious idea that this is funny. This is not “Clinton hating,” not “Hillary hating.” This is sociopathic woman-hating. If it were about Jews, we would recognize it instantly as anti-Semitic propaganda; if about race, as KKK poison. Hell, PETA would go ballistic if such vomitous spew were directed at animals. Where is our sense of outrage—as citizens, voters, Americans?
Goodbye to the news-coverage target-practice . . .
The women’s movement and Media Matters wrung an apology from MSNBC’s Chris Matthews for relentless misogynistic comments (www.womensmediacenter.com). But what about NBC’s Tim Russert’s continual sexist asides and his all-white-male panels pontificating on race and gender? Or CNN’s Tony Harris chuckling at “the chromosome thing” while interviewing a woman from The White House Project? And that’s not even mentioning Fox News.
Goodbye to pretending the black community is entirely male and all women are white . . .
Surprise! Women exist in all opinions, pigmentations, ethnicities, abilities, sexual preferences, and ages--not only African American and European American but Latina and Native American, Asian American and Pacific Islanders, Arab American and—hey, every group, because a group wouldn’t be alive if we hadn’t given birth to it. A few non-racist countries may exist--but sexism is everywhere. No matter how many ways a woman breaks free from other oppressions, she remains a female human being in a world still so patriarchal that it’s the “norm.”
So why should all women not be as justly proud of our womanhood and the centuries, even millennia, of struggle that got us this far, as black Americans, women and men, are justly proud of their struggles?
Goodbye to a campaign where he has to pass as white (which whites—especially wealthy ones--adore), while she has to pass as male (which both men and women demanded of her, and then found unforgivable). If she were black or he were female we wouldn’t be having such problems, and I for one would be in heaven. But at present such a candidate wouldn’t stand a chance—even if she shared Condi Rice’s Bush-defending politics.
I was celebrating the pivotal power at last focused on African American women deciding on which of two candidates to bestow their vote--until a number of Hillary-supporting black feminists told me they’re being called “race traitors.”
So goodbye to conversations about this nation’s deepest scar—slavery—which fail to acknowledge that labor- and sexual-slavery exist today in the US and elsewhere on this planet, and the majority of those enslaved are women.
Women have endured sex/race/ethnic/religious hatred, rape and battery, invasion of spirit and flesh, forced pregnancy; being the majority of the poor, the illiterate, the disabled, of refugees, caregivers, the HIV/AIDS afflicted, the powerless. We have survived invisibility, ridicule, religious fundamentalisms, polygamy, teargas, forced feedings, jails, asylums, sati, purdah, female genital mutilation, witch burnings, stonings, and attempted gynocides. We have tried reason, persuasion, reassurances, and being extra-qualified, only to learn it never was about qualifications after all. We know that at this historical moment women experience the world differently from men--though not all the same as one another--and can govern differently, from Elizabeth Tudor to Michele Bachelet and Ellen Johnson Sirleaf.
We remember when Shirley Chisholm and Patricia Schroeder ran for this high office and barely got past the gate—they showed too much passion, raised too little cash, were joke fodder. Goodbye to all that. (And goodbye to some feminists so famished for a female president they were even willing to abandon women’s rights in backing Elizabeth Dole.)
Goodbye, goodbye to . . .
--blaming anything Bill Clinton does on Hillary (even including his womanizing like the Kennedy guys--though unlike them, he got reported on). Let’s get real. If he hadn’t campaigned strongly for her everyone would cluck over what that meant. Enough of Bill and Teddy Kennedy locking their alpha male horns while Hillary pays for it.
--an era when parts of the populace feel so disaffected by politics that a comparative lack of knowledge, experience, and skill is actually seen as attractive, when celebrity-culture mania now infects our elections so that it’s “cooler” to glow with marquee charisma than to understand the vast global complexities of power on a nuclear, wounded planet.
--the notion that it’s fun to elect a handsome, cocky president who feels he can learn on the job, goodbye to George W. Bush and the destruction brought by his inexperience, ignorance, and arrogance.
Goodbye to the accusation that HRC acts “entitled” when she’s worked intensely at everything she’s done—including being a nose-to-the-grindstone, first-rate senator from my state.
Goodbye to her being exploited as a Rorschach test by women who reduce her to a blank screen on which they project their own fears, failures, fantasies.
Goodbye to the phrase “polarizing figure” to describe someone who embodies the transitions women have made in the last century and are poised to make in this one. It was the women’s movement that quipped, “We are becoming the men we wanted to marry.” She heard us, and she has.
Goodbye to some women letting history pass by while wringing their hands, because Hillary isn’t as “likeable” as they’ve been warned they must be, or because she didn’t leave him, couldn’t “control” him, kept her family together and raised a smart, sane daughter. (Think of the blame if Chelsea had ever acted in the alcoholic, neurotic manner of the Bush twins!) Goodbye to some women pouting because she didn’t bake cookies or she did, sniping because she learned the rules and then bent or broke them. Grow the hell up. She is not running for Ms.-perfect-pure-queen-icon of the feminist movement. She is running to be President of the United States.
Goodbye to the shocking American ignorance of our own and other countries’ history. Margaret Thatcher and Golda Meir rose through party ranks and war, positioning themselves as proto-male leaders. Almost all other female heads of government so far have been related to men of power—granddaughters, daughters, sisters, wives, widows: Gandhi, Bandaranike, Bhutto, Aquino, Chamorro, Wazed, Macapagal-Arroyo, Johnson Sirleaf, Bachelet, Kirchner, and more. Even in our “land of opportunity,” it’s mostly the first pathway “in” permitted to women: Reps. Doris Matsui and Mary Bono and Sala Burton; Sen. Jean Carnahan . . . far too many to list here.
Goodbye to a misrepresented generational divide . . .
Goodbye to the so-called spontaneous “Obama Girl” flaunting her bikini-clad ass online—then confessing Oh yeah it wasn’t her idea after all, some guys got her to do it and dictated the clothes, which she said “made me feel like a dork.”
Goodbye to some young women eager to win male approval by showing they’re not feminists (at least not the kind who actually threaten the status quo), who can’t identify with a woman candidate because she is unafraid of eeueweeeu yucky power, who fear their boyfriends might look at them funny if they say something good about her. Goodbye to women of any age again feeling unworthy, sulking “what if she’s not electable?” or “maybe it’s post-feminism and whoooosh we’re already free.” Let a statement by the magnificent Harriet Tubman stand as reply. When asked how she managed to save hundreds of enslaved African Americans via the Underground Railroad during the Civil War, she replied bitterly, “I could have saved thousands—if only I’d been able to convince them they were slaves.”
I’d rather say a joyful Hello to all the glorious young women who do identify with Hillary, and all the brave, smart men—of all ethnicities and any age--who get that it’s in their self-interest, too. She’s better qualified. (D’uh.) She’s a high-profile candidate with an enormous grasp of foreign- and domestic-policy nuance, dedication to detail, ability to absorb staggering insult and personal pain while retaining dignity, resolve, even humor, and keep on keeping on. (Also, yes, dammit, let’s hear it for her connections and funding and party-building background, too. Obama was awfully glad about those when she raised dough and campaigned for him to get to the Senate in the first place.)
I’d rather look forward to what a good president he might make in eight years, when his vision and spirit are seasoned by practical know-how--and he’ll be all of 54. Meanwhile, goodbye to turning him into a shining knight when actually he’s an astute, smooth pol with speechwriters who’ve worked with the Kennedys’ own speechwriter-courtier Ted Sorenson. If it’s only about ringing rhetoric, let speechwriters run. But isn’t it about getting the policies we want enacted?
And goodbye to the ageism . . .
How dare anyone unilaterally decide when to turn the page on history, papering over real inequities and suffering constituencies in the promise of a feel-good campaign? How dare anyone claim to unify while dividing, or think that to rouse US youth from torpor it’s useful to triage the single largest demographic in this country’s history: the boomer generation--the majority of which is female?
Older woman are the one group that doesn’t grow more conservative with age—and we are the generation of radicals who said “Well-behaved women seldom make history.” Goodbye to going gently into any goodnight any man prescribes for us. We are the women who changed the reality of the United States. And though we never went away, brace yourselves: we’re back!
We are the women who brought this country equal credit, better pay, affirmative action, the concept of a family-focused workplace; the women who established rape-crisis centers and battery shelters, marital-rape and date-rape laws; the women who defended lesbian custody rights, who fought for prison reform, founded the peace and environmental movements; who insisted that medical research include female anatomy, who inspired men to become more nurturing parents, who created women’s studies and Title IX so we all could cheer the WNBA stars and Mia Hamm. We are the women who reclaimed sexuality from violent pornography, who put child care on the national agenda, who transformed demographics, artistic expression, language itself. We are the women who forged a worldwide movement. We are the proud successors of women who, though it took more than 50 years, won us the vote.
We are the women who now comprise the majority of US voters.
Hillary said she found her own voice in New Hampshire. There’s not a woman alive who, if she’s honest, doesn’t recognize what she means. Then HRC got drowned out by campaign experts, Bill, and media’s obsession with All Things Bill.
So listen to her voice:
“For too long, the history of women has been a history of silence. Even today, there are those who are trying to silence our words.
“It is a violation of human rights when babies are denied food, or drowned, or suffocated, or their spines broken, simply because they are born girls. It is a violation of human rights when woman and girls are sold into the slavery of prostitution. It is a violation of human rights when women are doused with gasoline, set on fire and burned to death because their marriage dowries are deemed too small. It is a violation of human rights when individual women are raped in their own communities and when thousands of women are subjected to rape as a tactic or prize of war. It is a violation of human rights when a leading cause of death worldwide along women ages 14 to 44 is the violence they are subjected to in their own homes. It is a violation of human rights when women are denied the right to plan their own families, and that includes being forced to have abortions or being sterilized against their will.
“Women’s rights are human rights. Among those rights are the right to speak freely--and the right to be heard.”
That was Hillary Rodham Clinton defying the US State Department and the Chinese Government at the 1995 UN World Conference on Women in Beijing.
And this voice, age 22, in “Commencement Remarks of Hillary D. Rodham, President of Wellesley College Government Association, Class of 1969”: “We are, all of us, exploring a world none of us understands. . . . searching for a more immediate, ecstatic, and penetrating mode of living. . . . [for the] integrity, the courage to be whole, living in relation to one another in the full poetry of existence. The struggle for an integrated life existing in an atmosphere of communal trust and respect is one with desperately important political and social consequences. . . . Fear is always with us, but we just don't have time for it.”
She ended with the commitment “to practice, with all the skill of our being: the art of making possible.”
And for decades, she’s been learning how.
So goodbye to Hillary’s second-guessing herself. The real question is deeper than her re-finding her voice. Can we women find ours? Can we do this for ourselves? “Our President, Ourselves!”
Time is short and the contest tightening. We need to rise in furious energy--as we did when courageous Anita Hill was so vilely treated in the US Senate, as we did when desperate Rosie Jiminez was butchered by an illegal abortion, as we did and do for women globally who are condemned for trying to break through. We need to win, this time. Goodbye to supporting HRC tepidly, with ambivalent caveats and apologetic smiles. Time to volunteer, make phone calls, send emails, donate money, argue, rally, march, shout, vote.
Me? I support Hillary Rodham because she’s the best qualified of all candidates running in both parties. I support her because her progressive politics are as strong as her proven ability to withstand what will be a massive right-wing assault in the general election. I support her because she knows how to get us out of Iraq. I support her because she’s refreshingly thoughtful, and I’m bloodied from eight years of a jolly “uniter” with ejaculatory politics. I needn’t agree with her on every point. I agree with the 97 percent of her positions that are identical with Obama’s—and the few where hers are both more practical and to the left of his (like health care). I support her because she’s already smashed the first-lady stereotype and made history as a fine senator, and because I believe she will continue to make history not only as the first US woman president, but as a great US president.
As for the “woman thing”?
Me, I’m voting for Hillary not because she’s a woman--but because I am.
February 2, 2008
New York City
[Also posted on www.womensmediacenter.com]