I have this idea that the movie, Pleasantville, is like... an American studio version of Antonioni. I shall pursue this. But there is all the joy of reality and chaos... in a controlled and tied-up tale. All the ideal with none of the... experience.

Thinking about it. Percolating, if you will.

An exceptional mind

Luther is doing some work for me, revising a supplement for a textbook on African-American History. Meanwhile, in my class on Medical Communication, one of the ongoing discussions over the past few weeks has been about race and children's learning materials, prompted by our analysis of an asthma management simulation prepared for black kids in Atlanta. This morning, once again, our activities crossed paths in a little discussion.

I was a bit fired up (I know, it's difficult to imagine, right?) about the whole idea that a kid wouldn't "see herself" in the simulation unless there were a kid of the same skin color in that simulation. Why wouldn't a kid identify with another person, regardless of skin color?

The whole thing brings to mind how often I heard, growing up, that "girls don't have any good role models." The idea was (and still is, no doubt) that a girl couldn't aspire to be an astronaut, school principal, mayor, or mob boss unless she saw women in those positions. THIS DROVE ME NUTS. When I saw an astronaut, I never thought, "wow, if only I was a man so I could do that." Kids don't limit themselves like that unless we tell them to, such as when that guidance counselor told me I was being ridiculous for choosing "fireman" on my careers survey, because that's a man's job.

Luther listened patiently. And then he said: "You also have to take into account that you have an exceptional mind."

I said: "But I really don't believe that!"

And he said: "Well, that's because you're stooopid."

Wise, wise words for a Sunday morning.

New car

I fell in love with a new car the other day. Check it out:



It's actually way cuter in person than in pictures. "Adorable" is the word I kept repeating. At about $8500 used, with 60,000 miles on it, I'm sure not going to buy it, but wow. It gets 50 miles to the gallon. Hybrid gas-electric.

Truly adorable. Luther said, "but it has no back seat!" and I said, "That's how I like 'em!" (Okay, I didn't, but it was something to that effect.)

Anybody want? Come on down and visit. I'll take you over there.

Ragin' Cajun

Does James Carville have a fan club? Paraphrased: "I am not going to ask for lower taxes when there are American children out there without healthcare. I am not going to ask for lower taxes when U.S. troops don't have the equipment they need to survive in Iraq."

I don't want you to miss my stirring story about the arrowhead I found, so don't be thinking this is my only recent post. But I had to rant. I just had to.

He rocks.

Cupid was a litterer

I found this in the backyard yesterday (June 3rd, 2007).


What you can't really see in the scan is that there is a ridge down the center, and another two fainter ridges at the top. Though clearly well-worn and not conclusively (to my eye) man-made, it appears to be an arrowhead.

For those of you who haven't been here (insert guilt trip for almost everybody), we have a fairly large yard for a city property, the largest in our neighborhood. The house was built in the 1960s, and before that, these would have been woods with trails and not much else. We're "downtown" by virtue of the city having grown so very fast.

The yard is notorious (among the small sample of Wil, Luther, and myself) for the number of bricks, marbles, and army men that we manage to pull up from the soil. We have also found cinder blocks, railroad ties, oyster shells (that shine startlingly in moonlight when they are first exposed by the rain), and the occasional piece of concrete yard art in the form of frogs and rabbits, their shapes marred and chipped over years of tumbling in the dirt. A rock that looks -and moreso, feels- like it could well have been bound to a stick as a primitive weapon actually seems quite a reasonable find.

But is it really an arrowhead? Couldn't it just be a rock? I've no way of knowing, but I lean toward the arrowhead, as does Luther. Recently, it finally rained after several months of dry spell. After the rain, the night was loud with frogs. I had forgotten the frogs. They've been quiet since last year. They had no voices until the rain. And their sound all through the night... speaks of wilderness and history.

###.....@.....K...............$....##

**disclaimer (and warning): the version I've found does crash pretty readily. I am pouting as I type. You should be able to save your games, but damn... if it's this unstable, I don't know...**

I found Larn to play on Windows. I used to play this as a teenager at Softquad, on a UNIX mainframe. If the past hour is any judge, it still has the power to hook me. COOL! It's text-only. I mean, not some kind of story game. No, I mean... text characters define the visual landscape.

If you must, look it up on Wikipedia. If you just want to play, go here to download the game. Save it to your computer. Unzip it. In the Win32 folder, double-click on the *.exe file. (It might not work if you already have Vista, but it does work on XP.)

I am totally happy. This is just the treat I needed!

p.s. Type ? to get the commands.

Moving day

I never expected to be in Georgia for this long.

I wasn't against the idea. I didn't think staying was really a possibility, so I didn't think much about it. My boyfriend was in the military. We'd have to move.

I think that's part of why it feels so odd to watch others leave, while we stay. I want to feel sad, because they won't be my neighbors anymore, and I like having them as my neighbors. But I don't feel sad, because I never thought we'd be neighbors for long in the first place.

Anita and Anita's husband were from Texas. Mr. Anita got a job here, with the base. Then Anita got sick with cancer and went back to Texas. After she died, Mr. Anita gave me all their frozen food. Luther was deployed, and I lived on this huge stash of frozen, homemade tamales. They were and always will be the best tamales ever.

I think the man that moved into their apartment still lives there. But we bought this house, and got new neighbors.

Steve and Stella live across the road from us. They are Greek Americans, but they're Greek like I'm Welsh. We went over there for ice cream, once, and they showed us pictures of their kids and grandkids and great grandkids, and they talked about who in the pictures had passed away, and who had what disease or condition. We pick up their paper whenever they go away to visit their kids.

Stella doesn't walk much anymore. Steve works on his lawn, slowly but thoroughly. Only lately, the lawn's been getting a bit overgrown. Today, there was a moving truck on the driveway.

And me? I feel like a little kid with my chin on the window sill, watching people leave but not really understanding they can just be gone from my life, and no longer be my neighbors.

Like I said, it's odd.

That's SUPERstar, thank you!

You are The Star

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Star is one of the great cards of faith, dreams realised

The Star is a card that looks to the future. It does not predict any immediate or powerful change, but it does predict hope and healing. This card suggests clarity of vision, spiritual insight. And, most importantly, that unexpected help will be coming, with water to quench your thirst, with a guiding light to the future. They might say you're a dreamer, but you're not the only one.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Shopping for a new home

I would tell you that working at home is nice, and it is, but I'm stressing out this week and am having some trouble summoning the enthusiasm. The workplace where one is told what to do, and most of one's time is wasted, is emotionally draining. But the stress? Low. Being at home and self-employed is emotionally satisfying, and often intellectually stimulating, but... AAAAAAAGGGGHHH!!!

More on that later.

Meanwhile, I have also discovered that my adorable little office, the second room of our little "Master suite" of two small bedrooms with a bathroom between them, with the desk at the window so I can see the daylight and the trees and the squirrels... gets very, very hot from around 2 p.m. onward. Hot like, my hands start sweating on the keyboard. And this is with the A/C going.

As a result, I have now moved to the downstairs den, the disgarded, 2nd-class office space, very nice, visually warm, lots of space, good furniture, TV... but no real window to look out of. One ought to feel cut off in this room. I guess I'll find out, but I now know this:

When we start shopping for houses in Florida, windows ALL the way around the office might not be a workable plan.

Tuesday morning idiocy

Haven't been blogging. Work is piled up. School started again. But I'm around, and I do take the time to read a little casual news with my morning coffee.

Today's gem: Yet again, the Bush administration is suggesting that it's important to choose your words carefully.

The Bush administration is lecturing others on the importance of words.

One more time: Bush

It

Is it just me?

It is to shake one's head at in disbelief.

How many morons does it take to elect a president? And then do it again?

From CNN.com, Carter: Anti-Bush remarks 'careless or misinterpreted", "Deupty White House press secretary Tony Fratto, with Bush at the president's ranch in Crawford, Texas, said Monday: 'I think it just highlights the importance of being careful in choosing your words.'"

Wow, that's some kind of strategery, eh?

Neighborhood Walk program

You know, when you get a puppy, you should be committed to walking it, right?

If you have children, I think maybe you should be committed to at least that level of commitment to their exercise.

But that's a bit of an aside.

I was thinking about how Wil walks home from school every day. He takes the bus in the morning - which is probably a wise control on his time. And he walks home in the afternoon. I think he's taking some pride in having done this now for three semesters in Georgia. He's now 17.

What if our neighborhoods that say they're so much about families and children were to implement a neighborhood walk program? Volunteer-based, with maybe some assistance from the city or county depending on the need. Two adults, preferably from different families, for each day and each route, to walk children home on a set (and published) route. It could even be one adult volunteer and one High School Junior or Senior volunteer - giving our older teens who AREN'T into sports a chance to participate in something physical. They could even win awards, at least certificates, but certainly could have some volunteer work and responsibility to report when applying for jobs.

The idea would be that people who are uncomfortable with having their kids walk home would be able to allow it (or more likely, mandate it) knowing that the walk was supervised. Even better, the walk would be a community involvement for the child.

There are a lot of kinks to consider. The kid across the road from us is learning to play the trombone. That sucker is more than half her size, and she's not all that physical to begin with. That's where I'd start looking for neighborhood donations and other assistance. Professional musicians can get instrument cases with proper straps for one thing - so they can carry over the shoulder or on the back. But would it be enough to, say... have all the kids in the group take turns carrying the heavy loads? I dunno.

And there are other little things. What if one of your neighborhood walkers wants to read from the Bible while the kids walk? What if another one dares to mention he's an atheist?

Each neighborhood could sort something out. Their ability to do so ought to be a fair indication of their real willingness to invest in their kids.

Just a thought. I like the idea, but would I volunteer? Hmm.

Let me consider that AFTER moving to Florida.

Craving order

I'm really starting to loathe the media. It's sad, because I actually generally think the anti-media hype is stupid. But this thing of constantly shocking people is ridiculous.

I just watched a segment on TV about young women taking vows in a strict religious (christian, not that it matters) order. WHY would they do such a thing? WHAT WOULD DRIVE THEM to sacrifice a future of love and family? WHAT KIND OF RELIGIOUS PASSION goes into such a dedication? Oooh, it's so shocking and weird!

Duh.

It's not weird.

Any 20 year old ought to be able to tell you it's not weird, actually. I did it. I felt it at 15, but I couldn't face telling my parents, so I did nothing about it. What was I considering? The military.

Yeah, I know, it's weird. But I thought about it. I never figured out there were recruiters to talk to, or it probably would have been a done deal. I had NO IDEA how the military thing worked. But I knew this: Once you join, all the answers are their answers. You no longer have to come up with your own, and in fact, you're not supposed to come up with your own.

It's so SEDUCTIVE!

I think any sane person who stays in the military finds some reason, some purpose. It might be "I'm supporting my family," and it might be, "well, who else is going to tell me what to wear?" but when push comes to shove, young people who join the military do grow up.

And I think sane people who join a religious order go through something of the same. They develop a sense of purpose. It may be twisted and weird to us, but given they've been living in seclusion, it probably feels like it makes sense.

In both groups, I think quite a number started, by and large, here: Wow, I have no purpose, and I have no power, and my current course of action seems so.... meaningless. If I do this other thing, no matter WHAT I do, people will honor me for the choice I've made. My life will MEAN SOMETHING.

It's seductive, as I've said. Especially since you have to make NO personal sacrifice to have it. Yeah, yeah, the show I was watching talked about how these young women had to "give up" their relationships... and I cry, "bullshit." Relationships are HARD. Show me somebody who doesn't think so. Talking to other people is hard. We all know it. I know people who've totally DITCHED other people just cuz they can't be bothered, cuz it's too difficult, because other people have expectations, ugh. So what do you give up when you join a special little nunnery? Oh that's right. You give up...

...all responsibility.

100% of the time, your decisions are made FOR you, by somebody else. You never decide. God has made your decisions, or the order has chosen for you how to relate to God. You're done. The clothes you put on in the morning. The food you eat. The books you read. The time you have to talk to your parents. Decision made.

The show picked on young women that were educated, like education should somehow negate religious passion. Education doesn't provide security, especially for young women. But a religious order?

All the certainty in the world. There will no longer be questions. You'll be safe forever.

I think there's some of that for the soldiers, especially the young soldiers. I understand the financial decision, and I certainly understand the lure of the culture (a little bit of unabashed socialism in an otherwise capitalist society? shoot, I gotta say, I love the military when I'm here in the States). But for some people, I can't believe they AREN'T swayed by the certainty. Here, the rules are set. You do what they say, and you'll be taken care of.

There are no questions.

No wonder this country is so religious.

Freaky.

Instinct

As a near-40 woman with no babies of her own, I've reached that special time in my life when I wonder things like, "do I love the cat TOO much?"

Thank goodness I'll (probably) outlive her. Yeesh.

Color me drab

I have pretty much settled on the colors for the exterior of our split-level ranch house. It's been in dire need of paint since before we bought it, and now that we've added some patches of white primer over the baby blue siding, we really are going to have to get it painted fast, before we become permanent "bad neighbors."

I showed my colors to Luther, and he said they were pretty boring.

But here's the thing: A split-level ranch IS BORING.

Quick, try this: Go to your nearest paint supplier and look at all the brochures with pictures of houses. Or if you're lazy, do some web surfing on "how to paint your house," and look at all the pretty photos showing examples of how various color combinations work. And tell me, do you see any ranch houses in the examples?

No.

Because they're BORING.

A long time ago, I decided that a small room should be painted a dark color. White paint is not going to make a small room bigger. It's just going to raise the light levels so that you can really see the clutter of trying to crowd your belongings into such a small space. Dark paint... is cozy. It's right for a small space.

Our house is a split-level ranch in an oddly woodland setting in the middle of town. Let it be simple and calm, with colors that blend inoffensively with the trees and the leaves.

That's it. That's my plan.

Supernova

Last night I had another super dream in which I was a super spy or cop or something or other. It was clear this morning, but I decided not to blog about it, and now it is unclear. If you read my previous blog entry, please note that there is uncertain and unclear, and the former is okay, but the latter is just plain annoying.

In any case, near to the end of the epic dream, I was walking down my street (not at all Virginia Avenue, not quite Alcina in Toronto, not Grace, not... anyplace, but a combination of all), and it was night time, and the sky was crystal clear, and I was looking up and saw one star blink.

It blinked.

And then, it exploded.

I saw a sphere of red light grow out of the star, and then sharpen, and then pull back inward, and the star faded to a dull red, where before it had been white and bright and large.

Then the star fell. And I caught it. It was a mechanism about a foot in diameter. Later, as I was walking up my walkway at my house, the weird guy from halfway down the street came up in a miniature golf cart and didn't say a word about it, just grabbed the mechanism and handed me a floppy credit card and said, "call that number and give them your bank account," and took off down the sidewalk back to his house.

Luther said he'd go watch TV in the basement, so I could call the number. Obviously it would be classified and he shouldn't listen. I scoffed at the whole thing. But I called the number. I was hoping for a big payoff.

I woke up thinking about the lottery.

Again.

And then tonight, upset about something and not quite wanting to go to sleep yet, I read the news.

CNN: Giant exploding star outshines previous supernovas

I'm in my jammies. I'd like nothing more than to go for a walk, especially since I can hear the teenager's voice downstairs and don't have my own TV to drown him out. But... I'm in my jammies. And I'm already sleepy. And it's probably cloudy.

But I'm thinking... my exploded star was talking to me.

My very own exploding star.

Cool

Shifting gears

Somtimes I am overwhelmed with the anti-uncertainty movement, everybody so certain that "good" can only be defined as "certain" or "reliable" or "dependable," known versus unknown, expected and even required versus unexpected and completely voluntary or even unnecessary or even arbitrary. I feel like the surprising, the frightening happenstance that is the real world has already slipped away, now out of reach, and if I don't concentrate very hard, I'll lose even the memory of truth.

But the truth is this: Sometimes, when you're driving to work at 7:30 in the morning, the clutch in your little Honda del Sol decides to self-destruct. And it's scary because you're in traffic and your car doesn't exactly not-go, instead making rude noises and behaving quite erratically, if that's even a word. Later, after several nice socket wrenches have bit the dust, and your boyfriend has a bruised rib from where the transmission fell on him, you'll get back into your car to drive to work once again, and you won't feel certain about the clutch.

You'll wonder if it could happen again.

And the movement of your car at 75 mph doesn't seem like quite as good an idea as it had previously.

But you keep driving. And when your brakes fail on the way home from work, you still don't actually crash into anything, but you consider the possibility on several occasions. And the next time you get to drive the car, you put your foot on that brake pedal and cringe inwardly, almost certain that it won't work, and the car will not stop after all, even though it has a brand new (actually, refurbished) brake master cylindar. You're almost certain that there is never a way to stop, ever again.

The truth is this: There is no certainty at all, even about the bad and scary things. The brakes will work most of the time, and sometimes they won't work, and you'll drive to work at 75 mph knowing this. And really, isn't that pretty marvelous? What an adventure!

But I'm surrounded by people who don't want to be on an adventure, you see. And they'll insist, every time something scares them, that the world must be changed to ensure that this something can never, ever happen again. So they close their emotional fists around all the somethings, and they shut out possibility altogether, leaving only a sweaty palm and darkness.

I'm going to put this blog to rest soon. I might start another. Or I might not. I really don't know what will happen.

Semi-live blogging: The GOP debate

8:39 pm

They were all looking surprisingly good for a bit, there. I disagreed with them on several points, but I was impressed with some on several other points. One fellow - I think it was Huckabee, but I'm not sure - actually said what I've been waiting for: "What we did with Iraq was wrong. It was a mistake. But we can't leave, because we have to clean it up." I'm paraphrasing. I'd go further. But I was surprised to hear it.

Sadly, they turned to Roe v. Wade. All but Gulianni made me ill. And Gulianni left it up to States' rights, which I don't believe in.

Made me ill. I can't help it.

Now (8:41) they're talking faith. Ugh.

I'm thinking, could it be that the U.S. shows that I watched as a child were Canadian-version U.S. shows? Because I remember when the U.S. was founded on reason, not faith.

But the GOP says it was otherwise.

8:45 pm

Okay, Gulianni needs to stop talking about what he DID, and start talking about what he thinks and believes. Yes, a record is important, but we can look the record up. The news people will surely do it for us, when they've got some down time. This is an opportunity to respond to some questions, and when you veer away from them, you better have something more to say than, "when I was Mayor of New York..."

8:48 pm

Wow, they're totally losing me now. I mean, I could never embrace a GOP candidate, but now I'm creeping out on them.

Also, let us note that McCain had better be GONE after this. He's been tanking already, but tonight he totally lost it. Yeah, let's attack Iran. Good choice. Way to go.

8:57 pm

One thing I've liked about Gulianni in this debate is that he's at least once said, "it's up to the judges." I am sick to death of these "leaders" failing to recognize the rule of law and the constitutional role of the judiciary. "Activist judges" indeed --it is their JOB to decide how the Constitution applies to present-day matters. You don't like it? Tough.

We just had a break. We left the TV on, but we talked about Obama. He worries me. I'm about ready to buy a t-shirt, and he worries me. I'm not sold. Mainly, I don't think that I can "vote" (support: I can't vote, so it's a virtual thing) for somebody who says we have to get out of Iraq. I agree, yes, we have to get out. But we can't JUST LEAVE. We put them where they are, and we made a mistake. As I said earlier, we need to admit the mistake --as a nation, we ought to apologize to the Iraqi people, actually, and bizarrely I think that would help, at least with the educated population that understands how this representative democracy works. We made a mistake as a nation, but now we're going to stay because we have to help clean it up.

NO democrat has the nerve to do this, yet. But Luther makes this point: There are stages to the nomination and election process. Now is not that time.

That's fine, but Obama better leave that window open if he wants to do something grand. Leave it open just a crack. Say you want our troops home. But say you need to become leader first, before you can get all the intelligence necessary to figure out how to do it best.

Back to the stupid GOP...

9:03 pm

WOW. Mcain, paraphrased: We have to make the tax cuts permanent, and we have to cut some expenditures.

I used to semi-like McCain. That's what started the Obama talk -- Luther and I were talking about how McCain has to win so far before he can show his true colors. And I'm sorry, but no. He's too much of a whore now. It's sickening. Whey would we have any reason to think he wouldn't be like this as a leader?

9:08 pm

Wow. This is actually pretty interesting! But the wine with dinner is hitting my brain to the point that even if you were interested in this topic (which you probably weren't), I wouldn't satisfy you. I shall add links to any pertinent blogs I find.

'Night.

b

9:11 pm I CAN'T HELP IT

Is the time oddly freakish?

Are there any of you who don't believe in evolution? Three GOP candidates reased their hands.

McCain said he believed in evolution, but then spouted some nonsense about a sunset in the Grand Canyon.

Expletive expletive expletive.

Expletive.

The question was flawed, of course. One doesn't "believe" in evolution.

THAT'S THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT.

ARRRRRGH!

Okay, really, I'm done.

I just won $10,000,000! Now I know it's real!

I've been entering Publisher's Clearing House sweepstakes lately. Anybody with half a brain knows that the odds of winning are... ridiculous. But then again, it takes 10 seconds to enter.

In today's entry email, PCH reports that they awarded a winner and got a less than satisfying response at the door, and it made it to the television, and they're awfully disappointed. So for this sweepstakes, they've created an acceptance script. If I say the lines when they come to my door to award me $10,000,000, I'll win an extra $5000 on the spot! Woot!

"I just won $10,000,000! Now I know it's real! There's no way in hell I'm going to win anything, but I'm rehearsing my lines JUST IN CASE!"

If I win, I'm giving the $5000 to charity. But I'm keeping the $10,000,000. All of it.

Tips and tricks on a Sunday morning

It was nice to see Anne drop by and leave a comment! Hi, Anne!

She noted the little Twitter box. Yes, it is a little fun, but I get the sense that I'm not experiencing the full value, because A) I don't use text messaging --it's not part of my phone plan, so each message would cost extra, and B) I don't have a Mac --for which there are apparently some nice messaging and other applications through which you can pop a note over to Twitter without having to log in to the Twitter site.

For me, instead, it's mostly a new way to keep in touch with my friend JamesJames in Toronto. He's a very nice and smart guy, this JamesJames, and through his little Twitter posts I feel like I "see" him all the time, much like the old days, a friend walking in to work, yet again proclaiming his undying passion for his Starbucks coffee.

Dmitry Chepovetsky, by way of cleaning up the mystery left by my previous drunken post, is an actor who was studying in the Ryerson Theatre program when I and my friends were at Ryerson's film school. I'm sure to this day he'll say that his greatest role ever was in Stephen Ayres' film, "When I Grow Up," YEAH! That was such a fun shoot! (Stephen, I swear I still don't know why my underwear was on the rock outside the cabin. I swear!) Nowadays, Dmitry is a big TV and movie star, but I hadn't been paying attention, so when I saw him in Man of the Year, I was quite astonished and thrilled. Yay, Dmitry!

Meanwhile, I am now officially finished my semester, and I seem to have managed to squeek by with my silly grad-4.0 (because it sure isn't 4.0 if you count undergrad) intact --official results due later today. One cool trick that came in handy for both my classes was Google's Page Creator, suggested by a classmate named Michael Wood. I can build a static web site from scratch, of course, and I do have some web space through school and our ISP, but when I had a couple of different assignments for which I had to "present" either a recorded voice presentation or a web page... Googlepages was so very much easier than building my own. When you just need to put a couple of pages out there quickly, try it --it is FREE, which is just the way I like it. All you need is a Gmail account.

Finally, because this is a tips and tricks post, let me take a moment to shout out to my friend, the restickable glue stick. You would not believe how useful this is. It's kinda like... it's kinda like when we bought our multi-purpose printer-scanner-copier-fax machine, and I thought the one thing I really would never use is the copier, and wouldn't you know we probably use the copier every day? I use the restickable glue stick to put stuff up on my wall beside my desk: Luther's class schedule for the next two semesters, the colors I am thinking are right for painting the house, the notes from a halfway finished job...

...which I should finish now.

Dmitry Chepovetsky

Buzzed and sleepy, and I have a Luther two rooms away that...

Well, let's leave that to the imagination.

Meanwhile, look up Dmitry Chepovetsy. I love this man. Check him out. I am so STOKED to see him in Man of the (okay, the name of the movie sucked and I don't remember it, but Robin Williams became president).

Dmitry.

I swear I was freaking out. Yay, Dmitry!