Friday, August 22, 2003

Three Shameful Things
A friend suggests that I try to unclog the writing drain by listing three things I consider shameful about myself, and three things society would consider shameful but I don't. I'm not much of a believer in the public confession thing, but being somewhat adventurous in nature, I am willing to give it a try.

My list:

1. I have a mean streak a mile wide and several miles deep. It's fueled by demon rages that can be triggered by any thing at any time. I keep it under control by the mental equivalent of a scold's briddle, but sometimes it cuts loose and there's hell to pay. It's worse because I have really good aim and can find someone's weak spot nine out of ten times. The flip side is that I am so used to reining myself in that sometimes I don't speak up when I should.

2. I am seriously material. One of my essential fears is that I will hear God's call and He'll be saying something like follow Mother Theresa. I mean, how do you tell God No, thanks, today is not my day for cleaning sores in Calcutta, Nordstrom is having a sale on Jimmy Choos? I try to believe that I'm making it up by being generous with charities, but of course I'm not.

3. I like the Bee Gees (I know, I know, woe unto me, child of iniquity).

Society's list:

1. I don't have any sexual taboos. Whatever consenting adults do alone, in couples, or in multiples is merely a matter of curiosity. There ARE things I won't do; but if YOU want to do them, enjoy yourself. I also don't think God is as unhinged about it all as we are.

2. I make value judgments about things social and cultural, and usually from a feminist position. I tend to look at the status of women in a culture as a clear indicator of whether I consider that culture worth my while. I won't apologize for this. I AM a woman, and the lives of my world-sisters are of supreme importance to me.

3. I am intolerant of vulgarity and crudity. I think the people who invented Married with Children and similar fare should be consigned to the deepest frozen pits of hell where ice worms can gnaw their insides. Further, I think the word "fuck" is vastly overrated as a swear word.

Whew! I feel better already.

Wednesday, August 20, 2003

An Apology...
To those people who wrote and have gotten mostly silence for their pains. I'm not usually such a mannerless pain in the arse as all that. It's just that I've found myself at a crossroads, and trying to make sense out of it has taken all my time and attention.

Lately watching the world is like watching a slow motion train wreck, and writing about it seems to be too much, or too little, or simply useless. I thought at the beginning I would have something to say, but...well, I don't anymore. Not really. I have been spending a great deal of time reading, and most of it has been disheartening. When the sounds of "stop! wait! don't do that!" has grown in volume to seventeen-choirs-doing-the-Messiah-at-Christmas-time and the voices are coming from liberals and conservatives, domestic and foreign; when the reputation of this country has sunk to that of a playground bully; when we expressly abandon our freedoms to ensure some kind of safety that seems, upon scrutiny, to be illusory; when we are willing to destroy each other over the legacy of a Man whose most vocal adherents call him, without irony, The Prince of Peace; when we mortage our grandchildren's health and well-being to the short-term interests of timber, oil, and agribusiness; when we seem to have stopped thinking of each other as anything but "the enemy," what is left to say?