Just another post

First off I need to be a fond farewell to Andy's I'm an Intern in New York blog. His last--and most ambitious post--is a Choose Your Own Adventure styled story of the day in the life of an intern (or, at least, a day in Andy's life as an intern).

On the happy, even miraculous, ecology front, scientists are taking the ivory-billed woodpecker off the list of extinct species (yes, you read that correctly). Proclaimed extinct in 1920, an ivory-billed woodpecker was found in the Big Woods of Arkansas, according to the BBC.

A personal request: on Sunday, May 1st I would appreciate if everyone would take a moment to rejoice that I will be paid! After years of financial mess, I have vowed to get myself on a budget, and this upcoming check will be the beginning of a new life. Long live money.

Saturday I'm going to a meeting to learn about the Eastern Service Workers Association. They don't have a webpage, so I can't link to one, but basically they are an organization to help those workers who aren't recognized under the National Labor Relations Act. These are people--families--who earn very low wages and have hard times making ends meet. They also have little access to healthcare and other social programs because they fall into that group of people who aren't poor enough. Habitat for Humanity families are often in this category. The Eastern Service Workers Association helps advocate for them also helps them stretch their income farther through food and clothing drives. I'm not so keen about giving up my Saturday, but it is an issue that concerns me.

--Oh for the love of God. When I googled "Eastern Service Workers Association" one of the pages that came up is Steven Alan Hassan's Freedom of Mind Center--a.k.a. "I can free you from the grip of a cult." What is it with me finding organisations accused of cult activities? Well I'm still going to the meeting on Saturday, but if anything feels suspicious you can bet I'll change my phone number and never go back. They're also identified as "communist" on the CommieWatch blog (although this blog is two years old and seems to be defunct).

Crap. How is it that I always get drawn into these things?

Ooh! Ooh! Look!

Oooh! I'm so excited. I have just put CEEH's new front page online! Is it my dream page? No by any means. But making do with what I have currently available, it's fabulous! And, it's a huge improvement over the old front page.

Hooray! I rock. (This is no time for modesty. Two days ago I could have never accomplished this.)

Drama at my old house

I recently recieved an email from my old roommate about the ongoing drama at my old rock-n-roll triple decker. Turns out Ice Pick Man doesn't even really live there. He just shacks up there for the icepicking opportunities. And now that there is no ice, his relationship with Cinderella (thanks to Kate for the nicknames) is on the rocks. You know what, instead of me telling the story second-hand (really third-hand if you trace it back to its origins--my other former roommate), just go to Kate's blog and read it yourself. She also shows off some of her artwork, which is fabulous.

Other news: Tuesday night Jon and I had free tickets to see Chevalier and Me, which was a lovely one-man musical review of Maurice Chevalier (probably best known in the U.S. for his performance in Gigi--"Thank Heavens for Little Girls.") The show wasn't bad, although I thought Tony Sandler--the one-man of the one-man show--seemed a bit uncomfortable with some of his props. And I also probably would have appreciated it more if I was 70 instead of 25, as the CEEH residents who went did really seem to enjoy themselves.

On the work front, I had IT-Man give me a lesson about webpage upkeep, and so I'm slowly making changes to www.ceeh.org. So far the changes are probably not too noticable to the general public, but soon I hope great things will happen. Unfortunately, I'm stuck using Microsoft FrontPage (motto: "Helping you make lame webpages since 1995") and to make things worse, our webpage template is table-based which I find frustrating as it seems to limit what I can do with it. But I'm dealing. And if I have some spare cash in the next month I might try and find a book about webpage design, html, etc because I think expanding my html knowledge will help a lot (what I currently know about html is the bits that are left from my original high school webpage-before Geocities was taken over by Yahoo, and before there were all these fancy web design programs).

This morning AOD (my supervisor) and I are going to go to this art shingding and pick out three pieces of art. I assume their for Bishop Street, but I can't be certain about that. Poor AOD is totally stressed out with grant writing. Most foundations work on a quarterly system, and most of them space out their quarters the same, so May 1st is a huge deadline. And every foundation wants something different, which makes it even harder.

I got an email from Hostelling International. I'm still on their AmeriCorp list, and I've been invited again for a weekend on Martha's Vineyard. If only had the money. Whoa is me. It would be so nice! Not that it's expensive--probably $100 for the whole weekend--but currently it's out of reach for me. Maybe in the fall.... that would be nice.

T-Shirts and Shakespeare

I signed on to post about a book and an NPR news piece called The Travels of a T-Shirt in the Global Economy. Following the creation of the average T-Shirt is how Pietra Rivoli examines the workings of our global economy. I found this wildly interesting, and wanted to tell others about it. All Things Considered even provides an excerpt of the book to read.

However, while I was signing on to write this, the next story came up, and it was even more enthralling--thrilling, even. It's about a teacher in an inner city elementary school whose students come from poverty-stricken and immigrant families. This teacher, Mr. Rafu Esquith, dedicates himself to his fifth-grade students, eliciting such passion and excitement in them that they voluntary give up recess and vacations to learn with him. These fifth graders study Shakespeare in depth; they read Catcher in the Rye, Huck Finn--things I didn't touch until well into high school. If I were to be a teacher--and I do think about it from time to time--this is the kind of teacher I would aspire to be. I would consider myself a failure if I did anything less (which is why, at this time, I am not a teacher). It was such an inspiring story that I feel compelled to find his memoir There are No Shortcuts and read it.

More American Idol

I found this article on MSNBC in which Paula Abdul attempts to negate accusations that her "bizarre" behavior on Idol is drug-related. And while I certainly sympathize with living in pain, and certainly congratulate her if she's feeling better, Abdul's behavior is only getting stranger as the weeks go by. Something must be up. I almost feel embarrassed for her while watching the show--that's how odd I think she's acting. I'm experiencing sympathy embarrassment.

Crazy.

OK, enough about mindless entertainment. I've got to get the CEEH newsletter together. Tomorrow I meet with our designer. And then I'll be done! Hooray!

Graduate School

While riding the Green Line shuttle bus to the museum on Wednesday I became transfixed by a poster. Now, these posters, advertising various schools and various programs ("Learn Swahili, guarunteed") are all over, and I've never paid particulare attention before. But this one, for Suffolk University here in Boston (Beacon Hill area, to be precise), was advertising info sessions for the Graduate School of Public Administration, and within that school are a variety of specicializations including Community Activism and also Nonprofit Management.

I keep flirting with the idea of going back to school, preferrably part-time, and Suffolk offers this option (not all SPA programs allow that). Maybe it was the green color of the mail-in card. I don't know, but I have RSVP-ed this morning, and I will be attending an info session at the famous Omni Parker Hotel next Thursday evening.

Suffolk also has a campus in Dakar, Senegal--a Francophone African country (located on the northeastern coast of Africa--that upper bulge part, you know) I have always been interested in as a French minor. So maybe I could sneak in a trip to Dakar, Senegal too! I can hear my parents groaning ("Abroad? Again?"). It's mostly just wishful thinking, but it's fun to wish.

OK, time to get some work done.

Retransplanting

One of my favorite blogs is about to come to an end. I am a New York Intern follows the adventures of Andy, boy from Wisconsin, living in the Big Apple and interning at Comedy Central. Alas, his internship will soon end, and he'll be flying back to Wisconsin.

This got me to thinking--what if I had to move back to Wisconsin and leave my new life in Boston behind? Now, leaving behind newly established lives is something I've done many times: when I studied abroad in England, in France, and when I went to Dallas as an AmeriCorps volunteer. But now I'm out in Boston and mean to stay. I really can't picture moving back to Wisconsin. Whatever would I do? I'd have to drive everywhere. I'd have to wait forever to see non Hollywood movies (they closed the indie theater in Green Bay recently). I'd have a very limited number of ethnic restaurants to choose from.

(Not that there aren't plenty of things I love about the Wisconsin: how laid back the people are, without a lot of superiority complexes--ahem New Englanders, you do think very highly of yourselves. It's I've gotten used to certain things, and I don't want to live without them!)

Somehow I doubt Andy will stay in Wisconsin long. I have a feeling he'll be back in NYC--although hopefully for him, not as an intern.

Feisty Females

Those who can recall my senior year capstone project about female action heroines in popular culture (from female pirates "gone wild" to video game heroine like Lara Croft), shouldn't be surprised that my interest and curiosity is piqued by a new documentary called Lipstick and Dynamite, Piss and Vinegar: The First Ladies of Wrestling directed by Ruth Leitman.

On Fresh Air today, not only did Dave Davies (standing in for Terry Gross) interview Ruth, but also spent a few minutes with The Fabulous Moolah, a female wrestler still going strong (she's 80 something now), who said she'll retire when she reaches 100.

I'm completely intrigued by this documentary. I really must see it.

Today is also Patriot's Day here in Massachusetts. It's a holiday only in the state of MA, and observed most stridently in Boston--it's also the day of the marathon. Apparently as a child, you are dragged to reenactment of the Battle of Lexington and Concord. As an adult, you take the day off of work (some are given it, some take it) and spend it at the Cape or doing gardening work. As nice as today is, I couldn't see justifying the holiday when I have no money to do anything special, and had a wonderful weekend already. The third day would almost be a waste.

On the current affairs front: there almost seems to be a finite amount of peace and good will that can be spread around the globe. Just as India and Pakistan seem to be moving towards peace and good will, China and Japan are getting their hackles up. Tension between those two is not nearly as nerve-wracking as the former, but still it makes me wonder. Maybe peace, like matter, can neither be created nor destroyed, but simply redistributed.

Still on current affairs: Does anyone see the Christian Right moving towards a revolution (subtle, but present) akin to Iran? No, I won't have to be drapped in a burkah, but I'll be pressured to be a stay-at-home mother with ten kids (why ten kids? Ten kids at least! With all forms of birth control banned--and even the word abortion taken out of circulation--I won't have much choice. Because I'm sure my husband will still have access to Viagra. I mean, I'll have to married or choose to be a nun. Afterall, if all birthcontrol is banned--and that means comdoms too, how can I have sex if I'm not married? Ew) and attend lenghty church services every weekend, and have a choice of either Full House reruns or Seventh Heaven. And of course, censorship at the library as well. Oh, and creationism taught in schools with no mention of Darwin and evolution. OK, now I'm panicking. We need to stop "them" now! This is insane.

Happy Tax Day

Triumphantly I report that I have put my taxes in the mail. I owe the government $43.18 this year, so I wasn't exactly in a hurry to get them filed. But I owe the state of Massachusetts nothing at all. Hooray for rental tax credit!

I feel worlds smarter after attending the free lecture at the Museum of Science last night. Planets R Us, given by David Charbonneau, Ph.D., assistant professor at Harvard University. He's at the forefront of the new scientific frontier: the search for earth-like planets around other sun-like stars. It was really very interesting. I learned about the Kepler Project and the Spitzer Telescope. If you haven't heard of it already, you will start hearing about it soon. The Spitzer telescope, like the Hubble, is going to play a big part in the search for new planets.

Book Recommendation: For anyone interested in learning more about Iran and its culture--especially in regards to women--I suggest Reading Lolita in Tehran. It's the memoir of Azar Nafisi, an Iranian woman who left the University of Tehran to teach her own private literature classes in order to escape the suffocating restrictions of the government. Through the eyes of her and her female students, literature--especially the works of Nabokov--becomes a way to provide both distance from, and a whole new way to view, life under a strict totalitarian regime.

Because I can

Why am I posting today?

Because I can. It's lunch, our "lunch room" which is really the conference room, was in use (how dare they?) so I'm eating at the computer. Which means I can post without guilt.

Jon and I are going to the Museum of Science this weekend. They have lots of cool stuff there! They do lasar light shows to music: like Pink Floyd and Led Zepplin. I'm quite amused by this. I think it would be highly entertaining.

Anyway, I've adjusted quite nicely to Jamaica Plain living, and I'm quite happy. :-)

Blogger blahs

I just wrote the most wonderful post. So wonderful, in fact, that I will never be able to reproduce it. Where is it, you ask? Lost in Blogger Neverland. In Blogger Blog, where posts that have strayed from the path sink and disappear into the mucky mire.

Ew.

Better the post than me.

That was not a good banana...

Maybe it's because of the cold which is currently plaguing my life. Or maybe it's all the vitamin C drops I've been consuming because of the cold. Or maybe it was just a bad banana. But at any rate, my mid-morning snack I just consumed was not a tasty banana.

Why is it that colds--no matter what the physical symptoms--always go straight for my brain? I don't just get a cold with sniffles and a cough. I get a brain cold that sucks out all of my intelligence and leaves me a virtual zombie.

I'm lucky that I can type this sentence. (Thank God for spell check.)

I have another question: why is it that whenever I move, I always assume that it will be so easy and that I don't need to pack anything ahead of time? Last night I finally really started packing--and everything is now a mess. Blah.

Why am I so dumb?

Answer: because you have a cold.

Victory! Again, all responsibility is taken from my control. Blame it on a the virus--that not-quite-alive-but-not-not alive-organism. Take that, virus. It's all your fault.

Tragedy Strikes My New Home

"Tragedy" might be a strong word choice, but believe me, when the event in question occured, I was horrified. I was shocked into paralysis. I could only stare in horror.

They day started out find. I WASHED my car! This is an annual event, and it probably won't happen again until next March. I can touch my car without feeling tainted. And I can see out the windows. Smashing.

I drove to Jamaica Plain and found a parking spot right around the corner from my new home. I gathered up my equipment and struggled up the (properly carpeted) stairs to my soon-to-be-home. My color of choice was "Sun Shower" which is a nice, "gentle" shade of yellow. Yellow enough not to be confused with cream, but not so yellow as to overpower the small space. The painting didn't take long at all. There are two doors, a giant window, and a built-in book case, so the remaining wall space was quite managable.

--Oh, and guess what? The ceiling light has a fixture! No more bare light bulbs to glare menecingly and cast bizarre shadows!--

At some point in the afternoon I decided that my brain cells need fresh air and I opened the window, which looks out over the courtyard. I continued painting while listening to NPR (hello, of couse. What else would I listen to?). Late afternoon, the sun moved away from my window, and it was getting cooler outside, so I decided to close the window.

[Cue menancing music from the string section of the orchestra.]

I couldn't get the window to close tight; I couldn't get it to latch. I was wrestling with the window when all of a sudden, the top pane of the window moved. Now, many people wouldn't think much of that--a lot of windows have movable top panes. But this wasn't one of those windows. The upper pan swung outward over the courtyard, and then woosh! It dropped out and went crashing two stories down to the courtyard below.

I could only stand and stare in horror. The whole thing happened so fast and so slow. Panic insued. I broke a window. Seriously broke a window--and I hadn't even moved in yet! My roommates were going to rue the day they chose me. The landlord would kill me--or charge me a lot of mony to fix it (same thing, really). I was doomed. Doomed!

Sheepishly I went and found Christen, who was putting a load of laundry in the wash. "Christen," I said, "A bad thing just happened. The window broke." She took it surprisingly well, even mentioning that the windows in general were rather crappy,which made me feel marginally better.

She called Dr. D, the landlord, who said he would come and take a look. Now, Dr. D. hasn't seen the apartment for at least two years. It's his family's condo, you see, and he moved out (probably to a larger home--he has kids and stuff), and started renting it. Anyway, he decided to come and take a look (his absence does not equal neglect. He very quickly responds to phone calls and gets the maintence man to do whatever needs to be done). Dr.D also took it very well. Surveying the damage, he noted that something seemed wrong with the window frame. He promised to get it fixed quickly, and didn't mention a thing about me having to pay for it. And he liked the yellow color.

Anyway, I've put some new pictures on my geocities webpage.

Defective Karma

I think there's something wrong with my karma. Or maybe it works too well. All I know is, my life is constantly filled with little hassles--the irritating things which I know are trivial on a global level, but on a personal level are like mosquitoes buzzing in my ears. Constant annoyance.

Here I was, having an absolutely fabulous day--the weather is gorgeous and I have my Mass plates. Taking my lunchtime stroll I decide I should get some money out of the ATM for the weekend. I put my card in, and the God of ATM machines ate it. I never even got a chance to put in my passcode or anything. In fact, right after I put in my card, the screen said, "Please enter card." ACK! I already did!

I called the bank responsible for the ATM. They said, "Sorry, you'll have to call your bank and ask them to issue you a new card." That was their help. Thanks ever so much.

I call my bank, and the first thing they ask, "Did you ask if someone could retrieve the card for you?"

Brilliant idea. Why didn't I think of that?

After setting them straight, I was told it would take THREE to FIVE business days to receive my new card. How am I supposed to pay for things?

So my question remains, what is wrong with my karma? Why can't things just go well for awhile? Why the constant mosquito buzzing?

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Hail the Conquering Hero

I have succeeded! I have vanquished mine enemy. I have slain the beast.

I have received my Massachusetts license plates.

Strike up the band, start the parade, let the confetti fall!

My Nemesis: The RMV

I'm going to visit the magical world of the RMV once again. I will take my ticket and stand in line, waiting for my chance on the roller coaster. "It's a small world after all...." Oh wait, that's Disney World. Sometimes I forget what I'm waiting for in line.

But how could I forget the thrill of anticipation while I wait for my turn to hand my paperwork to the RMV person? Waiting with baited breath for the chance to BE TURNED DOWN YET AGAIN?!

Keep it together, girl, keep it together. It's going to work out this time. I have a feeling. I came so close last time. I must have fixed all the mistakes. There can't possibly be anything else wrong.

I've never been so excited about the opportunity to write an $89 check before. I'm just dying to write it. For real. Do you know how many checks I've voided? I refuse to write mine out ahead of time anymore. It's just not worth it!

My Hero

Let's hear it for Senator Russ Feingold (D, WI) for starting his own blog! This is why he is my favorite politician ever.

Russ Feingold for President, baby!

Guns and Apples

I can't take it anymore! I'm listening to The Connection and the debate about gun control, and I need to spill my opinions somewhere before I burst--or start yelling at the radio loud enough to cause my co-workers to wonder (more than they already do). In light of the recent rash of killings in Minnesota, in Wisconsin, and too many other states, a conversation on gun control makes perfect sense. It does not, however, make sense that in light of people dying that State Representative Scott Gunderson would want to pass legislation in Wisconsin making it legal to carry concealed handguns (visit the Wisconsin Concealed Carry Association for details about its crusade). Wisconsin is only one of four sane states that doesn't have such already have such a law; it's one of my favorite facts about WI that I like to flout in front of East Coasters (and West Coasters--and Washington D.C. dwellers) who view the entire middle of the country as a barbaric waste land (yes, lots of you do, don't deny it). "Look!" I cry, "You can't lump the entire middle of the country together. Boarding an ocean doesn't make one state superior to another. We're not all gun-toting, anti-evolution, homophobic hillbillies! Look at Wisconsin!"

Don't take that away from me!

But what I really want to respond to is Gunderson's argument which rests upon the NRA slogan: Guns don't kill people, people kill people. People--young men, especially--influenced by violent video games, violent movies, "things" on TV. I'm not going to argue that there isn't excessive violence in the media--there is tons! But the generations raised during world wars and spaghetti westerns, Korea, Vietnam--where those children raised on less violence? Gunderson talks about the need to regulate such violent content, but heaven forbid such regulation extend to gun ownership! "That's for families to decide."

WHAAA?

Never mind that most gun deaths result from suicides and homicides of people known--i.e. family members--and not "criminal elements." Gunderson attempts to make a distinction (a gulf the size of... well, The Gulf) between such crimes and the violent outbreaks such as school killings. But it's all the same in the end. People, upset, killing other people. "Normal" people who could easily pass an screenings to get a gun "for protection." And for many, protection is their original intent, I'm sure. But later, during a heated argument, during a bout of depression, the gun is an all too easy argument ender, an easy out.

I could argue statistics all day--and so could Gunderson. But less guns cannot be worse than more guns. It just can't.

In the end I don't know what makes me madder, Gunderson's proposed legislation, or the faulty logic he applies pel-mel as the situation dictates. The hypocrisy of opposing beliefs that he doesn't even attempt to apologize for. It's just ridiculous. I don't want people like that toting guns.

What Is This Post About?

I forget. I know what it is: an excuse to stop endlessly copying information from the 2005 Big Book of Lists into computer databases. I can feel the carpal tunnel demons running around in my hands. But why I'm writing is a mystery. There was a purpose when I logged on, but then I got sidetracked by a blog entitled The Last Nail. I was intrigued by the name--thinking it would a sarcastic, bitter take on the world. You know, sort of like the saying "the last straw" but pointier.

It turns out that The Last Nail is a nail-by-nail account of a homeowner doing a fixer-upper. I love it. It's crass--all the language so lovingly used by construction-types (I think it's the power tools that does it)--but witty. In one post from March 15th entitled "Crime Scene" he proposes the formation of the "Forensic Building Squad." And when they're done at his house, he should send the squad to my current abode. I think it suffers from the same problem: lack of lolley columns. It's my new theory about the swaying of the building. I'll have to double check when I go get my laundry out of the basement tonight, but I think there is a distinct lack of support down there. I'm so glad I'm getting out.

Speaking of home sweet home, S. the "Wonder Building Manager" (which I mean with the most sincere dishonesty) finally gets in contact with me about moving out--a whole two weeks (not even, really) before the big day. Good job.

The thought of the ugly-as-sin walls in my home has reminded me of my original intent: to plug Valspar paint. Not so much a plug, as to wonder why in the world they don't make a bigger deal about supporting Habitat for Humanity with free paint. Good free paint. They even gave Dallas Habitat their own mixer. It's good stuff; you can get it at Lowe's and choose for approximately 3 billion colors. It's the stuff I always use--hey it worked well on the 30+ houses I painted in Dallas. I figure that's proof enough. They could really rally business from other Habitat volunteers, I would imagine. The moral: since Valspar is good people and supports Habitat by donating paint to affiliates, consider supporting them by buying their paint.

Mass Plates

OK, I just got off the phone with Kelli, the world's nicest auto insurance rep. She works for Amica--yes, I'm not ashamed to plug my insurance company--and has been wonderfully patient with all of RMV mishaps.

I think that I should finally get Mass plates this Thursday (knock on wood and every other cliche). If not, I really will start pulling out my hair. It's just ridiculous.

That's all I'm going to say, otherwise I'll jinx it--or just start madly raving (verses sanely raving) about government bureaucracy.