Fall In Love, or Fall in Line?
Yet another attribute to my creepiness is that I have people on my "buddy" list with whom I've never spoken. One such character, a freshman who decided he was going to be the leader of Loyola's Dean for America chapter and then only held one mundane meeting, has the following as his away message:
"don't yell at me for switching camps from Dean to Kerry... i'm just trying to be a good democrat :-)"
First and foremost, ew for the smiley face. Second, 49 primaries are still to be held in this country, and this twat who was "all about Dean" suddenly decides to abandon his "camp" (who really says that?) and stand behind another candidate as an attempt to "be a good [D]emocrat?" If he applied this mindset to the November elections, and Bush were ahead in the polls, he would lie down and let W. scratch his belly (sorry about the dog analogy). At last fall's Harkin Steak Fry, Bill Clinton, the 20th century's quintessential Democrat, said, "Republicans fall in line, while Democrats fall in love." He went on to say that we should instead fall in love and THEN fall in line, which I agree with, but the subtext of this proverb is clear: One must support a Presidential nominee one truly believes in--not just someone who's popular in the polls.
I think I'm going to be tempted to watch the Golden Globes tonight--a first, for me.
A record of the life and times of one brown shirt-wearing university student, struggling to escape his fear of intimacy, overcome his hunger for eternal supremacy in every aspect, and never have to write a description of his life like this again.
Sunday, January 25, 2004
Friday, January 23, 2004
Mlle. Dog
So our dog (who is tentatively named either Yuki, Priya, or Kali, after the Hindu goddess of cosmic destruction) is already a spoiled little bitch (pardon the unintentional pun). So, we buy her IAMS, which tends to be one of the costlier dog foods out there, and does she like it? Oh no. So, now, we're feeding her three parts dry food with one part wet food, which just baffles me, that she'll eat the damn hard crunchies if it's served "avec un lustre de poulet et de riz." Oh well.]--she IS wonderful and adorable and playful and sweet and NEVER BARKS (we have not heard her bark ever) and beautiful.
So our dog (who is tentatively named either Yuki, Priya, or Kali, after the Hindu goddess of cosmic destruction) is already a spoiled little bitch (pardon the unintentional pun). So, we buy her IAMS, which tends to be one of the costlier dog foods out there, and does she like it? Oh no. So, now, we're feeding her three parts dry food with one part wet food, which just baffles me, that she'll eat the damn hard crunchies if it's served "avec un lustre de poulet et de riz." Oh well.]--she IS wonderful and adorable and playful and sweet and NEVER BARKS (we have not heard her bark ever) and beautiful.
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
Dean & Dog
I was listening to "Roll With It," and immediately became inspired to post the Dean For America link as my away message. There are still 49 more states, including NH (which he most certainly WILL win), the billion states holding primaries on Super Tuesday, and so on and so forth. "Keep the home fires burning 'till America is in the clear."
Yes, the rumors are true: Theo and I have adopted a dog, whom we'll be picking up this afternoon from her hisdirectomy (okay, fine..."her spaying"). She's a 1-year-old German Shepherd mix, but much smaller than the average GS (about 40 lbs.). Wish us luck! Oh, and if you have any name ideas, we're welcome to any suggestions. Even though we probably won't use them.
I was listening to "Roll With It," and immediately became inspired to post the Dean For America link as my away message. There are still 49 more states, including NH (which he most certainly WILL win), the billion states holding primaries on Super Tuesday, and so on and so forth. "Keep the home fires burning 'till America is in the clear."
Yes, the rumors are true: Theo and I have adopted a dog, whom we'll be picking up this afternoon from her hisdirectomy (okay, fine..."her spaying"). She's a 1-year-old German Shepherd mix, but much smaller than the average GS (about 40 lbs.). Wish us luck! Oh, and if you have any name ideas, we're welcome to any suggestions. Even though we probably won't use them.
Monday, January 19, 2004
On Marriage.
Why is it that two grown women, who have been together for more than five years, are unable to officially marry in this country, while my white-trash cousin, who has sired two children (whom he never sees) with an HIV-positive woman, is allowed to suddenly marry some other woman he has known for less than a year, who just happens to be carying his now third child? Something is terribly wrong with this picture, on so many levels.
The more and more I think about it, the more delighted I am about the Ani DiFranco concert Erin, Cyndi and I attended on Saturday. After her brief hour-long set, in which she played mostly songs from her upcoming album Educated Guess and previous album, Evolve, I was silently frustrated that the concert was so brief, and that she didn't play any of her "classics." But, after playing Educated Guess over and over (an album that, on its own, is not very good, but one that Ani fans will probably enjoy--Val, I'm burning a copy for you and giving it to you Tuesday), I've finally settled on my most prominent thoughts about that overall sublime hour. Just being a witness to this ephemeral being who has played such a strong influence on my past three years (nealy every song of hers evokes some moment in my life) changes my thoughts on her so much. Strangely enough, seeing her felt like seeing God--now I know she really does exist, and has a voice and a body and breathes and drinks water, and her albums weren't long-lost relics hidden in the catacombs of some tomb in the Pyrennes for ages and ages--they have come from this fairy woman with dreds and toned arms who IS ALIVE and can be seen with the naked eye and has crafted these "relics" within the past ten years. It's a very dismembering feeling. I hope this doesn't change my love of her music.
Why is it that two grown women, who have been together for more than five years, are unable to officially marry in this country, while my white-trash cousin, who has sired two children (whom he never sees) with an HIV-positive woman, is allowed to suddenly marry some other woman he has known for less than a year, who just happens to be carying his now third child? Something is terribly wrong with this picture, on so many levels.
The more and more I think about it, the more delighted I am about the Ani DiFranco concert Erin, Cyndi and I attended on Saturday. After her brief hour-long set, in which she played mostly songs from her upcoming album Educated Guess and previous album, Evolve, I was silently frustrated that the concert was so brief, and that she didn't play any of her "classics." But, after playing Educated Guess over and over (an album that, on its own, is not very good, but one that Ani fans will probably enjoy--Val, I'm burning a copy for you and giving it to you Tuesday), I've finally settled on my most prominent thoughts about that overall sublime hour. Just being a witness to this ephemeral being who has played such a strong influence on my past three years (nealy every song of hers evokes some moment in my life) changes my thoughts on her so much. Strangely enough, seeing her felt like seeing God--now I know she really does exist, and has a voice and a body and breathes and drinks water, and her albums weren't long-lost relics hidden in the catacombs of some tomb in the Pyrennes for ages and ages--they have come from this fairy woman with dreds and toned arms who IS ALIVE and can be seen with the naked eye and has crafted these "relics" within the past ten years. It's a very dismembering feeling. I hope this doesn't change my love of her music.
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
Annoyance No. 388b
Theo's big threat, when I make mistakes, is to cal his mother and tell her about it. I suppose threat is the wrong word, since it implies something to resort to as a last option, and Theo regularly regails his mother with tales about my few moments of idiocy. Her dislike of me has become a recurring topic of conversation, and every time Theo shares a negative story about me with his mother, he further reinforces the disdain his mother feels toward me. Call me crazy, but I thought being a part of a long-term relationship involved strengthening the bond between your lover and your friends and family (ESPECIALLY PARENTS). Clearly, he just has no interest in establishing my presence in his life as something anywhere near as important as his parents or friends.
Theo's big threat, when I make mistakes, is to cal his mother and tell her about it. I suppose threat is the wrong word, since it implies something to resort to as a last option, and Theo regularly regails his mother with tales about my few moments of idiocy. Her dislike of me has become a recurring topic of conversation, and every time Theo shares a negative story about me with his mother, he further reinforces the disdain his mother feels toward me. Call me crazy, but I thought being a part of a long-term relationship involved strengthening the bond between your lover and your friends and family (ESPECIALLY PARENTS). Clearly, he just has no interest in establishing my presence in his life as something anywhere near as important as his parents or friends.
Thursday, January 08, 2004
Even Better...
While the Club For Growth's commercial may only be amusing to me because it's so rediculous, MoveOn.org is hosting a contest for the best anti-Bush commercial, and many of them are wonderful and funny and true. Apparently, MoveOn.org has recruited Michael Moore, Gus Van Sant, Janeane Garafolo, Margaret Cho, and a few others to judge these fifteen finalists. My personal favorites are "What are we teaching our children?" and "Child's Pay," but they're all great. I'm assuming/hoping the winning ad becomes part of a real television campaign. We shall see. Enjoy.
While the Club For Growth's commercial may only be amusing to me because it's so rediculous, MoveOn.org is hosting a contest for the best anti-Bush commercial, and many of them are wonderful and funny and true. Apparently, MoveOn.org has recruited Michael Moore, Gus Van Sant, Janeane Garafolo, Margaret Cho, and a few others to judge these fifteen finalists. My personal favorites are "What are we teaching our children?" and "Child's Pay," but they're all great. I'm assuming/hoping the winning ad becomes part of a real television campaign. We shall see. Enjoy.
Freak Show
This might be one of the most amusing political stunts I've seen in some time. The Club For Growth, a right-wing organization aiming "to help conservatives take action against the crazy liberalism put forward by the Left" has started airing this hilarious commercial to combat the popularity of Howard Dean. It reminds me of a similar commercial submitted by a similar-minded organization during Clinton's administration concerning his health care plan. Enjoy.
I am giddily excited about four of my five classes this semester. My Border Literatures course, dealing with the diasporic literature bred from zones of diversity where two unique cultures collide (think Southern Texas, Florida, South Asia during Birtish colonization), is taught by Paul Jay, a professor whose astounding reputation precedes him. He already likes me, since he and I chatted about some of my favorite South Asian authors, and we both support the ringleader of the "left wing freak show," Howard Dean. My Intro. to Hinduism professor seems semi-condescending, but knowledgable and at times amusing. The material will make up for her mildly patronizing personality. My Literary theory Studies in Gender and Feminism class will undoubtedly be my favorite, since Dr. Caughie seems fun, and her teaching style is easily accessible and free of pretense. The class I'm least enthused about, History of Western Civ. through the 1700s, is instructed by a very, very, very old Jesuit who repreats everything three times. I despise history in and of itself, and when taught by "the dinosaur guy from Mrs. Doubtfire," as my friend Marianne dubbed him, the class will certainly not entertain me.
Other than that, I've not done much these past few days. I finally took down the Christmas tree, returning my apartment to its grand appearance. I went shopping with my holiday money, and bought some clothes and whatnot. I live a very boring life, as you can see.
This might be one of the most amusing political stunts I've seen in some time. The Club For Growth, a right-wing organization aiming "to help conservatives take action against the crazy liberalism put forward by the Left" has started airing this hilarious commercial to combat the popularity of Howard Dean. It reminds me of a similar commercial submitted by a similar-minded organization during Clinton's administration concerning his health care plan. Enjoy.
I am giddily excited about four of my five classes this semester. My Border Literatures course, dealing with the diasporic literature bred from zones of diversity where two unique cultures collide (think Southern Texas, Florida, South Asia during Birtish colonization), is taught by Paul Jay, a professor whose astounding reputation precedes him. He already likes me, since he and I chatted about some of my favorite South Asian authors, and we both support the ringleader of the "left wing freak show," Howard Dean. My Intro. to Hinduism professor seems semi-condescending, but knowledgable and at times amusing. The material will make up for her mildly patronizing personality. My Literary theory Studies in Gender and Feminism class will undoubtedly be my favorite, since Dr. Caughie seems fun, and her teaching style is easily accessible and free of pretense. The class I'm least enthused about, History of Western Civ. through the 1700s, is instructed by a very, very, very old Jesuit who repreats everything three times. I despise history in and of itself, and when taught by "the dinosaur guy from Mrs. Doubtfire," as my friend Marianne dubbed him, the class will certainly not entertain me.
Other than that, I've not done much these past few days. I finally took down the Christmas tree, returning my apartment to its grand appearance. I went shopping with my holiday money, and bought some clothes and whatnot. I live a very boring life, as you can see.
Friday, January 02, 2004
Two Days, Two Years
I had a splendid evening last night, and it was all tossed together at the last minute, which I fid most surprising. Erin, Cyndi, Chris, Tim, and Sonja joined Theo and I at our apartment for dinner (my favorite salad, bread, pasta w/sauce, creme brulee and truffles--and 5 bottles of wine), and then we all lept down to the Roscoe beach to watch the fireworks glisten atop Lake Michigan's surface. Everyone made my evening happy: from my bedcuddling with Erin, to my late-night in-bed politics discussion with Theo, to the sound of Tim actually TALKING to Theo (and Tim's voice in general, a welcome treat), to the look on poor Sonja's face as she dutifully and wonderfully blew up the air mattress, to constantly accidentally walking in on Cyndi and Chris (my vote for Couple of the Year) kissing and exchanging whispers. I truly enjoyed myself, and wish every day was the beginning of a new year.
My New Year's resolutions are as follows:
1. Create relationship between myself and Theo's parents (Who were married on the SAME exact day in time as my parents)
2. Strengthen my bond with my sister (Her birthday began with her and I staying up until 5AM talking about everything and anything)
3. Start actually doing homework (This semester's grades? Eh.)
4. Host more dinner parties, after I...
5. Make more friends and show more respect to those already near and dear to my heart
I may add more.
Two film reviews: Cold Mountain stands as this year's typical Oscar contender. I adored the film from start to finish. Michael Wilminton of the Tribune said its artfulness took away from the reality of the storyline, but I disagree. Fine performances were had by all, from the protagonists and secret special celebrity co-stars alike.
I saw Big Fish tonight, a film many hailed as Tim Burton's greatest film ever. I disagree on that point in itself; Burton's best film is most certainly Edward Scissorhands. The movie wasn't wonderful, but tonight I was looking for something to warm the cockles of my heart, and it deftly accomplished that goal. Ewan McGregor with a southern accent is about as strange as Nicole Kidman or Jude Law with a Southern accent. I'd have to say the latter two actors were more convincing than McGregor, who I'm convinced slipped back into his mother tongue a few times. Big Fish serves as a delightful change of pace from the heavier films of the season but, regrettably, nothing more. I did cry, which was unusual based on the quantity and the fact that I rarely cry in films (Last film I cried in? Camp, ladies and gentlemen.), but only because my grandparents are having severe health problems, and films about fathers and sons with bad relationships always makes me weepy.
Work through Sunday, and the na whole other form of work begins: school. I am really not ready for school to begin yet. At all.
I had a splendid evening last night, and it was all tossed together at the last minute, which I fid most surprising. Erin, Cyndi, Chris, Tim, and Sonja joined Theo and I at our apartment for dinner (my favorite salad, bread, pasta w/sauce, creme brulee and truffles--and 5 bottles of wine), and then we all lept down to the Roscoe beach to watch the fireworks glisten atop Lake Michigan's surface. Everyone made my evening happy: from my bedcuddling with Erin, to my late-night in-bed politics discussion with Theo, to the sound of Tim actually TALKING to Theo (and Tim's voice in general, a welcome treat), to the look on poor Sonja's face as she dutifully and wonderfully blew up the air mattress, to constantly accidentally walking in on Cyndi and Chris (my vote for Couple of the Year) kissing and exchanging whispers. I truly enjoyed myself, and wish every day was the beginning of a new year.
My New Year's resolutions are as follows:
1. Create relationship between myself and Theo's parents (Who were married on the SAME exact day in time as my parents)
2. Strengthen my bond with my sister (Her birthday began with her and I staying up until 5AM talking about everything and anything)
3. Start actually doing homework (This semester's grades? Eh.)
4. Host more dinner parties, after I...
5. Make more friends and show more respect to those already near and dear to my heart
I may add more.
Two film reviews: Cold Mountain stands as this year's typical Oscar contender. I adored the film from start to finish. Michael Wilminton of the Tribune said its artfulness took away from the reality of the storyline, but I disagree. Fine performances were had by all, from the protagonists and secret special celebrity co-stars alike.
I saw Big Fish tonight, a film many hailed as Tim Burton's greatest film ever. I disagree on that point in itself; Burton's best film is most certainly Edward Scissorhands. The movie wasn't wonderful, but tonight I was looking for something to warm the cockles of my heart, and it deftly accomplished that goal. Ewan McGregor with a southern accent is about as strange as Nicole Kidman or Jude Law with a Southern accent. I'd have to say the latter two actors were more convincing than McGregor, who I'm convinced slipped back into his mother tongue a few times. Big Fish serves as a delightful change of pace from the heavier films of the season but, regrettably, nothing more. I did cry, which was unusual based on the quantity and the fact that I rarely cry in films (Last film I cried in? Camp, ladies and gentlemen.), but only because my grandparents are having severe health problems, and films about fathers and sons with bad relationships always makes me weepy.
Work through Sunday, and the na whole other form of work begins: school. I am really not ready for school to begin yet. At all.