I've had that Bright Eyes song running through my head all morning, probably because I'm coming up on a full week of waking up next to my Husband. I don't think capitalizing the "h" really conveys the significance of what took place last Friday, but I'm not sure what would.
When we left the reception on our slow-as-molasses carriage ride (a GOOD thing -- nothing but silence, the steady clop of draft horse hooves, and the wide open fields before us), I experienced a jumble of emotions in rapid succession that went something like this:
"Wait a minute. What just happened? I think I just married my husband...Oh my god, has my dress been this dirty all day? I hope no one noticed...Holy sh--, I just married my husband! Tell me this frantic washing machine sensation in my stomach is normal! ... I can't believe who caught the bouquet -- I'd love it if she actually married next...wait a minute, there's a ring on my hand...why don't I remember having it placed on my finger?? Who is this guy next to me, and what is he going to look like 50 years from now? What am I going to look like? Augh!!!"
Fortunately, we arrived at our cabin 20 minutes later, and my internal roaring subsided as we leaned on the deck overlooking the valley, watching hummingbirds swoop between top-heavy stalks of honeysuckle.
There's so much to write and so many things to say, but all I can come back to now is the unwavering sense of bliss I've felt since I finally let reality settle in. My name may not have changed, but my life did. I think I was born right in that doorway, waiting my turn to step out into the grass where friends and family stood together. Nothing in my life has ever felt so right.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Sunday, June 19, 2005
And now, another brilliant stratagem by your elected officials
"If you ignore it, it might go away."
The G8 meeting promises to be another dismal nadir in American foreign policy. Recent leaks to the media suggest that our government isn't happy with a document on climate change. Among the phrases to which they object: "Our world is warming."
Yeah. 'Cause that's so frickin' controversial -- oh wait, unless you live ANYWHERE besides the United States! Why don't we ask Kenya what they think, since Mt. Kilimanjaro's glacier has turned into slush? Or maybe Tuvalu would like to weigh in, if they're not too busy with the relocation of their entire country to New Zealand?
Methinks Greenpeace, a group with whom I do not always agree, sums it up best: "[the document is] a mush of warm words carefully crafted by civil servants to make sure no one is committed to anything."
It's just embarrassing. Our own oil companies recognize the need to shift away from oil and to rely on cleaner fossil fuel technologies. Heck, our Republican governor of California is pushing for strict emissions controls! But none of that shall sway the impenetrable fortress of GeorgeTown!
If we want to tackle global warming before it's too late (and the hour is nigh), we should probably start with the hot air coming out of the White House.
The G8 meeting promises to be another dismal nadir in American foreign policy. Recent leaks to the media suggest that our government isn't happy with a document on climate change. Among the phrases to which they object: "Our world is warming."
Yeah. 'Cause that's so frickin' controversial -- oh wait, unless you live ANYWHERE besides the United States! Why don't we ask Kenya what they think, since Mt. Kilimanjaro's glacier has turned into slush? Or maybe Tuvalu would like to weigh in, if they're not too busy with the relocation of their entire country to New Zealand?
Methinks Greenpeace, a group with whom I do not always agree, sums it up best: "[the document is] a mush of warm words carefully crafted by civil servants to make sure no one is committed to anything."
It's just embarrassing. Our own oil companies recognize the need to shift away from oil and to rely on cleaner fossil fuel technologies. Heck, our Republican governor of California is pushing for strict emissions controls! But none of that shall sway the impenetrable fortress of GeorgeTown!
If we want to tackle global warming before it's too late (and the hour is nigh), we should probably start with the hot air coming out of the White House.
Take your apathy and shove it
Following in the tradition of great Huskies, two UW students have convinced our school to do something about the genocide in Darfur. (You see that, Mr. President? I can use the word genocide without equivocating about it! You should try it sometime!)
The UW is invested in several companies who operate in or do business with Sudan; now, regents have authorized its shareholders to pressure the corporations into pulling out of the region. Harvard and Stanford have employed similar tactics, although they elected to forego shareholder action, instead cutting ties with companies altogether.
It's about time for big-league universities to use their muscle for social justice. Let's hope other schools follow suit. C'mon, Ducks and Cougars: how about a rivalry over a good cause? :)
The UW is invested in several companies who operate in or do business with Sudan; now, regents have authorized its shareholders to pressure the corporations into pulling out of the region. Harvard and Stanford have employed similar tactics, although they elected to forego shareholder action, instead cutting ties with companies altogether.
It's about time for big-league universities to use their muscle for social justice. Let's hope other schools follow suit. C'mon, Ducks and Cougars: how about a rivalry over a good cause? :)
Runaway train...
I'm not someone who "feels" things on a deep level. I tend to have quick flashes of intensity -- happiness or anger, angst or sorrow -- but nothing really lingers for more than a little while.
That's why this whole wedding/best friend going to Kansas/moving out of the country extravaganza has thrown me for a loop. I've never experienced so many consecutive extreme highs and dramatic lows in the space of a few months. The right song will make me burst into tears; the right movie make me laugh like I've just discovered how to enjoy life. I might be driving home from an incredible night out with a friend and find myself in tears, knowing this could be the last time I see her again. It's not mania: it's finally allowing all of these changes to register internally, opening myself up to all of the joy and pain that accompany life-changing moments.
It's terrible.
It's amazing.
That's why this whole wedding/best friend going to Kansas/moving out of the country extravaganza has thrown me for a loop. I've never experienced so many consecutive extreme highs and dramatic lows in the space of a few months. The right song will make me burst into tears; the right movie make me laugh like I've just discovered how to enjoy life. I might be driving home from an incredible night out with a friend and find myself in tears, knowing this could be the last time I see her again. It's not mania: it's finally allowing all of these changes to register internally, opening myself up to all of the joy and pain that accompany life-changing moments.
It's terrible.
It's amazing.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
The Girl's Guide to Debauchery
Here's the post-best friend getaway report, straight from the now-sober fingers of a co-conspirator.
Kelli (my maid of honor) and I took a much-needed break last weekend by escaping to the Oregon coast. We'd planned three and a half days in Seaside, but one look at the stripmalls and hotels convinced us to make a beeline for Cannon Beach. Our room at a not-to-be-named hotel? The size of a closet, complete with large, noisy ceiling fan and window looking onto the hallway. After making 15 minutes of frantic phone calls in Kelli's car (at 9:30 pm - very late for beach towns), we managed to find one room left at a Cannon Beach inn. We limped down the coast, exhausted and starving, but relieved that we wouldn't have to spend the night in our cars on the shoulder of Highway 101.
Upon arrival, it was clear we made the right choice. Our ginormous inn had a pool, a jacuzzi big enough for a small hippo, a massage parlour, beachfront property...the list goes on, but the best part is that we didn't have to sell our belongings to stay there.
We spend the weekend waking up very, very late; cruising into town for fat-saturated breakfasts and window shopping; strolling miles of soft, sandy beaches and scoping out tidepools; eating ridiculously large dinners, followed by decadent desserts; and staying up late with movies, drinks, and long conversations. I discovered that I can still hold my own in small-town bars. We both discovered that overcast days and fair, Irish skin do not mix well. I may pop a seam in my wedding dress, but it was worth every damn bite of that chocolate souffle.
In case I haven't mentioned it, Kelli is the kind of friend every girl dreams of meeting. I've never been good at making friends, let alone best friends, but it all comes easily with her. We understand each other in an uncanny and occasionally frightening way; our lives tend to run on parallel tracks and always have. Moving away from her is causing me more heartache than anything else at this point, even though I know we'll be commiserating over e-mail and online telephones. Instead of focusing on that, I'm trying to be grateful for the countless memories and misadventures we've had, and to look forward to years more when we both come back to the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes, you meet people and you know your souls have met in the past, somewhere or somewhen. I shouldn't be so upset, because these are the people you never lose. I just have to have faith in that connection and in an old, irreplaceable friendship.
Kelli (my maid of honor) and I took a much-needed break last weekend by escaping to the Oregon coast. We'd planned three and a half days in Seaside, but one look at the stripmalls and hotels convinced us to make a beeline for Cannon Beach. Our room at a not-to-be-named hotel? The size of a closet, complete with large, noisy ceiling fan and window looking onto the hallway. After making 15 minutes of frantic phone calls in Kelli's car (at 9:30 pm - very late for beach towns), we managed to find one room left at a Cannon Beach inn. We limped down the coast, exhausted and starving, but relieved that we wouldn't have to spend the night in our cars on the shoulder of Highway 101.
Upon arrival, it was clear we made the right choice. Our ginormous inn had a pool, a jacuzzi big enough for a small hippo, a massage parlour, beachfront property...the list goes on, but the best part is that we didn't have to sell our belongings to stay there.
We spend the weekend waking up very, very late; cruising into town for fat-saturated breakfasts and window shopping; strolling miles of soft, sandy beaches and scoping out tidepools; eating ridiculously large dinners, followed by decadent desserts; and staying up late with movies, drinks, and long conversations. I discovered that I can still hold my own in small-town bars. We both discovered that overcast days and fair, Irish skin do not mix well. I may pop a seam in my wedding dress, but it was worth every damn bite of that chocolate souffle.
In case I haven't mentioned it, Kelli is the kind of friend every girl dreams of meeting. I've never been good at making friends, let alone best friends, but it all comes easily with her. We understand each other in an uncanny and occasionally frightening way; our lives tend to run on parallel tracks and always have. Moving away from her is causing me more heartache than anything else at this point, even though I know we'll be commiserating over e-mail and online telephones. Instead of focusing on that, I'm trying to be grateful for the countless memories and misadventures we've had, and to look forward to years more when we both come back to the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes, you meet people and you know your souls have met in the past, somewhere or somewhen. I shouldn't be so upset, because these are the people you never lose. I just have to have faith in that connection and in an old, irreplaceable friendship.
Someone stop the madness!
We are seven days away from the wedding *insert SHRIEEEEK of sheer, unabated terror here*. Let me try that again without the shriek.
WE ARE SEVEN FREAKING DAYS AWAY FROM MY FREAKING WEDDING!
That didn't improve things.
Yesterday, we moved into the house we'll be watching for an old professor until August 1st. We're back in Seattle, which makes me incredibly happy. Things which do not make me incredibly happy: trying to make my own music playlist for the reception. At this point, guests had better appreciate the blood and sweat that went into our efforts to balance mellow with lively, eating music with dancing tunes, and sweet with sexy -- or else I will kill them with my own bare hands and the heels of my tango shoes.
Maybe not kill. But at least terrorize them until they dance like they were born to shake their groove thangs.
Anyway, the house is amazing. It's a bungalow-style home with hardwood floors in every room (perfect for sliding into the refrigerator at full speed when I forget the perils of wearing socks on polished pine). We have more than one floor for the first time in six years!!! We even have a real yard, complete with real, outdoor plants. It's enough to make FH and I hope that the professor permanently relocates to Firenze instead of coming home. If we barricade the doors with all of their lovely furniture, they might give up and leave.
Speaking of, there isn't a single piece of furniture in this house that one can find in an Ikea catalog. I can feel the shackles of poor studentdom slipping off my wrists. The kitchen boasts an honest-to-god gas convection oven; suddenly I'm overcome with domestic urges to whip out the baking pans and go to work. I walked to the hardware store, the drug store and a bridal shop today without breaking a sweat. Who knew heaven could be found in temporary home ownership? It makes me long for a place of our own, which we are determined to obtain despite the exorbitant prices in Seattle. I'd settle for a hovel with a hole in the room if it had a small yard and a street of shops nearby. Sigh...someday.
WE ARE SEVEN FREAKING DAYS AWAY FROM MY FREAKING WEDDING!
That didn't improve things.
Yesterday, we moved into the house we'll be watching for an old professor until August 1st. We're back in Seattle, which makes me incredibly happy. Things which do not make me incredibly happy: trying to make my own music playlist for the reception. At this point, guests had better appreciate the blood and sweat that went into our efforts to balance mellow with lively, eating music with dancing tunes, and sweet with sexy -- or else I will kill them with my own bare hands and the heels of my tango shoes.
Maybe not kill. But at least terrorize them until they dance like they were born to shake their groove thangs.
Anyway, the house is amazing. It's a bungalow-style home with hardwood floors in every room (perfect for sliding into the refrigerator at full speed when I forget the perils of wearing socks on polished pine). We have more than one floor for the first time in six years!!! We even have a real yard, complete with real, outdoor plants. It's enough to make FH and I hope that the professor permanently relocates to Firenze instead of coming home. If we barricade the doors with all of their lovely furniture, they might give up and leave.
Speaking of, there isn't a single piece of furniture in this house that one can find in an Ikea catalog. I can feel the shackles of poor studentdom slipping off my wrists. The kitchen boasts an honest-to-god gas convection oven; suddenly I'm overcome with domestic urges to whip out the baking pans and go to work. I walked to the hardware store, the drug store and a bridal shop today without breaking a sweat. Who knew heaven could be found in temporary home ownership? It makes me long for a place of our own, which we are determined to obtain despite the exorbitant prices in Seattle. I'd settle for a hovel with a hole in the room if it had a small yard and a street of shops nearby. Sigh...someday.
Hallmarks of Felinity
For anyone who "owns" a cat, or who has ever been graced by one's presence, I highly recommend checking out this website. It encapsulates the episodes of Solange, a neurotic Siamese who frequently skitters across Brooke McEldowney's "Chickweed Lane."
Friday, June 10, 2005
These are NOT childbearing hips
One day after I have a conversation with a good friend about children, I find myself trapped in a women's restroom stall at University Village while a horde of shrieking, uniformed schoolgirls try to kick in my door. I finally muster my dignity, finish my business and stalk out, casting an evil eye that makes a few of the blond hellions shrink inside their blue plaid dresses. The matron in charge -- if you call "in charge" making quiet, mousy requests to "wait your turn" -- does not appreciate my death glare. I retaliate with an icy stare that could freeze molten lava, then turn on my heel and storm out the door.
Oh yes. I am NOT ready for children.
It's weird even to think that I am at childbearing age -- this was the topic of discussion last night, when my friend and I realized that people would readily accept a pregnant me or Hannah now. In my warped mind, I still envision parents and friends gasping in horror -- but they'd probably just smile and start knitting itty-bitty jerseys. I'd be the only horrified one, particularly since I would rather have a thoroughbred rescue than a child right now.
At the same time, I am only 24, and I don't really like having people ask me when I'm planning to have kids. There is more to life, at least at this stage...and I can name a million reasons why I'm not ready yet, including: 1.) I don't know if I feel comfortable bringing a child into this unstable world; 2.) there are enough orphans out there for me to adopt; 3) the average American child sucks a million times more resources out of the planet than other kids; 4) dogs, cats and horses are far more cuddly and don't scream as much.
Oh yes. I am NOT ready for children.
It's weird even to think that I am at childbearing age -- this was the topic of discussion last night, when my friend and I realized that people would readily accept a pregnant me or Hannah now. In my warped mind, I still envision parents and friends gasping in horror -- but they'd probably just smile and start knitting itty-bitty jerseys. I'd be the only horrified one, particularly since I would rather have a thoroughbred rescue than a child right now.
At the same time, I am only 24, and I don't really like having people ask me when I'm planning to have kids. There is more to life, at least at this stage...and I can name a million reasons why I'm not ready yet, including: 1.) I don't know if I feel comfortable bringing a child into this unstable world; 2.) there are enough orphans out there for me to adopt; 3) the average American child sucks a million times more resources out of the planet than other kids; 4) dogs, cats and horses are far more cuddly and don't scream as much.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Impure and unchaste thoughts
So, um...*looks sheepishly at keyboard*...the wedding is three weeks away, and...*slouches in embarrassment*...I'm in that phase where I just keeping thinking about how this is the End of Dating.
I don't even like dating, or any of the politics that accompany it, but it's just...weird. I'm never going to kiss another boy again. Unless, of course, my dream comes true and fellow-writer-far-more-successful-than-I, Zach Braff, really becomes our roommate after grad school. Then I'd probably have to on principle, just like my fiancee would have to kiss Tina Fey if she showed up anytime before the birth of her child...it's one of those mutual understanding things.
I have no idea why I suddenly care; you would think that 3.5 years of being an emphatically single college student would get it out of my system. (For my Seattle U readers, we do not count the Canada incident in those 3.5 years. Thank you for erasing it from your memories.) I do not harbor burning desires to kiss anyone other than my fiancee, and yet I obsess. Someone please tell me that this is a normal stage in the Bride Panic Process.
On a lighter note, the programs are done! Hurrah! They didn't even require ice-pick poking! I even mustered enough courage to make two trips to craft stores in a single week for much-needed wedding supplies. After getting lost in a field of faux flowers, I snatched up whatever looked good and ran for my life, thereby confirming that I would rather bike 20 miles in a downpour than learn how to navigate Ben Franklin.
I don't even like dating, or any of the politics that accompany it, but it's just...weird. I'm never going to kiss another boy again. Unless, of course, my dream comes true and fellow-writer-far-more-successful-than-I, Zach Braff, really becomes our roommate after grad school. Then I'd probably have to on principle, just like my fiancee would have to kiss Tina Fey if she showed up anytime before the birth of her child...it's one of those mutual understanding things.
I have no idea why I suddenly care; you would think that 3.5 years of being an emphatically single college student would get it out of my system. (For my Seattle U readers, we do not count the Canada incident in those 3.5 years. Thank you for erasing it from your memories.) I do not harbor burning desires to kiss anyone other than my fiancee, and yet I obsess. Someone please tell me that this is a normal stage in the Bride Panic Process.
On a lighter note, the programs are done! Hurrah! They didn't even require ice-pick poking! I even mustered enough courage to make two trips to craft stores in a single week for much-needed wedding supplies. After getting lost in a field of faux flowers, I snatched up whatever looked good and ran for my life, thereby confirming that I would rather bike 20 miles in a downpour than learn how to navigate Ben Franklin.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
In the middle
It's stream of consciousness time, when the rules of grammar get to fly out the window:
So, my best friend comes up to visit her family this weekend, and I'm sitting on their living room couch while we eat dinner, and I realize this may be the last trip to her house for awhile...which we both decide is survivable before returning to our food, but then I get behind the wheel of my car and I'm driving home in the darkening summer evening while the foothills disappear beneath a slate blue blanket of thunderheads and I realize that it's not okay and I'm not okay and I don't feel like trying to be okay right now...so I make it through the front door and up the stairs to my room where I curl up like a snail on my bed and sob into my fiancee's left shoulder.
These moments sabotage me; I never know when they will creep past the borders of consciousness, but nothing is safe from triggering an episode. The right song, a change in the weather, or a poignant poem could kick a hole through my carefully erected wall, and quite a bit of flotsam has gathered behind it.
Deep down, I realize that all of us will adapt: my friend and I will thrive via IM, email and internet phones; my fiancee and I will cherish every one of our visits, and we'll be too busy to pine away during the interim; my family will adapt after awhile, and the months between trips home will fly. Still, I'm incredibly nervous looking at it now, looming before me in one giant block instead of the series of smaller hurdles it actually is. I worry about making friends all over again, about keeping the ones I have (what if they find newer, closer, better friends?? shrieks the insecure voice in my head), and about making sure my relationships with the people I love remain the same. I realize that the distance will require flexibility, but I would be devastated if new distances grew between my fiancee and I, or between my family and I, and so on. Again, I am fully aware that this will not happen if the parties involved do not want it to; however, knowing and accepting are two different things. The main reason why I fear change is because I have ridiculously strong insecurities about my relationships with people; I view major change as a force with the potential to jeopardize those connections, so I fear it instead of seeing the good it could create (e.g., giving my friends a reason to visit England, or making me a better email correspondent).
I'm also worried that I'll turn back into the person I was a few years ago: self-contained and isolated, despite the extroverted behavior -- a loner yearning for friends yet unable to drop her defenses for any who came along. I'd hate to isolate myself in grad school, but oh how I loathe getting to know new people. I always feel uncomfortable introducing myself and going through nine circles of hell trying to be comfortable enough to be me around strangers. Unfortunately, this fear perpetuates itself: I avoid getting to know people, then make no friends, thereby convincing me that trying to make friends is pointless...Again, I know this is in my control, but old habits die hard, and I always curl into myself when things get rough. Walls are easier to build than bridges.
Carp, carp, carp. That's all I do on here lately, and I apologize. This has turned into a pseudo-journal for me, so it's a forum for airing my daily angst. I'll try to revive the political commentary and humor, really I will! It's frustrating: whenever I'm in the middle of a huge transition, it always feels insurmountable. As soon as I step out from the middle of it, I realize how truly insignificant the whole process is -- but that never changes how I feel when the next one arrives. Ah, life in your 20s. Can I turn 30 yet? :)
So, my best friend comes up to visit her family this weekend, and I'm sitting on their living room couch while we eat dinner, and I realize this may be the last trip to her house for awhile...which we both decide is survivable before returning to our food, but then I get behind the wheel of my car and I'm driving home in the darkening summer evening while the foothills disappear beneath a slate blue blanket of thunderheads and I realize that it's not okay and I'm not okay and I don't feel like trying to be okay right now...so I make it through the front door and up the stairs to my room where I curl up like a snail on my bed and sob into my fiancee's left shoulder.
These moments sabotage me; I never know when they will creep past the borders of consciousness, but nothing is safe from triggering an episode. The right song, a change in the weather, or a poignant poem could kick a hole through my carefully erected wall, and quite a bit of flotsam has gathered behind it.
Deep down, I realize that all of us will adapt: my friend and I will thrive via IM, email and internet phones; my fiancee and I will cherish every one of our visits, and we'll be too busy to pine away during the interim; my family will adapt after awhile, and the months between trips home will fly. Still, I'm incredibly nervous looking at it now, looming before me in one giant block instead of the series of smaller hurdles it actually is. I worry about making friends all over again, about keeping the ones I have (what if they find newer, closer, better friends?? shrieks the insecure voice in my head), and about making sure my relationships with the people I love remain the same. I realize that the distance will require flexibility, but I would be devastated if new distances grew between my fiancee and I, or between my family and I, and so on. Again, I am fully aware that this will not happen if the parties involved do not want it to; however, knowing and accepting are two different things. The main reason why I fear change is because I have ridiculously strong insecurities about my relationships with people; I view major change as a force with the potential to jeopardize those connections, so I fear it instead of seeing the good it could create (e.g., giving my friends a reason to visit England, or making me a better email correspondent).
I'm also worried that I'll turn back into the person I was a few years ago: self-contained and isolated, despite the extroverted behavior -- a loner yearning for friends yet unable to drop her defenses for any who came along. I'd hate to isolate myself in grad school, but oh how I loathe getting to know new people. I always feel uncomfortable introducing myself and going through nine circles of hell trying to be comfortable enough to be me around strangers. Unfortunately, this fear perpetuates itself: I avoid getting to know people, then make no friends, thereby convincing me that trying to make friends is pointless...Again, I know this is in my control, but old habits die hard, and I always curl into myself when things get rough. Walls are easier to build than bridges.
Carp, carp, carp. That's all I do on here lately, and I apologize. This has turned into a pseudo-journal for me, so it's a forum for airing my daily angst. I'll try to revive the political commentary and humor, really I will! It's frustrating: whenever I'm in the middle of a huge transition, it always feels insurmountable. As soon as I step out from the middle of it, I realize how truly insignificant the whole process is -- but that never changes how I feel when the next one arrives. Ah, life in your 20s. Can I turn 30 yet? :)
Friday, May 27, 2005
T-minus one month...
In 30 days, I will be a wife. I will be leaving my reception with my husband, saying goodbye to my guests and starting a life as Mrs. My Last Name His Last Name (no hyphen - I'm not a fan). We thought about just keeping our individual names, but both of us liked the idea of having a unifying surname instead. I just realized that I have to change my passport and everything else - my health insurance has to change, my car insurance...there are so many legal details to a wedding ceremony.
Anyway, as expected I simultaneously am overjoyed and completely freaked out. The monumental nature of this one "big day" is beginning to become clear, and I think any single gal experiences twinges of anxiety about become a Mrs. when she is so used to Ms. Then, of course, there are all those unexpected wedding issues, like the mysterious wedding cake (what will it look like? don't ask me!), strange family dynamics and ridiculously complicated logistics. So, I think a little freak out is normal - and it comes in bits and pieces, like it did while I was sitting at a red light yesterday. I suddenly felt myself getting glassy-eyed as I realized how quickly the wedding was approaching...and then the guy behind me honked, shattering my reverie and bringing me back to more pressing issues like driving.
Still, I'm happy in the knowledge that FH and I are a secure, compatible couple with similar views in all the right areas. It's also nice to know that we will not become one of those "MegandFH" couples who can't do anything without each other; we have our own friends and our own interests, and I'm damned if that's going to change. We talked about that extensively ahead of time, and our individuality is very important to us. It's great because this relationship and marriage are creating a new part of my identity without erasing any of the old bits. Now, I just get to incorporate everything into a slightly different whole -- a process that will be challenging but fun.
I can't wait to start our lives together, although we really have done that already. Still, I love the idea of waking up next to my husband, of wearing our wedding rings in public instead of in secret behind our closed apartment door. This whole wedding thing is scary for many reasons, but it's also tremendously exciting and uplifting. 30 days to go...I have a feeling they will fly.
Anyway, as expected I simultaneously am overjoyed and completely freaked out. The monumental nature of this one "big day" is beginning to become clear, and I think any single gal experiences twinges of anxiety about become a Mrs. when she is so used to Ms. Then, of course, there are all those unexpected wedding issues, like the mysterious wedding cake (what will it look like? don't ask me!), strange family dynamics and ridiculously complicated logistics. So, I think a little freak out is normal - and it comes in bits and pieces, like it did while I was sitting at a red light yesterday. I suddenly felt myself getting glassy-eyed as I realized how quickly the wedding was approaching...and then the guy behind me honked, shattering my reverie and bringing me back to more pressing issues like driving.
Still, I'm happy in the knowledge that FH and I are a secure, compatible couple with similar views in all the right areas. It's also nice to know that we will not become one of those "MegandFH" couples who can't do anything without each other; we have our own friends and our own interests, and I'm damned if that's going to change. We talked about that extensively ahead of time, and our individuality is very important to us. It's great because this relationship and marriage are creating a new part of my identity without erasing any of the old bits. Now, I just get to incorporate everything into a slightly different whole -- a process that will be challenging but fun.
I can't wait to start our lives together, although we really have done that already. Still, I love the idea of waking up next to my husband, of wearing our wedding rings in public instead of in secret behind our closed apartment door. This whole wedding thing is scary for many reasons, but it's also tremendously exciting and uplifting. 30 days to go...I have a feeling they will fly.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Sunny in Seattle!
It is supposed to hit 80 degrees today, and I couldn't be happier. Naturally, my shoulders have already burned in that great Irish American heritage way...I have to fry at least twice before I actually tan...go figure. Somehow, I doubt my dermatologists will be sympathetic 30 years down the line - but what can I do when I sunburn after driving my car for an hour??
I've managed to get together with several friends lately, and it has been fantastic catching up with everyone. Regardless of how busy my life is, I've tried really hard since the Great Thyroid Incident of 2004 to maintain some semblance of a social life. It may not be much, but a weekly lunch or after-work hangout session means the world to me, and it keeps me much saner than spending all afternoon with the to-do list. The extent to which I will miss my friends is really starting to sink in: you all have to come visit me -- I'll have free floor space! :)
Okay, back to running around in six directions. Okay, two, actually. I have to go find a necklace for my wedding day since it is coming up in four horrendously brief weeks. Gaaaah!
I've managed to get together with several friends lately, and it has been fantastic catching up with everyone. Regardless of how busy my life is, I've tried really hard since the Great Thyroid Incident of 2004 to maintain some semblance of a social life. It may not be much, but a weekly lunch or after-work hangout session means the world to me, and it keeps me much saner than spending all afternoon with the to-do list. The extent to which I will miss my friends is really starting to sink in: you all have to come visit me -- I'll have free floor space! :)
Okay, back to running around in six directions. Okay, two, actually. I have to go find a necklace for my wedding day since it is coming up in four horrendously brief weeks. Gaaaah!
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Bits and pieces
Since the fricking computer connection is too slow for me to read my daily news, here's a brief rundown of what I've been up to lately...by the way, as an officially out-of-work almost-housewife, I can officially state that housewifedom stinks. Get up, eat breakfast, take shower, feed pets, run laundry, let pets out, pay bills, buy groceries, rearrange bathroom, make dinner, go to bed...dear god, it's like a bad episode of the Brady Bunch. I would be a Valium-saturated woman if I were this age in the 1950s.
Books I've been reading:
Books I've been reading:
- Don't Think of an Elephant (brilliant, provocative, brief)
- America, The Book (bawdy, provocative, bemusing)
- Trouble in Paradise (boring...well, mostly just boring. Hey, it's pre-thesis research. There aren't really any bestsellers out there that cover Latin American environmental justice.)
- What I wish I was reading: War Trash and The Crazed (Ha-Jin), In the Time of the Butterflies (Julia Alvarez), Never Let Me Go (Kazuo Ishiguro, who has gone from being my high school nemesis to my most-admired British writer)
Music to which I've been listening:
- "I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning" ~ Bright Eyes (this album grows on me every time I hear it. The comparisons to Dylan do not seem unwarrented. It's genius...and, again, provocative.)
- My usual Death Cab for Cutie CDs. Oh, how I love them. I cringe every time I think I will leave the country without having seen them in concert.
- Martha Wainwright (Rufus' sister and Lauden's daughter) ~ Gotta love the eloquent, enraged female singer-songwriters. My new fix while Poe continues languishing in her unfortunate situation...not that the two are anything alike...
- The Mountain Goats ~ good, but possibly too depressing, even for me
- Things I should listen to soon: anything by Luna, the now-defunct indie band which I naturally discovered too late
Movies I've seen:
- Star Wars III ~ One hell of a lot better than the first, although it still pales in comparison to the originals. It had a few uber-cheesy lines and an inability to introduce strange alien "extras" with the continuity of the old episodes (e.g., Obi-wan's weird squawking bird-horse amalgamation - it only seemed to be present for the sake of having something unusual in the film)...it also is not for kids, although I can't tell you why if you haven't seen the end. The good: many psychological undercurrents that put a new twist on an old story. It's interesting that when the first three films came out, viewers and critics could accept a "good" and "bad" side without question. In today's movie, the lines are blurred...art reflects reality, perhaps?
- The Life Aquatic ~ Quirky, good for a rental, but sub-par compared to The Royal Tenenbaums
- Sideways ~ Oh, how I love this film...and I admit, I went and tried Pinot afterwards...oh baby. My new favorite red wine. Still, I must quibble with the Asian-American wild woman character, which was due for retirement about 100 years ago.
- Next up: I have to see Kinsey, Sometime in April, every freaking film at SIFF (the Seattle International Film Festival...insert lustful sigh here), Crash
Sadly, the highlight of my week was witnessing the incredible finish of yesterday's Preakness. If you don't know what I mean, Google "Afleet Alex" and "Preakness" -- that was racing history in the making. I also managed to hang out with some friends for an unprecedented afternoon and evening -- better not get used to this...Of course, I also suffered greatly tonight when my favorite trashy show (Desperate Housewives) and favorite medical drama (Grey's Anatomy) went into hiatus for the summer. I swear, if they don't get those in England, I might have to pay someone to put everything on Tivo for me...yeah, I know. I need a life. Trust me: for a graduate student with a wedding on the way, I don't think I'm doing half-bad!
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Back in the atmosphere...
Whew - sorry about that! Moving really made it hard to post, especially since I'm back in the land of slug-speed dial-up. Anyway, I'm slowly managing to cram the remnants of my apartment into my old room, although it's been interesting since we also have to fit Ndugu and ourselves in there...
So, last night I ran into an old acquaintance from high school. We didn't know each other that well, but we were in some of the same extracurricular activities. We started talking and I found out that this person is now married with two kids, one of whom is severely developmentally delayed, and is trying to work towards a college degree while the spouse searches for a job after leaving the military.
It floored me. I feel hard-pressed to explain exactly why, but I think I'm just reeling from the screaming inequity of the way our lives have played out thus far. I feel guilty for occasionally taking my path for granted and for whining about trivial things like my crammed schedule. What the hell kind of world are we living in when two people from the same school wind up in completely different places after a few years? This person is struggling to get by with tremendous hardships, and I'm about to go to graduate school. It's not a matter of fate or god or anything else - it just seems painfully unjust. I realize that's how life is, but it is rattling to run into someone you know whose life is so fundamentaly different from your own - it doesn't seem fair. What exactly did I do to deserve being where I am, and why me?? I know this sounds a little narcissistic, but I just feel like I need to do something big for the world with what I've been given; after all, these opportunities are few and far between. I don't know...it's hard to articulate what I'm thinking. Suffice it to say, I really haven't stopped thinking since last night.
So, last night I ran into an old acquaintance from high school. We didn't know each other that well, but we were in some of the same extracurricular activities. We started talking and I found out that this person is now married with two kids, one of whom is severely developmentally delayed, and is trying to work towards a college degree while the spouse searches for a job after leaving the military.
It floored me. I feel hard-pressed to explain exactly why, but I think I'm just reeling from the screaming inequity of the way our lives have played out thus far. I feel guilty for occasionally taking my path for granted and for whining about trivial things like my crammed schedule. What the hell kind of world are we living in when two people from the same school wind up in completely different places after a few years? This person is struggling to get by with tremendous hardships, and I'm about to go to graduate school. It's not a matter of fate or god or anything else - it just seems painfully unjust. I realize that's how life is, but it is rattling to run into someone you know whose life is so fundamentaly different from your own - it doesn't seem fair. What exactly did I do to deserve being where I am, and why me?? I know this sounds a little narcissistic, but I just feel like I need to do something big for the world with what I've been given; after all, these opportunities are few and far between. I don't know...it's hard to articulate what I'm thinking. Suffice it to say, I really haven't stopped thinking since last night.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Oh beautiful for...forget it.
Tom DeLay would make me laugh if he didn't have such serious control over my government right now. Take this gem from Anne Applebaum's latest column:
"It just offends me that the president of the United States is, directly or indirectly, attacking his own country in a foreign land." That was 1998. The speaker, Tom DeLay (R-Tex.), was then House majority whip. The president was Bill Clinton, who had "attacked his own country" while in Uganda. "Going back to the time before we were even a nation," Clinton had told an African audience, "European Americans received the fruits of the slave trade. And we were wrong in that."
As terrible as that is, it devolved into something worse:
...House Majority Whip Tom DeLay of Texas called Clinton "a flower child with gray hairs doing exactly what he did back in the 60s: he's apologizing for the actions of the United States. Wherever he went. It just offends me that the president of the United States is, directly or indirectly, attacking his own country in a foreign land. It just amazes me."
DeLay further accused Clinton of a double-standard. "He didn't quite apologize for the chieftains in Uganda that were selling the blacks to the slave traders, did he? Heh," DeLay commented. "He didn't talk about what's-his-name, Idi Amin, that killed 500,000 people in Uganda. He didn't apologize for that."
DeLay also tried to tie Clinton's slavery comments back to the Lewinsky matter. "He's very quick to apologize for other people's mistakes, and he can't apologize for his own, and it comes right back to character," DeLay contended. "He's cheated on his wife, he'll cheat on the American people." [NYT, March, 28, 1998]
Erm...maybe DeLay could have focused on the embarrassing fact that it took over a century for us to apologize for slavery! Or perhaps he could recognize that Clinton has no place apologizing for anyone other than the United States; that might explain why he didn't express remorse on behalf of the Ugandans (which I'm sure they would have appreciated: it's not like we don't voluntarily speak for other countries enough as it is). And yeah, comparing slavery to Lewinsky just exemplifies stereotypical white Southern wealthy male behavior, doesn't it?
I will really cry for this man when his own ethical choices come home to roost.
I've heard all sorts of "God I hate being a white person," forehead-slapping kinds of comments lately, like the one from the all-too-serious person who said working overtime was another form of slavery. Of course, she also managed to say this in front of an African-American, who was too polite to point out the obvious. Sometimes, I just wish I could make collective apologies for all of the stupid, ignorant things that people say...I'm not talking about liberal pc sensitivity here - I'm focusing on incredibly insensitive crap that people feel compelled to say, no matter how obviously offensive or asinine it is! Of course, I kinda see where it comes from when one of our most powerful elected officials can run his mouth off about how wrong it is to apologize for slavery, which arguably is the worst thing the US has perpetrated in an illustrious history of poor choices.
Realization of the day: if forced to choose between living in hell or living in Tom DeLay's version of Texas, I think I might pick hell. Oops - I forgot. They're the same thing!
"It just offends me that the president of the United States is, directly or indirectly, attacking his own country in a foreign land." That was 1998. The speaker, Tom DeLay (R-Tex.), was then House majority whip. The president was Bill Clinton, who had "attacked his own country" while in Uganda. "Going back to the time before we were even a nation," Clinton had told an African audience, "European Americans received the fruits of the slave trade. And we were wrong in that."
As terrible as that is, it devolved into something worse:
...House Majority Whip Tom DeLay of Texas called Clinton "a flower child with gray hairs doing exactly what he did back in the 60s: he's apologizing for the actions of the United States. Wherever he went. It just offends me that the president of the United States is, directly or indirectly, attacking his own country in a foreign land. It just amazes me."
DeLay further accused Clinton of a double-standard. "He didn't quite apologize for the chieftains in Uganda that were selling the blacks to the slave traders, did he? Heh," DeLay commented. "He didn't talk about what's-his-name, Idi Amin, that killed 500,000 people in Uganda. He didn't apologize for that."
DeLay also tried to tie Clinton's slavery comments back to the Lewinsky matter. "He's very quick to apologize for other people's mistakes, and he can't apologize for his own, and it comes right back to character," DeLay contended. "He's cheated on his wife, he'll cheat on the American people." [NYT, March, 28, 1998]
Erm...maybe DeLay could have focused on the embarrassing fact that it took over a century for us to apologize for slavery! Or perhaps he could recognize that Clinton has no place apologizing for anyone other than the United States; that might explain why he didn't express remorse on behalf of the Ugandans (which I'm sure they would have appreciated: it's not like we don't voluntarily speak for other countries enough as it is). And yeah, comparing slavery to Lewinsky just exemplifies stereotypical white Southern wealthy male behavior, doesn't it?
I will really cry for this man when his own ethical choices come home to roost.
I've heard all sorts of "God I hate being a white person," forehead-slapping kinds of comments lately, like the one from the all-too-serious person who said working overtime was another form of slavery. Of course, she also managed to say this in front of an African-American, who was too polite to point out the obvious. Sometimes, I just wish I could make collective apologies for all of the stupid, ignorant things that people say...I'm not talking about liberal pc sensitivity here - I'm focusing on incredibly insensitive crap that people feel compelled to say, no matter how obviously offensive or asinine it is! Of course, I kinda see where it comes from when one of our most powerful elected officials can run his mouth off about how wrong it is to apologize for slavery, which arguably is the worst thing the US has perpetrated in an illustrious history of poor choices.
Realization of the day: if forced to choose between living in hell or living in Tom DeLay's version of Texas, I think I might pick hell. Oops - I forgot. They're the same thing!
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
What I learned today
This is sans-television, books, magazines and radio, might I note:
1. Unintentionally stepping on a large pile of bubble wrap will scare the hell out of you.
2. Those Mr. Clean Magic Erasers really work. They don't just remove the scuffs from your walls - they take care of that pesky paint on them, too! No deposit back for me...
3. If you provide a tortoise with an empty paper bag, you can leave it unattended for hours as it revels in its new fortress.
4. There is nothing on the internet that merits a whole day of searching for it.
5. Milk really shouldn't be left in the fridge for two weeks past its due date. Being too busy moving is not an excuse.
6. My neighbors are the noisiest people anywhere. They must stampede around in steel-toed boots. They are also deaf, judging by the volume of their alarm clocks.
7. Sometimes, it's better not to clean spots off the apartment doors. It makes the filthiness of the unblemished door parts more obvious.
8. Burner pans accumulate alien food particles like nothing else in this world. It's better to pry them out and throw them in the trash than to destroy several brillo pads trying to make them shiny clean.
9. It is not wise to practice one's backwards tango walk during the final stages of a move, unless you enjoy turning your ankles on packing tape and binder clips.
10. Moving boxes will not relocate themselves to another vacant apartment when you are done using them. Instead, they occupy vast amounts of floor space and make it impossible to actually move anything.
I just looked around an empty room in an effort to find something interesting. Apparently, I've reached the hallucinogenic stage where I expect my tortoise to talk back to me. Poor FH - it's not his fault that he's stuck at work until midnight, but I don't think I'd want to come home right now if I were him. By the very fact that he isn't a floorboard or a bare spot on a wall -- but a living, breathing, interactable being -- he'll be so interesting that I'll have to follow him around for hours.
1. Unintentionally stepping on a large pile of bubble wrap will scare the hell out of you.
2. Those Mr. Clean Magic Erasers really work. They don't just remove the scuffs from your walls - they take care of that pesky paint on them, too! No deposit back for me...
3. If you provide a tortoise with an empty paper bag, you can leave it unattended for hours as it revels in its new fortress.
4. There is nothing on the internet that merits a whole day of searching for it.
5. Milk really shouldn't be left in the fridge for two weeks past its due date. Being too busy moving is not an excuse.
6. My neighbors are the noisiest people anywhere. They must stampede around in steel-toed boots. They are also deaf, judging by the volume of their alarm clocks.
7. Sometimes, it's better not to clean spots off the apartment doors. It makes the filthiness of the unblemished door parts more obvious.
8. Burner pans accumulate alien food particles like nothing else in this world. It's better to pry them out and throw them in the trash than to destroy several brillo pads trying to make them shiny clean.
9. It is not wise to practice one's backwards tango walk during the final stages of a move, unless you enjoy turning your ankles on packing tape and binder clips.
10. Moving boxes will not relocate themselves to another vacant apartment when you are done using them. Instead, they occupy vast amounts of floor space and make it impossible to actually move anything.
I just looked around an empty room in an effort to find something interesting. Apparently, I've reached the hallucinogenic stage where I expect my tortoise to talk back to me. Poor FH - it's not his fault that he's stuck at work until midnight, but I don't think I'd want to come home right now if I were him. By the very fact that he isn't a floorboard or a bare spot on a wall -- but a living, breathing, interactable being -- he'll be so interesting that I'll have to follow him around for hours.
Bored enough to watch paint peel
Okay, it was a really bad idea to move our television *and* our CDs *and* our books before we actually vacated the apartment. I am bored out of my freaking skull here!! I've been staring at our tortoise as he eats, but now he's gone to sleep and I'm left with this empty room and this computer. There are only so many trashy things to read on MSN, and I'm pretty much out of ideas...guess I'll go clean the apartment. GAAAAH!
PS - Greetings to all you readers. I'm not sure why I got so many site hits yesterday, but it's awesome. Thanks for checking it out!
PS - Greetings to all you readers. I'm not sure why I got so many site hits yesterday, but it's awesome. Thanks for checking it out!
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
And speaking of global warming...
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/4533945.stm
It's like a beauty mask...but for a glacier...of course, I'm sure this is all a web of lies concocted by those socialist Europeans who are determined to throw our great nation into turmoil...
It's like a beauty mask...but for a glacier...of course, I'm sure this is all a web of lies concocted by those socialist Europeans who are determined to throw our great nation into turmoil...
Crotchety old dinosaur
Mad props to a fellow Daily writer, Zach Musgrave, for his column today on Michael Crichton's loathsome new novel. Zach and I may not agree on global warming itself, but we share the view that Crichton shouldn't be using this book to inject himself into the debate.
For anyone who missed it, State of Fear stars some environmentalists -- oops, I mean ecoterrorists -- who wreak havoc on good old rational people because they don't think the world is taking global warming seriously. Crichton also attempts to debunk the theory of global warming, even though he does so by disregarding the expertise of the world's top environmental scientists and climatologists. The biggest problem is that Crichton's book, supposedly a diatribe against the politicization of environmental discussions, is a thinly veiled, highly political bashing of environmentalists in general. As a supposed ecofreak, I'm insulted.
I'm also irked, of course, by the continuing dismissal of global warming on our national stage. Never mind that 141 countries recognized the problem by ratifying the Kyoto Protocol, even though it represents the proverbial finger in the dam. Never mind that we've witnessed a series of severe weather phenomena which at least suggest that something unusual is taking place.
Want the facts? Visit the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), which may be the only nonpartistan group out there with something legitimate to say. It's comprised of the world's top scientists and policy analysts, and its efforts to present accurate information rank with those of the National Academy of Sciences. The IPCC is a much better source of information than me or Michael Crichton -- something he should have considered before essentially equating its members to amoral terrorists.
For anyone who missed it, State of Fear stars some environmentalists -- oops, I mean ecoterrorists -- who wreak havoc on good old rational people because they don't think the world is taking global warming seriously. Crichton also attempts to debunk the theory of global warming, even though he does so by disregarding the expertise of the world's top environmental scientists and climatologists. The biggest problem is that Crichton's book, supposedly a diatribe against the politicization of environmental discussions, is a thinly veiled, highly political bashing of environmentalists in general. As a supposed ecofreak, I'm insulted.
I'm also irked, of course, by the continuing dismissal of global warming on our national stage. Never mind that 141 countries recognized the problem by ratifying the Kyoto Protocol, even though it represents the proverbial finger in the dam. Never mind that we've witnessed a series of severe weather phenomena which at least suggest that something unusual is taking place.
Want the facts? Visit the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), which may be the only nonpartistan group out there with something legitimate to say. It's comprised of the world's top scientists and policy analysts, and its efforts to present accurate information rank with those of the National Academy of Sciences. The IPCC is a much better source of information than me or Michael Crichton -- something he should have considered before essentially equating its members to amoral terrorists.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Run
In moments of lucidity, I am coming to accept - and to anticipate - everything that lies ahead this year. Tonight, however, I'm exhausted from two straight weeks of packing and one full day of moving. Thus, I'm not feeling clear-headed, and all I want to do is run.
Driving back from moving, I watched the muted colors of night blend into each other; fields became dappled black blankets and roadside trees glowed the color of streetlights. I suddenly fought the urge to kick open the passenger door and scrabble to the ground, then run like hell across grass or gravel or whatever happened to be underfoot, just as long as I could melt into the evening and become one more indiscernable piece of the dusky landscape. If I could hide away for awhile, nothing would find me and I wouldn't have to confront what's coming. If I could just run fast enough, maybe I could stay ahead of the future and keep the present at bay.
I realize life doesn't work like that, and I know that running wouldn't really get me that far. But that doesn't stop me from balking when I get tired; I start wishing that I could just resist the current's pull until I felt like being reeled in. It's funny - one of the things I'm trying to work on right now, stereotypically mediocre Catholic that I am, is learning to accept the path I'm on, even when it doesn't seem like a perfect fit. Somehow, I'm supposed to be able to trust in my direction although it feels unreliable. In the past month, I've discovered I'm really terrible at doing this. I fight and fight until I'm beaten down, but I still refuse to stop flailing with both fists. Hopefully, my time abroad will bring me some much-needed maturity in this area - and tomorrow, when I've slept, I know I won't feel the same sense of fear. Tonight, however, I just want to burst out of the car and run, until there's nothing left to catch me.
Driving back from moving, I watched the muted colors of night blend into each other; fields became dappled black blankets and roadside trees glowed the color of streetlights. I suddenly fought the urge to kick open the passenger door and scrabble to the ground, then run like hell across grass or gravel or whatever happened to be underfoot, just as long as I could melt into the evening and become one more indiscernable piece of the dusky landscape. If I could hide away for awhile, nothing would find me and I wouldn't have to confront what's coming. If I could just run fast enough, maybe I could stay ahead of the future and keep the present at bay.
I realize life doesn't work like that, and I know that running wouldn't really get me that far. But that doesn't stop me from balking when I get tired; I start wishing that I could just resist the current's pull until I felt like being reeled in. It's funny - one of the things I'm trying to work on right now, stereotypically mediocre Catholic that I am, is learning to accept the path I'm on, even when it doesn't seem like a perfect fit. Somehow, I'm supposed to be able to trust in my direction although it feels unreliable. In the past month, I've discovered I'm really terrible at doing this. I fight and fight until I'm beaten down, but I still refuse to stop flailing with both fists. Hopefully, my time abroad will bring me some much-needed maturity in this area - and tomorrow, when I've slept, I know I won't feel the same sense of fear. Tonight, however, I just want to burst out of the car and run, until there's nothing left to catch me.
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