Do you ever feel like your life is a Choose Your Own Adventure book, but you can't skip a few decisions ahead and return if necessary?

Whenever I read CYOA books, I would always read a few twists and turns ahead before deciding for real on a particular course of action. I wish life were like that: before a major decision, you could travel that route a while, or see into the future, before absolutely committing.

Alas.

Who knew?

Despite the fact that I disagree with the current political consensus in Texas on most issues, and the fact that G.W. Bush was our Governor, and many other things that cause many progressive people to have a deep antipathy towards Texas, I think it might just be the best state.

Public school was largely ineffective in inculcating a sense of national pride. Don't get me wrong, I love my country. But I see, quite clearly, its faults, and they sadden me. They succeeded, however, in instilling in me a sense that Texas is completely unique and something quite special. I didn't realize how much state pride I had until I was no longer there. I tried to grow some bluebonnets here (state flower, for you unfortunate non-Texans), and they died. This is probably my fault, though, not necessarily Arizona's.

Was your state ever its own country? Can your state split into four (five?) others at will? Can your state fly its flag as high as the U.S. flag? Do you have an Alamo? I didn't think so.*

*Um, so, this is not entirely true. The thirteen original colonies were, for a time, separate states until the ratification of the first US Constitution. Also, the Republic of Vermont and the Bear Flag Republic (California) were countries before becoming states.

What does this mean?

Whenever I see people doing good things, or standing up for something they don't necessarily have a stake in, I am very touched, and tend to start crying (depending on sleep levels, etc. I cry a lot when I have a lack of sleep. This is really common lately.) So when I see people going down to support the Jena 6, for example, I tear up. Or when I see people protesting the war. Or when I hear stories of people harboring Jews during the Holocaust. Or even something as simple as people volunteering at a soup kitchen.

So, here's the worrisome part: I tend not to tear up at unequal justice systems or the mere fact of homeless people. I don't cry when I think about children without health insurance, and I don't break down when I see war coverage. Sure, each of these things makes me upset and could make me cry. Goodness knows I've bawled at enough stories about soldiers. But--the quickest way to get an emotional response out of me is to show me people reacting to it, doing good deeds. Remember that story CNN covered a while back, about the kid in Iraq who was disfigured? What got to me most was not the story itself, but the comments and responses, and eventually, the Americans who provided the means for his family to come to the U.S. and have restorative surgery.

What does this say about me? I thought about this for a while today. (Introspection is a good way to procrastinate.) Perhaps it indicates that I am too cynical: I expect the world to suck and to be unfair. I don't expect people to care enough to try to fix the injustices, so that is emotionally surprising, not resonant with the way in which I intuitively understand the world. And that's scary... that on some level I accept the horrors of the world as inevitable, but don't expect people to fix it.

Friday curse

This is the second week in a row in which I have managed to lock my keys in my office.

w00t!

You no longer have to pay for TimesSelect!

How sad is it that this was inspired by "Body and Soul"*?

Since I've come back from Texas this summer I've been on and off sick the entire time. In addition, despite working out semi-regularly, I've gained weight. This is not surprising, as I have been less than regular about taking my thyroid medicine, and been eating not entirely healthily. Because of a refrigerator mishap that I took my sweet time about dealing with, for the first few weeks I subsisted solely on takeout, things like Subway (not so bad) and Panda Express (awful). Even now, with a working, non-smelly refrigerator, I still find myself eating out a lot. And I have rediscovered Wendy's Caesar salad dressing. Which is one of the nutritionally worst salad dressings ever. But one of the best tasting.

So, here's the thing. I'm now counting on you blog people to keep me accountable. I am going to re-start the diet I was on the summer before last. Which means going back to eating meat, primarily boneless skinless chicken breast. Ugh, it gets old after a while. But I'm going to stick with it. Except for perhaps one exception of using salad dressing that has sodium in it. I know it can work. My mom lost a lot of weight on it and looks wonderful (hi, Mom!). It didn't work when I last tried it due to unknown thyroid problems. But they are now known, and I am (supposedly) taking medicine for it.

So, here I go. Starting tomorrow, I am working out every morning, and following this diet. Wish me luck!

*Which, for all of you non-sociologists, is a book by Loic Wacquant about his ethnographic study of a Chicago boxing gym.

Edit, 10:56--I might not start first thing tomorrow. I will definitely be working out tomorrow. But I still need to go grocery shopping, which I won't get to until tomorrow evening. Then, I will start.

book-related misadventures.

In the past week I've been dealing with problems having to do with books, some of these problems are with Amazon and one is with the University of Arizona library.

I'd write more about it now, but the library problems were around 2 this morning, when I decided to go check some books out, and ended up staying until around 4 to get it all straightened out. So, in short, I am too tired to write.

I'll update you soon, though, have no fear!

I kind of blame this on Travis.

I should never have started watching The Office. But now that I have, I can't stop. So, because I'm too busy* to create a real post, you get these two Pam and Jim videos I found on Youtube.






*Too busy watching The Office, that is. Watching The Office is also making me too busy to do my real work.

Note to all kindergarten teachers: there is a break in the pipeline somewhere.

There are some who have reached the age at which they can drive themselves and another person to a restaurant but who have yet to master the concept of an "inside voice."

Note: while I am studying, I do not care to hear you describe what you are eating to your friend on the phone. If I were sitting next to you, or even a few feet from you, I realize that hearing your voice would be unavoidable. Sure. But if you are across the room, and there are several other people and groups of people sitting, talking, closer to me than you are, and I can hear vague mumbles from them, but distinct words and sentences and freaking paragraphs from you, you are not using your inside voice. And when you're describing all the movies you've seen in the past year to your "date"? Not only does hearing your voice annoy me, but so does your cinematic taste.

(I'm sorry to be such a complainer of late. I'm not getting enough sleep and am amazingly busy. However, you do have to admit that you kind of sign on for this sort of thing, when you read a blog that has "rants and ravings" in its title.)

Dear Coffe XChange,

I go into your store regularly to sit and read or study. I am not sure why I keep going, because nearly every time I am there, you are playing a radio station that is playing commercials rather than music at least half of the time. Maybe it's just me and my almost attention deficit disorder, but I get distracted anytime there is talking near me. I cannot concentrate on one thing while a conversation is going on around me, when that conversation is as loud as your sound system is. I have, over the years, learned to be able to listen to music with words while studying, but I have not yet perfected these skills when it comes to commercials and talk show hosts.

Now, I do not expect you to change your musical habits because of my (perhaps unique) problem. But, I suspect that most people do not enter into a coffee shop in order to hear someone selling Billy Bob's plumbing services.

Also unhelpful: not having any chai tonight. And when I got a nonfat vanilla latte instead of my chai, I'm pretty sure it was whole milk rather than skim. And, the store was really, really cold.

[Sorry for ranting. I just felt the need to complain.]

Procrastination through irony.

Instead of working, at the moment I am browsing around on amazon.com, checking out books about procrastination.

Yes, even "Down in the Groove" and "Empire Burlesque."

Despite the urgings of good taste and logic, I find 1980s Bob Dylan fascinating and wonderful.

Lights, camera, foot tap!

Why is everyone re-enacting the Senator Craig bathroom incident? Both Slate V and Keith Olbermann used the police report to shoot video reenacting the encounter. I guess with the police report as it was, it was bound to happen. Man, don't ya miss the good old days when parents were upset they had to explain what a blow job was to their children because Clinton was all over the news?

Between Mark Foley, Bob "I was scared so I offered the big black guy a blow job!" Allen, and now Larry "wide stance" Craig (to name a few), the G.O.P. is probably wishing for a good, old fashioned heterosexual sex scandal. But, when they wish for that they end up with Rep. Diaper-man David Vitter.

Now, don't get me wrong. I hate all of the excessive media coverage of this just as much as you. Unlike the kids over at Wonkette, I don't relish all the Republican sex scandals. I think it mostly just obscures the real corruption. Right now we're talking about Larry Craig rather than warrantless wiretapping. But it is kind of sad that the very people who are so very anti-gay are, themselves, so very gay. (As an aside, I hate that there is so much more relish in a "gay" scandal than a "straight" one. I think it is more interesting when the person in question is anti-gay, certainly, because of the inherent hypocrisy. However, what I object to is this glee not over hypocrisy outed but at the idea of a person you disagree with being gay, because that's bad and awful and funny.)

I love Russ Feingold and Bob Dylan.

"My next President will be a Bob Dylan fan." *

Why do all the cool kids come from the Midwest?

*For those of you who do not get the reference this video is making, which if my ignorance prior to my Dylan obsession, combined with my friends' lack of Dylan obsession, is any indication, is a good number of you [yes, I am pop culturally illiterate], the reference is to the video to Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues," which I think is kind of brilliant. In fact, here it is for your viewing pleasure:

If Mr. Bean is wrong, then I don't want to be right.

My 9-to-5 working ambitions are currently being thwarted by a combination of sleeping in and silly videos on youtube.

This is random, and perhaps slightly unnerving to those of you who appreciate privacy, but...

I am a crazy good Google-stalker.

But, fear not, oh public. I very rarely Google-stalk people*. But I always find out interesting things when I do.

*It's true. You don't have to worry. I do not make a habit of this. Habitual Google-stalkers kind of freak me out, to be honest.

Why can't I get to sleep?

The answer is because Loki is barking. I can go sit with him, and he stops, but the moment I leave he goes back to the window and begins barking again. I wonder what he's barking at. But, really, I'm too tired to wonder much.

But, I have decided that I want a dog. Loki is wonderful. I've only ever really had cats, and I'd always assumed that I liked cats better than I liked dogs. But, no, dogs seem to be smarter. Or, rather, they seem to be more interested in conveying to you the fact that they know what you're saying. Cats are rather indifferent to your existence unless they decide that they would like someone to pet them.

So, when I ever again find myself in a living situation where I am able to own a pet, I will probably go for the dog, and I have the ever lovely Loki to thank for this.

Use the women-only elevators; and no cross-gender hand-shaking, please!

Sorry for the lack of updating. I've been busy working and procrastinating! :-)

Anyway, how sad is it that whenever I get bored or cannot sleep, I go look at the campus life policies (dress codes, restrictions on movies, television, internet access, etc.) of conservative Christian colleges?

Recently, I've been checking out Bob Jones University, Patrick Henry College, Pensacola Christian College, and Liberty University. They're awesome.

Among the highlights from various policies:
--10:25 pm curfew, and must sign out of dorm if leaving past 7 pm
--women must wear skirts or dresses; pants are only allowed in womens' residence halls, and shorts are never acceptable
--security cameras outside women's dorms but not mens'
--no contact with the opposite sex without a chaperon
--no secular music whatsoever, unless it is classical
--no Christian rock music, either!
--no movies rated above G may be watched in ones' own home (i.e., not even when you're in the dorm... when you go home for the weekend, too)
--may not attend movie theaters at all, generally
--freshmen and sophomores cannot leave campus unless they are going to their parents' home
--divorced students must get permission from administration before dating any students
--students may not date non-Christians
--students must get parental permission before embarking on any romantic relationship
--in order to marry in the middle of an academic year, couples must get permission from administration
--no meeting with students of the opposite sex off campus
--no staring intensely into the eyes of someone of the opposite sex
--may only use email provided by the university because it has a filter (this includes for school-related things, as well as personal email)
--may not access the internet on campus on any device that bypasses the university's filters (e.g., PDAs, cell phones)
--no wearing of Abercrombie and Fitch
--separate staircases and elevators for men and women
--no dancing
--women must have "feminine" haircuts and hairstyles
--no physical contact between the sexes (even shaking hands)
--must find a church in the area to attend, and inform the administration of this church, as well as have a minister in that church sign off each semester that you have attended 80% of the time, at least
--hair or clothing "related to a counterculture" is unacceptable

These are all, of course, in addition to the "normal" ones you might find at more "moderate" Christian colleges, such as no pornography, no homosexuality, no premarital sex, no rated R movies, etc.

Why do I find these so awesome? Is there something wrong with me?

(maybe) DC bound!

Forget Mr. Smith, Ms. Bridges is going to Washington.

A post to make you feel better about your day.

Sometimes I blog because I need to share my opinion, sometimes because I'm bored, and sometimes because I haven't posted anything in a few days and want to at least have something posted from the last week or so. And then sometimes I post for you, the reader. By reading such posts, you are bound to feel better about how your day has gone. Just a few examples of these from the past year can be found here (in which the water turns off in my apartment, right after I had lathered up my head with shampoo) and here (in which a trip to the store turns disastrous).

Today was just as fun. I felt like the pathetic character in some tragicomedy, watching everything go wrong, powerless to stop it.

The day started normally enough. I woke up, worked on some work stuff, and was mostly lazy, reading some blogs and some Harry Potter message boards. Then I had to head out for a doctor appointment. Easy enough, right? Well, it was raining outside. Hard. My umbrella was, of course, in my car. And, for some reason, none of the jackets I have with me in Tucson have hoods. So, in order to reach my car, I put on a bath robe over my clothes and a shower cap over my hair. The shower cap worked. The robe failed miserably, not only letting the clothes underneath become soaked, but leaving me with a huge soaking robe in my car.

Either way, I was in the car, and that was a plus. But as soon as I get out on the roads, it's clear that this isn't going to be an easy trip. At one point I got into what was perhaps too deep a patch of water. My car started sliding along with the water, finally being stopped on its course by the curb. Never have I been so happy to run into the curb on the side of the road.

I finally get to the doctor and have my appointment. Then I have to head to campus for a meeting. Easier said than done. The roads are now worse than ever, especially the roads near campus. Two attempted routes to my parking garage are blocked by police cars warning that the water is to deep to drive. I finally find my way into a garage. Just as I enter, a loud crash of thunder sounds and the lights in the garage turn off and several car alarms sound.

I prepare to get out and make my way to the soc building, determined to brave any and all bad weather, with my umbrella now by my side. I get to the first road I must cross and find that the water depth is somewhere between my ankles and my knees--and it's moving pretty swiftly. I brave on, reminding myself of the many times during The Oregon Trail during middle and elementary school that I decided to ford the river rather than pay for a ferry.

Just as happened during many a river fording back in the day, my fording of the flooded street failed. The failure was not immediately apparent. At first, I lost control of my shoe, which just flitted off my foot and started gushing down the river/street. Still feeling in control of the situation, I run after the shoe, at one point putting out my umbrella into the rushing water, trying to watch the shoe as if in a net. This is unsuccessful, merely serving to flip the umbrella out, inverting it, and breaking one of the metal pieces. I continue to run after the shoe. I am, at this point, running in mid-leg-length water, completely soaked. But it got worse. I tripped over something--a rock, a hole in the ground, someone else's escaped shoe, or my own two feet, it's not clear--and fell. Right into the water. Any bit of me that had remained dry during the shoe chase was now wet and cold.

I decided to give up on the meeting. I couldn't really walk into the soc building literally soaking, with one shoe on. So as I watched my shoe sail away, I decided to head back to the car, not bothering to fix the umbrella. What was the point at this point?

After a dejected, one-shoed walk back to the car, I called the person I was to meet with, and said that I need to go home and change shoes because I lost mine in the flood. I didn't mention the fall, or say that I need to go home to completely change my clothes, but I needed to do that as well.

When I get home, I realize that the only other shoes I have in Tucson are dress shoes. My sandals died and several pairs of tennis shoes are in Denison. So, my options are going to a shoe store with one shoe on, or going into a shoe store with two dress shoes on, while not wearing dressy clothes (I wasn't after all, about to go dress up simply to go to a shoe store. I'd been through enough). I choose option number 2. Around this time, the person I was meeting with called to say that the office had been closed due to a leak and that we should meet tomorrow morning.

Fine. But I still needed to go get shoes. So, again, I made my way through absurdly flooded streets. But I finally got shoes. And I just now got home.

Was your day better than this?*

*I do realize, of course, that most people in the world are having a worse day than this. What with war, genocide, and poverty, some would love a day where getting stuck in the rain is their biggest problem. Indeed, today wasn't so bad for me. It was mostly funny. In retrospect.