piratequ33n

feminists have no sense of humor

2007-02-13T23:08:00.000-08:00

eight women in a room in the 21st century, all between 23 and 33, talking about their childhoods. said childhoods included, variously: living in poverty, enduring or fleeing domestic violence, not recognizing sexual assault as such, witnessing more than one gang rape, apologizing for being molested, hearing her father condone her brothers sexual abuse of her sister, and numbing herself to survive.

why yes i *do* mind if you call me "honey."

comfort and hilarity

2006-12-08T22:49:00.000-08:00

are my new watchwords.

and let's face it -- who isn't

2006-10-19T23:53:00.000-07:00

less fortunate than I?

my cat has a doctorate in applied psychology

2006-10-17T22:33:00.000-07:00

she appears to be doing a postdoctoral time-motion study. she can frequently be found doing observational research from the vantage point of the front window. furthermore, i am reliably informed that she stares at the front door starting around dusk, waiting for the primary subject to come home and fill the dish and lie down on the goddamn sofa already where have you been i've been waiting for hours nobody has as many problems as me meow meow meow!

ahem.

she's reeeeeeally smart.

peter max meets david lynch meets mtv

2006-10-14T11:05:00.000-07:00

jean and i had gone to see a movie. we arrived at the theatre, and found it set up for a live tv show. there were a lot of rambunctious kids and frazzled parents in the “studio audience.” we made our way down the aisle and then jean picked some seats for us. she let me have the aisle, but left an empty seat between us. right in front of me was a very tall guy, so although i was grateful to have the space around me, i couldn’t see very well. i was feeling some shame about why she had left the open seat (“she’d probably be crowded if she sat right next to me, given that i don’t exactly fit in the seat”).

the lights went down, the curtain went up, and it was in fact a movie and not a live tv show. the movie provided intense sensory stimulation with its rapid jump cuts, high volume, evocative music, combination of animation and live actors, and non-linear narrative. i was enthralled.

at some point, i became aware that we were now sitting on straight-backed chairs in a carpeted living room, watching the movie being projected onto a blank wall. i also realized that the guy who had been sitting in front of me had moved his chair to one of the side walls. jean had moved to the other wall. in fact, there was a general clearing of the center of the room; i was one of the few people still sitting in the center and intently watching the movie. others had found it too overwhelming, too loud, too weird; some were driven off, upset by the lynchian elements.

the content of the movie fascinated me, partly because some visual cliché would be unfolding, but then the movie would go in an unexpected direction. i kept expecting cruelty at the expense of fat people, and it kept not happening.

there was one sequence where trays of treats were being eaten. most people were eating one or two of the treats. one woman ate a couple of the treats, then a few more, then started to shovel armfuls of the treats into her mouth. she sort of collapsed to the floor on her back, with a superhighway of the treats still pouring themselves into her mouth. i thought, “okay, now she gets fat and explodes”, and i braced myself for the mockery of the people around her. but then, she turned into a cartoon of a naked woman with blue skin, and the words “magic mae” in an elaborate curly font appeared on her side, and she got longer and bigger, but proportionately so. then she started to waft off the ground in widening arcs, like a piece of paper caught by the wind – or, i thought, like a magic carpet. and then she rose completely off the ground and zoomed away, to wild cheering and applause from everyone else.

and then the phone rang.

bending twigs, but not 'til they snap

2006-10-11T07:42:00.000-07:00

i'm off to dine in a snooty new york restaurant. i make my way there on foot, dodging taxicabs, flying litter, and hell-bent pedestrians. when i arrive, i see that the maitre d' is on a sort of mezzanine. there don't seem to be any stairs, but all the seating is banquettes, and each is about a foot higher than the next. it looks to me like the only way up is to clamber over the bench backs and the diners. i call up to the maitre d' to confirm this. "yes, yes" he says impatiently, in a thick french accent, and he gestures imperiously for me to ascend.

i am as careful as i can be, but it's still quite disruptive to the various seated diners. the backs of the seats are flat, about six inches wide, and covered with cocktails-in-progress, plates, and the occasional handbag. it's a challenge to pick my way over/amid them, but i'm almost to the top level. i am going to need to step onto a seat, up and onto the seatback, down onto the opposite-facing seat, and then down onto the floor of the upper level of the restaurant. the back of that final banquette is covered with stacks of cds in cases, and there are diners sitting on the high side.

i ask a couple of times for one of the waiters to move some of the piled-up cds, and then finally, exasperatedly, i slide a bunch of them off the seatback with the side of my foot, so that there's a place for me to set my foot. as the cds topple, an outraged howl arises from the maitre d', the waiters and the diners. the maitre d' berates me -- as does a botoxed and bejeweled society matron -- saying that i have "smashed beyond repairrrr" a stack of cassettes and that "ze full and complete replacement cost of $182.50" is going to be added to my dinner bill.

given how careful i was, i don't believe that i broke anything. none of the cases are broken. i manage to get down off the damn banquette (picking my way between the diners), and insist on looking at the purported damage. at first the maitre d' won't let me see the stuff, and we get into a shouting match about it. i insist that i'm not going to pay for something i didn't do. he keeps blaming and berating me, "why did you climb ovair zat way", "eet is your clumzeeness zat caused zis", and i lose my temper and yell, "you *told* me to climb up. i *asked* you if that was the right way to get up here and you said 'yes'! i was doing what *you* told me to do!"

eventually, mme. botox hands me a couple of the cassette cases, and i can hear things rattling around inside. i open one and sure enough, the cassette inside is shattered. i still can't imagine how a few cds falling 12" onto the cassettes could have caused that damage, and i insist that i'm not going to pay. i say, "go ahead, send me a bill", and the maitre d' says "but air you going to pay eet?!" and i say, "i don't know, i'm going to think about it", and we get into this spiral where we're repeating ourselves, louder each time.

finally i shout at the top of my lungs, "i wouldn't eat at this shithole restaurant if *you* paid *me*, you pompous charlatan, and you can take your 'full and complete replacement cost' and shove it up your ass!" i storm out of the restaurant and he follows me, brandishing a cordless phone and insisting that he's going to call the police and have me arrested. "make yourself happy, you fucker!" i scream at him, and i keep walking.

and then i woke up.

recently repotted

2006-09-30T12:07:00.000-07:00

jean likes to say, "if you're not pressing against your limits, they're closing in on you."

i've spent a lot of my life putting myself in too-small boxes: tolerating abusive relationships, staying underpaid and underemployed, and so forth. rather than press against my limits, i created these artificial walls. i wanted to feel held, i wanted to be enclosed, i thought that being able to touch one wall with each hand meant that i was safe. cymbidiums like a crowded pot.

but: comfort and safety aren't the same thing.

now that i find myself with dream job, appreciative boss, supportive colleagues, good therapist, respectful friends, big house, grownup housemate/partner -- it's a bit vertiginous. how do i know where the edges are? there's so much *space* around me now.

fiddle dee dee

2006-09-29T23:36:00.000-07:00

feels like i didn't do enough today. lalalala, i can't hear you, voice of negativity!

fpc (food-pharmaceuticals-coffee), then talked with the student i stood up on tuesday. twas a productive hour-long conversation about sexism and racism. whee. then talked to kaiser and got info about obtaining glasses that actually enhance vision. went swimmin' w/jean. i did half a mile, albeit a bit slower than the other day. then we had a perfectly swell lunch at the restaurant that we dare not name because it already takes too damn long to get the food.

then i was late to supervision, and was looked at reproachfully by twig the first. twig the second was just asking to be snapped. attention, wannabe therapists everywhere! the time to say to a client, "i have to be honest here" is? NEVER! NEVER EVER EVER! EVER!

gah. only the sure knowledge that i said *much* stupider things when i was a twig stayed my tongue.

then went to the bowl, then on to see dr. crackcorn, whereupon i was a bit of a pill. i'm overstimmed and cranky. a bit of tivo and spot to cool my jets, then to bed, tomorrow being, i am reliably informed, another day.

on the horns of a dilemma

2006-09-27T09:06:00.000-07:00

woke up with a headache like my head against a board
twice as cloudy as i'd been the night before
and i went in seeking clarity

feeling quite low this morning. seems odd to speak of manic defenses in someone as much in love with lying down as i am; nevertheless.

the dilemma is this: if i stay in the moment, i don't suffer; suffering comes from leaning forward, or back. but without looking forward or back (without suffering?), how do i change? how do i grow?

neither prey nor foe

2006-09-26T08:45:00.000-07:00

it was purple dusk, the beginning-time of night. fireflies were out. o. was tending to plants on the patio, with her back to the woods. i had gone inside, but turned back to say something to her. that was when i saw the mountain lion.

she was padding through the trees, coming our way. i went to my knees to block the open door so that spot wouldn't bolt, and so that the mountain lion wouldn't see her. i said quietly, "do. not. move." of course o. said, what? why not? i said "mountain lion. don't move a muscle."

the lion was curious about us, ranging in wide arcs but narrowing in on me in particular. so beautiful she was, so powerful, so strong, so fully alive. i watched her as long as i dared, then as she got within a few yards i lowered my eyes so that she wouldn't feel challenged. i said to o., "be very still now." the lion edged forward. i closed my eyes and waited. her warm breath stirred my hair as she investigated me. i filled my mind with thoughts of love, admiration, respect, pleasure in her presence.

when i opened my eyes, she was gone.

gracious me

2006-08-09T21:04:00.000-07:00

i am thoroughly sick of looking at that menstrual post. i'll have to post some new stuff so it scrolls down off the page. *yawn* yeah. i'll get right on that.

yeah, right.

2006-05-04T16:01:00.000-07:00

Women can experience a variety of sensations before, during or after their menses. Common complaints include backache, pain in the inner thighs, bloating, nausea, diarrhea, constipation, headaches, breast tenderness, irritability, and other mood changes. Women also experience positive sensations such as relief, release, euphoria, new beginning, invigoration, connection with nature, creative energy, exhilaration, increased sex drive and more intense orgasms. [emphasis added]

-- from http://www.fwhc.org/health/moon.htm

day 4 of progesterone and i feel like ripping somebody's head off. does that constitute "connection with nature"? i'm insanely irritable, i can't concentrate, i'm jumping out of my skin. i feel like flinging myself to the ground and having a full-on tantrum. maybe that's the "creative energy" part. yeah, right.

i thought of perhaps starting a bar brawl, but jean would never forgive me if i stole her death ;-)

jean did encourage me to indulge in some... vivid... fantasies. i always get caught up, though, in the who's-going-to-clean-up-this-mess question.

hraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

living the life of the mind

2006-04-07T12:30:00.000-07:00

i find myself wired-and-tired after these teaching nights. i'm engaged, i'm focused, i'm excited, but i'm there with the students and i'm working hard or less-hard, and afterwards i just... drive home. there aren't any peers with whom i can debrief/decompress. part of the problem is that we haven't been having regular faculty meetings, so i'm feeling out-of-touch with my compadres as a group.

also, those of my personal pals who aren't asleep by 9 are, you know, pole-dancing, or in oregon, or whatEver.

anyways. lately i get home and start cruising the blogosphere to pick up chicks, or the occasional guy. that has side effects: last night i was awake until nearly 4am, and am correspondingly wasted now.

had some cool dreams though. one involved driving my little car through a tight steep downward-sloping white-washed tunnel (shut up, freud) to reach a guesthouse at the bottom of a valley where i was going to be staying in a treehouse with grass carpeting... with a former client and another woman (whose identity escapes me now that i'm awake).

i know, it's a run-on sentence, but it was a run-on dream, so fuck it. twisty would smack me senseless for ellipsis abuse and capitalization deficiency, so i may as well go for the trifecta.

i'm planning on either outliving jean (seems only fair to me that she should get the kind of dying that she has furthered, and i'd make sure that was an option) or else on dying so amusingly and gracefully that it's fun for her. as y'all know, i'm big on fairness. (a girl needs a hobby.) so i'm going to need some additional friends, either way, because my trampoline has too few attachment points. as delightful as my 'invisible' friends are, i think i've got to find the kind of friends who can give footrubs and bring over takeout from manzanita.

suggestions, and applicants, welcomed.

harbin harbin harbin

2006-03-25T16:32:00.000-08:00

i'm driving up to harbin tomorrow (sunday) and will be back on friday night. jean is driving down from oregon to rendezvous with me in the heart-shaped pool. listen for two deep relieved sighs about 7pm sunday night.

a pretty swell pi day

2006-03-14T20:10:00.000-08:00

PIE!!!

i had to work today, which kinda sucked. but: one of my coworkers in cubicleandia overheard that it was my birthday, and without telling anyone else, procured a cake for the meeting i facilitated this afternoon.

furthermore: diane sang happy birthday into my work voicemail. wendy, janet, emek, susan, kat, liza, heidi, and my brother jim all left birthday messages on my voicemail. during my drive from p.h. back to oaktown today, jean made me laugh, and laughed at my jokes, and praised me bountifully. then tonight olgie bought me a fine fine supper and then we had lime PI(e). 'cause it's Pi day. i hope i don't have to explain that to any of you.

i had my tupperware with me at the restaurant and i scooped half of my dinner into there before i started eating. every time i do that, it's with a spasm of anxiety ("what if it's not enough?"), and every time -- it's plenty. what the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over.

marinating in gratitude, me.

all the cool kids are doing it

2006-02-24T08:44:00.000-08:00

my first livejournal meme! ::sniff:: virgin no more!

go here and describe me!me!me!

change a-comin'

2005-12-27T15:36:00.000-08:00

and that just might be the most redundant thing i've ever said.

i am settling in at jean's house. i guess i have to get used to saying "our house", which feels a bit weird, since i haven't lived with anyone (well, no other humans) since... 1993? maybe dr. crackcorn will help me remember when it was that we went our separate ways. it sucked at the time, but if that's what it took for us to end up where we are now -- i wouldn't change a thing.

come to think of it, that's how i feel about most of my life: often painful but worth it based on the people i know, the ways in which i know them, etc.

there was a long period where i described myself as a peeled egg. easily injured, those. i don't dwell on it anymore, though. got more interesting things to think about, such as:

new job starting (with people that appreciate my mad interpersonal skillz)
new place to live (space! light! grown-up interactions!)
damfine therapist
drawers galore! (thank you jean)
buncha hard stuff in the rear-view mirror (bye, 2005, don't let the door hit ya in the ass)
teh r0xx0r friends and adopted family
World's Best Cat

jean asked me the other day if i ever think about writing. my answer, without having to think much about it, was "nope." i was an obsessive chronicler of my 20s, and i continued to write okay poetry in my 30s, but now? i'd rather put words into other people instead of onto paper. it's another stage in the evolution which began as i left my first therapist with the words, "i don't need therapy anymore, because now i have friends."

ah, youth.

anyways. happy solstice, everybody. it's all downhill from here ;-)

silly me

2005-11-28T15:16:00.000-08:00

i gave notice today. immediate response from my boss: "oh good!" she leaned across the table to shake my hand, said "congratulations. it's for the best." said various other insulting things that she has no idea were shitty and mean. i could at least respect her if she were *consciously* an asshole.

i think it's like when you are furious and hurt with a girlfriend/boyfriend and say, wounded and lashing out, "maybe we should just break up!" and s/he says, "now that you bring it up...."

this is not a part of me that i'm proud of, but i realize that i wanted her to be upset, or to at least give some faint signal that she realizes something valuable is being taken away from her. of course, if she could value me in the slightest, i wouldn't need to leave.

life is but a dream

2005-11-27T06:27:00.000-08:00

i just woke up from a dream in which i was told i have cancer and a month to live. was i pissed! "but i just got my books unpacked!", i whined.

i had to go around telling people. sometimes it was joyous, as when i quit my job. in the dream, i was back working at the wright, and my former boss started to dither (he was a very anxious guy) and try to plan the transition, and i said, "hello?! do you really think i care about *your* transition?"

heh.

telling jean was the hardest. a kaleidoscope of emotions on her face, but all she said was, "ah."

later in the dream we cracked each other up by listing the upside of the diagnosis.
me: "at least i won't have to wonder anymore what i'm going to die of."
jean: "at least it's not cancer. oh, wait."
me (convulsed with laughter): "at least now i know why i've been feeling so lousy."

i sure hope i'm not done doing whatever i'm here for, 'cause this party's just gettin' good.

we arrrrrrrrrrrrrre everywhere

2005-11-01T08:03:00.000-08:00

what first caught my eye was the fully rigged model schooner in the rear window. it was even flying a teeny jolly roger. then i noticed the license plate:
ARRHM8Y

in other news....

* jean is back from points east, huzzah! i feel like i've been sleeping with one eye open and functioning with half my cerebellum tied behind my back for the last six months.

* the move date is nov. 11 and thereafter i'll be in oakland. bye-bye berkeley! ::sob:: but on to new adventures in oaktown.

* starting in january, i'll be the research director for JFK's doctoral psychology program. w00t! i haven't given notice at my current job yet. it gets harder and harder to not say something In!Ap!Propriate! but i want to do this transition as gracefully as possible.

hate. haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate. hate.

2005-10-25T11:45:00.000-07:00

very frustrated today. even counting down the days fails to cheer me. i do not use this word often, and so know, faithful readers, that i mean it:

BITCH.

my boss was a complete bitch to my whole team this morning. she's probably anxious about a plane trip she's taking later today, but i? do not care.

the eclectic-ness of me

2005-10-16T20:30:00.000-07:00

"i am extraordinary if you'd ever get to know me
i am extraordinary
i am just your ordinary
average everyday sane psycho supergoddess"
hee. quoting martha stewart and now liz phair.

i kicked ass today. got a lot done. the house is coming together and that makes me happy.

so nice when results correspond to efforts (in both valence and proportion).

i broke martha stewart's rule today

2005-09-28T12:57:00.000-07:00

"Women in business don't cry, my dear."
i went in to tell my primary ally here that i am going to be leaving, and to my mortification, i started leaking tears.

i know i need to get out of here. i know i'm not doing a particularly good job. and... it's hard to give up the hopes and aspirations i had when i started this job. i can't help feeling like it's a failure on my part.

i wish i found it less draining to ward off the negativity that comes from my boss. i wish i had the kind of organizational skills that could be a beacon in this sea of bad leadership. i wish i wasn't taking a $23k cut in pay and benefits to accept this other job.

'least nobody's shootin' at me.

not with bullets, anyhow.

now see, there's your problem

2005-09-23T23:33:00.000-07:00

at least texas *had* a plan. unfortunately more than twice as many people as were expected to heed evacuation orders actually hit the road. i guess the plan counted on that whole macho ornery texan "you're not the boss of me" thing so plainly evident in our nitwit of a president.

from nytimes.com:

A spokesman for the State Transportation Department, Mike Cox, offered a different explanation for the preparations. No one could have predicted, Mr. Cox said, how many Texans would be so seriously frightened by Hurricane Katrina. "Not one of our 15,000 employees is a psychologist," he said.

fighting silliness

2005-09-21T22:28:00.000-07:00

with equal and opposite silliness.

it's an art.

oh bother

2005-09-16T12:17:00.000-07:00

just had a call from the new job possibility. they want to offer me a job, BUT... can't actually afford to start me fulltime until April. from their perspective it would be ideal if i could work halftime for them (which would be 2 days a week) starting ASAP and continuing until April.

which of course would not work for my current job at all.

::sigh::

on monday there will be a phone call where, finally, money is discussed. so we'll see. but i'm feeling a bit glum at the moment.

true dat

2005-09-15T20:05:00.000-07:00

i wonder if the person who wrote this caption did it on purpose.

i like to think so.

in case you're wondering

2005-09-15T19:59:00.000-07:00

the job interview went very well. they seemed to like me, and i liked them, and i think i'd really like the job. now, if it just pays a wage i can live on....

mini rant

2005-09-09T07:25:00.000-07:00

the worst thing so far about being in a cubicle is that i can't bitch without being overheard.

here's a thing that often frustrates me: i ask somebody who works for me a question, and i get only the most literal answer.

example:
Q: Do we have MS (mail stop) codes so that Sacramento people can send things through interoffice mail?
A: Not that I am aware of. If I hear anything new, will let you know.

okay, nobody is going to call us up and just happen to mention whether or not we have MS codes, so the chances of this person "hearing anything new" are zero. so fucking GO AND FIND OUT.

is it really that hard to take one tiny intuitive leap and think, huh, part of my job here is to facilitate work getting done, and probably this was not just an idle question on the part of my boss, and maybe i could get off my LAZY ASS and do some actual work.

but no. instead the burden is on me to specify exactly what action is needed, by when it should be taken, etc. it's not just one person, or one job classification, where this occurs -- it's endemic in the organization where i work. there are only a few people who show the faintest degree of initiative.

i hate this place. i want out.

the job thang

2005-09-06T22:56:00.000-07:00

had the phone interview today. will be interviewed by the whole faculty (!) and do a teaching sample (!!) for them on sept. 15th. so... the wheels are turning, slowly.

meanwhile i'm settling into my cube. as cubes go, it doesn't suck, 'specially not with my, um, modifications. it turns out that the big boss traded offices with someone and so he's directly across from me. he hasn't been in yet. hope he's down wit' my aesthetics, yo.

welcome to pirate's corner

2005-09-06T17:07:00.000-07:00

inflatable palm tree - check!
pink flamingos - check!
papa freud bobblehead doll - check!
squeaky laptop buddha - check!
picture of pirate jean - check!
giggling coworkers - check!

what, you expect me to *work*?
i thought being a good cubicle role model would be sufficient.
harumph.
er, i mean, yarrrrrrrrr.

the impossibl(-y accurate) dream

2005-09-02T14:01:00.000-07:00

just woke up from a nap, and a dream.

i was hanging out with a bunch of kids of different ages, not really babysitting but just hanging out with them. then water started rising in front of our house, and my sailboat broke loose from its moorings. i was trying to deal with that and i was kinda worried about the kids; i knew they were too young to help and i didn't want them in the way to maybe get hurt, so i told them to go play out back. i had to go in the house to get something but came running back out when i heard the sound of chain being dragged over asphalt.

i ran back outside to find my sailboat disappeared and the anchor chain leading around back. i followed the chain and saw all the kids on the boat trying to sail it down a flooded street. there wasn't enough water for them to be in any danger, but the boat was getting banged against parked cars and so forth.

i shouted after them to stop, to get out of the boat, but they were too far ahead to hear my voice. i started running after them and then they caught sight of me. they could see i was furious, and they scattered, leaving no one aboard and the boat now getting even more beat up, with no one at the helm.

my boat, my boat, my beautiful boat.

if i could save her at all, it was going to be terribly hard, and there was no one to help me try.

my heart was breaking, for the boat, for my friendship with the kids, for my aloneness.

a man with a kind, calm manner (papa winnicott, izzat you?) came up to me, assessed the situation, and asked, "how do you feel?" i said, "i'm so mad!" he said, "tell me in different words." i took a deep breath. "i don't trust them anymore. they are no longer welcome in my house. our friendship is over."

* * * * *

the people i work with are children. they don't *mean* any harm, but... they've been careless with my most precious possession. they've betrayed and hurt and disappointed me, been oblivious to my well-being, and left me alone to do something nearly impossible.

how is it that i keep finding my family, everywhere i go?

does transcendence lie in staying, or moving on?

the lava lounge is no more

2005-08-31T15:39:00.000-07:00

when i started my current job, my office was painted a vomitous yellowy-greeny-beige, and my furniture was odd castoffs. i'm leaving behind a glorious professionally-painted purple and lavender office with matching cherry (okay, cherry veneer, but whatEVer) furniture... and two chartreuse green klackbo™ chairs from ikea.

so. the cherry desk is going to surplus in sacramento. the cherry bookshelf is going to live with dr. crackcorn. the klackbos are off to their new digs with one of my coworkers. ::sob::

and i? am cubicle-bound. in a barbed-wire guard-gated high-security blah blah fishcakes compound. in hell. not really, just in the outskirts of richmond. or maybe i was right the first time.

ah well, impermanence is the way of things. if you forget, the universe reminds you.

the inflatable palm tree is on order. the action figures are massing at the border. and the pirate flag will be flying first thing tuesday.

it worked for the job, so...

2005-08-27T09:18:00.000-07:00

hey, universe?! i could really use a pickup truck to move a couple of things on wednesday.

i'm just sayin'.

doors seem to be opening

2005-08-25T07:56:00.000-07:00

had dinner with my friend ann from The Previous Place of Employment. she handed me a piece of paper when i got in the car. my previous Nemesis/Boss had asked her to give it to me. it was... < drumroll > a job announcement.

for my dream job. (well, one of 'em.)

it's for a research director of a doctoral psychology program at a passionately multi-culti school that makes my alma mater seem like bob jones university.

holee shit.

this is me, trying to remember to breathe.

not dead, just in sonoma

2005-08-11T13:36:00.000-07:00

i've gone up to sonoma for a long weekend with wendy et al. dunno if my cel phone will work up there or not. planning to be back on monday.

xoxoxoxoxo,
the pirate queen

word.

2005-08-10T08:23:00.000-07:00

"It's hard to think of another president who lived in such meta-insulation. His rigidly controlled environment allows no chance encounters with anyone who disagrees. He never has to defend himself to anyone, and that is cognitively injurious."

-- Maureen Dowd, NYT, 8/10/05

speaking truth to power is hard fucking work

2005-08-09T08:46:00.000-07:00

i'm often tempted to lie to my boss. she's so unreasonable, critical, unfair... but instead of responding to that nonsense with a big old "fuck you", sometimes i find myself still wanting to curry her favor and/or avoid her wrath, by lying about what i have and haven't done, do or don't understand, will or won't accept. and it takes a tremendous effort to *not* give in to that impulse to please, no matter the cost to my self or my soul.

no wonder i'm so tired when i get home at night.

i'd just like to point out

2005-08-04T21:44:00.000-07:00

that nobody is shooting at me.

that no babies died because i had to go to 7 places and stand in 23 lines and get called ma'am 96 times.

that i am part of a two-car family and enjoy a mortifyingly luxurious standard of living relative to the other 6.4 billion people on this planet.

that i am a southerner, and know full well that what does not kill us, makes fer a good story.

that the late summer evening light in northern california is unspeakably beautiful.

i do enjoy a good kvetch, however.

a woeful tale. of woe. but with the requisite happy ending.

2005-08-04T18:05:00.000-07:00

i got a “courtesy call” around 4pm on wednesday, from the san francisco police, saying that jean’s car had been recovered and was in san francisco. the officer cheerfully explained to me that i would need to go to oakland pd and get “a police release”, bring it to the sfpd to get *their* release, pay the accumulated towing and storage charges, and then i could take the car home. it was listed as “driveable” but there was no other information available.

so then. i went to oakland pd last night. "oh, yes ma'am, we're here 24/7." but the office that gives out the release forms is only open 8-5.

k. went back this morning. waited in line for an hour to get the release form. the mood in that office? was not pleasant. imagine the dmv vibe… squared. everyone in line was there because their car had (a) been stolen or (b) been towed after an accident or (c) been parked stupidly or (d) accumulated so many parking tickets it got booted and then towed. the people behind the bulletproof glass? deal with the people in line all day, every day.

no, i’m not the registered owner, power-of-attorney, blah blah blah. w00t! now i’m clutching the magic release form and i need to get over to sf. i drive back to berkeley, bart to the city, wander around lost for a while, finally get oriented, hail a cab and ask to be taken to the sfpd on bryant street.

i wait in a looooong line to go through the metal detector. the guy in front of me has roughly $87 in change in his pockets, and it takes him a good ten minutes to dig it all out and finally, successfully pass through without setting off the brain-piercing shriek of the metal detector. then it takes him a while to scoop it all back up and redistribute it among his many, um… garments. whaddya do when you got no closets? wear everything you own simultaneously. it’s an elegant, if odiferous, solution.

wait in another line, slip my license and magic form thru a tiny slot in the bulletproof, SOUNDproof glass. (you have to talk to them on the phone, just like in prison, whee!) a uniformed cop takes my stuff and walks away, and then i never see him again. seriously. people behind me in line are grumbling and shifting from foot to foot. “where he at?” asks the guy behind me. “like i know?” i snarl. my southern charm is quite tarnished by now.

i don’t realize that i’m not even halfway through the process.

i manage to attract the attention of someone else behind the glass, and she says, “he’s still on the computer!” i swallow a remark about how i could have *built* a fucking computer in the time that has elapsed. i never do see that guy again. instead a different guy brings me a new piece of paper and gives me my license back and barks “room 145, downthehallontheright.”

“down the hall” turns out to be about a city block away. quelle surprise: another line!

i get to the head of the line eventually. is it still thursday? the chatty, friendly, clearly-on-excellent-drugs clerk behind this bit of bulletproof glass – let’s call her cathy -- says, “oh, don’t you want to try and get a waiver?” “waiver?” “yes, you can go back to where they gave you this paper and see if you’re eligible for a waiver. then you wouldn’t have to pay the towing fee.”

welp. i figure i can stand in line some more to save $250. trudge, trudge, trudge. get to the head of that line again: “oh, the waivers are handled in room 154.” “where’s room 154”? “right outside room 145.”

of course it is.

trudge, trudge, trudge. only one person in front of me in line!!! <hallelujah chorus>

“you’re the registered owner?” power of attorney yadda yadda yadda. “let me ask my supervisor.” supervisor comes out. Power. Of. Attorney. head-scratching ensues. finally the supervisor brightens, and says relievedly, “oh, you don’t qualify anyway!” “whyever not?” says i. “because the car was stolen in oakland. waivers are for cars that were stolen in san francisco.”

</hallelujah chorus>

“but it’s san francisco that is charging me for the recovery.” “yes ma’am.” “do you suppose i could get a waiver from the oakland pd?” “i wouldn’t think so, ma’am, since the car is here in san francisco.”

oooooooookay.

i go back and get in the room 145 line again. the guy in front of me is flirting with my pal, chatty cathy. i focus on the soothing sound of my teeth grinding together. finally it is my turn. C.C. is oh-so-sympathetic as she takes my credit card and rings me up. then she hands me a map and says, “do you know where Pier 70 is?”

i’m visualizing decks awash with blood. i don’t know what expression was on my face but i swear she took a half step back behind her habitrail counter. “do you have a ride there?” she asks. i shake my head silently. “let me get you a cab voucher!” she squeaks, and scurries off into the back office.

she presents the cab voucher to me with a flourish, and tells me where i need to go to wait: “stand right outside this emergency exit, you see? the one that doesn’t open?” “um. it doesn’t open?” “no, you’ll have to go back out the way you came in.”

‘least i don’t have to go through the metal detector again.

trudge trudge trudge trudge trudge trudge. wait wait wait. sweat sweat sweat.

cab driver speaks minimal english, does not know where pier 70 is. i hand him the little map and say, “figure it out, dude.” honestly, if you’re going to take people places for a living, fucking buy a map. and by the way, if you’re going to work in america, fucking learn to speak american. at the very least, print up little business cards of apology.

eventually we get to what he insists is pier 70 but there are no signs, so i make him drive around for a while until i glimpse a teeny, tiny “auto impound” sign. he decants me and i recognize many of my dear friends from the day’s earlier queues. the impound lot is huge and i don’t see babe. my heart’s in my throat. is this how galahad felt when he got near the grail?

*gasp* there she is!

she’s towed over to where i’m standing. no new dents or dings. there’s a ticket under the wiper.

huzzah, the fairy made it, though the wings are a bit crumpled. everything on the dash was swept aside and flung into the back seat. the cassettes are still in the console, can’t tell if any are missing but i doubt it, given the likely demographics of the thieves. there’s a half-empty bag of salsa verde doritos, an empty smirnoff ice bottle, some other trash. was it two people, or one binge eater?

jean’s hat is on the floor of the passenger side, and the floor of the driver’s side is a bit of coat hanger with a loop on either end.

all the bumper stickers have been peeled off; i find them in a wad in the trunk. the trunk’s a mess but the contents more or less match what i remember being in there. the first aid kit has been rifled.

i forgot to ask about whether there’s going to be any sort of investigation. i call sfpd which is now on my speed dial. the guy who takes my call says, incredulously, “investigation!?” i say, “yeah, whoever it was left stuff in the car, he probably left fingerprints too.” “fingerprints!? no no no, we don’t fingerprint the cars, ma’am.”

i hang up. at least he didn’t laugh out loud.

there’s about a tablespoon of gas in the tank, according to the gauge. where the fuck am i. dogpatch? we limp to a nearby shell station. i clean out the trash, obtain gas and wildly inaccurate directions. 45 minutes later i finally figure out how to get on the bay bridge. me and babe, we’re headed home to the suburbs, where we belong.

with what shall I wash?

2005-06-20T16:46:00.000-07:00

my favorite thing at frameline so far:

¿Con qué la lavaré?
María Trenor
2003, 11 min
Daybreak in the red-light district of a Spanish town. Someone who earns a living on the streets makes the trek home, sits down, and begins removing make-up. This is a celluloid tribute to the transvestite artists of the late 1970s, just after Franco’s dictatorship. María was born in Valencia (Spain) in 1970 and this is her first film. There's no dialogue, just this haunting 16th century song:

¿Con qué la lavaré la flor de la mi cara?
¿Con qué la lavaré que vivo mal penada?
Lavo me yo cuitada con ansias y dolores.
¿Con qué la lavaré que vivo mal penada?
Lavan le las casadas con agua de limones.

With what shall I wash the flower of my face?
With what shall I wash away my sorrow?
I wash myself to take away the anguish and sadness.
With what shall I wash away my sorrow?
Married women wash with lemon water.

another gorgeous frameline short

2005-06-20T16:44:00.000-07:00

John and Michael (2004, 10 mins)
The story of a relationship between two men with Down's Syndrome.

"It's a bit like having to do 10,000 oil paintings for 10 minutes of film. I never thought I'd have the patience for something like that." That's how Shira Avni describes working with the medium she's chosen for her current film, John and Michael, in which clay is spread thinly on Plexiglas and lit from behind.

Working on a light table, Avni shapes the clay onto the glass to create her scene, takes a shot with the camera, paints the scene again with a slight change and then takes the next shot. There's no going back. The results are, as she describes it, "stained glass in motion."

shut up, kaiser

2005-06-20T15:59:00.000-07:00

one of my favorite internet people is sarah bunting, aka sars, who is a founding mother of TWoP. i loves me some sars, and here's one reason why: cirque du shut up.

had another go-round with fucking kaiser today. after waiting two years for my eyeglasses benefits to come available again (and it's not two calendar years, mind you, it's two years from when you *use* them), i learned today that if you don't use the whole amount, you simply lose that benefit. so my contact lenses cost $100 of the $175 benefit, and since i did not need anything else today, i just lose the other $75. and, no more benefit until june 20, 2007.

shut up, kaiser.

using my powers only for good

2005-06-04T16:01:00.000-07:00

i have jean's power of attorney while she is travelling, so that i can do things like dispense money to contractors and repairpersons. this week, one such repairperson presented himself at jean's bank to cash a check drawn on her account. "oh no" said the bank manager, "we must protect our valued customer, ms. sirius, by speaking with her to verify that this check is valid." "she's not available", says i. "but we must speak to her", says he.

we continued in this fashion for a while. eventually it became evident that i would have to go to the bank and smack them with a rolled-up power of attorney to make those checks cashable by the hapless repairdude.

what. ever.

it took two trips and about an hour and a half of faxing and explaining and presenting identification at the bank, but eventually i was electronically designated as having POA over jean's checking account (bwahahahaha, world domination can't be far) and then...

the bank lady prints out a form, highlights it in two places, and says brightly, "so, just have jean sign here, and here, and then you're all set."

uh huh. i grind another millimeter of enamel off my teeth, and say quietly, "jean. is. not. available."

the bank lady looks defeated. i slump in my chair, thinking many bad words which only my southern upbringing prevents me from saying out loud.

then it hits me like a thunderclap. i sit up, smile beatifically, brandish the POA one more time, and say, "this of course gives me the authority to sign legal documents for jean" and i sign jean's name in two places, and then sign my own name in the final place, and for a long moment the bank lady looks at me wide-eyed.

and then she smiles, a broad and generous smile of shared delight at the cleverness of that solution, and she takes the little piece of paper and puts it in her file and says "have a nice day, ms. carroll."

it's dark in here

2005-06-01T08:15:00.000-07:00

the glorious dr. spot spent monday night elsewhere. i spent monday night mostly sleepless, trying to corral my catastrophizing thoughts. catastrophe, from the greek, meaning to overturn, ruin, or undo.

turns out the furry little darling had gotten locked into my neighbor's basement. again. there must be something powerfully enticing in there, is all i can say. but of course even those of us with brains bigger than a walnut get locked into familiar basements.... like expecting the worst.

::sigh:: oh my dears, our silence will not protect us. and neither will our paranoia.

.

kids today

2005-05-24T18:47:00.000-07:00

...and their wacky names:
"Marilyn Manson's fiancee Dita Von Teese split from her former love Peter Sarsgaard after she found out he was having an affair with supermodel Shalom Harlow."

meanwhile, in the Equal Opportunity Idiocy category:
"Paris was chosen to star in the ad because she is an intriguing cultural icon and the 'it girl' of the moment. She fascinates Carl's Jr.'s most loyal customers, 'young, hungry guys,' as well as 'young, hungry gals.'"

am i deluding myself when i imagine that i can be in popular culture without being of popular culture? ("buh-buh-but i read TWoP religiously.... it's all Ironic, don't you see?")

one more, then it's bedtime

2005-05-19T23:10:00.000-07:00

if this doesn't make you laugh, seek professional help immediately.

but not from me. i gots my own problems.

a swell epitaph

2005-05-19T22:41:00.000-07:00

"He was a rigorous scientist, but he had a real open mind," ____ said. "He liked to learn stuff.''

"lesbians to the rescue"

2005-05-19T22:23:00.000-07:00

two things that have made me smile in an otherwise suckalicious month:

http://www.picturesofwalls.com/

http://www.storewars.org/flash/

help me, obi-wan cannoli: you're my only hope.

finda the pope inna the pizza

2005-04-20T11:37:00.000-07:00

well, he's 78. maybe he'll die before he can do too much damage. i have to say that i don't get the logic in forbidding condoms when the direct result is that potential followers DIE. but then, the logic of organized religion in general kinda escapes me.

did you know that the word "catholic" means "universal"?

i are a grownup

2005-04-19T10:01:00.000-07:00

when i was a kid, i thought being a grownup would be a Good Thing, 'cause then i would be the subject instead of the object. but it turns out that being a grownup also means that there's nobody mediating between you and the rest of the world. my parents always stood between me and the world, and i perceived this as obstruction rather than protection. but ever since i've been out here, naked, i see that it was always both.

i feel sad and angry and lonely today. yesterday i picked a fight with one of the nicest people at work. today i had to go and talk with her and apologize, which in a way was really easy to do, because i am sincerely sorry. mortified, even. i knew yesterday that i was being a jerk, but i just couldn't seem to interrupt the escalation from peevish to complete asshole. so, today i made amends.

i'm grateful that i know how to make amends. i'm grateful that i can tell when amends are called for. i'm grateful for people in my life who have taught me those things.

the paris pair

2005-04-18T08:34:00.000-07:00

got a phonecall from jean yesterday -- they arrived safely, slept for 14 hours, and are in fine form. anne casey can't stop smiling and is thus somewhat terrifying to the natives. dunno when they'll have internet access as j is understandably reluctant to plug the computer into the outlet that went snap crackle pop and melted part of the surge protector. a visit to the paris apple store is planned for the near future. i'm trying to visualize the combination of apple coolth and french chic; perhaps everything is black instead of white.

a shock to the system

2005-04-16T09:00:00.000-07:00

welp. i put jean and the fabulous anne casey on BART at high noon yesterday. they were beautiful in their delight and excitement: two of the finest people i've ever met. jean, who was slightly out of her mind with fatigue, couldn't stop grinning, and kept mumbling, "omigod, anne, we're totally going to france."

it fills some hollow place in me to see my loved ones happy. imagine water trickling in and filling an underground cavern: lovely, quiet, and a bit echo-y.

unknowable things

2005-04-10T19:17:00.000-07:00

i stumbled across the blog of someone i really admire, and it got me to thinking about fame. it must be really weird to be famous, the sort of famous where you have fans, fan being short for "fanatic", since lordess knows, fanaticism doesn't usually turn out that well. ("Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!")

but there you are, the lights or the cameras in your face, and somewhere out past where you can see, evidently there are a bunch of people whose emotions you are, all unwitting, poking with a sharp stick. you don't know how your words or actions are gonna fall on their ears.

a friend of mine once dated peter buck from R.E.M. back in their mumbly jangly beginning days. she was hanging out with the band a lot, and i asked her to ask michael stipe for me, 'doesn't it bother to think that your lyrics often can't be heard or understood through the music?' he looked at her, puzzled, and said, 'why would i care about that?'

huh. so, like, artists make art for themselves, not necessarily to communicate with other people? that had not occurred to me. thank you, michael.

in fact, we're all famous: every day we are walk-ons, extras in other peoples' movies. and we just never know how our performance is going to be received. that kind or cruel off-handed remark, letting that old lady in the big caddy cut in front of you with a friendly wave 'stead of a scowl, smiling at a certain toddler, thanking the toll-booth operator, blogging your own wacky version of What Is True.... ripples, baby. we're all making ripples, all the time.

i'm doing that thing again

2005-04-02T06:28:00.000-08:00

...where i notice that even when i'm lying in bed, i'm holding myself up off the surface, muscles tight, shoulders high. poised to spring? to flee? to fall?

it's as if i expect the bed's not going to hold me up. as if, as one of my clients might say, "gravity might turn off. just because it didn't do that yesterday...."

i do this on the massage table, too.

i'm doing it right this minute.

for the 30 seconds it takes me to systematically, deliberately relax each part of my body, i sink into the mattress. as soon as my thoughts turn to something else -- vrrrrrrrrrrp! i'm reminded of the b kliban cartoon illustrating the Anti-Jump Muscles; one panel shows a business-suited man standing still, and is captioned "Flexed"; the other panel shows the guy leaping into the air with arms akimbo, and is captioned "Relaxed."

gods, i loved kliban. i couldn't find a copy of the anti-jump muscles cartoon, but this is along the same lines.

stop me before i hyperlink again

2005-03-31T00:53:00.000-08:00

i should be long since asleep. dr. crackcorn will be here at o-dark-thirty and i am surfing aimlessly, tired and wired. been playing with wordcount for a while.

they say: "WordCount™ is an artistic experiment in the way we use language. It presents the 86,800 most frequently used English words, ranked in order of commonness."

i™ say: it has a mesmerizing interface and i've been goofing around with it for nearly an hour. there are some fascinating juxtapositions.

partnership inquiry sarah camp parallel residents ruling pack.

schema pirate militants.

thanks, dear jean, for pointing out another internet meme.

oh, and everybody, go look at jean's gorgeous work and poke around on her website. she's about to take her feet to paris, london, and dublin for half a year.

next, and next, and next

2005-03-24T12:16:00.000-08:00

i like the "next blog" button. it took me all kinds of interesting places this morning, to disaffected loners, to thoughtful xians, to a farmer, to a lady chemistry teacher, to someone worried about his friends "corporal tunnel" problems.

travelling via hypertext feels completely natural. finally a bit of true reflection from the world outside my head. y'all *are* outside my head... aren't you?

virgin no more

2005-03-23T19:27:00.000-08:00

this is me, slinking into the blogosphere at last. for a long time i just couldn't find a blog name that suited me.

<whine> "all the good names are taaaaaaaken" </whine>

then, brainstorm: dur, look for a *leet* name.

ha. i am so smart. s-m-r-t.

must be the company i keep.