And in one glorious moment

I realized that we are not alone.


*weeps tears of joy, tears of gratitude and understanding*

In others news Amy and I had the privilege of sitting in season ticket holder's seats today at Gillette Stadium. We sat behind the visiting team, the Dolphins, giving us an incredibly clear view of Tom Brady in all his beauty and glory across the field. My 300mm zoom was particularly useful when he....ahem....bent over to talk to the players on the bench.

The great thing about the game was, first and foremost, the fact that the Pats won. Offense wasn't shining brightly, but the defense made some really great plays and one of my favorite guys Asante Samuel (I like that his name is "thank you" in swahili!!) had two interceptions that were clutch, and I was glad to see him playing and playing well today.

Our two other highlights were:

One. The drunken man in front of us that provided a running commentary during the game. No, he didn't really comment on the plays, though he enthusiastically gave the first down hand signal at every Patriots first down. He commented on the cheerleaders. Everytime they moved he'd hold up his binoculars and go "ohhhh yeahhhh baby the CHEERLEADERS, yeaaaahhhhhhhh." This was followed by incredibly lecherous laughter. I admit, being a women's college grad and *slightly* feminist (ha ha) the cheerleaders make me CACKLE, though I will say that I went to high school with a girl who graduated top of the class and went to Brown and supported her pre-med education by cheerleading, so I know some of those girls are smart. Oh, and they are entertaining as hell in their go-go boots, shaking their breastacles all over the field.

Two. During our pilgrimage back to the South Shore, a car from New Hampshire cut us off. My sister and I started our respective road rage diatribe, filled with lots of f*cking's and d*cksmacks. I don't swear a ton, but ask anyone, when I drive, I swear. Kind of a lot. Kind of to the point where I worry about the day when I'll have kids in the car with me and someone cuts me off. So yes, we started swearing and ranking on New Hampshire and talking about how they say people in Massachusetts are horrible and rude drivers but really it's New Hampshire that sucks at driving, etc. Just as we stop swearing and accept the fact that yes, we've been cut off, the right rear passenger door opens. Amy says "what the...." and before she can finish, a head pops out and the guy starts vomiting. Profusely. At one point he actually looks like he's gonna pass out, the guy looks weak and his arm is hanging out of the door. I had visions of his arm catching the pavement and dragging his limp, vomit-covered body out of the car and then me hitting him, leaving vomit-infused tire treads on his white t-shirt. Luckily he came to, probably because he had to vomit again. The other passengers in the car were raising their fist triumphantly out of the car windows, probably because the guy didn't barf on the upholstery. At first my sister and I pretended to be prudish and disgusted and horrified by the man's barfing olympics, but as he continued to open and shut the door to throw up, Amy and I started to laugh. Then Amy says "ok. that looks like hamburger, cooked hamburger." I start to laugh, then I say "yeah I know, did you see how it rolled down the highway onramp as we were driving along." Amy is red and teary-eyed and says "yeah it totally BOUNCED." Soon enough in true Amy and Allison fashion, we were clutching our stomachs and crying with laughter. Another adventure for the girls.

Well it's Sunday and my life is so exciting, I have to go and watch "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" and eat the steak dinner my mom cooked. Hells yeah, I live with my momma, how else could I afford $18,000 grand a year for grad school?

Coming soon: Kenya post, wedding post, lotsa posts, maybe an Allee Effect post. Don't know what that is? Me neither, but I need to know it and graph it by Wednesday. THE END!

Beta, New Blog, a cider

I have migrated to beta, and it's quite lovely!

Also, I've created a new blog. It posts African news bits but it was made in honor of my Kenyan friend Mboya Musau. You can read about him here.

Aaaand
Starbucks Cup #106, a grande hot no-whip caramel apple cider, from the Beth Israel Starbucks

The Way I See It #106

I am often asked the question:
"Where does your inspiration come
from?" While there are many
physical spaces that inspire, like
museums and galleries, for me
inspiration is more a way of seeing
and less about what I'm seeing. An
open, nonjudgemental mind is the
best tool for brewing creativity.

--Todd Oldham
Designer and author of Handmade
Modern.

I admit it, I do have a tendency to scoff at Starbucks cups. I share them because I think they're interesting, but sometimes after I type them into this blog, I laugh and say "how ridiculously idealistic" "how insane" "how impractical" or "WHO ASKED YOUR OPINION??!?!!!" Today I say "How true, and how wonderful it would be if more people took this to heart."

Secondly, I have a brief rage to type out. Ok it's not a rage, more of a response to the Metro, which there's no point in sending now because by Monday the issue will be dead.

The Metro recently reported that the MBTA is giving out $2 Dunkin' Donuts gift cards to people they see being polite, like giving up their seats to an elderly or pregnant rider.

I didn't think much of it until the next day there was outrage all over the editorial columns. One person said "what are we, a bunch of 5 year olds? how offensive can the MBTA get?" Another woman said "maybe if the T didn't have such deplorable service, we'd all be more polite to each other. gift cards are stupid and offensive and they aren't going to make a difference." Today a woman wrote in saying that she's 8 months pregnant, and as her pregnancy progresses she finds the lack of manners on the mbta more and more appalling. I couldn't agree more and liked this bit the best:

"Pushing and shoving an obviously pregnant woman to enter and exit the train - and men so intent on reading the sports pages or listening to their iPods and "pretending" to be fast asleep in their seats as they see me board the train -- is utterly deplorable behavior.....................I have become so indignant during my commutes that I have actually resorted on accasion to asking the closest man sitting if they would be a gentleman and please let me sit. Having to ask a man to be a gentleman? Pathetic and embarrassing. Who married these men, and who raised them to act like animals.......I can honestly say that on the rare occasion that a seat is offered to me, it is almost always by a woman. Hopefully our generation will raise our sons and daughters with trhe manners and basic human skills that are so lacking today."

She has summed it up in her letter. What I find deplorable is not the T's service, but the fact that manners have sunk to such an all-time low they are compelled to reward people for good behavior. What a sad reflection on our society. What's more juvenile than giving out reward cards for good behavior is the thought that an improvement of the T's "deplorable" service, would improve manners! Who is that lady (who said that in the Metro on Tuesday) kidding? You could send us to work every moring in an Amtrak Acela with in-train hostesses and a free brunch and people would still act like animals! It's sad that what should be thought of as common courtesy is now rewarded because it is such a rare thing. I admit, sometimes I fall asleep on the train so deeply that I'm totally unaware of my surroundings, especially since starting grad school, when I find my self drained. I did this once and woke up to find a pregnant woman right in front of me. I had been SLEEPING, but when I looked at my seatmates, they were awake and staring at her belly. I could not believe it. This poor woman was looking miserably out the window when I reached over and tapped her hand. I said "would you like to sit?'" She looked me up and down and said "Are you sure?" (heh, maybe I looked extra bad that day) I said "Are you kidding? SIT!" She reluctantly nodded, sat down heavily and looked at me and said "thanks" with a sigh of relief. I then glared at everyone else in that row. Of course they didn't respond, but I really hope they felt bad all day.

Seriously, we live in a civilized world - how about we act like it? Would it hurt anyone? Probably not. I look at it this way- Karma is a boomerang, baby, you really want to mess with that? Give up your seat. Stand. Be grateful you have legs that work, that you're not carrying an 8 lb parasitic fetus in your belly (said with love), that you have your vision, that you're still young enough to stand on the train. And for God sakes, TAKE YOUR TRASH!

Queen of Cups

I'm working on a Kenyan memory post but it's lagging due to my genetics exam studying, so here are two cups for you:

Monday's cup, a grande no fat vanilla latte from the Beth Israel Deaconess Starbucks (yes I am their whore)

The way I See It #185

A valuable lesson I've learned from

making music is to never let

anyone intimidate me. Every

student, celebrity, CEO and math

teacher in the world has

experienced love, loneliness, fear

and embarrassment at some point.

To understand this is to level an

often very lopsided playing field.

--Anna Nalick

Singer-songwriter

Wednesday's cup, a grande no-whip caramel apple cider, so good it's like the second coming...

The way I See It #109

What you do to others your really

do to yourself. So when you do

good to others, you're doing good

to yourself. Alternatively, when

you do bad to others, you're doing

bad to yourself. So in thinking of

others, think of yourself, for to love

and do right by others is to love

and do right to your own self.

While Starbucks gives Musician Leela James credit for the above, I do believe this is written in, um, I dunno, THE BIBLE!
Oh well. :P

Kenyan Memory

One day it was announced that we were going far out on Kuku Game Ranch to visit some people in a small boma. We were going to bring them gifts and the women there were going to teach us how to bead the Maasai way.

Though Kuku was the adjacent group ranch (we were on Kimana) there was no easy way to get there. You had to trek to Kimana, a three mile drive on terrible roads, then off-road until you got to the edge of the electric fence. Once you crossed over the border into Kuku, you kind of drove aimlessly for an hour. There weren't really car tracks, because no one has a car out there, and the only visitors who go out there have to know the way without a road to guide them. It's so dusty that your car is instantly filled with red cattle and game dung-smelling dust, and it's pointless to close the windows in the land cruiser because they don't close all the way and the dust permeates every crevice of the vehicle. Sometimes on the way to Kuku, we'd just ride with our eyes shut and noses covered with t-shirts or bandanas, which was hard for us because there was always something to see out the window, cattle, maybe a giraffe or two, a kori bustard, or maybe some herdboys with their goats or a Maasai man on his bicycle riding with his staff in hand. Sometimes we would drive for what seemed like miles, but was probably ony 1 or 2, and not see a soul, and then on an outcropping we'd see Maasai men walking their property, or boxes strung in the branches of a tree for collecting honey, or a child walking home from school.

I had been out to Kuku before this occasion, but it was for research. We had done an intense yet fruitful bird survey through there. I remember that day vividly, better than I remember most days in Africa. hen we arrived on Kuku, we saw some great wood hoopoes, then identified an unusual vagrant cuckoo. We trekked through a marsh with fresh hippo tracks, and Kristy and I clung to each other with ecstatic fear, listening to hippos calling each other through the reeds the whole time we walked across the swamp, fitting our hiking boots in each hippo footprint to compare the sizes of our feet. I also remember identifying one of those "african lbj" birds (little brown job). These birds are incredibly hard to identify without extensive study, but luckily we found one that had some unusual behavior characteristic, and after an intent search in my field guide, I found the small thrush making all the racket in the swamp. My teacher was so elated I remember him clapping me on the back, hard. Usually an extremely reserved man, I recall soaking up his praise. Later in the afternoon, we climed a tree overlooking a tributary of a larger river and watched hippo babies wallowing alongside their mothers.

We returned to Kuku not to survey the wildlife, but to learn things from the Maasai mamas living out in the bush. We planned to haul some water for them, beading, and talking about life in the boma. We knew that we were heading to a boma that was fairly poor, so we planned to trade goods for our education. We went into Oloitokitok on market day and bought huge plastic tubs in an assortment of bright colors. We filled them with flour, sugar, rice, beans, cocoa, cornmeal, tea, beads, thread and other staples. The tubs themselves were huge assets and could be used for everything from hauling water to bathing babies, feeding livestock, cooking and storing food. We hoped the staples would last the families a bit too. I remember that I had to contribute less than 500 KSh to buy the supplies, less than $6.00. I was always amazed how far my money would go in Kenya, and how little the Kenyans had to spend on groceries while I didn't think twice about spending a couple hundred shillings on some tea or cookies.

The trek to Kuku was long and dusty, and since we were going to a remote location, we had to drive past our old bird survey site and past some of the more local settlements we had visited before. When we finally arrived at the boma, women and children made the long trek out to the car. We were in the middle of nowhere. There's a part in one of my favorite movies, A Town Like Alice, where Jean Paget arrives in Willstown, Australia and realizes she is nowhere, nowhere, nowhere. In the movie, the camera pans out with each beat of the music to emphasize the nothingness. That's exactly how I felt. Nothing. Nothing. Nowhere.

That's probably why visitors were welcomed, especially ones bearing gifts as we were, and looking back I am guessing the gifts weren't welcome because the people were destitute or starving or anything severe and extreme like that, but because it was such a damn nuisance to get supplies that this saved a lot of women a long, dusty walk. The beads we had purchased were put to use immediately as the Masai mammas tried to teach us how to bead. Little kids and babies wandered around the boma. The kids did sweet things, like walk up to you shyly and touch your face. The mammas laughed at those who were not crafty and had trouble beading. My mamma loved me because I could bead, and while she could not speak english, she would pat me on the back, a smile cracking her wrinkled face. I wondered how old she was. Sometimes it was hard to discern who was 50 and who was 100.

We hauled water later. We had to walk up a hill to a tap, and then carry a five gallon bucked strapped to our head with a piece of leather. It was heavy and hurt my neck. Again there was much laughter as we stumbled and spilled our way down the hill. I hoped we had saved the women some time and effort, but I doubt we were anywhere near as efficient as the Masai ladies. At the end of the day, we bought their beadwork, though a fight started when I didn't have any change, but we worked it out in the end through an interpreter.

One day I was telling someone, who had traveled with indigenous tribes in Guyana, about my experiences in Kenya. He waved me off "Africa," he said "is so tourist-oriented. Everything is manicured and artificial and choreographed, every dance, every costume. The authenticity is totally gone." This irritated me immensely. In addition to being mostly untrue (of course there are 'tourist traps' as there should be) why would you invalidate my experience before I even had a chance to explain it? There was nothing inauthentic about this settlement - no one did dances or sang songs or had on "costumes."

I think about that boma often. I can't believe it's been seven years since I visited there (I am finishing this post in 2010, after it lay dormant for years). I wonder about those kids toddling around. Are they big? Did they survive to adolescence? Is the boma even still there? How I wish I could go back and visit...but I know I'd never find it again.

Order! There will be order in this courtroom!

Starting grad school has seriously eliminated any sort of logical order from my day. Hell it's starting to even make my life unordered!

I get up at 5:20am and inevitably hit the snooze on my phone. When I 'm lucky, the my cell phone, which I use as an alarm clock because yes, the alarm clock just doesn't wake me up anymore and it's prolonged beeping causes extreme rage in my father, falls between the bed and the wall where I can't reach it. It goes through a ring cycle and for a split second pauses, so you think "yes, I shall go back to sleep now', but starts right back up again, and repeats itself, to infinity I think. I'm not sure because on those mornings I haul my ass up and fetch the phone, and once you've squished your arm to your shoulder and your boobies between the headboard of your bed and the wall, you may as well get up already! Those are the days I'm fairly on schedule.

Most days, I get up at 5:20 and hit the snooze. Gary LaPierre on WBZNEWSRADIOTENTHIRTY tries to wake me up, but usually he doesn't. It's usually Bob Larson and his traffic report, or perhaps Joe Morgan in the BZ 'copter. If traffic is f*cked, I guarantee you I will get up. But if I hear "well it's not looking too bad yet" I will sleep for another 20 minutes. Sometimes, especially recently, my body, hungry for sleep, falls into another REM cycle where I have weird and vivid dreams which cause me to sleep til 6:40. This is especially bad, because I am supposed to be at work around 7ish. On those mornings I literally scream "oh sh8t" at the clock. In my mental fog I calculate the last time I took a shower. Yesterday? All clear, get dressed! Two days ago? Well.....how bad does your hair look? Three days? Ok that's effing nasty, BATHE! I do have the sense to lay out and outfit the night before, usually with underwear if I need a thong or something, so I jump into close, run like a whirlwind to the second floor. I throw on minimal makeup and some moisturizer, brush my teeth while I run down cellar to get a yogurt, spit, rinse, run to the fridge, throw some fruit on the counter, look through the cabinets for something carbolicious and then out the door to sit in traffic for any time ranging from 20 minutes to 90 minutes depending.

On Mondays and Wednesdays I work close to a full day. I then jump on a bus, a train, and then another bus to get to school. That takes an hour minimum, usually an hour and change. I then go to class for an hour and 15 minutes, then take a bus to the train and go home and collapse.
Tuesdays and Thursdays it's the same deal, only if I am being a deliquent employee, I go back to work. Ugh.

Why am I writing this?

Because once upon a time (aka 3 weeks ago when I wasn't in grad school) I felt in CONTROL. Now I've lost it.
And this is my vow to get it back, dammit.

I'm going to come up with a schedule. A schedule that lets me go to the gym, I really miss exercise. I'm going to come up with a grocery list of food for lunch, so I don't have to plow through the fridge every morning, or worse, like today, go to Starbucks for breakfast (ok that wasn't too bad, but it cost me 6 bucks!) and the cafeteria for lunch where I inevitably get something wretched like I did today: hotdog, fries, mac and cheese. Give me a heart attack please! As far as getting dressed in the morning, I'm actually working on that, switching seasonal clothes from storage and all is hanging me up, it's not quite time yet, but I'll handle that. I'd also like to come up with some sort of project calendar. That'd be great. I love having a craft project going, but I don't even know what I have, what I've started, and what I need to do for gifts. I need to organize that and work on my scrapbook.

Whew, it seems I have a full plate, but for the first time in 3 weeks, I actually feel like I can kick some ass! IT's a good feeling, especially after being down so long about stress and school and everything. I can totally handle it.
Does it suck?
YES!
Can I deal?
YES!
Can I be badass?Enjoy Grey's Anatomy. Cause it's on tomorrow, and it's HAWT. The End.
Hells yes, bitches.

Apolitical

Ok, so I try to keep this blog pretty a-political. This is for a couple reasons:

1. usually politics isn't something I loooove discussing. Unless it's the politics of reality TV such as Project Runway or America's Next Top Model (I know, soooo bad)

2. I try to see both sides of the coin and this gets people mad sometimes because they just want me to hate George Bush/Al Gore/Donald Trump/Gloria Steinem (hahhah not really, who doesn't love that fantastic biatch?!) or whomever, and though I may not like these people, I don't necessarily hate them because in general I try not to judge people whose jobs I would hate so much I'd've jumped out of a 9th story window a long time ago (any politician or business person basically, mad love to those who can do it though).

3. you can look at so many other blogs for political shit.

that being said

I OFFICIALLY JUMP ON THE "ANN COULTER IS A DUMB F*CKING TW*T BANDWAGON"

I've avoided it for a long time. I've read a few of her articles which I found extremely right-wing but laughable. She wrote it about how the NYTimes had become so leftist liberal it should be blown up. Definitely not cool, but I was like 'whatev, let her have her little rant, we all can't be liberals' When she came to Smith, there was protest and outrage, but I ignored it. I didn't go see her cause I wasn't interested, but I actually thought it was kind of cool to have an ultra-conservative on a liberal campus. It's America, it's freedom baby!

THEN. TODAY. I went to amazon.com to look up a book that a recent Tufts grad wrote. It sounds really fabulous. I will probably buy it, actually. Then out of boredom and the need to find a new book to read (even though I am rereading the fabulous Isabel Allende's "Daughter of Fortune") I clicked on the New York Times bestseller list. Fiction looked crappy, so I cruised down to the non-fiction section, since book club has really turned me on to non-fiction. So I see Ann Coulter's "Godless: The Church of Liberalism" and decide to read a little excerpt. She makes these broad statements about "liberal" people, things I think are on the whole untrue, but have maybe a teeny basis in some groups of hyper-liberal people. whatev, they're pretty funny. Then I read THIS:

Our book is Genesis. Their book is Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, the original environmental hoax. Carson brainwashed an entire generation into imagining a world without birds, killed by DDT. Because of liberals’ druidical religious beliefs, they won’t allow us to save Africans dying in droves of malaria with DDT because DDT might hurt the birds. A few years after oil drilling began in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, a saboteur set off an explosion blowing a hole in the pipeline and releasing an estimated 550,000 gallons of oil. It was one of the most devastating environmental disasters in recent history. Six weeks later, all the birds were back. Birds are like rats—you couldn’t get rid of them if you tried.

Where the F*CK does she get off saying this BULLSH*T
Doesn't she know that people got f*cking cancer from DDT?
And does she not see that the Godless liberals abuse the environment like everyone else?
And that a lot of conservatives don't give a sh*t about Africa?
Maybe she'd prefer to spray Africa with DDT. That way, the birds would die, and so would the mosquitoes and a**holes like her wouldn't have to worry about sending aid to Africa anymore because all the people there would get lung diseases or cancer and die, thus wiping out the entire continent and making it available for America's capitalist needs, such as oil drilling and factory-building. Oh wait, I'm starting to sound like a God-less liberal. Shoot.

Well I do know one thing. Jesus still loves you, but he's totally disappointed with you, Ann.

Me - I just think you're a pretty ignorant biatch. bleck. I'm gonna sit back and thank the Lord for Rachel Carson now.

What Do Dreams Mean?

Last night and the night before, I had two incredibly strange dreams. I think it's because my sleep cycle/life cycle is very confused with the new school and sleeping schedule. Either that or my dreams are just getting weirder as time progresses, which is entirely possible.

The first dream:

I was in a mall somewhere, and I pushed a cart full of clothing into a store. Out of the corner of my eye I see my floozie neighbor (she had an affair with a guy in town. long dramatic story including wife of the guy punching neighbor in face, etc). Now in real life, I don't like this woman, so in my dream I want to avoid her. I start to manuever my cart, but it's totally malfunctioning. I try and figure out a way to get around her, and as I get closer I realize that she is GROWING A BEARD. And not a lady beard either, a bona fide stubble-in-chin-I shave every day beard. "Oh SHIT!!!" I think gleefully. Now I really need to go because I need to tell everyone that I saw the ho growing a beard. Just as I go to go behind her I crash into the very rack of clothes that she's looking at!! NO! She turns and I try to play it off like I just noticed her, all casual. "Oh hey Laurie" I say. She turns to me and I get a really good look at the beard. She looks me up and down and says "Don't pretend like you didn't see me, I know you saw me, I know you're trying to avoid me....." she pauses and glances at the bowl of ice cream that has suddenly appeared in my cart... "Ice cream bitch." I stare at her, manuever the cart around her finally and as I leave I say "yup, that's me, the ice cream bitch!!"

last night's dream was even stranger to me. I had a toothache in one of my right molars, and when I wiggled it, I realized it was loose. I started working the tooth out, thinking the whole time "this can't be good for my permanent molar!" I got it half way but then had to see a dentist about it. He started to pull, and though the whole time I was thinking "I really don't want a huge gap there" he yanked it out anyways. He looked at it and said "Wow, that's why it hurts." When he handed it to me, I saw this strange conglomeration of teeth, as if two had fused on top of each other. The bottom was also covered with some gunk, and the hygienist said "that's all the buildup from not flossing properly." I was annoyed because since my last check up I have become a religious flosser. I went to the sink to wash my tooth (it was not bloody. How strange.) and as I washed it, it began to change. At first it was clean and white, but then it started to turn brown, and by the time I had washed it, it had turned to wood. I held it up in front of me, shocked, and as the dentist walked by to another room he said, "that's why it had to come out. those are what caused so much pain." I looked to the spot he was pointing to with his pen. Suddenly, the wooden tooth was full of holes. "Termites?" I asked him. "Yes" he said, and nodded gravely.


How weird is that?

5 Year Reflection

I can hardly believe that we are marking the 5 year mark (I don't want to say "anniversary" it has too many happy connotations to me) since September 11, 2001.

I remember that day so vividly. It was a day in Northampton, MA much like it was today in Boston. Somewhere between Invertebrate Zoology and 19th Century European Art nearly 3,000 people in 3 locations lost their lives. Remember when you thought the worst tragedy of our time would be the death of Lady Di? Yeah, me too.

Since then the world has felt such an enormous amount of pain: there was 9/11 and its horrible aftermath, the invasion in Afghanistan, the Iraqi invasion, the tsunami, two terrible earthquakes, Hurricane Katrina, an escalation in the violence in Darfur, and senseless other acts that we try to understand but can't, loss and terrible pain.

Through all this I am remained shocked and uplifted by the resilience of the human race. It perserveres despite the most oppressive situations imaginable. America has made it for 5 years, even though for a bit it seemed the world would truly end.

It's strange for me to think back on these last five years. They seemed to be marked with tragedy when you look at the bad, but when I think of my own life, these past five years have been nothing but glorious. I've graduated from college, travelled to Africa twice, fell in love, got my first "real" job, and started grad school. I bought my first car (seemingly minor, but a milestone). I've been to more weddings and baby showers than funerals. And my family and friends surround me, and we're pretty damn healthy and pretty damn happy. We're all so lucky and blessed.

In these last five years, I've learned so much about myself. I think I've become a better person. And in a way, I think I have 9/11 to thank for that. It was a smack in the face. It was a message, not of terror, the way the terrorists wanted it to be, though it did have me scared sh*tless for a long time and it still scares me. To me, it said "Go and Live." You never know what day could be your last. So f*cking live while you're alive. Don't waste time on the bullshit (hey even I do that, I admit it) but on the whole, get out there and make a difference to someone, to anyone.

In these last five years I have been overwhelmed by the desire to have a good life and to help anyone I can in need. I have also been overwhelmed by strong feelings about my personal right not to live in fear. F*ck fear, man. There's common sense type fear, like "I don't think I will jump off that cliff into the black abyss of the ocean today" and then there's the fear that terrorists want you to feel. That second thought before getting on the train to go to work. The refusal to fly. The fear of travelling, of seeing and doing new things. The fear of people different than you. I refuse to bow down to that fear. It's my right to live my life free from fear, and that is what I plan to do for the next five years and the five years after that and so on and so on. No one is gonna make me scared to live my life to the fullest.

Anyways, so this is my big post for today. Keep rockin' on America. Woot.

Starbucks Cup #165 Beth Israel Deaconess

The Way I See It #165

I was ahead in the slalom. But in
the second run, everyone fell on a
dangerous spot. I was beaten by a
woman who got up faster that I
did. I learned that people fall down,
winners get up, and gold medal
winners just get up faster.

--Bonnie St. John
In 1984, she was the second-fastest

amputee skier in the world, and the
first African-American Olympic ski
medalist.

Starbucks Cup #141 Beth Israel Deaconess

The Way I See It #141

I used to feel so alone in the city.
All those gazillions of people and
then me, on the outside. Because
how do you meet a new person?
I was very stumped by this for many
years. And then I realized, you just
say, "Hi." They may ignore you. Or
you may marry them. And that
possibility is worth that one word.

--Augusten Burroughs
Author of Running with Scissors.

Heh. cool.
This post is so short because I have to leave for class in a hour and a half. Yikes!!

Starbucks Cup #169 Beth Israel Deaconess

Yes folks, it's getting to be that season: grande latte HOT season and with grad school right around the corner, cough cough TUESDAY, cough cough, I think that there will be more grande lattes than ever consumed, though I do not feel guilty about this, because no matter what you have to say about Starbucks and it's chain-ness it 1. pays their employees' benefits as long as they work half time or more 2. they work with Kenyan coffee growers to grow a sustainable product 3. they generally do good stuff for deserving people. With that out of the way, I give you:

The Way I See It # 169

Life's too short to read a book you
don't love. At age 50 or younger,
give a book 50 pages to see if you
like it. Over 50, subtract your age
from 100 and that's the number of
pages to read before you bail on a
book you're not enjoying. And
when you turn 100, you get to
judge a book by its cover!

--Nancy Pearl
Librarian and author of Book Lust.

I found this to be a funny one, given the fact that everyone at book club last night desperately wanted to abadon Orhan Pamuk's Snow, which was a brutal read for most of us. Of course, I am glad that we do not abide by the above rule at my book club. We try to read the book to the end, even if it's torture and besides, everyone else would only have to read about 40 pages before bailing whereas I would have to read 76 if we use the 100 rule!!

The blog wherein I retract certain judgments of Project Runway contestants

Jeffrey : you're a bastard, I cannot believe you made someone's mom cry. It's disgusting. Your negative personality poisons your designs for me, even when they're good, I can't like them. Because I hate you. The end.

Michael: you are still the best. You kick some serious ass and I hope you win it all. Plus way to say nice things about Angela when she got eliminated. Probably because she wasn't a threat to you, and Jeffrey is so insecure he had to continue to be a d*ck even when she got eliminated.

Laura: I still love your designs, I don't care what the people say! And go ahead and be a bitch, you're pregnant, though the fact that it's your sixth kid is somewhat disturbing to me...

Vincent: retract statement. In the past you have been annoying to me. You kind of still are, but after I saw the Mom episode I have to say that I have a lot more respect for you. It's not actually because you won, it's because you "got it." You basically said that you were lucky to get a slimmer mom, but body size is not an excuse for designing badly because the general population of women come in all shapes and sizes and that's who buys your clothes. I saw the glimmer of a sane man in the midst of madness and I respect that. Still don't think you have a chance in hell of winning though, my friend.

Uli: she's so cute! She's a great designer and I can't believe the Calvin Klein judge hated on her for her dress which I thought was fabulous. What were they talking about, the dress being "warm climate"? Yeah it had a tropical color scheme, but she could totally rock that dress out in a non-warm party city like....uh....Reykjavik

Kayne: Kayne of many colors. You are tacky, kind of loud and full of drama, and look like you wear FOUNDATION. Last night, however, you were pretty hilarious, and I loved it when you were taking runway tips from Michael. Fabulous :) That outfit from last night was pretty bad though.

So yeah. That's my recap. Ugh, I wish it had helped me clear my head......blah

the squish

I do have a beautiful wedding I need to blog, but first,
FIRST

I must take a moment to calm myself down. Why? I am feeling the financial squeeze of graduate school tighten it's grip.

Don't feel bad for me! No, I'm serious. Don't feel bad for me, I got myself into this mess by using credit cards liberally my last year of college, allowing myself to be forced into buying my car after I graduated even though I was unemployed, going to Kenya in January without a second thought, and now, going to grad school. It's my own damn fault, but now I'm panicking about it and totally flipping the F8ck out. No good!

I think it's actually going to be ok. So I just spent $180 to cover books for one class. That's alright, maybe my other class will be a readings/paper writing class! No books! Let's be optimistic here! So what if I messed up my online billpay and screwed myself by not making my Old Navy and MBNA payments and now owe them a collective $312 this month. It's ok! I'll pay with my savings. So what if I have to make up about 6 car payments. I'll get there! Phew, all this optimism is starting to kill me.

Oh well. It's back to making a stricter budget. How on earth will I move out of my house with this kind of debt? It's depressing, but I'm trying to keep my chin up, because honestly, I think that's the only way I can pay my way out of this major debt. Plus, to look on the bright side, I'm making a budget that shows how if I plan my Christmas shopping very carefully, I won't go into a lick of debt this holiday season. Happy happy, joy joy -_-
Gulp.
Wish me luck.

Nothing makes you feel less beautiful than when....

the pedicurist gets out a sheet of newspaper and a implement normally use for shaving corns off feet because your foot skin is that thick and crackly that the only way she can actually work with your feet is to SHAVE THEM. Yeah, so incredibly hot. That's what I get for wearing flip flops everywhere.

Anyways, at the end of a long and trying day yesterday I walked up to the local nail place "Nails by Time" I'm not really sure why they're called this or what it means, but I don't fight it because the place is cheap and fairly clean. The girls who work there seem really into body things. I have been to chi chi spas in the suburbs and they flip out if there's a speck of dirt under your toenail or you have a wart or something. By going to this nail place you give up the ambience of a fancy spa, but you get the full fix-up - the girls there will take this horrible hook-like dentist-looking tool and scrape stuff out of your toenail crevices. yum. while it's not the most delightful thing in the world, you feel really clean, well once you get over the shame you feel about someone having to help you clean your feet.

I have never had to have my foot skin (which sounds dangerously like "foreskin" LOL) shaved, but the woman yesterday held up my feet, made a clicking sound, sighed and got up. I thought "Oh Jesus I know they're so dirty, but please, let her come back alone and not with have the staff so they can stare at my dirty feet." She did come back alone, but with a page torn out of the Metro. I thought "I get why she's doing that, I've made dirt stains on their towels, she's probably gonna put that under my feet instead" When she put it on the floor I was confused, and then out came the shaver. She went at my feet like she was peeling a carrot, and without mercy. All I could think was "please don't break the skin, my tetanus is out of date." She didn't though, and soon my nails were painted and lovely.

Another thing about your local nail place, and I don't say this to be a jerk, is that it's run by people usually of the asian persuasion (rhyme!) and I don't know if it's a language thing or what, but the women talk amongst themselves in Vietnamese/Chinese/insert language here and not to you, which I find to be a blessing. There's nothing worse than having to make awkward conversation while some woman is scrubbing your feet. The lady who took care of me yesterday conformed to this rule until she started my manicure. Then we launched into a long conversation about everything, where we went to school, how much money we still owed undergrad (yes the nail lady went to college!), where I live, whether or not I cook when I'm at home, how I get to work, if I go to Trader Joe's in my home town, and why I was getting a manicure and pedicure. I told her that I was going to my friends wedding. She looked up and scrutinized my face. "You want eyebrow wax?" she asked. I balked at this, having a fear of losing my eyebrows that has followed me since my middle school days when I stupidly put a bandaid on my face which inadvertantly plucked a bald spot in my eyebrow when I ripped it off. I stuttered for a moment and said "oh, do I need it?" Knowing the answer was "yes" but asking to buy time. The woman moved her head so she could compare my eyebrows and said "you really do. yeah. don't you want to look pretty at the wedding?" Jeez, I thought, if I look that busted I'd better do it. "Well ok I said, if you say I need it, then I must." She left to prepare the waxing room.

I'm not sure which was worse, the foot shaving or the excessive waxing and tweezing that this woman felt was necessary to tame the hairy beast. For the better part of a half hour, I sat in a glorified desk chair with my head tilted back so far I couldn't swallow while she waxed, waxed again, waxed a third time and then tweezed and tweezed and tweezed. The whole time I thought "there go my eyebrows" which I will admit, were never really evenly plucked or shaped anyways. I figured if she messed up and made them really thin or waxed them off, at least I'd be able to start over.

When I did finally sit up, I was shocked to see my diminished eyebrows. I like them now, and I think I will have to get used to them, but all in all I feel pretty. Actually I feel myself becoming addicted to manicures, pedicures, and eyebrow wax. Uh-oh ;)

stranded

It's always so terrifying to realize that people who you thought loved you and had only kind words and gentle criticism for you can be cruel, can destroy, can make you feel so insignificant you feel like you're huddling naked on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. It's so hard. So hard.

Television without Pity

I love watching reality TV because you're dealing with real people, and in dealing with real people it's so much easier to like/dislike/and pass judgement on them. You can't really watch "Lost" and be like "Oh, Kate has made bad decisions in her life and living on the island is her big chance to really turn it around." I mean, you absolutely can say that, but is it relevant? Not really, not as real to me as looking at Jade from "America's Next Top Model" and saying "that biatch is CRAZY!" THat's waaaay better!! THEN after the fact, you can read a wonderfully evil review of the show on www.televisionwithoutpity.com

As with "America's Next Top Model," I have found the reviewer of "Project Runway" Jeff, to be dead-on in his assessments. I love it when the snarky reviewers and I agree because I know that I am watching the show and someone else hates the same character as me (not the case with boyfriend!). I was delighted when I checked in this morning to read the review of last week's episode and the recap of last nights, because Jeff had this to say about the designer I feel is the most vile:

Jeffrey tells us that, having not won a challenge, he feels like no one understands him. If I were writing a script for Jeffrey based purely on his appearance, "No one understands me" would be the first line. You know that guy says that shit all the time. He's really jealous that the judges seem to love Keith and thinks that Keith's greatest talent is bullshitting. First of all, touché. There's not a "second of all," except that I hate Cosa Nostra as the name of a clothing line. It just seems like one more poseur-y thing to add to Jeffrey's Big Fat Phony Persona.

This photo screams "fake bastard." Ok not really, but that's what I think he is!

While we're at it, I'm gonna do a rundown of everyone left. I know not everyone is gonna share my opinions, but I looooove this shit.

Jeffrey: fake bastard. yeah, I like his outfits, but I don't love them. The drawn on belt in last night's challenge? fabulous? NO! It sucked! It was not art, but that's what he wants you to think it is. His tatoo? Yeah, that's not art either. It makes him look like he has some sort of vise around his neck. Freaky.

Vincent: fucking nuts with an incredibly irritating accent. I want to shush him as soon as he opens his mouth. I really think he's crazy, he gets on my nerves, his designs, blow. The only thing that saved him last night, with his white sheath dress spackled with garbage, was the fact that Alison's design made her model look like a "giant brioche." Vincent's days are numbered.

Kayne: now at first I was like "Oh my God, Kayne is soooo fabulous" in that fag hag-esque sort of way, "like, I totally want Kayne to design all my dresses and make me look all poufy and pageant and gorgeous." Now he is starting to drive me crazy. I can't take the spaziness anymore, though I will admit I do love the gay bitchy passive aggressive drama, love that he reported Keith for having pattern books and got him kicked off the show. Here's the thing about "Kayne of Many Colors" - he's a teen girl pageant designer. He's really good at that, REALLY GOOD, but what else is he good at? Anything? Also, he looks as though he wears foundation, which is slightly disturbing to me...

Robert: he whines. his designs are ok, safe, but usually well made. besides his incessant whining, I don't really have an opinion on him. I'd be willing to like him if he proves himself, LOL.

Uli: LOVE ULI! She's fabulous. She's talented, very creative and creates gorgeous things. Plus she seems sweet. She doesn't get in fights, she keeps pretty quiet and to herself and dishes in the "confessional." She's in it to win, you can tell she is totally trying to keep quiet and kick ass without attracting attention. She is definitely in my top 3 favorites.

Laura: everyone says she's a bitch. I love her. Love her. People also say her designs are stiff. Well, then why has she been in the top three every episode people! Yeah, people say "she designs stuff she would wear." The judges said that last night too, except they liked it, they think it's great. As for her bitchiness, I don't really care. Yeah she confronted Vincent about his suckage at a really inappropriate time, but you really can't hide from the fact that Vincent SUCKS! I love that she and Michael share a bond, and she was making these odd hand motions in the recycling garage while he rapped and he looked at her like "sh*t white lady, what the F*CK are you trying to do" and just took her hand and said "no. stop" and they both cackled. I love the bond. So she's a bitch? So what? that's what it takes to win. She's in my top three too, though I don't see her winning unless she starts busting out some really intense and different designs. You can't argue that her clothes are extremely well designed and well made though.

Angela: I think she's pretty clueless, but there's something about her that makes me like her. The second or third episode when she latched on the Kayne I hated her because she was a leech, and then she busted out with an extraordinarily bad design (the owner/dog challenge) and was severely chastized. The past three weeks, however, brilliance has started to show itself. She, Michael and Laura made a fabulous outfit for INC, she channeled Audrey Hepburn brilliantly in her "modernize famous stars" challenge, and her recycling outfit was quirky, but colorful and seemingly well-constructed. I see her as very very naive, but would love to see her stick around.

Michael: Michael, Michael, Michael. On the first episode, Michael walks in. First thing I notice is "wow, a non-flamboyant man on this show. interesting." And then I realize "wow it's a non-flamboyant black man designer from Atlanta" Day-um. Then he says "I want Project Runway to make me a big motherfucking fashion designer." "Awesome" I think, "I love this guy." And I do! The first challenge I honestly thought he should've won -the coffee filter dress was amazing! I am so glad that he's recently come into his own and has won two in a row, though I know winning a couple in a row can be the kiss of death (santino, oh but wait, he sucked). I want Michael to win the show, why? cause he's not a pompous ass. He keeps his mouth shut, doesn't get into it with anyone and does not participate in any of the bullshit drama. When Keith stole some thread, Laura went to bat for him. I could see hime just standing there, amused, letting Laura fight his fight, and why not? Ha ha I'd shut up too, especially if I kept winning. Plus he and his model are the perfect match, I love seeing how they work together. GO MICHAEL!

The Bunny Rabbit Story

This is boyfriend's favorite Africa story. No, he hasn't heard them all, and I don't know if I'd ever have the time to tell him every one, but this is the story of all the stories I have had the time to tell him that he asks me to repeat to his friends.

We (and when I say "we" I mean all the students in my group, all 23 of us - 5 boys, 18 girls, and our professors Okello, Tome, and Kiringe, as well as staff including but not limited to: Little Paul, Big Paul, Salaash, Maraka, Kioko, Charles, James, Maasai Askaris whose names I cannot spell, Fred and KWS guards armed with AK-47's for protection against wildlife). Anyways, we were in Tsavo on safari, and it was the first real safari we had taken. Sure, we had been on jaunts outside of our fenced camp, but never on a real and true safari, camping in a campsite in tents, exposed to the elements. It was exhilirating just imagining the adventure.

When we arrived, I saw how incredibly different Tsavo was from most of the other parts of Kenya I had seen. It was hot, which wasn't really anything new, but the heat felt different. Perhaps it was the elevation or the fact that my first impressions had been gathered while standing atop a massive lava flow with the sun beating down on me, heating the black rock with its intense rays. Tsavo seemed barren to me at first, the vegetation was low and scrubby and mostly brown. There were nice rolling hills in the distance that were green and lush - the Chyulus, which is where any water found in Tsavo originates, but they were far away and I was trapped in a drab red-brown park full of dust. As the days slipped by though, I began to see that Tsavo was brimming with life, it's own unique ecosystem toiling away as it had been for hundreds of years under the African sun. Our early morning jaunts revealed giraffe families feeding in close bundles, mother and father and 7 foot baby in between, already tall enough to reach the delicate brances of the acacia trees. Birds filled the air in Tsavo, and I may have recorded more species there than I did at any other park. If you drove slowly, lesser kudu would come out of the bush just long enough to let you catch a glimpse of them, their beautiful white striped tawny coats shining in the light and their graceful spiraling horns above still heads that watched your every move before running into the the undergrowth again. Looking back, I realize how magical that place really is, how I underestimated it when I was there, used to the brash showiness of the elephants in Amboseli, the hundreds of animals that dotted the plain there carelessly grazing and ignoring cars full of people with telephoto lenses. Tsavo animals were more wary of human having been subjected to decades of poaching. The elephants did not stand in the open road, they hid, tucked away carefully in thick acacia stands, hesitant to show their hulking frames, unsure if the humans before them would wield cameras or guns. This made every glimpse of wildlife in that park a gift. If we had not been so observant, we would have missed it altogether.

Wildlife, as you can imagine, often strayed into the camp. We had a leopard tortoise come charging through on his thick and stubby tortoise legs. This was a treat because we had not had the chance to see any interesting african reptiles (snakes were killed on sight, poisonous or not, and the geckos and skinks around camp were interesting enough but too fast to catch and observe) and we picked the turtle up and had a good look at him before sending him on his way.

It is easy to see why animals would wander into our camp - it was hardly more than a clear flat space in a vast expanse of wilderness. The bathrooms faced a thick and dark stand of scrubby trees, just tall enough to conceal an elephant and just thick enough to conceal a lion. This made me nervous every time I went to the bathroom, since of course, the ladies side was at such an angle that it was closer to the vegetation. The bathroom itself was no prize, just a cement pad with drains in the floor (for when the toilets were clogged, no doubt) and two badly/rarely working toilets. Most of the time, I held me pee until we were somewhere with flush toilets or peed while doing fieldwork - we'd pee directly in front or in back of the car on the open road, which sounds terribly immodest, but really wasn't at all. At night if one had to use the bathroom, we had to signal an askari (guard) to our tent with a flashlight and he would come over with a gun or a spear, escort you to the pee pee, wait outside, and walk you back when you were done. It was just divine, especially if you had to do a number 2, to know that someone was right on the other side of the cheap corrugated tin barrier, listening to you shit. Plus, there were the geckos that lined the bathroom walls and ceiling - they have such big eyes, I honestly used to wonder if they were watching me go.

One night we all got back to camp late because most of our cars had been bogged down in the mud. We started preparations for dinner, and my friend N mentioned she had to pee. I had to take a quick one myself, and I glanced across camp to the bathroom block. It was still well enough lit that we could see across camp so I figured we could just go there together and we'd be fine. I grabbed my trusty red maglite just in case, and as we got closer to the bathrooms we decided to go the men's side because it was "safer." There was only one toilet in there (the men peed into a hole) so I went first cause I thought N wanted privacy, in case she had a stomach issue, because we all had them at one time or another. I stepped outside, and realized that dusk had quickly become night. "Great" I thought, "I'm in the one place in camp I really shouldn't be in the dark, fabulous." I clicked on my maglite and did a sweep of the bush. Nothing, clear. I then turned to my left to give the deserted campsites a sweet. There, in the beam of my maglite, were two yellow, glowing eyes. I felt my heart leap up into my stomach. I grabbed the flimsy screen door of the bathroom, sprang in, and slammed it behind me, pushing the tiny lock into place as if that would protect us from the man-eating lions!!! I could tell immediately that I had interuppted N mid-unpleasant bathroom experience. "NNNNNN" I whispered. "What? WHAT?" she said in this tone that was like 'oh my god you caught me mid diarrhea I'm so embarrassed but you're clearly freaking out now what is WRONG?' "N", I said, 'there is an animal out there. I saw it with the maglite. It's got YELLOW EYES" "Ok, ok" she said, emerging from the doorless stall, ''ok." We opened the door a crack and I swept my light into the vast darkness, and once again, two yellow eyes glowed in the night. "Shit!" N said and closed the door. We crept over to a small window in the cement wall. I stuck my flashlight out of it, looking for someone close by. "Little Paul! Little Paul!" I hissed. Paul looked around confused for a moment, then sauntered over to the door of the men's bathroom. We opened it and yanked him in by the sleeve. You can only imagine the great embarrasment this caused him. Paul was youngish, maybe 23 or 24, and had a handsome baby face and was embarrassed by everything - he was probably the most modest Kenyan I ever met (barring religious fanatics and Kenyans practicing Islam). He once talked to me while I was doing laundry, saw that I had underwear in my bucket, turned two shades darker and scurried away. The fact that he was alone with two girls in a men's bathroom was pretty much the worse place he could imagined at that moment. "What?" he said softly. "Paul" I said, towering over his small frame "Paul, there is something out there, in the night, with yellow eyes. It's low to the ground but it could be a hyena, or a predatory cat or something and we are just trapped here!"He must've sensed the urgency combined with sheer spaz in my voice, because he grabbed my flashlight and stepped outside. He started sweeping the area I had pointed to, and sure enough, the flashlight once again found those two glowing yellow eyes. "There! There it is!" I said in a screaming whisper. Paul squinted at it for a moment, then cocked his head slightly. He widened the beam of light slightly and adjusted his grip on the flashlight to illuminate the animal. He grinned. "Ah-Lee-zuhn. It ees a Bun-ni Rabbeet" I stared at a 3 foot tall hare in front of me, contentedly chewing small blades of grass, turning its head every so often, its eyes picking up the beam of light. "Wow" I breathed, mortified yet amazed at the sheer enormity of the african jack rabbit. "Alrighty then, let's go." N said.

Paul walked us back to camp and began gesticulating and speaking in wild Swahili. I stood there with my arms cross as the staff playfully taunted - "Ahleezon, you afraid of a leetle bunny? ahahahahahhaahhaah" I looked at them with my arms crossed, "I thought it was something else!" I said defending myself, or trying to. "No Ahleezon, this was just a bunny!!" "Yeah" I said, holding my arm out to waistlevel, "but at least it was a MAD HUGE RABBIT!" Peals of laughter echoed through the empty african night.
profumo.it/images/fotoz/notte_africana.grz.jpg(pic)

Kenyan Memory

This memory just came back so powerfully to me that I thought I'd write it down!

While I was in Kenya I did my research in Nairobi National Park. I counted game for about six weeks straight, which may sound like torture to a lot of people, but to me was absolutely glorious. We would set out early in the morning, take a lunch break either back at camp or in the park, and then go on for another four or five hours counting zebra, giraffe, rhinocerous, bushbuck, reedbuck, waterbuck, impala, thompson's gazelle, grant's gazelle, warthog, lion, cheetah, kongoni, ostrich, cape buffalo, and wildebeest(phew, remembered them all!). We were always careful to head back to camp just before dusk. One, we weren't allowed to stray from camp after dark because if anything happened to us it was an insurance liability and two, the chance of something happening to us outside the camp after dark is decent since, read list above and add hyena, there are lots of things that could have eaten us.

Our camp bordered the park, but in order to get into the park, you had to drive all the way out to Athi River proper, which was a hideous dirt road, full of potholes and craters. Your boobs spent most of the time smashed against your eyelids and all you could concentrate on was keeping your teeth clenched together so you didn't accidentally bite your tongue. It was on this road, I believe, that we went over a bump so severe that my head was snapped backwards then immediately forwards, resulting in a face plant in the seat in front of me, a slam so hard that it broke my sunglasses across the bridge of my nose and the broken pieces cut my face. The road can't be that long, but it's so wretched that it takes you about 40 minutes to get out to the main road in Athi River. The one good thing about the dirt road is that you can't move too fast on it, and that lets you look at game that's strayed outside the park boundaries. It's not unusual to see giraffe, wildebeest, zebra and gazelles wandering around outside the park, grazing. The predators stay within the boundaries during the day, but at night they venture forth outside the park and used to come right up to the fence. The leopards would agitate the monkeys, and their haunting warning calls would wake us in the middle of the night. Lions would sit right by the gate and make the most amazing sounds, low-pitched and rumbling, not a roar at all, but more like a giant with indegestion.

In order to avoid this road, we had a key to a shortcut. Kenya Wildlife Service had installed a gate on the other side of a creek that divided private land and the park. We were given the key because we weren't day visitors, but researchers who would be spending days on end in the park, and it would only be a hassle to go around to the Cheetah gate every day, several times a day. The short cut chopped our transit time in half. The creek we had to cross was quite small too, the only problem being the very steep hill on the other side that we had to climb in the land cruiser in order to get into the park. Usually when we got to the gate, we'd cross the creek, stop on the other side, and then barrel up the hill. When it got to be April and the rains came, getting up the hill required a running start, and someone would have to cross the creek on foot, climb the hill, open the gate, and wait while cars came full speed across the stream and up the hill. We usually crossed, whether rainy or dry, without incident.

A few times though, we would run into trouble. One morning we all went out, all the research groups, which included botany and ecology groups. The botany group was at the head of the line when Wayne, the driver and professor got on the radio "Lions," he said, "we'll wait, but we ought to go around, it's a female and her kittens, she's liable to get defensive." That was a day we went around. Another time, my friend Otieno was driving. I loved to bother him as much as possible. He would reply in his think Kenyan accent "Why you al-ways ab-huuus-sing me??" Heh heh. Otieno would try to get me back as much as possible for these abuses, and so that day, though the skies were getting dark, he made me get out to open the gate. I said "Otieno, no it's dark, there could be crocs!!" He cackled. "Al-lee-son. You go. Get out. You go. Do it, unless you are too scared, then I will have my friend he-ah, Patrick, I will have him open it." Not wanting to be made a coward and in my constant determination to prove myself equal to our male companions (who were not the most rugged bunch, I will say) I leapt through the open window onto the dusty ground. As I opened the gate, my eye caught movement, and when the animal that was moving came into focus, I realized I wasn't in any danger, yet I still let out a scream. "AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" It was high pitched and girly (UGH!!) and Otieno leapt out of the drivers seat. He looked to the right, looked at me, and bopped me on the head with the flat of his palm. "Hey! It is a lisssard! Jus a lissard! What is wrong with you?!!" I said "Yeah Otieno, but it was a monitor lizard, and it was 6 feet long!!!" "Ha ha,'' he laughed, "he is a baby, you just get back in the car." Though Otieno would make fun of me for four days because of this incident, at least my fellow students focused on the coolness of seeing a monitor lizard...

There was only one time crossing the creek where I was actually nervous. There were three of us, me, Kristen, and Patrick out with our professor, Sinnary, finishing up some game counts. Though it was nearly dark, we decided to use the gate, in order to get us home before darkness really set in. It was even darker than usual by the creek. The sun had started to set, and the thick vegetation and acacias made it hard to see the creek. Sinnary got out of the car to open the gate, saying that he should do it in case there were "animals" around (aka, animals, including lions, on the ground getting a drink, or leopards, in the trees, waiting for an animal drinking to stop paying attention so it could become a meal). I thought "great, the one guy who knows how to drive stick is now out of the car, fabulous." Though I knew the mechanics of driving stick, I had only tried it once, with limited success, and didn't really want to be tested having to drive out of a creek with a mauled professor and a lion on my heels. Sinnary opened the gate without incident though, hopped back in the car, and gunned it to make it through the mud. We crossed the creek and came to a violent halt, the engine dying. "Woah," the three students said when our tires came to a halt and started to bog down. "Well," said Sinnary in his hesitant Sudanese accent, "I think...that...you all...will....have to spend the night here." I could hear the laughter in his words, but couldn't help but wonder how we were going to get out without calling another car from the camp to tow us out. Even then, we'd have to wait 40 minutes or so, and by then it would be dark, and we were basically sitting bait in the middle of the creek. More dangerous would be to leave the car and go on foot. That's the first thing they taught us in Africa - never leave the car! Sinnary glanced over his shoulder. "You really....should...put up....the, ahh...roof hatches now.'' The roof hatches! We scrambled to get them back into place, locking the rubber nubs of the hatches securely into the metal roof latches. "So, uh, what now Sinnary?" I asked. "Well. I guess I will try and put the four wheel drive on." This required getting out of the car and switching a latch on each of the back tires. Though I thought it was dangerous, I figured he was the old hand at it and sat back to watch, my hand fumbling around my field guides, binocs, lenses and cameras for my leatherman, which would offer us little protection, though it was better than nothing. I watched from the backseat for animals, while Kristen and Patrick kept an eye on things. Sinnary waded out through the creek, which by now was knee deep with spring rain, and climbed up the bank to close the gate. He then slid back down to the tires and flipped the switch. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Sin leapt back into the land cruiser, and turned the keys. With some hesitation the engine sprang to life. He gunned the accelerator and we were jolted from creek bed to river bank in about 3 seconds. "HA HA!" Sinnary laughed victoriously. We shot onto the burned grassy plain where the sun was just setting. I turned back to look at the sinister dark hole in the forest from which we had just emerged. I imagined pairs of glowing eyes staring back at mine saying "almost, almost, almost."

Arkansas State Police

ASP: You know, a tornado is much like a dee-vorce
MSP: Um, really, how so?
ASP: Someone sure as shit's fixin' to lose a mobile home.

100th Post

I am writing this story. See, boyfriend is a writer, and a good one. I am a reader and don't tend to think of myself as a writer at all, but in reading Jam's great stuff, and even his stuff that I don't love, I realized that writing can be fun, so probably 8 months ago or so, I started to write snippets of things, pieces of a story. Of course, they're short really intense paragraphs, because I was messing around a writing for sheer impact, not a cohesive multi-paged work. I come back to the story every so often and tweak. Add some stuff. Research some stuff. Today I was trying to figure out how long it takes to get to Nanyuki from Nairobi, the distance, the approximate location of Nanyuki in comparison the the equator, Mt. Kenya, etc, and I stumbled upon this wonderful site:

http://www.cyclingaroundtheworld.nl/misc/destinations.html

It's basically a website maintained by a guy who bikes. A lot. He's been all over the world and has been kind enough to post his pictures for everyone to see. I enjoyed looking at it particularly for his Kenya shots, especially for this one I think it may be because I have stood exactly, exactly in that place and look out over the Great Rift Valley, the Cradle of Life, the place which proves that we are all inexorably connected as human beings on this planet.

I think it must be Thursday

So people are always asking "what's your favorite day of the week?"

Most people say Friday or Saturday, maybe even Sunday, but I think my favorite is Thursday. Why?
Well Friday is already the weekend to me. By Friday, you're already losing time. On Thursday night you can sit back and envision the weekend, the freedom of Friday night, and then two glorious days to fill with non-work related crap. Wonderful.

Last night, after we came home from a glorious, and I mean GLORIOUS, dinner at the Barker Tavern, I started thinking about all the things I could and should do this weekend.

Here are the shoulds:

change the bed
do the laundry
file the bills
dust
vacuum
organize crafts cause they're out of control
organize everything else
exercise

here are the coulds:

overhaul overgrown garden
scrapbook kenya
scrapbook rest of 2005
finish pile of sewing on sewing table
cross stitch

here are the already doings:

meeting my sister at the Cheesecake Factory for din din
seeing "Little Miss Sunshine" with friends
volunteering
researching new computers *grin*

This list alone shows how full of possibility you can be on a Friday!
By Sunday, I will have done 2 things on the should, one on the could. But at least I will have finished the already doings :)

22 Years Ago Today

Happy Birthday, dear sister :)

Tales from New York

This weekend I went to New York for several reasons, for boyfriend's birthday, for his mother's birthday, for his future goddaughter's baby shower, and more than anything to have a nice visit and get some BOOTAY. Heh.

Anyways, over time and many visits to the city, I've started to get used to it. Not get used to it in the way a person who lives there would, but it's not this foreign megapolis trying to consume my 5'6'' frame anymore. I am more comfortable in it, I know which way I need to go to get to boyfriend's office, have a sense of place when I am on a certain street. I certainly don't know the city well, but I can imagine myself being alone and needing to get somewhere and being able to make it in one piece, which is a far cry from how I used to feel when thinking about what I would do if left alone to find my way: curl up in the fetal position and succumb to death by a pack of flesh-eating wild dogs because trying to find your way through the maze of humanity, buildings and cars in the city was that impossible.

The past couple of times I've come to the city for whatever reason I've had to walk a few blocks to meet boyfriend, or even walk the 10 or so to his office. On Friday when I arrived, boyfriend needed an ATM and I find Port Authority very confusing, so I told him to tell me a street and I'd go there. My job was to get from Port Authority to 7th and 37th. I walked out onto 8th and 40th (shady shady) but that's only about 4 blocks total walking, easy to handle. After I got past the tourists and a few panhandling rowdy bums, I got to a free space on the sidewalk and took in NYC. I started walking down 8th and thought "ahhh New York. So gritty, so real, so bold, so much to see and do" Just as I was thinking "I like this place" a barrage of commuters and tourists lunged from the opposite sidewalk towards me and without rhyme or reason, bashing into me left and right, hitting my bags and my body. Then I think "Fucking NEW YORK CITY!" and with a new sense of determination, I charge down the street and start whacking people with my bag - not on purpose, of course, but clearly if you don't want to get hit, you have to move, so I figured that if these people didn't want to get hit, they'd move.

That seems to be the thing with New York. I think you have to be a very determined person to live there, either that or oblivious to the world. I mean, when you walk down the sidewalk, you need to take charge and WALK, no floating down the sidewalk, no lumbering, no strolling, that is what the PARK is for! I'm actually ok with this, I like to move fast, I like for people to get out of the way, but another part of me wants to flail and say "too fast, stop touching me NO BUMPING STOP!" The crowds can get to me, I think they get to a lot of people, not just the visitors either.

On the other hand, the city is crowded because it has so much to offer. It's frickin' HUGE, there's a bar and some place to eat on every corner it seems. Sure, you can't run to the Super Stop N' Shop but you can get some strange food ingredient and the small local shop on blah blah blah street and blah blah blah ave. The chain stores are huge, and the small shops are cool and interesting full of trendy, swanky things. Also, boyfriend works off of "Fashion Ave" and let me tell you, if ever I have to meet him at the office, I try to wind my way through the streets to get there instead walking straight down 7th. Why? because that's where they hide the amazing fabric stores Of course I do not go in because never in my life have I seen something as intimidating as a store filled with bolts of cloth 7 feet tall, but oh, I can look and savor the warm velvets and cool silks glowing in the flourescent lights over head, and imagine myself leaping into a heap of fabric scraps and building a nest. It's at that point that I usually remind myself that I have a destination and move on. Of course, there are other things in the city - the culture, the sights, the sounds - I won't mention the smells, cause usually, they're not that nice. While I will always love Boston for the simple fact that I am more suited for it, I can't deny that in going to New York I have had some great opportunities. I've been to the opera 3 times, and just standing in front of Lincoln Center is enough to make you want a season pass, nevermind going inside. The Metropolitan Museum of Art is lovely, though I found it a bit overwhelming, and you absolutely cannot thoroughly see it in a day, you probably need 3. Also, the Natural History Museum is great - or at least what I saw of it, was great, especially since the Smithsonian is the epitome of all Natural History museums, I was very impressed by New York's. Also because I think traveling in general is healthy, I've enjoyed just going to New York in general to experience something new and see the sights (cause there are a shitton, people, just take the train). Though I don't think I could ever adopt it as my own, I do see why people are inspired by New York - it's kind of that old American dream from days gone by still in action, full of people who are trying to make it big. New York is always busy, it's always moving, it really doesn't sleep (good for me, cause I'm a night owl and when you're up dancing til 3am and you're hungry and want to go home not only can you grab a slice but you can also HOP ON THE TRAIN because it's still running! How great!)

Basically what I am saying is that New York has gained my respect and appreciation (yeah cause it was totally waiting for it too, LOL) It's not to say I love it, there are still things that get on my nerves, and people in it, who are obsessed with it, who get on my nerves (though Boston obsessed people totally get on my nerves, so it's not necessarily a NYC thing) but I have learned to like it, and appreciate what it has to offer. Oh yeah, and I really, REALLY like this guy who lives there, LOL.

CAFFEINE! You'll sleep when you're DEAD!!

Argfasdf, Good Morning.

I am not even having caffeine this morning because I am afraid of what it will do to me!
It was a late night last night (officially I was awake til 1 am with tossing and turning and I believe a wee hours of the morning pee cause I made myself pound a poland spring late last night. While I am tired now and I feel hungover, I also feel very accomplished. Why you ask? Because in the last 24 hours I have done the following:

-go to work (ok I would've done this anyways, but this is to emphasize that I put in an 8 hour day!)
-go to the paper source for ribbon and wrapping
-go to joann's for polyfill, thread, and fabric
-go to the supermarket
-make 18 cannolis for bookclub
-finish boyfriend's secret bday gift

-finish making a wee bunny for baby shower, as well as put the finishing touches on mittens and bonnet
-went to bookclub
-found out how to make a huge fuss about the disgusting deforestation and development down the street (insert major fist pump here. though it may not make a difference, I know now who to bother. awesome, now I just need to write letters)
-packed for my NY trip
-cleaned my room so it looks "decent"
-showed up to work an hour early
-went to my Friday meeting
-cashed out on an old retirement fund so I can buy a new computer for grad school
-contacted Tufts about financial aid
-conviced my sweet dad to move my hearing for a car accident I was in in February 2005
(which was easy because I got the notice and burst into tears, of COURSE it's during the one weekend in August I am heading to NY for a wedding, and the hearing is in PLYMOUTH. Boston, no prob, I would've done it, and alone, though my dad is insistent that he be there, but no, it's Plymouth on Friday afternoon, pretty much exactly when I am supposed to be on the bus. I said weepily that I would go, cause I would. I mean it's my car, and I got it into the accident. I didn't request the hearing technically, my father insisted that I do that, so I actually think a hearing is completely fruitless, but I am doing it to please him, and because if, by some miracle of God, the decision was reversed, I would get my deductible ($1,000) back, plus about $600 backpay from the insurace company, and about a $400 reduction in yearly insurance costs....basically I was all about showing when I should've but then I realized the day, time, and location and lost it. But dad may take care of moving the date :))

During all this I realized that I really hadn't eaten much since lunch yesterday, and lunch was a fruit salad and a peach (I didn't eat the veg salad) I did have 2 cannolis at bookclub and iced tea, but I was feeling iffy, so I schlepped to Dunkin' Donuts and got a fruit smoothie and low-fat blueberry muffin to perk me up a wee bit. Now I am contemplating doing some more work until I leave in an horu and a half. blah, I am so sleepy now that my tummy is satisfied :P

debtor's prison

Because I have been accepted to the School of Graduate and Professional Studies program at Tufts University this fall...(pause)

*takes moment to bow deeply acknowledgeing the feat of getting in*

(resume)......I have been trying desperately, desperatel, DESPERATELY to get out of debt. My debt isn't humongous (well...let's say that not including the student loan I took out for my bachelor's degree, it's under $10,000) but it's mere presence is a great annoyance. When I look at the pitiful amount I put in savings each week ($20!! only $20!!) I feel so inadequate. Someone like me should be throwing money in savings and practically debt free! I still live with my parents!! True, I do pay all my bills, but let's face it people, I don't have to come up with rent every month. I try to imagine my life with that and I can't, not with a car and car insurance and loans, etc etc. The very worst of it is the credit card debt I've accrued. Yes, a huge amount of it is Kenya's fault, that's true, but what was I to do, not go?

Anyways, I have come up with a debt elimination plan which may prove to be worth while. I have a set amount I set aside weekly. While this seemed like the perfect plan at first, it isn't flawless, because midway through the month I dumbly realized that not all of my bills are due at the end of the month when I have all this money saved and set aside. Oh well, it's a minor glitch in the road. Things should get better. I definitely have challenges ahead and I know that, but I also know that one of my credit card balances has been reduced by half since I started this plan two months ago, which makes me happy.

There are disappointments and hardships. There always seem to be an endless string of weddings and babies and birthdays and coming up with gifts has been tricky, but if I can just get to September I know I'll be ok...of course, then school comes and I'll have a whole other fish to fry. But for now, I am trying to stick to the budget. I'm trying to evaluate whether or not I need something before I buy it and have started to plan things ahead so I can budget....yes, Christmas presents have already been thought of. Cause I'm anal like that. I just feel like I have to get myself in order. School has been one part of that quest, and I'm going to make finances, the other, and just keep imagining how good life will be with an extra $325 a month when I'm done paying off my car -_-

Addendum (just like a doctor's note, LOL)
I wrote that post while falling asleep, and it probably be seems morose....while it is true, I am not morose about my financial situation, and yesterday I had a minor victory in the quest to stop excessively spending. I went to JoAnn's fabrics to get fabric for some wee bunnies (may I take a moment to say that for what it is, JoAnn's is quite good, but I loooong LONG for a truly excellent fabric store in my area...then again, it could lead to the feeding of a deadly addiction...) and I managed to spend on ly $6.00 and I went in wanting to spend no more than $20! $14 below budget! I found a lovely pink fuzzy remnant for $1.11, perfect for the bunny fronts, plus I have old pajama fabric for the back, and together they'll make something quite perfect for a baby. I also got some fat quarters for a dollar each. True I didn't buy everything I needed and still need to get a bit of fabric for a project, I think, and some linen for cross stitch, but first I need to thoroughly search my house in case there is something more appropriate there, as my mother keeps a stash she really doesn't use...So in the end, I think I can pull off this whole living in a budget get out of debt deal.....and still manage to do ok :)

muzak meme cause I am so bored at work

muzak (or not) meme

Stolen from everyone (by my sister, from whom I stole it)

Total volume of music files on my computer:
* 664 cause I'm at work....

The last CD I bought was:
* Smithereens CD at the Smith bookstore when I was there for reunion.

Last acquired:
* The Hot 97 Request Line and Now 21, both burned for me by Jam.

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:
* I'll Believe Anything - Wolf Parade (I love this, discovered it from dooce and have adopted it. I listen to it when I walk to work from the chain to bring my mood up, and while I run. I love the band's funky sound and the lyrics are amazing)
* Elevator Love Song - The Stars (also from dooce. I love love love it and listen to it on the way out of work to calm the mood down. The lyrics are sad, but I think they would speak to a lot of people from my particular generation, even if they don't directly refer to me.)
* Portions for Foxes - Rilo Kiley (this one isn't particularly meaningful, more fun to sing and it's on the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack which is permanently trapped in my car's CD player)
* Stranded - Smithereens (also trapped in the car CD player. Plus I love a capella. Unlike all other music I have a small chance in hell of sounding good while singing it because of all the different ranges. Plus this song has beautiful lyrics "It's coming over you, like it's coming over me, I'm crashing like a tidal wave, that drags me out to sea, I wanna be with you, if you wanna be with me, I'm crashing like a tidal wave, and I don't wanna be, STRANDED)
* I had Little Earthquakes by Tori as the last one cause it was the last one I was blasting in the car, but instead I'm gonna put "I'm Sorry" by Jem, because I love playing this song at work, it REALLY fits.



Top five genres:
* unknown
* vocal
* workout
(because I am sad and haven't classified my songs)

Five people to whom I’m passing the baton (I am also tagging the unsuspecting with this...):
hahahah pretty much no one, but that's ok
- - - - - - - - -


Sort by Song
First Song: 1 Thing (Party Blend) - Ty Boogie (yeah I don't even know it, ha ha)
Last Song: You'll Keep Me Then? - Out of Africa soundtrack (this clip breaks my heart everytime I hear it)

Sort by Time
Shortest Song: "Save Me Jebus!" - Homer Simpson (0:12) (same as Ame, amazing)
Longest Song: Konstantine - Something Corporate (9:37)

Sort by Artist
First Artist: 50 Cent (Disco Inferno - oh the shame)
Last Artist: Various (Clarinet Concerto in A Minor, Mozart, from "Out of Africa" soundtrack)

Sort by Album
First Album: 12/04 (which Amy burned for me)
Last Album: Work It (workout songs, also burnd by Amy)

Search the Keyword--song title only--and see how many songs appear:

"Sex": 1
"Death": 1
"Love": 22
"You": 59
"Me": 117
"Drug": 0
"Hate": 3

Shuffle your library and list the first five songs. No padding your playlist you hipster, you. Be honest, or I'll kill you.

1. Let's Get Loud - J Lo
2. A swahili song that is fabulous, but I don't know the name of it - I call it the "shakin song" cause of the lyrics
3. In My Life - Judy Collins
4. Karma - Alicia Keys
5. The Chokin' Kind - Joss Stone


Total music: 664, 5:08, 7,238KB

disturbed, then sad, then angry

This morning I was driving to work, same as always. I pulled out of my street onto a more main, yet still heavily wooded road. As I drove down Union Street, I nearly died of shocked as I looked to my left and saw that about 4 acres of land had been clear cut and a group of men were standing next to their big machines having a chat. We had heard that the land was being looked at for houses, but were hoping that the land wouldn't perk due to the heavy rain we've had, or the builders would lose interest. Then today without warning, the trees are gone. There will probably be houses there by the end of the summer.

I was shocked to see this, so horrified that I nearly drove off the road into someone's split rail fence. I quickly straightened the wheel, but it still felt like a punch in the stomach. A few seconds passed and I got over the shock and horror, and then it was replaced by incredible sadness, a sadness that, yet again, a piece of my town has been clear cut for development. It makes me ill to see piece by piece the town turning from woods and field to hideous 1 acre plots upon which million dollar houses are built. I got a panicky feeling when I thought about the trees being cut down. What if there were bird's nests in there? Then I thought of the wildlife. This tract of land has been unoccupied for who knows how long. A house across the street was built in 1820 or so, so we can safely assume that there hasn't been anyone on that land since then, and even if it was at one point farm land, it's been resting for a very long time, long enough to grow thick stands of pines. So for the past 150 to 200 years or so, no one has touched that land and it's been wild, hosting who knows how many types of birds and animals and plants and insects. Had they been crushed, obliterated or had they survived to escape? I can only wonder.

Finally, sitting here now, all I feel is an intense rage for people who could show such disregard for the world around them. I feel disappointed and sad for the people who look at a tract of forest and see it plowed down and replaced by houses. I am disgusted by people who consume, consume, consume, knocking down forests and displacing wildlife so they can live in a 4,000 square foot house and park their escalade in the driveway. People may listen to me or read this and think 'there goes that raging tree-hugging liberal again' but it's not just the wildlife I'm worried about. I do understand people need a space on this planet too, but the implications of building on that piece of land may be greater than anyone anticipates. Cutting down trees is the first issue. As soon as that is done, you lose a major absorber of ground water, which would be an issue on this piece of land because it is damp and has a tendency to flood. You reduce the amount of oxygen around you (which might not be noticed) and your house is going to bake in the summer sun, thus driving up the cost of air conditioning the house (because of course, these people will have central air and will probably never open the windows). Traffic will increase on road as well. Also, because a major wildlife corridor has been fragmented, human wildlife interaction is inevitable. Deer will probably eat bushes and trees, and the residents will see coyotes in their yard, and probably flip out about it too. But you know what? You get what you deserve. For doing this, for RAPING the land, I hope their basements flood everytime it rains. I hope the sun heats their house so unbearably in the summer that no amount of AC will ever make them comfortable. I hope deer eat their bushes, and coyotes eat their cats (or their children. Ok, I don't wish coyotes eat their cats, cause hey, the cats didn't do anything....plus they shouldn't be outside....as for the kids, I hope they don't get eaten, but I hope they are so terrified that they don't play outside. ha. there!). I hope they disturb nests of insects and mice and their houses are infested. Thinking of these things makes me smile, but in the end, they do no good, because even if this happnes, what's done is done. The forest is clear cut and gone, and even if by some strange miracle the builders choose not to build, I won't ever see that forest again, not in my lifetime.

Starbucks Cup #138 That's Been on my desk for 3 weeks waiting to be entered and might be moldy

The Way I See It #138

The good life is the middle way
Between ambition and compassion
Between action and reflection
Between company and solitude
Between hedonism and abstinence
Between passion and judgement
Between the cup of coffee
and the glass of wine.

--Jay McInerney
Author of Bright Lights, Big City
and The Good Life.

And yes, I opened the cup to see if it was moldy. NOt moldy as much as fermented and very very smelly. Ew. Throwing it away now. The end!