jodi writes

2009-06-25T18:47:00.002-04:00

Michael Jackson

When I read the headline today it brought tears to my eyes. Michael Jackson is dead. Yep, people do die. It shouldn't be terribly surprising - and yet, there is something about this news that struck a chord.

I am a child of the 80's. One of, if not THE first album (that's right, record album) that I ever owned was Thriller. I believe that his music was my introduction to the love of music. When I was about five or six years old, my cousin Lisa and I dressed up in shredded white t-shirts that we pilfered from my grandfather and danced in my grandparents' garage in front of homemade grave stones to Thriller. That remains one of my most seminal memories from childhood - partly because it was so much fun to hang out and learn from my older cousin, partly because the family took a few photos and in large part because Michael Jackson sparked my deep love of music.

He had his problems and was surrounded by controversy, but he was also so amazingly talented and kind. It is strange when major figures from your childhood pass away - it calls for a moment of introspection and raises questions. Am I old? Who will be next? I think we define our world by certain iconic figures. What does a world look like without Michael Jackson? Yes, that sounds dramatic and sensationalized, but really...what will it be like without him?

Thank you Michael Jackson for the music, the dancing, the joy and the inspiration. I hope you are now in a better place.

2009-06-15T15:50:00.001-04:00

It's about time

Just read this article and am glad someone is speaking up. What I wonder is: Why have people been talking about this same issue ad nauseum at least since I was 12 years old? Why didn't other fashion editors stand up sooner? Maybe when all models had to be a size 4 or 6?

Here's hoping the trend begins to reverse.

2009-05-17T18:05:00.002-04:00

What Now?

The hockey season ended in the second round of the playoffs with a terrible game 7 in which the Capitals just choked.

Neil and I have been kind of bummed since then. We spent so much time watching hockey the past 8 months that we suddenly have a ton of free time on our hands. I'm sure that will be a good thing once we finish mourning the hockey season. It was funny at the game when it was clear that our team would not be winning, many of the male fans began to get angry. They were yelling at the team, imploring them to play better, to be the team we knew they were. Whereas, I just got sad. I thought about how sad and frustrated the players must have been and how devastating the locker room was bound to be after the game. Perhaps that's the difference between male and female fans, or maybe it's just me.

As the game was ending, the fans stood and gave the Capitals a standing ovation, not for the game they were about to lose, but for the amazing season that was about to end. And when the final buzzer sounded and the teams had done their handshake, the Capitals raised their sticks to the fans. It was not an electrifying moment like when they won game 7 against the Rangers, but it was incredibly moving. At that moment the saying "Sport is cruel" popped into my head and held new meaning. Oh the agony of sports fandom.

In other less hockey-obsessed news, I started my government job two weeks ago. The first week was spent sitting at the government contract office that's my actual employer surfing the Internet. I was waiting first, for my security clearance, then for paperwork to get my badge. Week two was spent waiting for the same badge paperwork and then waiting for a computer log in. I finally began working on Friday after I got to spend most of Thursday running my personal errands because I still didn't have a log in.

In spite of the less than thrilling education in bureaucracy, I do have some things I really like about my new routine and daily rhythm.

1. I love working in the Ronald Regan Building. It's absolutely beautiful and filled with all kinds of people every day.

2. I love walking to work. It's an entirely different experience being downtown during the work day and my office is only about 6 blocks from my house. I have more hours in my day and a new feeling of freedom.

3. I like having a government badge - It makes me feel like a real Washingtonian.

4. I am enjoying meeting new people.

5. I like being a part of something so much larger than me. Now that I am optimistic about the future of our nation and our government, it's nice to be getting a glimpse inside.

6. I like leaving the office at 5 and being home by 5:15.

I hope to have more to add to this list soon.

2009-04-27T22:52:00.002-04:00

Endings and Beginnings

This is the beginning of my last week working for the nonprofit where I've been employed for the past three and a half years. It has been time for me to take my next step for a little while now and I'm excited to be moving on, but there is, of course, always a sadness that comes with this kind of transition. I believe I started this blog during my final two weeks at another job. Funny that it seems like a lifetime ago that I was nervously resigning from my newspaper job. I'm feeling much more confident this time around.

.....

Walking home from the metro today, DC really felt like home. It's my favorite time of year here, one of the first three or four days when it's been warm enough to venture outside in a skirt and short sleeves. The sun was shining, the sky was bright blue, the air is still dry and spring-like, lacking summer's intense humidity, and all of the trees and bushes are in bloom. Something about days like this makes me feel limitless optimism and freedom. My new job is downtown about 10 blocks from my apartment and I'm looking forward to spending more time in this city that I've somehow come to love.

.....

And finally, Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Quarterfinals is tomorrow night. My entire being is buzzing with excitement and nerves. I can't totally explain how I became this obsessed with hockey. I am not sure I can even partly explain it. As I sit here I am wearing red and white polka dotted pj pants with a Caps logo on them and a Caps t-shirt. I am currently calculating in my head how early I can leave work tomorrow in order to get home in time to get ready and get to the game early. Tonight I'll probably dream about the game. I'm nuts - but it's so much fun. Go Caps!

2009-04-18T23:54:00.002-04:00

Ouch

It hurts to be a sports fan.

The Capitals lost their second game in the first round of the playoffs to the New York Rangers today and it made me and Neil really sad. A year and a half ago, the fact that I just wrote the previous sentence would have been unfathomable. But here I am, a major Capitals fan. I suppose my fandom is a fantastic example of the fact that I am still growing and changing as a person. Being new to this fandom thing has left me ill-equipped to deal with sports-related sadness. I'll get over it and I'll be cheering the team on while watching on TV this Monday, but for now, I'm bummed. We got home from the game this afternoon and literally did not know what to do with ourselves. Neil took a nap and I cooked a recipe that I learned from the lovely Aarti. (It was delicious). So, I suppose, we were both constructive with our sports saddness.

What is funny to me is that we finally allowed ourselves to be sad. We've had a string of less-than-great things happen to us in the past few months and we managed to remain mostly positive. For me, it's a way of coping. The more optimistic I can be, the better. I do believe that positive thinking brings positive results. But I also realize that sometimes we just need to be sad. We need to grieve for a moment, to feel sorry for ourselves. I haven't really allowed myself that luxury lately. I realize that this is a strange complaint - not being sad enough.

Throughout this tough winter and early spring, the Capitals have bouyed my spirits when I needed it most. Being an avid sports fan is a beautiful distraction. When my team wins, no matter what else is going on in my life at the moment, I have an instant excuse to be happy - which is really a gift. Today, being a sports fan helped me get permission to be sad - another less joyful gift, but a gift nonetheless.

(note: I will be less grateful for this gift if the Caps lose the series.)

Joy

We learned some great news tonight - Neil's sister Jaimie is engaged! Her fiance, Jacob, is fantastic. They make each other very happy and are a pleasure to be around. I am really looking forward to many fun times with them in the future and I can't wait to celebrate their wedding.

Change

The weather in DC is finally changing into the beautiful spring weather that makes me love this city. Other things are changing too and I have a good feeling about the coming months for me and Neil. There is a heightened sense of possibility that comes with sunny weather and blooming flowers. Good things are on the horizon.

2009-02-19T16:53:00.002-05:00

Alexander Ovechkin Is Like a Drug
Or why hockey makes me happy

Yesterday was a tough day. Neil's company announced furloughs, I had some frustrations at the office, it was cloudy and cold all day and the news about the economy continued to be grim. Then we went to a Capitals game.

Being a sports fan is new for me. I am not accustomed to giving myself over so completely to fandom. In the past, even when I was rooting for a team, I rarely cheered out loud. I was even hesitant to rise for standing ovations at the theater. It could be my journalism training and my habit of observing rather than participating. In any case, my Capitals fandom has cured me of my fear to cheer and last night gave us great reason to go hoarse with screaming.

Ovechkin came storming out onto the ice, beat two defenders, gave himself a pass off the boards, spun around and received the pass, then was tripped and he still managed to score a goal while lying down and sliding toward the net. Not only was it completely amazing, a feat of astounding athleticism, but it was inspiring. Ovie's determination and then, after succeeding, his exuberance lightened my heart and reminded me what we can all accomplish when we put our minds to it.

So thanks Ovie, for the inspiration and the excuse to scream at the top of my lungs. (It's incredibly therapeutic.)

2009-02-17T12:14:00.002-05:00

The most depressing article I've read of late

Wow. I just checked in on cnn.com to find this story. Note that it resides in the travel section of the site. I sincerely hope that we collectively begin to solve the problem of global warming instead of traveling around to sites that are going to disappear before our children can see them.

2009-01-16T12:06:00.001-05:00

A Return

It seems as though I might be back to blogging. Now that I have effectively scared off all my readers and remained silent for nearly a year, I'm returning. Stay tuned.

2008-03-04T19:58:00.002-05:00

Blog Gone

I have decided that it's time to officially close up shop on j.g.s. Who knows, I may come back here someday, but I am no longer feeling the daily pull to write blog posts. It was fun sharing my life and observations and I am sure I will find another venue to do so in the future.

Thanks for reading.

Jodi

2007-11-06T17:13:00.000-05:00

Old
It's official. I am old. 29. That's hardly in my 20's anymore. I am almost 30. I don't know why that is such a big deal, but it is. There's something infinitely more interesting about being in your 20s. So, I had better make the most of this, my final interesting year.

I had a nice birthday complete with a fun joint birthday party which included packing about 40 people into our little 800 square-foot apartment. Always a good time.

The question was recently raised: Do books make you smarter? (ie can you buy smart)
I am going to go with yes. I'm taking a class after work on Mondays in leadership and I have to read two books for the class: Good to Great and The Tipping Point. I have already read The Tipping Point, but that's beside the point. I am finding that reading books for an assignment and sitting in class and thinking about things in a way that is different from how I think at work is making me sharper. And to further that, every book I read that makes me thing about something different and causes me to learn something new makes me smarter. Sure we have innate intelligence, but it has to be used if we don't want to lose it. You have to sharpen your mind by exercising it in different ways and you can probably expand your innate capacity if you work at it hard enough.

I've sat in some meetings with older people lately and I have noticed that they aren't as quick as some of my younger colleagues. I can even notice a difference in my mental speed when compared with people younger than me. I am slowing down ever so slightly (note above wherein I am old). I think the rest of my life will be a battle to keep my brain quick. Let the fight begin!

2007-10-28T17:27:00.000-04:00

When it rains...

Last week it rained for three or four days without stopping. For many people this would be completely unremarkable, but we're having a drought in DC, so I should have been overjoyed at the rain. But, really, it was depressing. Combined with the early setting of the sun and the sudden chill in the air and the fact that my husband was in San Diego all week covering fires, the rain made me feel desperatly sad. By day three of rain, I realized that I was happier at night because at least then it's supposed to be dark.

I suppose it didn't help that there were some tragedies taking place around me, impacting people I know. Nancy's husband's mom died this week and a co-worker had to go home to be with her sick father. It was a week of bummers.

I wish I could make it so silly things like rain couldn't impact my mood - so I could only be sad about the important stuff, not clouds in the sky.

In other news, I had a great time with Andy this week! He was the one thing that made the rain bearable. (thanks Andy) It's always refreshing to spend time with good friends.

More inspired posts coming soon.

2007-10-15T23:00:00.000-04:00

Again
I went to Portland this weekend for the second weekend in a row. The flight was incredibly long. In fact, last night's return flight was so long that my 28-year-old knees ached and threatened not to budge when I finally got to straighten them after landing after one in the morning. Should I be taking calcium supplements?

I made the trip to attend my father-in-law, Mort's 60th birthday party. On the airplane to Portland on Friday night, I realized that it was approximately six years ago when Neil and I made another much more tragic trip to Portland after my father-in-law tried to end his life.

Birthdays become significantly more important when there was a doubt that they'd ever be reached. We almost lost Mort once and so we now try to find any and every opportunity to celebrate his life. Amazingly, I didn't realize this for a while. At one point recently I even wondered why I was putting myself through all of the travel just to attend one party. Isn't my presence the weekend before the birthday enough? I asked myself.

At the party, Mort gave a painfully long speech. He had seven handwritten legal pad pages in his hands and he read nearly every word. Overall, it was comical and completely within his personality to give such an oration so we were able to laugh it off... but what he did say at the beginning of the ten minutes he had the mike, clarified some things for me. He said that when he was little he once drove his bike across the street and as soon as he had cleared the roadway, two cars smashed into each other right where he had been. He said he knew that day that G-d was looking out for him. And then, he said, "A couple years ago, I got away with my life again."

That might have been the first time I'd heard him talk about his failed attempt and express his happiness that he's alive. At that moment, I realized why it really was that we were all there, why I flew across the country for only one night of celebration. We were telling him that we're glad he's alive. Everyone's birthday is a celebration of them and the fact that they're alive. But Mort almost wasn't. He almost chose not to be and anyone that loves him is a little bit worried he could make that choice again. We know that life is fragile,that something can happen in any moment that will alter life forever. With Mort, at least in the eyes of his family and friends, life is just a little bit more fragile.

When we were heading to the airport yesterday afternoon, Mort pulled Neil aside and told him that he has a very special woman (me). I think, given our long history, that that's one of the nicest compliments I've ever received.

I could write here about my exhaustion and about the craziness that took place when we tried to decorate for the party, but none of that is really important. I went to Portland last weekend, for the second weekend in a row, to let my father-in-law know that I am very glad he is alive... and it was worth it.

2007-10-15T22:32:00.000-04:00

Border Confessions
(an essay I wrote a few years ago and have been revising)
I moved to the U.S.-Mexico border in the summer of 2000. We drove from Chicago, where I had just graduated from college, to El Paso, and before even seeing the big bridges and crossing gates that separated our new city from Juarez, Mexico, we moved into an apartment complex with large steel gates that opened only with the swipe of a card.
Borders in the borderland.

It was not clear whom the gates were meant to keep out other than everyone who did not pay rent to live in the complex. But it struck me as strange that a complex, which was not on the high-end of apartments, deemed it necessary to keep all non-residents out. And it seemed even stranger that the gates didn't really work. I wondered if there would be gates on these same apartments if they were in Chicago or Albuquerque or Detroit and decided that it wasn't likely. After living on the border for a while it became clear to me that first, the gates were for show and second, they were really meant to keep Mexicans out.

Late at night and early on weekday mornings, trucks and old vans with Mexico plates are found by the dumpsters in our parking lot, their drivers picking through the trash. They must wait until some resident or another comes home or goes to work and the gate opens, providing an opportunity to hunt for whatever treasures these apartment dwellers may have cast off – old mattresses, holey t-shirts, cardboard boxes. But before they can come and hunt through my trash, they have to pass through the border checkpoints to enter my country, a much more rigorous ordeal than sneaking into the apartment complex.

Their dumpster diving makes it impossible for me to ignore the reality of living along the border with Mexico. The men in their beat-up pick-ups bring the border to my doorstep. They serve as constant reminders of the poverty that lurks beyond the fences and the lines in the dirt that mark the separation of two worlds.

When people come to visit my husband, Neil and me, we have a spot we like to take them called Monument One. It is technically a park, but in all practicality, it’s a plot of desert with rocks and dirt and a few trees. What’s significant about this place is its location on the international border. The U.S. touches Mexico in this strange little corner where the Rio Grande River stops marking the boundary and monuments take over, drawing a dotted-line from El Paso to San Diego. Other than the white concrete monument that looks much like a smaller version of the Washington Monument, nothing is remarkable about the park. There is dust and some small plants and trees - typical desert landscape. On one side of the park, the Rio Grande trickles along, its brown waters passing unceremoniously between nations. On the other side of the park a desert hill offers cover for Mexican bandits who may decide to sneak up on unsuspecting tourists or local hikers.

Standing at Monument One, you can straddle the border, the only spot in the region where you can do that, because there is no fence. On weekends and national holidays, people from Anapra, Mexico, an impoverished suburb of El Paso's sister city, Juarez, come to this park and have barbeques and picnics. They drive their cars into the river and wash them, blast music from car stereos and sit under the trees that offer shade on the Mexican side of the park. I have never seen these people even approach the white obelisk marking the border. Haven’t seen them set foot in my country. They must know the Border Patrol is watching, that the officers even interrogate U.S. citizens driving away from the park – it’s happened to us more than once. But, on most days, a visitor to the park can’t see any law enforcement. Instead of manning the park with people, the U.S. government installed cameras perched on poles 60 feet up, watching at all times, even when human eyes might get tired, shut momentarily.

When Neil and I go to Monument One, we look at the monument, which is painted white with a black ‘1’ on it, but depending on the week may also be covered with various graffiti. Then we step one foot over the international boundary, which is clearly marked with a brass line in the cement. What is remarkable about this spot is how truly unremarkable it is. There are no big fences, often there aren't any visible law enforcement agents and many days we have been the only people there on either side of the border. It is just us, the river, the dust and a brass line in cement. I like to walk back and forth over the line and then keep one foot firmly planted on each side. Whenever I do this, I get a small rush. I’m in another country. Similar, I think, to the feeling you get on road trips when you enter another state. First Arizona says goodbye and then five seconds later, at 80 miles per hour California welcomes you. “Bye Arizona. Hello California,” my brother and I used to say when our parents would point out these signs. I used to try to notice the moment when our car was in both states at once, just to know what it felt like to be in two states simultaneously– not much different. And it is virtually the same with straddling two nations, because even when I have one foot on either side of the line, I am still just standing in the desert.

After spanning the border, we usually cross over completely and walk down to the river, which is always filthy and surrounded by picnic trash. Chicken bones, napkins, old clothing left behind when its owners shed their t-shirts and pants to jump into the water. Sometimes I feel like we’re on an archeological dig and we have to come up with theories about Mexican culture based on the artifacts they have left behind. “Ah hah, chicken bones and clothes. This means they can eat well and can easily afford new clothes since they left them here.” Of course, the truth is that the Anapra residents are often scared away from the park in the middle of picnicking either by the border patrol or, more likely, by Mexican bandits. And, while the U.S. government can afford to clean up trash left on the American side of the border, Mexican infrastructure is not developed enough - nor does it have the resources - to collect trash at parks in its poorest colonias.

I don’t really know why we walk all the way over to the river every time we visit, but we do. One time, we saw a man washing a red, white and green bus that was probably used to transport factory workers home at the end of their shifts in the middle of the night. Women had been disappearing, so the companies splurged on buses and drivers to protect their workers. But sometimes the buses still dropped them off too far from their homes for safety. The man with the bus was wading in the water and scrubbing the painted metal with an old rag. We took a picture.

We actually have several pages of pictures from Monument One in our photo album. Most of them show us with our out-of-town visitors with one foot in each country or all of us crouching in front of the monument so we don’t cover the part that says it is the international boundary. I think we have enough of these pictures, but I imagine if we get any more visitors, we’ll have to keep repeating this process. If we go on a day when the people from Mexico are picnicking and playing, maybe our visitors will feel the way we often do, like aliens, when we walk down to the river and the stares of the people drill holes in our backs. Or maybe it’s our own discomfort that we project onto them that drills the holes. Whatever the case, the disparity makes it impossible to feel comfortable there. Maybe our out-of-town friends will leave feeling like the border is evading them because it is difficult to conceptualize the entirety of two nations when you are standing in a field looking at a white concrete monument. Maybe they will go home feeling that it’s not really as simple as the line on the map, even if it is only a line in the dirt.

Not far from my apartment complex, wealthy El Pasoans have their homes on the city’s hills and ledges and many of them pretend they can’t see the Third World when they look over the back fence. They build walls to block the view and shop only in the chain stores on the outskirts of town - avoiding downtown, where the blending of two cultures stares them in the face in the form of Spanish language signs and open air markets that are often packed with Mexican citizens shopping for the day and beggars hoping to scrounge a little bit of money to take home to their families.

Many of these El Pasoans who ignore the border are first generation U.S. citizens. Their parents gave birth to them in the public hospital in El Paso after rushing across the border in order to give them better lives. Yet these citizens of the United States have little to no compassion for other parents in Mexico trying to do the same thing for their children.

“There are too many Mexicans in this store,” a co-worker at the bookstore where I work said to me once. She must have noticed my jaw drop slightly as I looked at her brown skin. “They’re just really messy,” she said. And the prejudice extends beyond the bookstore to the local border patrol agents who are sons and daughters of immigrants and have been charged with keeping all the other would-be immigrants out.

The border ignorers control the local newspaper where there is rarely a story about border issues despite the metro section’s title of “Borderland.” The newspaper’s editor has an edict against border coverage, because, according to market research, the readers all live on the West Side and don’t want to know about the border. So as Juarez suffers floods or fires, the El Paso Times runs articles about the first day back to school for El Paso students and the prize-winning gardenia grown by an east-side El Paso woman. When the newspaper arrives in the morning, it is even easier to ignore the border because it’s not written about. But I think that no matter how hard you may try not to look, not to notice what this city butts up against, we all carry the border around with us. It is the burden of privilege that can be made real in no better way than to live in this borderland. It is the always being on the edge of something, the constant feeling of otherness. I carry the border with me even without completely understanding it. After two years of glancing at Mexico every day on my way to work and experiencing border culture, the border still does not make sense to me.

Before I moved to El Paso, when I sat in my college apartment near Chicago thinking about the move, it was easy for me to understand international borders. I pictured the map of the United States that I grew up seeing, the one they passed out in elementary school for us to color, the one that pulled down from those scrolls attached to the top of the chalkboards in all the classrooms of my childhood. The international border is that line at the bottom middle left of the map where instead of the bright colors designating the states, the land below the line is colored light brown to show that it’s not part of my country. Below that line they have a different government, language and currency. Simple. But in El Paso, it is hard to let it be that simple. I am still puzzling over how a line in the dirt can make such a difference. Yet anyone driving east along I-10 can see the difference, the stark contrast. From the comfort of the plush driver’s seat in your car, you see hundreds of ramshackle houses in the hills, across the river. While you listen to Norah Jones on your CD player - cruising along the freshly paved and painted interstate there they are, just beyond the electronic signs warning of upcoming traffic problems. Some are pink, others mint green, others yellow - all looking wind-worn and old. And if you look closely you can see that the roads are not paved - if there even are roads. A little asking around and you will find out that most of those homes lack running water and electricity. And thousands of El Pasoans glimpse these tenements twice a day on the way to and from work, to and from their comfortable homes. Two cultures, two economies, two realities, nudging up against each other in the desert – it’s just too simple for all of its complexities.

After Monument One, we also usually take our visitors to Juarez, the city of more than one million people that is right across the river from El Paso. I say more than one million because nobody really knows how many people live there. Without a census or some other way of counting population, the Mexican government is left to guess. Some estimates put the population of the city as high as three million, which may very well be accurate since people from the interior of Mexico are constantly migrating to the border in search of better opportunities and a better life.

To get to Juarez, you have to walk or drive over one of several international bridges where drug-sniffing dogs walk back and forth between rows of cars and your vehicle may be searched at any time. This entry into Mexico is much less ambiguous than that of the park. Like the signs at the edges of states, each country has flags up and words welcoming you. With such a big production at the bridge -- a small fee is charged, certain items must be declared, searches are performed -- crossing the border there does not confuse. In fact, the bridge is so long and involved that it doesn't even feel like the two nations are that close. It takes at least 15 minutes to walk across and sometimes hours sitting in traffic to drive across the bridge. I sometimes think that by waiting in the bridge lines, people have the chance to transition between the two countries, time to mentally prepare for what awaits them on the other side. Maybe that is one of the reasons the international bridges are so large in scale and surrounded by pomp and circumstance.

On my last trip over the bridge and into Juarez, I wore blue jeans and it was 100 degrees outside. My friend was in town and he said it had been too long since he’d been to a foreign country. “I have just the remedy for that,” I said, and we drove downtown and parked in one of the lots near the bridge, where you pay $3.00 to have your car watched by men who always look a little shady. I have learned that even though they are often very dirty, speak broken English and have missing teeth - and almost always have a bucket of Coronas in their guard booths- these men can be trusted to look out for my pickup truck. I paid that day’s man, a little shorter and cleaner than the man I paid last time I had been down there, and my friend and I headed toward the bridge. The walk is long, but always seems shorter than I am expecting it to be. We went through the first booth and paid our fifty cents and then walked up the long arching bridge, breathing in the hot air mixed with car exhaust. At the middle of the bridge, we paused to note our crossing into Mexico, looked up at the big Mexico and U.S. flags and kept walking. My jeans clung to my legs with sweat.

Once we cleared the last checkpoint and entered Juarez, the weather was the only thing that was unchanged. Signs were all in Spanish; grimy children in tattered clothing begged on the street or tried to sell us chewing gum; the roads and buildings were old and deteriorating; Mexican music blared from storefronts, and the air smelled of cooking meat that was displayed in glass cases along the sidewalk. Of course, most things right on the other side of the border are set up to draw American tourists – inexpensive alcohol medicine you don’t need a prescription to buy, and night clubs with a younger drinking age. Every store accepts dollars. Most shopkeepers and taxi drivers speak English. And the nearby markets are filled with the typical Mexican pottery, glassware, t-shirts and boots. Usually, Neil and I lead our guests the six blocks from the bridge to the Mercado, a large building filled with booths selling things that appeal to tourists. In this warehouse-like structure with bare concrete floors, dozens of makeshift merchant booths and more bright colored weavings and clothing than at any U.S. shopping mall, you can bargain for better prices. But on this day, my friend and I were not in the mood for bargaining. I told him how I usually buy only one item per trip to the Mercado, one item to put in our apartment to remember Mexico by when we move away from the border.

We walked past shops and pharmacies stocked with drugs that anyone could buy without a prescription. We paused to look at a beautiful old cathedral and bought apple soda called Manzana Lift in a market where they didn't understand our words, but gladly accepted our money. We ambled by an important-looking building and my limited Spanish allowed me to translate. “I think that’s city hall,” I said. We kept walking. Eventually we stumbled on an outdoor market selling all sorts of things: sneakers, purses, herbal medicines and most surprisingly, pets. I heard a rooster crowing and we followed the sound to a hot corner of the market where there were scrawny-looking bunnies, chickens, cats and dogs in wire cages panting in the heat. After getting slightly lost on some side streets and walking past a semi-hidden pool hall filled with pool tables and men who were drinking and smoking in the early afternoon on a weekday, we walked back to El Paso and headed home to nurse our sunburns and heat headaches and wash the grime from our skin.

Neil and I take our guests to Juarez even when they don’t want to go. “How can you come all the way here and not set foot in Mexico?” we ask. And we mean it. It’s not that we force cultural experiences on our visitors, we just convince them that they want to go to Mexico and then we take them. If our friend or relative seems to be enjoying the Mexico experience after the Mercado, we walk to a market in a more local part of town where less English is spoken and where in the middle of the afternoon outside of bars along the way, 14-, 15-, 16-year-old girls stand in mini skirts, boots, heavily applied makeup that melts and drips in the hot sun, and sell their bodies to feed their families. “See, they are always here,” we remark in low tones. The girls stand with their backs against the wall and look down as men ogle them and women walk by with heads turned away. Usually, I feel nauseous. I want to rescue them, take them home with me and feed them and put them into sweat pants and running shoes and let them watch cartoons on my couch. Why we make ourselves look at the little prostitutes almost every time we visit Juarez is beyond me. Maybe for the same reason that I sometimes get sucked into violent murder movies on television as I am flipping through channels. Morbid curiosity. But maybe, by looking at the girls, I am trying to remind myself of the problems caused by poverty, of the desperation just a few miles from where I sleep at night. Of course, similar desperation exists in the ghettos of my own country but the poverty in Mexico is not only in ghettos. While we have systemic poverty in the U.S., Mexico has widespread systemic poverty. Why am I fixated on Mexico’s poor and not so concerned with the poverty in the U.S.? As politically incorrect as this answer is, I am afraid it is mostly a matter of proximity.

Neil and I do not go to Mexico very often when we aren’t showing it to somebody else. It is our tourist attraction, our Grand Canyon, our state park, our Disneyland. I realize that even those prostitutes and the poverty and the begging toddlers are part of the tourist attraction. “See how different it is here?” we ask. “See how lucky we are? But look at how neat this Mexican culture is.” And I could feel guilty about this, about mixing my tourism with psychological voyeurism, but I have come to think that it is acceptable to show people from out of town what exists on the other side of the border: the souvenirs and the young whores. Yet, as I show Mexico off like it’s mine and remark on the sadness of the poverty and the prostitution and the police corruption, I often wonder whether I should do something to try to help. But as soon as I ask myself this question I am always struck by the magnitude of the problems and I feel hopeless to effect change. I think this feeling of helplessness is what causes many El Pasoans to turn their backs on Mexico, to pretend they do not live along the border, to close their eyes to the poverty. If all of us didn’t do this to some extent, we would go crazy.

Every morning, about ten miles from my little apartment, thousands of cars sit in traffic at the international bridge that spans between Mexico and the United States. Mexican students wake up at four and five in the morning in order to get through the gridlock and make it to their classes at the University of Texas at El Paso on time. My next-door neighbor, who has an engineering degree from the University of Michigan, rises before five every morning to make it to her job at an auto parts manufacturing plant in Juarez, fulfilling her dream to work in a Spanish-speaking country. Older El Pasoans walk across the same bridge and pay fifty cents to pass into Mexico where they buy prescription drugs and get their teeth filled or capped for a fraction of the price it would cost them in the United States. Older Mexicans walk over the bridge into El Paso to go shopping for the things they cannot buy in their own country or to see their children who somehow became U.S. citizens. Mixed in with the students, the tourists, the businesspeople, are the drug smugglers and the people smugglers, the criminals who somehow manage to live at this crossroads as if there are no laws.

I live in this community too, walking across the border on occasion for entertainment, driving by the colorful adobe houses on Juarez’s western hills each day on Interstate 10. Perhaps I came closest to finding an answer to what it really means to live here on the edge of something during my first November here, while I was working as a reporter at El Paso’s daily newspaper. One morning, one of the many editors handed me a faxed press release about a Catholic mass on the border in celebration of the Day of the Dead, or Dia de Los Muertos, a Mexican holiday celebrated by many El Pasoans. I took the piece of paper and headed toward the little New Mexico town where the event was taking place.

It was not more than five minutes outside El Paso but as with many parts of the border, I had to drive my car along a dusty clearing near a railroad track to get there. Later it made sense to me that there are no real roads leading to that place. I imagined that the U.S. government kept it that way on purpose to protect most of us from seeing what the border really is: a large chain-link fence with barbed wire at the top. What I saw when I arrived is cemented in my memory. About two hundred people on the Anapra, Mexico side of the fence and one hundred people in Sunland Park, New Mexico were singing and praying together through chain links. The people wore mostly black with a smattering of color and, like the shiny fence, everyone seemed out of place in the expansive field of dust and small gray desert plants which could never sustain the amount of life it contained that day. The people were speaking all in Spanish, but a few of those gathered on the U.S. side explained to me that the people at the mass were praying for friends and relatives who had died trying to cross the desert to get to a better life in America.
These people were celebrating a holiday but they were also trying to make a statement. They wanted the fences to come down so that border crossers wouldn’t be forced to journey into the uninhabited desert where they often meet their death. Border Patrol officials maintain that the tall fences and vigilant guarding of the border, all part of a plan called Operation Hold The Line first implemented in the late 1990’s, have decreased crime in El Paso, and that having agents so near the river at all times has prevented many drownings. I don’t know who is right. But the man who developed Hold The Line while in the Border Patrol was elected to congress and now chairs the Hispanic Caucus. Recently, USA Today named him as a possible Hispanic presidential candidate. The people in Anapra protesting his policy have to gather in the dust, invite the media and hope they are heard.

I stood there in the fine deep-brown sand that afternoon puzzling over borders, realizing that similar to the dark line drawn on the map, the border between one of the most wealthy and powerful nations in the world and one of the poorest and weakest is a chain-link fence. The border mass was short but amazing. Two folding tables were pushed against each other with the wire fence between them and they served as a makeshift altar. There was a priest on each side and the men took turns reading prayers. The Spanish floated upward and spread across the desert in every direction. Children shared apples through the fence. Adults swayed in the moment holding white wooden crosses with names of the dead painted on them. Everyone and everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. Some women mourned quietly, several men allowed tears to slip down their cheeks. When the solemn praying was complete four or five men in paper mache masks for the Day of the Dead began to dance. I watched, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. What defines a nation? Who decided this fence would be precisely right here? Why didn’t they put it 15 feet to the left? It amazed me that some line decided by the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848 could make such a difference. I realized that being born a mere 5 feet to the left or right of a certain line in the dirt could change your entire life experience. You either live on this side of the fence and bring fruit and toys for the children on the other side, or you live in Anapra and hold your arms outstretched as the Americans dump bags of food and gifts over the top of chain links.

I wrote a story about the mass for the next day’s newspaper. Like most stories about the border, the editors decided to run it on the inside of the local section, the part of the newspaper read by the smallest number of people each day. I was shocked when I received at least ten e-mails from readers voicing strong opinions about the border and the fences and the Mexicans dying in the desert. Some of the messages I got did not make sense, others were from angry U.S. citizens who want Mexicans to stay out and others were from people who sympathized with the mass attendees. One e-mail even said, “Go back to your own country.” What country do they suggest? I wondered. Would moving out of Texas suffice? Aren’t all U.S. citizens somehow descendants of immigrants? I grew up hearing sayings like, “The United States is a melting pot” and in fifth grade I memorized the inscription on the Statue of Liberty about the tired, hungry, poor and huddled masses all being welcome here. My naïveté allowed me to believe those myths until I was 21 and moved to the border of this great nation, where it became clear to me that only some of the tired, hungry and poor are really welcome here.

I don’t really think that everyone should be allowed to enter this country. Nor do I believe that we should offer public services to everyone who wants to walk across the border from Mexico. I have seen the strain on the health care system and the legal system that has been created by caring for the indigent in El Paso, most of whom are Mexican citizens illegally in the U.S. But as a nation, we are in the strange and sad position of ignoring the plight of our neighbors because there is no easy way to help them. Their struggle is a spectacle to us, at best a lesson, but we border-dwellers continue to witness the poverty and the desperation, and then turn our backs on it every day.

2007-10-02T12:13:00.000-04:00

Elegy for the Executive Director

More about Liam...I wish I could have attended his memorial in New York, but, it was on Yom Kippur.

David Gates captures the man in a way that nobody else has thus far. Definitly worth the read.

2007-10-01T21:45:00.000-04:00

October Musings
It's October and temperatures are still up in the 80s during the day. I am longing for Fall. It's so late that I'm afraid we'll just jump right into Winter and skip over Fall all together.

A couple weeks ago, Neil and I went to the Kennedy Center's annual open house and I've been meaning to blog about it. We arrived and saw a Mexican techno band play, then we saw Canadian acrobats who were amazing and for the last show of the day we got to see a 1.5 hour Ben Kweller concert which was fantastic. He is my new favorite. Best thing about the whole day? All the shows were free. We just had to show up and wait in line. Living in DC can be really fun and culturally enriching.

The next weekend we went for a walk on Sunday. We left our house, walked down the National Mall, saw a live Jazz festival, ran across the guy who danced around the world and saw him dancing in front of the capitol, visited the Washington Monument. went into two museums and then headed home. All we had set out to do was go for a walk.

I like it when life just leads you in a random direction and you uncover unexpected delights. It happens more often than we realize, I think. I'm trying to notice it more - to keep that sense of wonder even in my more mundane days.

In other news, my favorite song of the moment is Home for a Rest by Spirit of the West. Download it from iTunes. You will not be sorry.

2007-09-23T20:46:00.001-04:00

Hope

Something I heard this weekend: Hope is not a symptom of naivete, it's an act of defiance.

I like that. Sometimes I feel like I am too optimistic and too hopeful, but maybe I'm not. Maybe I can make things happen for myself just because I maintain hope in the face of life and all that life throws at me.

Maybe...

2007-09-16T00:29:00.001-04:00

I am Jewish

I was at a wedding tonight and going into it, Neil and I knew we'd probably be the only Jewish people in attendance. This is not something I usually think about when going somewhere, but our friends are very religious and Jesus was mentioned more than a few times on their wedding web site, so we knew we might be a little different than most of the wedding guests.

The wedding was great and the party was on a yacht, which was even cooler than it sounds. Everyone was very friendly and we met a lot of friends and family of the bride and groom which is always fun. The bride was beautiful and it was fantastic to see our two friends so in love with each other.

At dinner, we ate with the couple's marriage coaches from the church. Basically, the marriage coaches are a happily married couple that volunteer to council new couples pre- and post-wedding. They were very nice and very committed to their coaching. They said that two of the three couples they coached last year didn't end up getting married. (Wow - think of how much the divorce rate might drop if every couple had to go through similar counseling before getting married.)

I suppose it was inevitable that they would ask what I do for work. I started with, "PR and Marketing for a nonprofit." Then they asked what kind of non profit and I explained that we bring high school students to DC to teach them about the political system and about political and social involvement. And then they asked how we select our high school students at which point I explained that all of our students are Jewish. I told them how we teach the students that Judaism demands that we be involved and take an active role in making the world a better place.
With all of the explaining out of the way, the woman doing the questioning said, "So to do that kind of work do you have to be that?" (or something close to that) I believe she wanted to ask, "Are you Jewish?" but for some reason couldn't bring herself to do it. I took her awkwardness in stride and said that you don't have to be Jewish to work in my office, but I am Jewish. This was somewhat of a watershed moment for me. Even though I am proud of who I am, I have not often felt comfortable coming out as Jewish. It is hard for me to say, "I am Jewish" - probably because of reactions I have gotten throughout my life and because I grew up in a place where not many people were Jewish.

The rest of the conversation at dinner was peppered with people's Jewish experiences - which were VERY limited. The stories ranged from a neighbor who invited someone to his bar mitzvah, and e-mail with a link to a video about Israeli soldiers, another neighbor who shared hamantaschen at Purim, a recently attended Jewish/Catholic wedding, and, a trip to the National Holocaust Museum. No matter where we tried to steer the conversation, if there was a tiny bit of silence, someone would pull out another Jewish story.

Everyone was very nice, and I know they were trying to find commonalities and create conversation, but I couldn't help but to feel a bit uncomfortable. I would have rather someone said, "I haven't met very many Jewish people, can I ask you some questions?" than run through every experience they ever had with a Jewish person as if I would, for some reason, care deeply.

What if Neil and I had been the only Black people at the table? Would we have received a litany of stories about our fellow diners' Black schoolmates and coworkers? I somehow suspect that most people know that would be inappropriate.

I am not offended and I actually think that the couple and the other woman at our table are very nice people. I wouldn't mind having dinner with them again someday, though I doubt that will happen. I just wish that they could have seen themselves tonight. Or I wish I could have found a tactful way to let them know what they were doing. "Hey, you're embarrassing yourself by telling me about every Jew you've ever met." Maybe I should have started telling all of my own Christian stories? I really have no idea what I could have done to stop them and make things less awkward. Probably nothing - it's just human nature.

Maybe I should be thanking them, really, because before all of the inane stories about their bar mitzvah experiences, they gave me a chance to say "I am Jewish" out loud and to feel proud of making that declaration. I am sure there are a litany of reasons as to why I am now, at age 28, finally able to embrace my religion as part of my identity and feel proud of it (I am working for a Jewish organization, I have met lots of Jewish friends since moving to DC, I am more comfortable with myself overall, etc.) But it feels good to be able to own my religious identity and even when it's a little scary, to be able to say "I am Jewish".

2007-09-12T10:45:00.000-04:00

Reason # 472 I Like Living In A Big City

There is something oddly satisfying about grabbing the garbage bag from the can, walking down the hall, opening a small metal door on the wall marked "rubbish" and dropping the trash down a long tube. Trash chutes are awesome.

2007-09-06T21:58:00.000-04:00

A Bucket of Keep Your Shirt On

Who else thinks the Subway ads are completely hilarious? I love them. Neil's watching football and I am enjoying the first-game-of-the-season commercials including the fantastic Subway commercial where the guy takes his co-workers' orders and everyone orders things like, "Make your pants tight combo.," "A bucket of keep your shirt on,"and other hilarious meals... It was almost funny enough to make me want to eat Subway, but I really hate it.

Fall?

It's supposed to begin to feel like Fall soon. It's getting light later and dark earlier, kids are back in school, stores are selling plaid, but because I live in a muggy swamp, it's still in the 80s and 90s and muggy.

I am dreaming of crisp air and changing leaves.

2007-09-05T01:07:00.000-04:00

Wedded Bliss

I was in my friend Julia's wedding this past Saturday. It was her wedding day and Neil and my fifth anniversary. Funny, I have been feeling old lately, but at the same time, I feel very young to have been married for five years. Strange how ambiguous time can be.

The wedding was a lot of fun. Spending our anniversary dancing with our friends really wasn't bad at all. There were several perfect moments during the evening... you know, those glimpses of divinity when you see your friends really happy, when you're in the moment with people you love and the world slows down for a second.

Julia looked absolutely beautiful, the sunset was amazing, even the rain storm was fantastic.

Of course, the visit to Santa Fe was far too short, but it was nice to be there, to have the chance to see family and have my feet on the ground for a minute.

2007-08-28T22:00:00.000-04:00

Oh Dear

Several public moments of stupidity in the media today:

Poor Caitlin Upton. I have no idea how she managed to say something so incomprehensible, but there you have it. I am sure that she's not THAT dumb, but somehow she managed to string a whole bunch of words together in a way that made absolutely no sense. It didn't help that she had a vapid look on her face and a blank tone of voice. I know that I was incredibly self-conscious when I was her age, I can't imagine how I would have felt if my most embarrassing moment had been broadcast on You Tube for millions to watch. People are saying that her answer shows how dumb Americans are or somehow makes a broader statement about our culture. I don't believe that's the case. I think she just got scared and nervous, but wow is it funny! Hang in there Caitlin - definitely a classy move to go on the Today Show this morning - way to go.

And for fun. here's a transcript of her answer to why a fifth of Americans could not locate the United States on a world map (yikes): “I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, uhmmm, some people out there in our nation don't have maps and uh, I believe that our, I, education like such as, uh, South Africa, and uh, the Iraq, everywhere like such as, and I believe that they should, uhhh, our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., uh, should help South Africa, it should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future, for us.”

I have a bit less sympathy for Idaho Senator Larry Craig who pleaded guilty to lewd conduct in June when he was caught soliciting another man in an airport bathroom and didn't bother telling his wife about it until it broke in the news yesterday. He is a conservative Republican who wants to pass an amendment defining marriage as a union between one man and one woman, but many gay man say they have had sex with him, he has been accused of lewd conduct in the past, and should I repeat the fact that he plead guilty in June and didn't tell his wife??? Today he held a press release during which he repeated "I'm not gay" multiple times in an angry tone and all I could think while watching him was, "Wow, he must really hate himself." And there I am, back to feeling sorry for him. I know it's hard, especially for men of his generation, to be open about sexual preference. But isn't it simpler when we're ourselves? And shouldn't people elected to public positions be as honest and open as possible? Doesn't it all eventually come out anyways? Yes, I am an idealist, but senator or no senator, Larry Craig has some work to do because he's not going to be happy until he is comfortable with who he is.

2007-08-27T22:45:00.000-04:00

Things

Thing 1: I saw a great documentary last night called Can Mr. Smith Get to Washington Anymore? I recommend it to anyone who's even slightly politically-minded. Not only does it detail an inspirational, though failed, campaign, but it also points out one of the major problems inherent in our political system - legacy candidates who win on name recognition and familyreputation alone. A side note: watching the poor guy make all the painful phone calls and have the door slammed in his face definitely served as a reminder about why I do not want to run for office.

Thing 2: I have been meaning, for some time, to blog about my neighborhood Street Sense vendor, Ivory Wilson. I met Ivory last winter. It was shortly after I'd attended one of the seminars my work puts on for teenagers and I'd heard some speakers from the National Coalition for the Homeless. What resonated with me most that the homeless speakers said was all they want is some friendly human interaction - to be treated like people. I certainly didn't make a practice of being mean to homeless people I passed on the street, but I also didn't often smile at them or even say hello. Armed with my new awareness, I decided to make a concerted effort to be friendly to homeless people I pass each day. It was right around then that I noticed a new Street Sense vendor on the corner between Starbucks and the metro. I walk past his spot each morning and each morning I would smile at him and say good morning. I also began to buy the newspaper from him. He was always very friendly and appreciative and started to call me his friend.

"Good morning, my friend," he'd say.

I looked forward to walking past him. His would be at least one friendly face on my morning commute and often the only friendly face. On days when he wasn't there, I began to miss him.

Then, one day, I bought the paper from him and he told me his profile was in it. The first paragraph of the profile began with an accurate description and ended with a surprise: "He speaks with swagger. He smiles, but always a sideways grin making you doubt everything he says. But if he didn't smile you wouldn't believe him. If he didn't smile you wouldn't see the detail that remains from his former life: four diamonds set in gold in a front tooth. You see, Ivory Wilson III was a pimp."

After the initial shock of reading the intro, I noticed the pull-quote on the page in 24-point font: "I know that some day I am going to meet somebody that is going to give me that opportunity to talk to them and realize that I am very talented at something else besides turning women into hookers. That I am a writer."

As a woman and a feminist, I really wasn't sure how to proceed. Should I talk to Ivory in the morning? Could I still smile at him knowing what he'd done? At the same time, he's reformed and he's trying to become a writer - an aspiration I can certainly identify with. I discussed the dilemma with Neil, I mulled it over for a few days, meanwhile, Ivory was missing from his corner - as if to give me the space to process the new information I had obtained. Later he said that he was very busy because of the profile - the media had done an interview, he had to sell some of his books "How to be a Pimp", etc.

Ultimately, even after reading some of Ivory's disturbingly graphic book about being a pimp (I bought a photocopy for $5), I decided to continue my friendship. Now, Ivory brings printed word documents with new stories and poems he's written each week. I give him a dollar or two for each poem and I buy the paper when it comes out. Sometimes I stop and talk to him for a couple of minutes, but I always smile. I've noticed that I'm not the only young woman who stops and talks to Ivory. In fact, I've never seen a man talking to him on his corner. It's funny, because he's not particularly charming - but there must be something about him?

During a recent conversation, Ivory told me that living in DC doesn't tempt him to go back to his life as a pimp. Living in California, however, does, so he's staying here. I appreciated the courage it took for him to open up to me like that (I don't even think he knows my name) and it made me trust him just a little bit - enough to keep letting him call me his friend.

A couple issues of Street Sense ago, Ivory published a poem called "The Salesman at 7th and E" that chronicled his time selling the newspapers on his corner. He wrote of being cold and sad in the winter and the difference that was made by the people who said hello to him. I like to think I helped make that difference and seeing that poem in the paper felt rewarding.

There is some humor that comes with my "friendship" with Ivory. For instance, I can say things to Neil like, "Oh, sorry, I gave my last dollar to my pimp" after buying the paper from Ivory on the way home from work. I like the novelty of being friends with a reformed pimp. But really, I'm glad I took the chance and opened myself up to befriending someone to whom I previously wouldn't have given the time of day. It sounds a little made-for-tv-movie, but being friends with Ivory, regardless of his past crimes and current homelessness isn't just favor to Ivory, it makes me feel good about myself.

2007-08-21T10:49:00.000-04:00

Ugh

This makes me sad.

It's raining today and I think I inhaled too much dust while cleaning the office for new employees yesterday so now I feel sick. I realize it's bizarre that the Marketing and PR director cleans for new employees, but nobody else was going to do it and I think that having a nice space on your first day of work is important. Note to self: Next time, let somebody else clean the office.

Neil is in South Padre Island on hurricane watch. Fortunatley, so far, the hurricane seems to be hitting mostly uninhabited parts of Mexico. Also fortunate, it didn't hit where Neil was. Maybe he will come home soon?

2007-08-20T21:11:00.000-04:00

Still Thinking About Liam and Suicide

...and so I present this poem by Galway Kinnell...

Wait

Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven't they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,
their memories are what give them
the need for other hands. And the desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness to the old.

Wait.
Don't go too early.
You're tired. But everyone's tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a while and listen.
Music of hair,
Music of pain,
music of looms weaving all our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear,
the flute of your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total
exhaustion.

2007-08-16T11:55:00.000-04:00

Liam Rector 1949-2007

I was a student in the Bennington Writing Seminars for two years, a program that was started and directed by the poet Liam Rector. I learned this morning that after a long illness, Liam killed himself yesterday morning. To me, a student of his who didn't know him well, but was completely inspired by him, the news of his death is like a star going out. He was brilliant, eccentric, completely devoted to language and literature and his exuberance for life was infectious. Liam described the Bennington Writing Seminars as a vortex or radiant node. We gathered in Vermont twice a year to gain the energy and synergy found in the vortex and then we traveled home for the necessary isolation in which art is created. He was a great man and the world is a little bit less wise, less rich and less bright without him.

A quote from Liam: "I've been a student of music and film, and I think of life as that tragic and embarrassing thing that takes place between the poems, films, and the songs I inhabit."

And a poem he wrote that strikes a chord:

The Remarkable Objectivity
of Your Old Friends

by Liam Rector

We did right by your death and went out,
Right away, to a public place to drink,
To be with each other, to face it.

We called other friends - the ones
Your mother hadn't called - and told them
What you had decided, and some said

What you did was right; it was the thing
You wanted and we'd just have to live
With that, that your life had been one

Long misery and they could see why you
Had chosen that, no matter what any of us
Thought about it, and anyway, one said,

Most of us abandoned each other a long
Time ago and we'd have to face that
If we had any hope of getting it right.

To Liam: Thank you for sharing your joy of life with me. I will endeavor to Always Be Closing. You will be missed.

2007-08-13T10:35:00.000-04:00

Slight Panic About Getting Older

Do we become infinitely less interesting as we age? Do we lose our capacity for adventure with each passing year? I have a fear that my days of adventure and intrigue are numbered. If they are, why am I not doing something amazing every day? There is a line in Bright Eyes' Travelin' Song that, for some reason, captures what I am talking about, the could-care-less bad-ass adventure. It is something about parking in an ally and hoping that their shit is safe.

I am such a contradiction. In a way, I wish I could limit my belongings to what would fit in a car and just wander. At the same time, I need to have a home, a community and a sense of place.

I am afraid. I am afraid of growing older, of having regrets, of not seeing everything, of not living up to my potential, of being lost, of losing too much, of missing the people that mean the most to me. I need to harness the fear and use it. I need to stop thinking and act. I need to go skydiving, travel to Thailand, learn Spanish (for real this time), scuba dive with sharks, perform in a dance recital, complete a triathlon, publish a book. I need to get it done.

2007-08-08T21:47:00.000-04:00

Hip Hop

I have a confession. Since sometime
in early spring, I have been going to hip hop classes. Each week, Lia
and I leave work right on time, head downtown and spend an hour dancing
to loud hip hop music in an historic library building. We don't have a
ton of rhythm and while we're getting better, I still usually only get
all the steps once in a class even though we repeat the routine at
least 25 times each class. Two weeks ago, the instructor told us we
don't suck (not exactly in those words, but that was the message) and
we were so excited.

But, in spite of a slight lack of natural hip hop talent and my strong instinct to point my toes and dance like a ballerina
instead (damn childhood ballet lessons) the highlight of my week is
dance class. We have so much fun that when we get to work on Friday,
we're still smiling. I love it. I love dancing. It is one of the most
life-affirming joy-filled activities I can do.

So there it is. Now you know. Whew, it's nice to have that off my chest.

2007-08-06T21:50:00.000-04:00

Shame by Hello Kitty

Check out this article! This is so completely bizarre that it's hilarious. The Thai police definitly get the award for "most interesting use of Hello Kitty."

My favorite pull quote: "(Hello) Kitty is a cute icon for young girls. It's not something macho police officers want covering their biceps," Pongpat said.

Amazing.

2007-08-06T13:36:00.000-04:00

New Mexico

There's a fantastic article on Santa Fe in the New York Times and Neil saw a billboard in Minneapolis that sends you to a website suggesting New Mexico is the best place in the universe. I always tell people I meet that I am from Santa Fe. Then they say, "Santa Fe?" and I say, "Yep, it's the best place on earth." Maybe I will upgrade that to "It's the best place in the universe."

Anyway, all of this New Mexico talk has me longing to be back there instead of the swampy inferno that is D.C.

Next time on j.g.s. "Why I love living in D.C."

2007-08-01T16:07:00.000-04:00

Really?
So, apparently, I hate the world?

(Thanks to Britty and Amy for capturing this Seattle poster on film and sending it my way.)

You can check this band out here. They are actually kind of good...

2007-07-27T13:07:00.000-04:00

More Potter Please

Highlight of the week: Seeing dozens of normal-looking people reading Harry Potter 7 on the metro.

Low point of the week: Running out of Harry Potter 7 to read.

On Monday, the metro had a few people here and there who were reading Harry Potter, but by Tuesday, people were no longer ashamed and every third person had a copy of the book tucked under his or her arm. I have said it before and I'll say it again, but it's a rare cultural phenomenon that can get adults and children alike around the world to read a nearly 800-page book. There really was something magical about reading my Harry Potter with a bunch of other suit-wearing business people on my way home from work Monday. Thank you J.K. Rowling for making me believe in the good in the world and bringing good old imagination to millions.

2007-07-20T11:13:00.000-04:00

Odale!

Neil and I spent a week in Santa Fe attending two weddings, rafting, hiking, relaxing and seeing friends and family. Being at Nancy and Justin and Britten and Brooke's weddings was fantastic. There is not much better than seeing your friends happy and celebrating happiness. I do a lot of complaining about going to weddings (we sure do have a lot of them this summer) but really, what better way to spend a day or evening than basking in the joy that surrounds weddings?

Being back in the southwest was fantastic. We slept with the window open every night and I woke up early every morning and always in a good mood. There's nothing like breathing crisp mountain air all night long - it was amazing. If I were to sleep with my window open in DC I would a) choke on humidity and b) breathe the aroma of chinese food all night long.

We got to see my brother who came in the second weekend we were in town and we spent time with my grandma and my parents and cousin Pam. We even got to see some old friends from our time living in Albuquerque. Of course, there were people we didn't get to see as well... but we will be back in NM for Labor Day!

Other than the weddings, the highlight had to be rafting in the Rio Grande. It was so much fun and it was so fantastic to spend time with Britty, Brooke, Rachel, Brian and Neil - five of my favorite people. Neil fell out of the raft which was both terrifying and then when he was ok, hilarious. The boys went to Dairy Queen and made a pact to never admit it. Britty posed for photos while the rest of us paddled. It was a blast. Thank you to Britten and Nancy for scheduling your weddings a week apart and forcing me to take summer vacation. It was much needed.

2007-06-13T23:02:00.000-04:00

Inspiration

Inspiration comes from all kinds of places. A beautiful girl on the metro, a reformed pimp selling newspapers, a man who danced around the world, a beautful voice, a glance from a stranger, a smile from my husband, an elevator conversation, an early summer breeze. There are moments in every day that make me feel alive, make me want to do more, be a better person, fulfill my potential, be inspiring. Today, I had quite a few of those moments, when I remembered how beautiful life can be. Last weekend in Los Angeles, I also felt inspired by the ocean, the sunshine, the love between Bella and Maurice, the tenuous joy of adolescence, the bonds of family... Sometimes, all I need to do is take a minute and remember all of the inspiration, all the little moments of joy that lead to renewed hope.

2007-06-06T15:08:00.000-04:00

Travel makes me lonely

Traveling alone is a very isolating experience. As I bustle through train stations and airports with too much luggage, I feel very very alone. Even though people are everywhere, nobody is a part of my journey and nobody knows me.

I have been traveling a lot the last couple of weeks and I'm exhausted.

The first trip was to NYC with Miriam for a work meeting. The meeting was great and then the night with Miriam's family was even better. They are so incredibly nice and all very interesting and intelligent, the kind of people I like to surround myself with. The next morning, after another good meeting, I was on a train back to DC by myself. I made it just in time to go home, switch suitcases and head to the airport for a weekend in Chicago.

Seeing Northwestern for the first time in seven years was awesome and hanging out with amazing friends was even better. Yay girl's weekend!

And now, I am off to LA for a wedding weekend. When I return, one more train ride to NYC and then, I will hopefully get to stay put for a few days. Sometimes I need some stillness to process life's events and get ready for the next adventure.

Also, I am saying a special prayer for Robin's dad. May he speedily recover from heart surgery.

2007-05-22T23:31:00.000-04:00

Where Have I Been?

So many things to blog about.
Let's
begin with Jury Duty. On Monday, I spent five hours of my life sitting
in a crowded jurors' lounge waiting for my number (211) to be called.
It was called for two panels, which meant I got to stand up, leave my
seat in the jurors' lounge and wait in a hall outside a courtroom until
I was told that I wasn't needed. Then I got to go home. It wasmind numbing
and felt a bit like I was in jail for the day (or how I imagine jail
would be) because we couldn't leave the lounge for more than 10 minutes
and if someone did, and their number was called - trouble! They would
call the name of themiscreant over the loudspeaker VERY loudly and demand whoever it was report to the jurors' office immediately. All of this would have been fine if I hadn't been robbed of my leatherman on my way into the courthouse.

I have (had) a small pink Leatherman Squirt that I carried with me in my purse at all times. It had such dangerous tools as scissors,
tweezers, a nail file, a screwdriver and a teeny tiny knife that would
be effective at slicing a very tiny block of cheese and that's about
it. I forgot it was in my purse and put it through the scanner. The
guard said i needed to take it out, I did and said, "Oh my goodness, I
forgot to leave this at home. I'm early, so I'll take it home and come
back." To which the guard said, "Once you enter the building with it,
it's mine."

What the???

Even at the airport, they allow
you to mail that stuff to yourself. How can he justify not letting me
leave the building to take myleatherman home? At the end of the day, I
returned to the scene of the crime and tried to talk them into giving
it back to me. It was still there, shiny and pink, in a cardboard box.
They actually handed it to me (I should have sprinted out the door) and
told me to put my name on it, come back to the court on another Monday
morning and ask the chief judge to give it back. I am pissed. I took
time out of my (busy) life to be a good citizen and do my civic duty,
they stole myleatherman , stuffed me into a dirty and uncomfortable
Juror's lounge, treated me as a number and then refused to return my
stolen property.Aaaahhhhhh!

2007-03-17T22:48:00.000-04:00

America's Mayor

Last weekend was beautiful. The sun was out, it was warm enough to forgo a coat and spring was in the air. To take advantage, Neil and I went on long walks on Saturday and Sunday. On Sunday, we were on our way home when Neil said, "There's Giuliani, I'm going to talk to him." And before I could process the sentence, I was whisked across the street and found myself standing in front of Rudy Giuliani who was stylishly dressed in a powder blue v-neck sweater with a collared shirt underneath. As soon as I thought, "What is Neil going to say?" Neil opened his mouth and very enthusiastically said, "It's America's Mayor!" Rudy smiled, and shook Neil's hand as Neil asked, "What are you doing in Washington." The reply: "Just enjoying the beautiful day." And then, Rudy and his advisor and security guard began crossing the street as oncoming traffic barreled toward them. Rudy jumped back to the curb before getting hit by an SUV and said something like, "I just can't get used to not being in New York. In New York, you walk out and they stop."

I was struck by how, in person, Rudy looked like a charicture of himself. His wrinkles were deeper and his features seemed exaggerated compared to the magazine and television images I have seen. He was very friendly and was obviously flattered by Neil's characterization of him as America's Mayor. Did Neil make that up? Neither of us are sure...

Once the light changed, Neil and I walked quickly and were a couple blocks ahead of the Giuliani three and so Neil began telling people walking by, "Giuliani two blocks ahead!" or "Giuliani straight ahead!" Which had me in stitches.

Sure, I'd probably rather run into movie stars on the street, but Washington is really cool in that way. As one student on a summer program through my work said, "Washington has the stars of Reality and LA has the stars of entertainment." It's cool to run into Rudy Giuliani on the street a few blocks from my condo. Next time maybe I will open my mouth and say something, too.

2007-02-28T22:34:00.000-05:00

Face Plant

Sometimes you have to fall flat on your face in order to begin again. Maybe the unfortunate slip on black ice this morning that landed me face-down in a parking lot was just a way of helping me to really get back on my feet?

And now I am ready to stand up for myself and be strong.

Or maybe it was just falling on my face, smashing my apple and getting some bruises.

Either way, I suspect I am stronger for the experience.

Now I hope to go for at least a month without falling.

2007-02-23T11:02:00.000-05:00

Aah New Mexico

Two news stories about my home state have cropped up over the past week that have had me in stitches. Basically, they typify New Mexico in so many ways and show a little bit of what I love and hate about the Land of Enchantment.

First there were the talking urinal cakes that were deemed so interesting they showed up in the Washington Post's free daily newspaper given out at Metro stations all over DC (Of course, Turtle Mountain was one of our favorite Albuquerque establishments.):

By Tim Korte, Associated Press Writer | February 17, 2007

RIO RANCHO, N.M. --New Mexico is hoping to keep drunks off the road by lecturing them at the last place they usually stop before getting behind the wheel: the urinal.

The state recently paid $21 each for about 500 talking urinal-deodorizer cakes and has put them in men's rooms in bars and restaurants across the state.

When a man steps up, the motion-sensitive plastic device says, in a woman's voice that is flirty, then stern: "Hey, big guy. Having a few drinks? Think you had one too many? Then it's time to call a cab or call a sober friend for a ride home."

The recorded message ends: "Remember, your future is in your hand."

The talking urinal represents just the latest effort to fight drunken driving in New Mexico, which has long had one of the highest rates of alcohol-related traffic deaths in the nation. (The new tactic is aimed only at men, since they account for 78 percent of all driving-under-the-influence-related convictions in New Mexico.)

"It startled me the first time I heard it, but it sure got my attention," said Ben Miller, a patron at the Turtle Mountain Brewing Co. bar and restaurant. "It's a fantastic idea."

Jim Swatek, who was drinking a beer nearby, said: "You think, `Maybe I should call the wife to come get me.'"

Turtle Mountain Brewing owner Niko Ortiz commended the New Mexico Transportation Department for "thinking way outside the box."

Department spokesman S.U. Mahesh said the bathroom is a perfect place to get the message across. In the restroom, "guys don't chitchat with other guys," he said. "It's all business. We've got their total attention for 10 to 15 seconds"

Similar urinal cakes have been used for anti-drug campaigns in Colorado, Pennsylvania and Australia, and for anti-DWI efforts on New York's Long Island, said Richard Deutsch of New York-based Healthquest Technologies Inc., which manufactures the devices.

But Deutsch said he believes New Mexico is the only state to buy the devices.

New Mexico had 143 alcohol-related deaths in 2005, for the nation's eighth-highest rate per miles driven. The problem is blamed in part on the wide-open spaces that make it necessary to drive to get anywhere, and the poverty and isolation that can lead people to drink to relieve their boredom or misery.

Also, some have complained that the state has only recently begun to emerge from years of lax enforcement.

Gov. Bill Richardson led a successful push two years ago to require ignition locking devices for anyone convicted of DWI -- a first in the nation -- and each year the Legislature has agreed on tougher penalties for repeat offenders.

New Mexico also has started a toll-free "drunk buster" hot line, boosted DWI enforcement in problem areas and increased police checkpoints. The state also has a DWI czar.

In November, a wrong-way drunken driver slammed into a car near Santa Fe, killing five family members, authorities said. The governor has since directed state regulators to issue cease-and-desist orders against three airlines to stop serving alcohol on flights to and from New Mexico. The culprit in the fatal wreck had been seen drinking on a flight into Albuquerque hours before the accident.

At the Turtle Mountain, the urinal cakes have proved so intriguing that three have been swiped already.

"I'm mystified why someone would stick their hand into one of our urinals," Ortiz said. "But I'm sure we'll see them on eBay. Hopefully, the seller will advertise it as, `Stolen from Turtle Mountain.'"

And then there were the foul-mouthed CD players that got detonated in front of the cathedral in my home town:

SANTA FE, New Mexico (AP) -- Three CD players hidden under a cathedral's pews blared sexually explicit language in the middle of an Ash Wednesday Mass, leading a bomb squad to detonate two of the devices.

Authorities determined the music players were not dangerous and kept the third one to check it for clues, said police Capt. Gary Johnson.

The CD players, duct-taped to the bottoms of the pews, were set to turn on in the middle of noon Mass on Wednesday at the Roman Catholic Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi.

The recordings, made on store-bought blank discs, featured people using foul language and "pornographic messages," Johnson said. He would not elaborate because of the ongoing investigation.

Church staff members took the CD players to the basement and called police, who sent the bomb squad, Johnson said.

The bomb squad blew up two players outside and kept the third one to test for fingerprints or DNA and trace its components, he said.

Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent, which marks a 40-day period of fasting and penitence before Easter.

Aaah New Mexico. Amazing climate, incredible culture, beautiful scenery, thriving art scene AND a source of endless entertainment.

2007-02-21T22:17:00.000-05:00

Hope

Sometimes, when you don't know what else you can do and you've tried everything you can think of and you finally realize that no matter how much you love someone, no matter how convinced you are of their potential to be amazing and to be happy, you don't have the power to make them happy...sometimes a miracle happens that has absolutely nothing to do with you.

In November, when I called my brother to say hello, nine times out of ten, he was too depressed to even pick up the phone. Flash forward to February when he picks up after the first ring and sounds happy and...imagine this... actually talks to me about real things, even about feelings. I can hear his smile in the way he talks and every time I hang up with him, it's all I can do to keep from tearing up with this powerful feeling that is hovering between happiness and relief.

And so, I have hope again. (thank you)

2007-02-20T22:11:00.000-05:00

Obsessions and Creativity

I have a new obsession. That obsession is Veronica Mars. In the past two weeks, I have watched all of seasons 1 and 2 and the approximately 10 hours of season three that have already aired. Last week, as a way out of my mopey shoulder-pain, Neil's Grandma slump I ate breathed and slept Veronica Mars.. or, more accurately, did not sleep. I was up at 3 am on a weeknight watching episode after episode. I've never tried crack, but I imagine the level of addiction was right up there.

So, now us thinking people must ask: Why Jodi, why do you love Veronica Mars? I'm not sure, exactly. The characters are awesome. They are attractive and intelligent. And, there's something very appealing about a small girl being the heroine. I like the father-daughter relationship, and I love the way the show reflects the human condition in a way that is so right on. Watching it lets me escape from myself while I am simultaneously learning something about being human. And that might be the crux of it... the reflection of the human condition. And so, my obsession with "mindless" television has led me to feel like I need to begin creating things again. I know that's why I am here, why I'm alive. I feel the most alive and complete when I am writing, or taking photos, or creating art of any kind and when I am using my body in a creative way to dance or ski or do something else that is somehow beautiful. So why have I not found a way to do that every day. Can't I make money while reflecting the human condition and telling people something they didn't already know about themselves? Sure, it's a tall order, but there has to be a way. Should I be making TV shows? Writing a novel? Working in Journalism (again)? Opening my own design business? Starting a dance studio? Will the answer come to me at some point? Neil said that last week when he saw his grandma's body at the funeral home, he knew it was empty - his grandma was gone, but her body remained - and he thought about how our bodies are like rentals. We inhabit them for a while and then - poof - we'r gone. And this was just another reminder along the way that I need to live as hard as I can. So I will mull this over and come up with my next move...in the meantime, only one more week until a new episode of Veronica Mars and I have an appointment with my couch.

2007-02-17T00:17:00.000-05:00

Hmm

This has not been the best week. It began with a very cranky Monday. For no apparent reason, I felt like the world was coming to an end all day Monday. Then, at around 7 p.m. I discovered the reason for all crankiness as I slipped on the wet escalator in the Metro and proceeded to fall down about five stairs, dropping my groceries and, more importantly, pulling my shoulder out of the socket and smashing my shin into an escalator step (I have the lined bruise to prove it.) What followed for the rest of the week were trips to doctors and MRI specialists. On Tuesday I get to find out what's wrong with my shoulder.

To add to my misfortune, Neil got sent to Utah for work the night I fell and then, his grandmother got very sick and he flew to Portland to be with her. She died last night and in spite of three hours on the phone to airlines and on the internet with bargain airfare sites, I couldn't find a ticket under $1,500 and even those wouldn't get me to Oregon in time for the funeral. And so, here I sit, on a Friday night, with a wounded shoulder and a grieving husband and husband's family who are all on the other side of the country.

Awesome.

It has been a rough week, but I am finally feeling a little bit at peace with all of it. As today wound to a close, I felt this great sense of relief. Part of it is probably because Neil is coming home soon and his grandma is in a better place and didn't suffer long and my shoulder hurts a little less, but I think the main part of it was that the week was ending. Funny that an artifical construct like a week can so completely form my frame of reference that the end of a week makes me feel like I have a fresh start, a new beginning. But so it is...So here's to new beginnings and to a much improved set of seven days...starting now...

2007-02-07T22:58:00.000-05:00

Things I am not proud of

1) While walking
to the metro on Monday a rude woman passed me going the other direction
and coughed RIGHT in my face. Right before I held my breath and turned
away, my brain entertained the following brief thought: "I should
breathe in really deep and maybe I will get sick and not have to go to
work."

2) The U.S. is playing against Mexico in soccer right now. I am rooting for Mexico. (But I won't be sad if we win either.)

3)
This morning, I was running really really late to work. I can only take
every other train because I go almost to the end of the line and not
all trains go that far. When the third train came (only the second that
would actually get me to work) and I made it to the front of the crowd
and the door chime sounded, I actually shoved some nice people in order
to make it on the train. It's not like they wouldn't have shoved me if
I hadn't acted first. It's not like I haven't actually come home with
bruises from metro shoves. But, still, I pushed some nice people while
trying to get on the metro.

4) Sometimes when I am feeling very unhappy, I resort to online shopping.

Things that I feel good about

1) I have been to the gym every day for the last five days and I feel amazing.

2)
Tonight, when I rolled out a yoga mat at the gym and then went to grab
some free weights and a man sat on my mat and started doingsit ups, I just smiled and got a new mat.

3) My supervisee at work is doing an amazing job and I think that sometimes, I really help her and I think she looks up to me.

4) My little brother is doing awesome in San Francisco.

5) I have amazing friends and I have been getting back in touch with lots of them recently.

Interesting and/or disturbing things

1)
The prehistoric skeletons found near Verona, Italy locked in an embrace
are completely amazing to me and reading about them made me feel, in
some very basic way, that humans are good.

2) I also read today
that the KKK is increasing their membership by hating Mexicans. This
information literally made me nauseous and nearly canceled out the
goodness the Verona fossils imparted.

3) It is absolutely
freezing in Washington, D.C. and I keep dreaming of a beach vacation.
Bath and Body Works sells this amazing body scrub called Island Hot
Spot. If you are longing for summer vacation this winter, run, don't
walk, to the mall nearest you, buy the small tube of the scrub for a
slightly outrageous $13.50 and use it in the shower each morning. It's
completely worth it and will get rid of dead and dry winter skin while
cheering you with it's vacation scent. (Sadly, no, I do not get a
kickback for every tube they sell - I just really like the stuff.)

2007-01-29T16:54:00.000-05:00

A quote

Some people of course expect
to be rewarded for stumbling
and rising from the floor
and stumbling again, but we give
no credit for living. We favor vitality
over goodness, even over effort;
we love a great belly laugh
more than anything.

-Stephen Dunn (from “The Soul’s Agents”)

2007-01-02T22:25:00.000-05:00

A Good Start

I am trying to get a good start on the year and that means blogging!
So here I am. New Years was both awesome and terrible. Terrible because I was feeling ill all of the next day, awesome, because we had a lot of fun.

And now it's 2007. Of course, it doesn't really feel all that different, it's just another day. But I like the idea of fresh starts, of the possibility to make this year whatever I want it to be... and I'm going to set out doing that.

I am sure I will have more to report soon.

2006-12-31T18:50:00.000-05:00

Newness

I am about to go out for one last time in 2006. For me, this has been a really good year. A year of new friends, of renewed youth, of busy weeks, of many visitors, of traveling and experiencing.
I think it's funny, how we mark things by years. What is a year? A collection of days, really... And yet, to me, something has always seemed so final about New Years Eve. No turning back, another year gone. The upside is that tomorrow will be filled with newness and with the sense of possibility that I am so in love with.

Here's to more living in 2007!

2006-12-28T23:25:00.000-05:00

Blog Gone?

I am so bad at this blogging thing. Maybe it is because I have been blogging for so long? Or perhaps I am less inclined to share my innermost thoughts lately? I am not sure what is going on, but I am taking another stab at it. Since I last posted, I had an awesome trip to New York with Neil, my brother and my grandma. We saw the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall, The Lion King and The Drowsy Chaperone. We rode a carriage through central park, we shopped at Uniqlo, watched my grandma buy diamond earrings at Tiffany's and had an awesome time. Then Dustin (my brother) visited us in DC through Thanksgiving which was awesome. We had amazing weather and it was really refreshing to spend so much time with him.

I also went to New Mexico twice in three weeks which was both wonderful and exhausting. Neil's documentary on the governor was shown at the NM Film Expo the first weekend of December and I was home last weekend for the whole Christmas Eve walk.

All of the intense craziness has been fun, but I am really ready for some nights in. It's introspection time again. 2006 is ending. I have been in DC for more than a year and it's time to think about what is next... or at least to really examine my life and make sure I am really living. So that's what I am up to these days - trying to live more, to love better, to be less selfish, to listen to more music (new favorite album: Rabbit Fur Coat - Jenny Lewis), move more (dance classes anyone?) and just be present in the moment. I think I have been on autopilot again for a while and it's time to be awake.

Good morning.

2006-11-14T14:46:00.000-05:00

Oh my goodness, just let her stay here!

When I read stories like this, I never understand how anyone wouldn't want to allow this woman to stay in the U.S. And then I think about how a big part of me wants to move back to the U.S./Mexico border so that I can witness/document the plight of immigrants. It is so important...

MEXICO CITY, Mexico (AP) -- He's a serious 7-year-old on a mission to save his mom.

Four-foot-tall second-grader Saul Arellano, a U.S. citizen, was to stand before 500 members of the lower house of the Mexican Congress on Tuesday to plead for their help in lobbying Washington to stop the deportation of his migrant mother, who has taken refuge in a Chicago church.

His fight is being closely watched on both sides of the border: The result could set a precedent for more than 3 million children, like him, who are Americans born to at least one parent who is in the U.S. illegally.

While his mother, Elvira Arellano, stays inside the Adalberto United Methodist Church on Chicago's West Side, Saul has joined a months-long campaign on her behalf, speaking out from Los Angeles to Washington, where he handed a White House guard his letter to President Bush.

"I want my mom to stay with me in the U.S.," he told The Associated Press on Monday in between informal meetings with Mexican lawmakers.

Since August 15 -- the day she was scheduled to surrender to U.S. authorities for deportation -- mother and son have lived at the church. U.S. federal officials have said there is no right to sanctuary in a church under U.S. law, and nothing to prevent them from arresting her.

But so far, they have not moved to detain Elvira Arellano, who has won the support from political figures across the United States, including Chicago Mayor Richard Daley.

Arellano, 31, said she sent her son to her homeland because she believes the Mexican government has the ability to help her.

"If the Mexican government can negotiate a free-trade agreement, they can negotiate a good accord to keep families from being split up," she said.

But immigration reform has proved to be a much tougher issue to resolve than trade. President Vicente Fox, who leaves office December 1, has struggled throughout his six-year term to gain Washington's support for a migration accord that would allow for thousands of Mexicans to work legally in the U.S. And while Bush personally supports a temporary guest-worker program, Republicans in Congress limited action to strengthening the border fence.

Arellano said she should not have to choose between leaving her son behind in the U.S. or bringing him to Mexico, away from his school, friends and familiar environment.

Conservative columnists and anti-illegal immigration activists say she put herself and her son in this difficult spot by repeatedly breaking the law.

Arellano illegally crossed into the United States in 1997 and was deported shortly afterward. She returned within days, living for three years in Oregon before moving to Chicago in 2000.

She was arrested two years later at O'Hare International Airport, where she worked as a cleaning woman. Convicted of working under a false Social Security number, she served three years probation before being ordered to appear at the immigration office in Chicago.

2006-11-07T23:55:00.000-05:00

Aaahhhh

A short sigh because after watching the election results come in this evening, I feel as if I can breathe a little easier. Sure, new problems will arise (gridlock, party infighting...blah blah blah) but I feel a tinge of hope knowing that the majority of Americans in a lot of states are thinking a little bit more like me again. The nation is swinging back toward the middle - away from the right and I believe that just the increased diversity of our governing body will do us a whole lot of good, no matter what side of the aisle we align ourselves with...

Old

It's official. I am oldish. I am on the downslide toward 30. I had a really good birthday with a nice amount of attention. I am not an attention hog, but one thing I like about birthdays is the way they remind me that I have special people in my life who care about me. So thanks everyone. Thanks for the party that lasted until 3:30 am. Thanks for the cards, phone calls, e-mails, Myspace comments, gifts and conversation.

2006-10-16T23:35:00.000-04:00

OMG! Comments!

Oh my goodness. I had no idea anyone was reading my blog. Since April, I have not received any comments! I was thinking that I had suddenly become very uninteresting and lost all of my readers and I could not figure out why. Then, tonight, as I was posting my end-of-weekend-bummer-still-hung-over-on-sunday-night poem even though I no longer feel so bummed, I noticed a button in Blogger that said "Moderate Comments". I thought, "Ha, like I have any comments to moderate" and then I clicked on it to see what those lucky people with comments get to do and there were a bunch of comments dating all the way back to April.

So, I feel loved again AND I feel really lame for thinking you were all tuning out all these months. NO WONDER I WAS FEELING LIKE BLOGS WERE PASSE!!!

Anyways, I am back and so are all of you my fair commenters.

More blogging to come...

2006-10-16T23:25:00.000-04:00

Weekend Ending Blues

sad.
because a good weekend is coming to an end?
because my family is far away?
because life is imperfect?
because I can't fix my brother?
because I love too many people too intensely?
because alcohol is a depressant?
because I am imperfect?
because I would rather do many things than work?
because I can't do it all?
because I am lonely?
because I am scared?
because I don't know what to wear tomorrow?
because temptation is hard to resist?
because it is easy to be lazy?
because I can't get anyone to pick up the phone?
because I can't fix myself?
because of politics?
because I can be better?
because it gets dark so early?
because I work so hard?
because time goes too quickly?
because 28 is close to 30?
because the homeless women down the block are going to be cold tonight?
because I miss the mountains?
because of a sad song?
because I have to wait until Thursday for the next Grey's Anatomy?
because I am always trying to speed through the weeks?
because I miss my friends?
because sometimes I miss myself?
because
because
because

2006-10-14T00:50:00.000-04:00

Enchanting

There is something about British accents that is just so enchanting.

Over?

I thought blogs were kind of over as marketing tools. There are about 75 million blogs. Why would anyone want to market in an audience that fragmented? But today I met with a guy my age who works in a kick-ass office in downtown DC who is convinced that word of mouth on blogs is the way to create buzz. Maybe I only thought blogs were dying because mine is dead as of late?

NYC

In about one month, I am going to NYC with my brother, grandma and Neil. We're seeing two Broadway shows and the Radio City Rockettes. I am so excited about this trip that I dream about it once a week.

Pigtails

I got a haircut last week. My hair, which used to be below my shoulders, no longer touches my shoulders. This makes my pig tails look really hilarious. Last night I had a nightmare about a business meeting I attended and was running. There were about 20 old white men in suits around a super-fancy table and I could not get them on-topic. To make matters worse, I had forgotten I had a business meeting that day and my hair was in little tiny stick-straight-out pigtails. How humiliating...

I think it's interesting that business meeting anxiety dreams have finally replaced my classroom anxiety dreams. I don't know how many years after graduation I had dreams about missing a test, or taking a test I'd forgotten to study for, or forgetting to go to a class for an entire semester... and now, I have moved on to the much more sophisticated "pigtails in the boardroom" nightmare. Aye yie yie.

Honor

It is really a huge honor to be asked to be someone's bridesmaid. I feel really honored to be in Nancy and Britty's weddings next summer.

Late or Early

Neil is working all night tonight. From 11 pm until 6 am. All the way from late to really late to early.

Meanwhile, I am going to bed.

2006-10-08T22:54:00.000-04:00

Need

Have you ever felt that every organ in your body, every pore on your skin, every bit of your soul was in dire need of a vacation? That's how I am feeling as of late. I am too responsible for too many things. I'm constantly taking on more responsibility. I'm drowning in it. At work, home, in my social life, with my family. I need a vacation, not somewhere exotic necessarily... just somewhere away from myself.

I know, good luck with that.

2006-09-24T20:19:00.000-04:00

Music as Religion

Yesterday was Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. Neil an I went to services at a new place in our quest to find a synagogue where we feel at home. Rosh Hashana is one of the two most important holidays of the year and we took a risk by going to services ad an unknown synagogue. Sadly, the risk did not pay off. The services were terrible for so many reasons I don't even want to go into it on my blog. Suffice it to say that I left the service feeling angry that I was deprived of the spiritual growth/fulfillment that I usually feel on Rosh Hashana.

Yesterday afternoon, after services, we drove to Charlottesville, VA, to see the Dave Matthew Band play in the band's hometown. The drive through rural Virginia took about 2.5 hours. We saw big beautiful Southern homes, stopped at a general store that had been in business since the 1800's and generally enjoyed ourselves.

At the concert, we were on the floor of the arena in the 14th or 15th row - great seats. The concert was incredible. The band played some new songs, I was close enough to see the facial expressions on Dave Matthews and most of the other band members. It was awesome. During about the fifth song, as I felt my chest pound with the rhythm and sang along to a song about how we all fade away, I realized that the concert was more of a spiritual experience than anything I felt that morning. That maybe music is my religion.

On the drive there Neil had told me part of what he doesn't like about music is how it transports him to the time and place where he first heard the song. I think it's the transportative quality of music that I love so much. When I listen to a favorite song, it brings me back to all the people I've listened to it with and all the places I have heard it. It's truly a spiritual experience. Hearing music live only heightens the power of the experience. It may sound cheesy, but there is nothing that can make me fell more alive and inspired than hearing my favorite band in person. This does not mean I am abandoning Judaism. We will try another synagogue for Yom Kippur and hopefully it will have more to offer. But it's nice to realize that I can also turn elsewhere for my spiritual fulfillment.

2006-09-19T11:40:00.000-04:00

Culinary Magic

Most people who know me also know that I am not a genius in the kitchen. In fact, I mostly despise cooking. Part of the reason for this is sheer laziness, but in addition to my preference for having other people cook for me, I find cooking to be very stressful. I do not know how to look in the fridge, pull some ingredients together and make something. I have to follow recipes and the recipes have to be explicit. A "pinch" of salt is not clear enough. I stress and worry that if I do not measure everything exactly, it will come out wrong. I have similar problems when I try to knit, which has resulted in my completely giving up the hobby. I know some people find cooking and knitting to be relaxing, but to me, they are two endeavors that make me want to pull my hair out. If I have a loose stitch in a scarf I'm knitting, I will unravel the whole thing until I fix the mistake. Other people think such blemishes are charming, to me they are endlessly frustrating. I am sure this says something about me as a person, but I like to think I am not this kind of crazy perfectionist in every area of my life...

Anyways, my new friend Debbie gave me cooking advice the other day. She told me that all good food starts with sauteed onions. This sounded reasonable to me, I love sauteed onions. She also said that I should pick foods of a variety of colors and put together ingredients I like. This is very little guidance, but for some reason, I decided to take a risk and go for it. Last night, I sauteed an onion and started adding things until I came out with a really delicious pasta sauce. I had never successfully made sauce from scratch with no recipe before and this sauce was so good that Neil must have said yum at least ten times while eating his bowl of gnocci. It was like a miracle. I threw this food in a frying pan and it turned into sauce. I am sure I sound ridiculous to those of you who can cook, but this was a major breakthrough for me. Who knows, I may even be ready to try improvised cooking again soon. So long recipes, hello culinary magician!

2006-09-15T09:56:00.000-04:00

Satisfaction

I find it amazingly satisfying to recycle. Every time I take the bag of newspapers and plastic bottles to our building trash room and empty it into the separate recycling containers, I feel really good. Additionally, while we didn't get rid of our cars in order to be environmentalists, I am really happy to adopt that title. I feel glad about the money we are saving by not having a car, but even moreso, I am glad that we are doing our part to lower polution. It all sounds a little goody two-shoes, but that's how I feel. To add to the cheesy factor, I think I feel this way, in large part, because of Al Gore's movie.

2006-08-20T00:22:00.000-04:00

Power of ?

I ride the metro to work and home every day. Several months ago, right before my stop on the way home, the driver announced that everyone should look out the window to see the new ads being tested in the metro. Sure enough, there on the tunnel wall was an ad for some car company. It was a very simple concept, the train goes fast enough to animate the ad, provided the designers set up stills to illustrate the movement. The ads are lit from behind to look like television, but they're much more low-tech.

A few weeks ago, the ad was switched to a Target ad. It is red and white and filled with cool objects and happy looking people and I could watch it over and over again. In fact, I do. It's amazing what a simple low-tech thing can do to a person's psyche. Even though I know it's advertising, every time I see it, I think "That's so cool." It's different than the rest of the black tunnels and it's just flashy enough to capture my imagination and make me think it's cool. How feeble and influencable human beings are. (I am).

Which makes me wonder, what could I do, to make a big impact on a lot of people. With just a small amount of ingenuity, perhaps I could spread a better message than "Shop at Target." I just need to figure out what it is I really want to say...

2006-07-25T22:54:00.000-04:00

Signs

Today was a day that started out with a bunch of signs all telling me that I should have stayed in bed. It all began with a seemingly never ending nightmare about the world ending. Everyone had to evacuate in airplanes and I got separated from everyone but my little brother who forgot his ID and was not going to be let on the plane. It was one of those dreams that you can wake up from and go back to sleep and still be stuck in. It was terrible. I left the apartment late and went to my metro station. At the bottom of the escalator, I came across a baby bird with its wing caught in the bottom step. It was cheeping desperately and could not get out. I panicked and tried to get the Metro employees to help me rescue the bird to no avail. Finally, and I still feel guilty about this, I walked away and got on the train.

Then, when I got off the train, I called my mom while walking the 15 minutes to work. She answered the phone sobbing and told me she couldn't talk. THEN, I got to work, reached into my bag to get my badge so I could open the door and my key cut my finger, which started gushing blood all over everything, including my iPod.

It was at this point that I realized I should have gone home. I should have just turned around and returned to bed. I did not. Instead, I suffered through the rest of Tuesday and while it was not a great day, luckily it didn't get any worse.

2006-07-16T16:51:00.000-04:00

Swamp

I live in a swamp. I knew what I was getting into when I moved here, but how could I really know? I take two to three showers a day. I am not proud of this fact. I do not like to waste water and dry out my skin and hair, but the swampy air clings to me and I feel disgusting.

Yesterday, Neil and I walked to Union Station in the middle of the afternoon. It's probably ten blocks from our apartment, maybe fewer, but I thought I was going to die. The heat was relentless. In addition to nearly melting into the pavement, we had the privilege of seeing at least one drug deal, one rat, several half-naked people and smelling all the smells of the city that somehow go dormant in the freeze of winter.

In spite of the smoldering, clinging, cloying heat, on most days, I am very glad to live here. But yesterday, as I dragged myself through the air toward air conditioning, I couldn't help fixating on the foothills of the Rockies.

2006-07-14T22:41:00.000-04:00

Bad

Things are bad. Israel is at war with Lebanon. North Korea is making nuclear weapons. Hamas and Hezbolah are joining forces. The war in Iraq continues. Crime in D.C. is on the rise -- including the murder of an old friend of Neil's. Oh, and we're emitting too much carbon and causing global warming which is killing animals, creating worse storm patterns and moving us toward total destruction.

I realize I am being pesimistic, but sometimes there does not seem to be much hope in the world.

On the other hand, things in my little life go on as usual. Dinner out with a friend. Watched You, Me and Dupree (hilarious). I just can't help feeling a little bit guilty about letting things be normal.

2006-07-11T11:45:00.000-04:00

A Fever

"My life- as an artist, at least - can be charted as precisely as a fever: the highs and lows, the very definite cycles. I started writing when I was eight - out of the blue, uninspired by any example. I'd never known anyone who wrote; indeed, I knew few people who read. But the fact was, the only four things that interested me were: reading books, going to the movies, tap dancing and drawing pictures. Then one day I started writing, not knowing that I had chained myself for life to a noble but merciless master. When God hands you a gift, he also hands you a whip; and the whip is intended solely for self-flagellation."
- Truman Capote
(From the preface of MUSIC FOR CHAMELEONS)

2006-06-25T23:33:00.000-04:00

To The Guy Who Stood In Front of the Fan at the Gym Tonight

Dear Guy,
I know you live across the hall from me and I am supposed to be a good neighbor. In fact, I would much rather like my neighbors than not. However, ever since I learned that you stood my friend up on a Friday night and then DIDN'T EVEN CALL her to apologize, but instead sent a lame e-mail, I have been having my doubts about you.

This evening, when I saw you at the gym, I decided to take the high road and smile. You smiled and waved back. The gym was at least 85 degrees and the air conditioning is apparently broken since the door was propped open with a large dumbbell and there was a big industrial-strength fan whirring in the corner. I tried not to be annoyed that you were listening to an iPod and had the volume on the TV very loud. I tried not to be bothered that you seemed to have hidden the remote and I could not turn the TV by my machine on. But when you stood directly between me and the fan when you could have stood at any other point in the fan's path and you blocked every bit of cool air that was heading in my direction for more than 20 minutes of my 30-minute workout, I began to strongly dislike you. I spent at least 15 minutes trying to come up with a not-too-bitchy way to explain to you that it was a tad toasty in my corner. Then I began to embrace the heat thinking that I'd at least sweat out all my water weight while burning my 270 calories. Occasionally, you would turn around while taking a break from your weight-lifting and grunting. I wondered when you saw me completely soaked in sweat and as red as a tomato, why it wouldn't click in your brain that I might be HOT! But apparently it did not. You even stood there for a time while not working out, lifting your shirt to feel the cold air on your skin. I wanted to puke! When you left the gym, I had a little celebration on my precor.

Are you the most inconsiderate person on the planet or are you just completely clueless?

Signed,
Your Sweaty Neighbor

2006-06-22T22:53:00.000-04:00

Alive

I am alive. Sean told me I need to update my blog, which is obviously true, so here I am. Hopefully I didn't scare away all five of my readers with my long absence.

I don't really have an excuse for not updating, except that once in a while I don't feel like sharing, or I let life get in my way...I'm not really sure.

Currently I am in a seriously introspective state. It's that time of year when I find myself questioning everything. Am I doing the right things to make myself happy and successful? Am I living a quality life? Who am I? Really, it's all exhausting. I have been listening to lots of whiny emo music on my iPod in the mornings and moping a little bit. I'm not proud of this, but it's the truth.

Then last night, Neil and I walked home from happy hour on Capitol Hill. We had to cross in front of the Capitol building and it was early twilight. The Capitol lawn was covered in a shimmering blanket of lightning bugs and it looked completely magical. There was an Army band playing convincing cover songs on the Capitol steps and a sizeable crowd had gathered to listen. As we walked by, I had a moment of clarity, providing hope that I will eventually emerge from this fog of introspection. Wish me luck.

Also on the way home we saw (and I nearly stepped on) a cockroach and then we crossed paths with a large rat. Ahh city living in the summer...

2006-05-19T22:07:00.000-04:00

Week of Weakness
To be sick is to be weak. Or something like that. All week I have been basically feeling like crap. It's beautiful outside, the kind of weather that makes you want to wear a skirt and tank top, that calls you outdoors -- and I have been ill. I spent Monday in bed but the rest of the week, I worked long hours, kept social engagements, got very little sleep and felt like I was in battle the entire time. It is so completely frustrating to be physically weak, to be unable to keep up with the pace of life. I am really glad my week of weakness is finally over.

In other news, go see Over The Hedge.

2006-05-16T21:54:00.000-04:00

Public Apology to the Nice-Seeming Girl On The Metro Who I Cut Off When The Door Chime Chimed
I only did it because I was afraid of being stuck on the train. I really appreciated you moving your hand to another pole in order to make room for my hand. I am sorry I did not afford you a similar courtesy and instead yelled out "are you kidding me?" to noone in particular when the driver chimed the door closing chime 20 seconds after the doors opened. I am also sorry that I then pushed ahead of you and out the metro door, not looking back until I was safely on my way up the escalator. It did look like you got off, though. So that's good. But I'm still sorry.

2006-05-14T19:44:00.000-04:00

Singing in the Rain

Today, due to a series of unforeseen circumstances, Neil and I ended up walking at least 30 blocks in the pouring rain. It was awesome. So what if I am now chilled to the bone, so what if our clothes were soaked, it was great. It made me want to sing (in fact I did sing). There's something about getting soaked that is cleansing and not just because I got all wet. No, I wasn't in the mountains in New Mexico (my preferred location for getting completely soaked by a downpour) but the streets of DC were just fine. Neil thought I was slightly crazy for being so excited when the rain started pelting us, but I think he eventually came to see my position on the issue. Thank you rain.

In other news, only a little more than an hour before Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy come on. I am an addict. I confess. But Sunday night TV rocks. What does not rock is the fact that the season ends in another week and I will be stuck with a cliffhanger ending and nothing to watch. But maybe I will do something more useful with my Sunday evenings?

Something I have been meaning to blog about since mid-April:
Growing up in New Mexico, one becomes very familiar with a certain lawyer who not only advertises on television, but also has had a billboard on the I-25 corridor with his face on it for at least the past 20 years. In addition to knowing the words to Sesame Street and the 321 Contact theme song as a child, I could also recite -- with all the right inflection -- "I'm Ron Bell and I sue drunk drivers." I could also tell you that to reach Ron Bell, one only needed to dial 898-BELL. Finally, If I ran into him on the street -- not that I ever did -- I would have been able to recognize the short, curly-haired man in a heartbeat.

Flash forward 20 years. When we moved to Albuquerque, Neil also became familiar with Mr. Bell. Only, the tagline had changed to "Ron Bell: Truck Accident Attorney". The phone number was the same, the face also the same. I suspected plastic surgery, but then again, men do age more gracefully than woman.

In mid-April, while walking through the Chicago Midway airport on our way back to D.C. a woman Neil worked with in New Mexico came screaming across the wide aisle of the terminal, "NEEEEEIIIILLLLLLL!!!" Some hugging and catching up ensued. I was introduced and then, a small curly-haired man popped out from behind the woman, extended his hand and said, "Hi! I'm Ron Bell!" At this moment I desperately wanted to say, "I know. You sue drunk drivers. Nice to meet you." Similarly, Neil had a yen to say "Truck accident attorney?" We both managed to control ourselves and simply say, "Nice meeting you." Which was really a gift because Ron went on to tell us about having just come from a relative's briss in Schaumberg and how nice his new girlfriend (Neil's friend) was to come along to such an occasion. Now, how often to you get to hear a local celebrity ramble about a relative's briss?

Of course, after the encounter, Neil and I came up with many other great responses to poor Ron's initial introduction. What I wonder is, why not just say, "Hi I'm Ron."? If I ever meet him again, I think I will make that recommendation. If he only used the first name, people would still know who he was, but may not be so compelled to follow his introduction with one of his ubiquitous tag lines. Of course any man who plasters his face on a billboard for nearly two decades, would probably be thrilled to see that his marketing dollars have not gone to waste. I have his freaking phone number memorized. Maybe I should not have pretended not to know who he was. Perhaps I should have just come out with it. "And you sue drunk drivers. 898-BELL right?"

2006-04-29T00:10:00.000-04:00

Delinquent Blogger

Oh my goodness, what happened to me???

This month:
Patty P. visited for the Cherry Blossom Festival during which we saw the most amazing flowers ever and toured the White House gardens.

Neil's aunt Bella visited and so did his cousins and we went to the White House and cherry blossoms with them, too.

We went to New Mexico where we saw my crazy family and it was actually really great. We got to breathe in mountain air, sleep with the window open, see stars in the sky, hang out with good friends over my dad's expertly made margaritas, spend quality time with family, eat green chile, walk on the plaza and basically, I got to feel my feet on the ground where I have roots, recharge my battery and get back on the airplane feeling happy to be going home even if a small part of me also felt like I was leaving home. Of course, we didn't even stop in Albuquerque and we didn't get to visit our old neighborhood or our old offices and co-workers etc. but there's always time to do that when we go back in Sept. for the as-yet-unplanned 10-year high school reunion...augh.

When we returned from NM, our dogs had basically stopped eating and now we have to sit with them for at least 20 minutes at meal time in order to get them to eat. I also returned to massive amounts of stress at work, but what's new. The good part is that the weather has been amazing. When there is blue sky in the morning and I don't have to wear a heavy winter coat, it feels as if the world is full of possibilities.

Right now, Neil's dad is in town and his cousin and her baby are also in town (separate from his dad). So the weekend will be busy with visitors. On Sunday, I am going to the Save Darfur Rally on the Mall. If you don't know about the genocide taking place in Darfur, educate yourself about it.

And finally, a thought from my long walk home from work today. iPods are awesome and amazing, but are they also a way of supressing the human urge to sing along? When people in the 80's carried boom boxes on their shoulders, singing to the music was the norm. But there is something about singing to a song nobody else can hear that is a tad disconcerting -- so most people do not do it. When you are accompanied by background music, you always sound better than when you try to go it alone. So I wonder is suppressing my urge to bust out singing on my daily commute is also making me less likely to sing at other times?

Clearly, I need to think less and get more sleep.
Ciao.

2006-04-05T12:48:00.000-04:00

Border

I have been thinking about the border, about Mexico, about immigration since I moved to El Paso in the summer of 2000. Long before there was Sept. 11, before George W. Bush moved into the White House, before there was a national debate about "illegals", I began to ponder what a border really means.

In El Paso, there is a place called Monument One where the border between the U.S. and Mexico stops being a river and turns into a line in the sand marked by white obelisk that span for miles and miles. In some places there are fences, but in other places, the border is literally a line drawn in the sand. Living in a border city, it becomes apparent that the border is not a permanent line, an impermeable wall, something uncrossable like an ocean, it is porous, it is alive and it is filled with ambiguity. I fell in love with the border culture, with El Paso and Juarez and the people who inhabit the strange place where two nations meet. I even fell in love with the ambiguity of living on the border. I met people whose families struggled to make sure they were born in America and could have a better life. I met students who crossed the bridge and passed through customs daily in order to attend an American university. I met an engineer from the University of Michigan who crossed into Mexico daily to work in an auto plant and be around coworkers who spoke the language she loved.

I have two things to say about the immigration debate raging in Congress right now. First of all, why do the people in power suddenly care about this? We have millions of people living in our country and working in jobs that pay too low to attract American citizens. This is not a situation that cropped up overnight. This is systemic. Secondly, how on earth can this great nation of immigrants even consider not letting our neighbors stay? "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free..." Our country is about freedom, it is about immigrants. Sure, the people who are illegally in our country should go through a process of immigration. And the immigration system should be fixed so that people don't feel the need to risk their lives in order to cross a line in the desert sand. Yes, we have national security issues to worry about, but we cannot build a bubble around the United States. Anyone who has lived on the border will tell you that there isn't a way to make us completely safe. It is never black and white. Laws may make improvements (if they are the right laws), but they cannot change the nature of our borders -- borders in general. Lawmakers need to really think about what they are doing and about what our borders mean and what they are - what our country means and what we stand for.

2006-03-28T14:44:00.000-05:00

Lately

I haven't been around the internet lately. I am at work for so many hours and it's so intense that when I get home, I avoid a few things: the computer, the phone, reading, talking in general, thinking. This basically leaves me to watch TV or workout. Sure, I am exaggerating... but just a little.

Today has been a strange day. I had only a couple sips of coffee this morning because it tasted terrible. I suspect it was made incorrectly, that or the cream I put in had gone bad. Mmm. So anyways, I have been in a caffeine-less haze for most of the day. I accomplished a few things at work and was feeling pretty good for a few hours, but now I am experiencing the inevitable post-lunch crash. I had a taco salad (yum) which is pretty healthy and not too heavy, but it is still making me sleepy.

I finished reading the book Saturday by Ian McEwan last night (actually this morning...) I thought I didn't like the book while I was reading, but it turns out I really love it. The writing is really quite amazing and moving.

My friend Johnny has a cool new blog that is worth checking out. I am not sure why he is so anti-goat. Personally, I'm pro-goat. They are cute. They make tasty cheese. Johnny is the friend whose pants-burning New Years Eve party I attended -- he is completely wacky in all of the good ways.

In mid-April, I will be leaving D.C. for the first time since arriving here last November. It is about time for a short trip home to NM to see the family, breathe the mountain air, eat green chile and feel grounded for a moment. I am like a rechargable battery, always needing to return to my home base to gain the strength I need to carry on. Not the prettiest simile, but it works.

Clearly, I need some caffeine. For some reason, I am pleasantly reassured by my addiction to the stimulant. But I really have become dependent on it. Waiting until this late in the day to get my fill is completely crazy. Here's to a more caffeinated post next time.

2006-03-16T14:14:00.000-05:00

Whelmed

I keep having all kinds of good ideas for blogging, but I am usually in a tunnel underground, walking someplace or in the shower when the ideas strike... never near a computer. I have been absent from this space lately not because nothing is happening, just because it's never convenient to write about it and when I can, I don't feel inspired. I think part of this might be the fact that I am so busy doing social/external things that my intellectual/private life has been ignored a bit. I am reading a lot still and I do have my daily walk during which I think and listen to music, but I am missing the restorative stillness that I used to incorporate in my days. I am not quite sure how to get that back.

On the other hand, I am having a blast. Work is hard, but I'm finally playing hard too. We go out on weeknights. We have plans. There are things to do. It's really nice.

Last weekend there was a warm spell that allowed Neil and I to spend Saturday rollerblading and getting slight sunburns. I got to wear sandals and sleveless shirts. It was amazing.

A couple of weekends ago my parents came to visit. Much fun was had. We went to a play, Fanny's First Play, which was very entertaining, we toured Mt. Vernon, we ate at amazing restaurants and just had a good time. It's nice to see family, especially being so far away from home.

Some things I have wanted to blog about but haven't had the chance:

*How deeply I love Grey's Anatomy (so much that I like to watch episodes over and over again)
*How being swamped at work is a major social problem
*My need to travel
*New music loves: Idan Raichal Project, Belle and Sebastian's Life Pursuit, Brandi Carlisle
*Strange encounters with DC people who want me to give them one of my dogs

Movie trivia bonus points to the reader that can tell me (in my comments section) which movie the title of this post comes from.

2006-03-01T22:20:00.000-05:00

Things I Like on a Morning Commute

1. When I walk in the station, down the escalator unimpeded by fellow commuters and right onto a train.

2. Finding an open front corner seat.

3. Finding any open seat.

4. The absence of inclement weather.

5. The absence of shoving and angry glares.

6. The smiley metro employee who chats with me when he's working.

7. A cheerful/friendly -- even funny -- metro announcer.

8. The absence of delays.

9. When friendly drivers stop to let me cross the street (even when I am not using a crosswalk.)

10. When the iPod plays good music.

11. When people smile at me.

12. When I get to work on time.

2006-03-01T22:02:00.000-05:00

Speaking of Human Elements

I have been thinking lately about people and connections and how we take a piece of everyone we know with us always. Even people I don't know anymore are with me every day -- whether they introduced me to a favorite song, or a new musician, a way of thinking, a phrase, a saying or mannerism -- I am always collecting parts of people.

It is the parts of people that I have loved the most that are the most easily identifiable. Maybe the longer you spend with a person, the more of them you carry with you? And what if the longer the length of time between when you last left each other, the more the parts of them you've collected become a part of you -- indistinguishable -- unattributed to their original source?

The sad part is that I miss all of the people I carry with me. I miss them all in varying degrees. From my fifth grade teacher to the boyfriend that I never kissed, to the kid I tutored after school, to the coworker who encouraged me not to cry during the first week of work when I was accosted by a creepy homeless man, and the first boy that I loved. I am always missing people. It's not the kind of missing that ruins my days. It's the sweet ache of absence and I feel it for all of my family and current friends who are spread all over the world -- and for the people I have lost along the way.

I have been listening to a song on repeat that made me think of all this: Skeleton on Display by Now It's Overhead. Of course, this song is about some love affair or another, but it touches me:

"Stepping out of skin we grew together in this life we're ending."

Don't we all grow skin together in our various relationships? We forge commonality, create bonds, sometimes we create our own language...

"I will always miss you
I will always miss you
I will always."

And the chorus makes me long for my grandfather, my best friend from freshman year of college and past loves all at once.

"I am a skeleton on display."

I suppose this is true about myself. I am the old heart on my sleeve cliche. I make myself vulnerable by allowing myself to miss people in the way that I do...but I think it's worth it

2006-02-22T17:39:00.000-05:00

Good Little Communists

Lately, Neil and I have been using Zipcar to run errands like grocery shopping and taking the dogs to the groomer. All we have to do is go online, reserve a car and then walk a couple blocks where we use a card to open the doors and the keys are in the ignition. The system depends on the goodness of people. Each renter must pull out of the Zipcar spot, stop, get out of the car and put down an orange cone stored in the back seat to reserve the space. Any renter who drives until there is only 1/4 of a tank left is responsible for taking the gas card out of the glove box and filling up the tank of gas. All Zipcars have XM radio and renters need not worry about insurance -- like gas, it is covered by the hourly rate.

So yes, Zipcar is a bit like communism, but it works. Part of what makes us care about leaving the car clean and full of gas and returning it on time is knowing that other people like us might be picking the car up and the next time slot. It's all about the human element. If we took the car back to the rental shop and knew they'd be cleaning it and inspecting it, we would not care nearly as much -- it would be corporate -- not human. But Zipcar, with its cleverly named cars (Matrix Maddy), introduced the human element into their business and it makes me proud to participate in their communist-reminiscent car rental system... (of course, it's only the friendly customers who are communist... Zipcar is making bank.)

2006-02-15T17:15:00.000-05:00

All Fall Down

Since moving to D.C. I have become the world's biggest klutz. I fell on the sidewalk in good weather two times. Completely fell. I blamed it on carrying too many things in my arms and being off balance -- which is probably true -- but still doesn't justify a complete wipeout... On Monday, there was snow and ice covering the sidewalk on the way to work. In spite of the fact that I was wearing snow boots AND being careful, I slipped on some black ice and fell smack on my tailbone. I like to think that I gracefully bounced back to my feet, but it's more likely that I looked hilarious and ridiculous with my big messenger bag and my snow boots and my work clothes all splayed on the sidewalk. This falling has become so commonplace that I have to laugh at it now. I mean, it's sad, sure... but it's also really funny.

I was thinking that I rarely, if ever, fall while skiing or ice skating or rollerblading. I can't remember the last time I fell skiing. I take major risks, ski way too fast, fly over jumps and bumps and still do not fall. Why then, do I so regularly come crashing down when just trying to walk along the sidewalk? I'm trying not to read anything into it.

2006-02-12T20:17:00.000-05:00

New Hobby

I think that Dick Cheney should consider taking up a new hobby.

The fact that our vice president shot somebody in the face is completely mind boggling. I just do not even know what to say. Isn't there an entire battery of jokes about stupid hunting accidents?

White House

We had a tour of the White House at 7:30 Saturday morning. It was one of the tours you can get by sending a request to your senator or congressman and waiting a few months. So this past Saturday was our day. They had pre-cleared us by running our social security numbers through whatever government database necessary so getting in was relatively easy.. one id check, one metal detector and we were walking in the halls of the East Wing. The very first thing we saw upon entering was a photo of the State of the Union Address with the president in the middle and Neil right above his head in the press area. It was blown up and Neil' face was recognizable. So, for another couple of weeks, Neil will be on the walls of the White House, which, even if it is the Bush White House, is pretty cool.

The rest of the tour was interesting. Really, the White House is smaller than I thought. We only got to see the first floor, but the rooms aren't as humongous as you might imagine. Of course, they're beautifully decorated and every object in them is dripping in history... but my idealized image of the place was cooler than the actual place.

Noreaster

And finally, Washington D.C. was hit by a noreaster today. Really, we only got 6 inches of snow and most of it has already melted.. but it made for a beautiful, sparkly morning and an excuse to finally wear my snow boots.

2006-02-05T20:24:00.000-05:00

American

Why is football so "American"? I am an American and yet, I don't really feel moved by football. I only recently learned to understand the game and to me, it still seems less exciting than most other sports. But tonight, millions of Americans are gathered around their TVs watching football and I am among them. But I am not sure why this tradition defines us. A bunch of big guys running into each other while trying to get a slippery football into the endzone...what's American about that? Everything, I guess...

***

I have bronchitis and have been sick since last Thursday. Not the most fun way to spend the weekend. Not much exciting has happened to me this past week as a result. I watched way too much TV and slept. Oh, and I had a nebulizer treatment at the doctor's office to open up my lungs. Thrilling...

Here's to more exciting things in the week to come.

2006-01-31T11:28:00.000-05:00

Bummer

Today is kind of a bummer. For starters it's rainy and dreary outside and that's often enough to make me feel bummed. But then there's the news today: a shooting in a postal facility in CA in which 7 people died, the death of Coretta Scott King and now this: Senate Confirms Alito to the Supreme Court which is not at all unexpected, but still a big bummer. Still the kind of thing that makes my heart sink.

Neil has a pass to watch the State of the Union in person tonight... which is really cool, regardless of who the president is, but I don't think I could attend even if I had the chance. Last year, even though I was alone on my couch, I remember swearing at my tv and being incredibly angry the entire time. I think I even switched away from the speech for a big portion in the middle because I found watching it so maddening.

In other news, I think I have mentioned here before the fact that about 10 years ago, a former version of myself volunteered to plan the 10 year high school reunion for my class. And here we are, 10 years later and I am trying to get things going with the planning. The first step has been tracking people down that I've been out of touch with. With the help of Julia (the other class agent who foolishly volunteered 10 years ago) I am nearly finished with the tracking down. It's been really cool to reconnect with people and find out what everyone is doing. People are getting married, have babies etc. This process has also been a little sad because it's made me miss Carl, my freshman year boyfriend who died of brain cancer when we were seniors in college. And in a more abstract sense, it has made me miss myself. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I miss feeling invincible, I miss the heady friendships and the late nights and the crushes that were all-consuming and so incredibly important.

To add to all the nostalgia, I also happen to be reading Prep by Curtis Steinfeld at the moment. Britten recommended it to me a while ago and I suppose the timing could not be more perfect. The book is all about high school and while I did not attend boarding school, I did attend a prep school and some of the things in the book are so dead on with my experience that it's spooky.

I am sure there is more to say on this topic. Why do we make such a big deal in our society about events as they grow distant from us in ten year increments? Is it to remind us of who we were and where we came from, or simply to make us feel old and less accomplished than we'd hoped to be? Is it about reconnecting? And once we all reconnect, will we stay in contact or just wait until someone (probably me) sends out an e-mail in another 10 years and we start over again? Since when did I become so cynical?

2006-01-29T11:09:00.000-05:00

I Just Heard...

Meet the Press is on in the background as I do my ritual Sunday morning e-mail check and someone being interviewed about the possible filibuster to block the Alito nomination just said, "Well, John Kerry can never afford to be nuanced again..." Which made me think about how much I love language and intelligence in combination... I would never have thought to say "John Kerry can't be a flip-flopper ever again if he wants to have a political career" quite like that. Not to mention the fact that I agree with the sentiment... wish I knew who said it.

Also on Meet the Press, they just showed polls that said the majority (53%) of those surveyed don't care if the government taps their phone calls!!!!! Who are these people? Why are they so eager to just give away their rights?

In other news, Andy is coming to town this afternoon...and I haven't seen him since I graduated THREE years ago... so I'm very excited.

It's rainy and dreary today... I'll survive, but it's days like this that make me miss the southwest.

2006-01-27T23:45:00.000-05:00

Things I Love

1) Old friends
2) The cold air that rushes into my face and blows my hair back behind my head as a metro approaches in DC's metro tunnels.
3) Meeting new people
4)Discovering common ground
5)Reconnecting
6)Receiving news from afar
7)A really good political discussion or debate
8)The feeling of missing characters from a novel once I've finished reading it
9)The surprising way an unexpected apology, for a crime long ago forgiven but not forgotten, can fill me up and make me feel more complete than before.
10)Honesty
11)The affection of animals
12)The sense of accomplishment that comes from a well-written sentence
13)Family
14)The disorienting feeling of being in a foreign country
15)The ambiguity of borders
16)People who understand me better than I understand myself
17)Physical accomplishments and exhaustion
18)Full days
19)Fresh raspberries
20)Hot, milky coffee
21)Unexpected phone calls
22)Shared memories
23)Good comedy
24)Music that makes the bottom of my stomach drop out in that good way that makes me gasp for breath
25)Warm slippers
26)The feeling of sun on my closed eyelids
27)Seeing the talents of my friends and family
28)Travel
29)Pop culture
30)Internationalism
31)Information
32)Knowing the most current celebrity gossip
33)Making other people feel good
34)Passion
35)Sleeping in later than I should
36)Long hugs from people I admire
37)Looking in the eyes of someone who loves me as they look in mine
38)Owning current gadgets
39)Not owning a car
40)reminiscing
41)Knowing myself better each day
42)My cell phone
43)Spirituality
44)The aspens when they change colors in the Santa Fe Mountains each fall
45)Green chile
46)Franklin Mountain State Park
47)My iPod Nano
48)Unopened e-mail
49)Scrabble
50)Thinking about things I love...

2006-01-24T10:11:00.000-05:00

My Worst Nightmare

There are few things that make my blood boil more than people who are pro-life. This does not meant that I don't count some pro-life people among my friends, but it does mean that we do not discuss the abortion debate when we're together. It is one of those things that I will never change my mind about. I believe that all women should have the power to choose what they do with their bodies. It's that simple. I believe this strongly and passionately. This does not mean that I cheer every abortion performed. I don't. But I want to know that I can have an abortion if that's something I feel I need to do for whatever reason. I want to know that every woman in America has the power of self determination. This is a free society, or at least it is supposed to be. Women should not become second-class citizens.

So yesterday on my way to work, I had to wade through streams of pro-life demonstrators as they flooded off the metro. There were probably thousands in sum and I came into contact with hundreds. They were perky little girls with hoodies that said things like "Abortion is America's Hidden Holocaust" on them. They were middle aged men, they were mothers and sisters and brothers. They looked really normal if you could ignore their "End Roe" signs. But as I walked past them, bumping into them, being shoved by their sheer numbers, I felt panic. All of these people want to take away my rights. They believe in what they believe for their own good reasons, but most likely they don't realize the consequences of what they're attempting to do. Back alley abortions, unwanted children, the marginalization of women... the list goes on. I wanted to go home and put on my walking shoes and hold my own demonstration... I know some pro-choice people did just that. But instead, I went to work, leaving it up to other people to decide on this issue that I care so much about. My own inaction was really my worst nightmare.

2006-01-21T17:58:00.000-05:00

Odds and Ends

It's been a while. Not because I haven't had things to blog about... but because there's never a good time to do it. Lots of things have been happening this month.. below a few of the highlights.

1) Recently, Neil and I were walking home one evening when we saw and heard a street musician. He was a white man with a brownish grey beard and was probably between 45 and 60 and he was playing a guitar hooked up to an amp. As we approached we realized he was singing Johnny Be Good. (Note; I love street musicians. In college, I did my final photography project on street musicians. I spent weeks roaming around the city taking pictures of musicians wherever I could find them and dropping money in their buckets or violin cases. As a result of my affection for street musicians, I usually smile and have generally warm happy feelings when I see a street musician.) The man looked very dirty and worse for the wear, but I was still excited as we walked by him. The lyrics we heard are a follows: "He never ever could really read or write/But he'll fuck you in the ass..."
Neil and I were both completely shocked. I did a double take and then walked as quickly as possible away from Mr. Skeezy Street Musician. As soon as we were about ten paces away, we started laughing uncontrollably.
(my apologies for the swearing, but it was central to the story.)

2) Not too long ago I ran into a friend from elementary school on the street in DC. We exchanged phone numbers and that was that. Tonight, I went to dinner with Kate. She called and invited me out and her other friend from high school who I also know (or knew) was in town. To top it off, Kate has a friend from law school who went to Northwestern with me and while we didn't know each other, we had tons of friends in common etc. So the evening was spent reminiscing about high school, elementary school and college intermittently. It was great and while I had been apprehensive about having dinner with people I hadn't spoken to in ten years or more, I really enjoyed myself and relished the opportunity to reconnect.

3) I think I am becoming more Jewish. I know that sounds strange... but here goes. I work for a Jewish nonprofit. While it isn't anything I ever pictured myself doing, I have really been enjoying it and from the minute I had my interview, I knew it would be a good place to work. However, when I accepted the job, I told myself that I wasn't going to let myself get sucked in. I would not attend services and I would not feel obligated to become more observant than I want to be. (basically, I am not a religious person.) However, being here and working in a Jewish office, I have really begun to appreciate some things about my religion. My favorite friend from work is Orthodox and incredibly observant and at first I couldn't even wrap my mind around that. I did not understand how someone I have so much in common with could be so incredibly religious when I viewed that kind of extreme observance as oppressive. But I am starting to understand it. There is something so incredible about the community... about having Jewish community around you, about celebrating things with your friends and family etc. Today, I had lunch with my new friends after they went to services and it was great. We basically just hung out all afternoon talking and eating and enjoying each other's company and because it was Shabbat, there were no distractions. Nobody had anything better to do than to sit around in that apartment and talk. I am not going to become orthodox, I probably won't even begin attending services regularly, but it is really nice to understand, at last, a little bit more about Judaism and community and what religion can be that is positive...

2006-01-12T10:12:00.000-05:00

Loss

I found out this morning that my friend, ballet teacher, piano teacher, mentor and a source of considerable inspiration died on Christmas Eve. He definitely has one of the best obituaries ever. Something tells me he either wrote it or gave specific instructions about what it contains. The world is just a little bit worse now that Zsolt no longer lives in it. But, he made a lot of peoples' lives a lot better for having lived.

Zsolt, I will miss you...

ZSOLT of Santa Fe died Dec. 24, 2005, after a long illness. He was a lifelong humanitarian, a monkish poet and good friend. A citizen of the world, he grew up in Boulder, Colo.; London; and Quito, Ecuador, and resided in Boston, Paris, San Francisco and Bern, Switzerland -- making Santa Fe his primary residence for the past 21 years. He is survived by his parents, Barbara and Alan Robb; recent housemates, Michael and Galen; and many other people of all ages who befriended and adopted Zsolt into their families. In lieu of sending flowers, take a few moments to read a passage from the Bhagavad Gita, the Tao Te Ching, or listen to Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. A celebration of life is tentatively planned for Jan. 8, 2006.

2006-01-04T16:46:00.000-05:00

Brand New

It's a brand new year. 2006 seems like a good number to me. I like the way it looks. I like that it's an even number... there just seems to be something friendly about it, something appealing. Anyways, so far, this year is going well.

It started off in a somewhat drunken stupor, as all new years should. This year, Rachel and Brian were in town and we went to a party at one of Rachel's Dartmouth friends' houses. Neil and I actually knew Johnny from a few winters back when he lived in Santa Fe and interned at a magazine, so it wasn't completely weird -- we weren't surrounded by strangers. Anyways, we had a great evening of laughing, talking, standing by the fire and just enjoying the last hours of 2005. Sometime after 3 a.m. and shortly after I noticed daylight in the backyard through a window in Johnny's house (the fire got a little out of hand), we headed back to our apartment where the four of us ate french toast and went to sleep at 4. I cannot remember the last time I went to bed that late and it felt great.

The next morning, we met a group of people from the party at our favorite breakfast place, The Waffle Shop. The Waffle Shop is the kind of establishment that was built at least 50 years ago and when it was new, I am positive it was a shining beacon of modernism in the heart of the city, but hasn't been REALLY cleaned since opening day. I am not saying it's a dirty restaurant...the food is cooked in a clean environment, but the diner itself has not really been kept up. No changes have been made, no improvements, no deep cleaning. The food, however, is amazing. I believe they make the best waffles I have ever had. So, 2006 began with good company and an amazing waffle.

After brunch, we went for a walk on the National Mall and the weather was amazing. Neil even wore short sleeves. The walk was followed by a satisfyingly long nap and later I watched a cheesy movie. It was a great way to spend the first day of a new year. Here's hoping 2006 is as good as I think it will be.

2005-12-29T09:29:00.000-05:00

Overthinking

In my daily perusal of the New York Times online, I came across a most interesting op-ed column that suggests the whole New Years Eve self reflection thing is a bit self-destructive. In fact, the article really says that we shouldn't think too hard about ourselves ever. While this might be going a bit too far, I found myself agreeing with the assertion. I am always so much happier when I take action, decide to do something or be something than I am when I sit around thinking about what I should do, who I am, how to live my life better etc.

The column quotes Aristotle who said, "We become just by the practice of just actions, self-controlled by exercising self-control, and courageous by performing acts of courage." This quote reminds me of the presentation I attended in Albuquerque where the woman said that according to studies happy people are risk takers and all you have to do to become a risk taker is take a risk. That advice is part of what made me decide that moving to DC was a good idea and I feel more courageous because we did it.

For my whole life since at least fourth grade, I have spend some time on the final day of the year to reflect on the past year and write resolutions for the new one. I will probably do this again this year, but with a little less gravitas. No reason to overthink it, apparently...

2005-12-26T14:18:00.000-05:00

Desperation for Attention

Apparently, the student who said he was visited by the Department of Homeland Security after requesting a Mao book, was making it all up. This is disturbing and it seems as though he did it merely for attention. So, my anger from last week at the government was misplaced, and that's a relief, really. Like one of the student's professors said, it is safe to check out library books. Thank goodness.

But, I would like to point out that pre-Bush, had I heard a story like that, I would have immediately known it was made up. It might have even been laughable. But in today's environment, it was so far from far-fetched that I didn't bat an eye as to it's credibility. Hmm.

Meanwhile...

Christmas has come and gone. I am one of approximately six people worldwide (yes, I know that's an exaggeration) who had to go to work in an office today. I know all the retail people are slaving away at cash registers, but office workers, by and large, are just crawling out of bed. On my walk to the metro this morning, I felt like a crazy person because DC had become a ghost town. I passed approximately 2 people between my door and the metro station. Normally, I probably walk by at least 100 people each morning. The guard in the booth at the entrance to the building has the day off and everything is eerily quiet. I get the day after New Years off and will sleep in with reckless abandon as revenge for having to work on this dreaded day.

2005-12-19T13:30:00.000-05:00

Amazing Abuse of Power

It was only a matter of time after moving to DC before I started my relentless political blogging again... here we go.

A co-worker sent me a link to this article today about a student who received a visit from the friendly Department of Homeland Security because he requested a book by Mao through a university inter-library loan system. This is so wrong on so many levels, I don't even know where to begin.

I find it deeply disturbing that even materials in an academic context are reason for suspicion by the federal government. I also find it disturbing that the government might know what books I have been checking out and that now I have to think, when going to the library, about whether or not the titles I'm checking out will be on a watch list. There goes that good old American feeling of freedom. With all the news lately about the president and the authorized spying on private citizens without warrants, I feel like I am living under a government that's moving away from democracy and our Bill of Rights and toward dictatorship.

2005-12-17T11:23:00.000-05:00

Jealousy

The other day, Neil and I were at one of our favorite restaurants and we came across a foreign language social group. A bunch of people were milling around with name tags speaking different languages. Their name tags specified the language they were there to practice and we watched as they paired off, stopped speaking English and got down to business. Really, it was pretty cool -- a great idea. But I couldn't help but to think they were all really nerdy. Now I wonder if that was, in fact, the case, or if I'm just jealous that they all speak a second language and I don't.

2005-12-14T13:40:00.000-05:00

Wow

I can't believe he took responsibility! I don't like him any better, but this is still a good thing he's done. When was the last time 43 admitted he was wrong???

2005-12-09T12:42:00.000-05:00

Snow

It is really amazing how, in a world filled with so many unpleasant things, on some mornings, we wake up and everything is covered in sparkling white crystals. This morning, I got to make fresh tracks in the snow as I walked across the mammoth suburban parking lot I cross each morning. Normally, I think about what a waste of space the big chunk of asphalt is. Today I thought about how awesome the snow was and how satisfying it was as it crunched under my shoes.

2005-12-08T10:43:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the Coke side of life...

That is the new slogan for Coca Cola. I am sure their commercials are amazing and inspirational and will make me feel the need to drink their cola to be cool, but what a lame tagline. Couldn't they come up with anything better?

It's supposed to snow here in DC tonight and have sleet and icy rain tomorrow. They are even talking about possibly not opening the office in the morning, which would be great. My mom and dad arrive this afternoon (before the storm is set to hit). There's something I really love about having family around when it's cold and snowy outside.

Last night, Neil and I cleaned our apartment and it was nice because a) we now have a clean clean apartment and 2) it took about 1/3 the amount of time it used to take us to clean our house. I kept wandering around wondering what we'd forgotten to do, but then, we had extra time and got to drink some wine and talk about Neil's lunch at the White House. That's right, he went into the heart of enemy territory and had lunch with a White House staffer that ran the campaign in NM in 2004. I'm currently reading Full Disclosure, and the White House Mess is mentioned quite frequently, so I am fascinated by the whole thing. I'm a tad jealous Neil got to go, but I can wait until there's a less evil administration in office.

2005-12-06T20:20:00.000-05:00

Things

1.) I still have no idea why people from all over the world are viewing my April 2005 archives. I will admit that it was a good month for blogging, but who are these people? If any of you read this, please please comment and tell me what's so interesting there. I removed the naked man painting...Is it the worst haircut contest winner?

2.) My parents are coming to visit this weekend. We're going to a Red Wings game and to the lighting of the Capitol Christmas Tree (which happens to be from New Mexico this year). I am sure my mom and I will also find some way to squeeze in some shopping. Anyways, we're all ready for them now that Rachel and Brian tested out our air mattress.

3.) This past weekend an Indian food restaurant opened beneath our apartment. We've been watching them build it for weeks. The restaurant is on street level and we live on the sixth floor, but on opening night, our whole apartment smelled like Indian food. I like Indian food, I like how it smells, but not on my clothes and in my bed. Really, it's a smell that is only good when you're hungry. I think they fixed the problem, but won't be sure until they cook again tomorrow at their opening night. Apparently last Saturday was just practice. I was packing our boxes in my head when I first started smelling it, but the people on floors lower than us were REALLY up in arms and ventilation system modifications were made. So my fingers are crossed that I won't be plunged into a spicy smelly existence come Wednesday.

4.) Also this past weekend, after a trip to Eastern Market, I recognized a person passing me on the street and discovered that it was Kate Mayer, my old friend from elementary school in Santa Fe. In fact, she was valedictorian at her high school senior year and made history for giving a speech about all the problems with public education in NM. They banned student speeches after that. It was great to see her and on a broader level, to see a familiar face in my new city. As it turns out, Kate works in a building right next to our apartment building.

5.) And finally, last Friday, Neil and I attended a formal holiday party for Northwestern alumni living in DC. I put on my black strapless cocktail dress, Neil his Italian suit and we went to a hotel near our apartment (Hotel Washington) where we were directed to a ball room all decorated in purple balloons and purple banners. It was a little more school spirit than I had experienced in a while and a little more awkward cocktail conversation,too. But we had a great time. We saw a few people we knew from school that we didn't know were living here. Perhaps most importantly, we ran into Nadia, our friend who was a couple years behind us in school and dated one of Neil's roommates. We had completely lost touch with her and it was great to catch up and, for me, to find another girl friend to hang out with in D.C. So here's to awkward alumni functions.

It is absolutely freezing here and there's even some snow on the ground. Here we go... East Coast Winter...

2005-12-05T09:20:00.000-05:00

Number 5,212 that I love my iPod

I love my iPod because if I wear the headphones on my walk to and from the metro in the mornings and evenings, I can't hear the occasional crazy homeless person who screams at all the people who walk by. When I do hear these people swearing and yelling at me, my adrenaline kicks in, my heart races and I feel sad as well as scared. With the iPod, I know they're yelling, but I can listen to Death Cab for Cutie instead and keep walking.

House Guests Are Fun
Just because we downsized from our 3-bedroom house to a 1-bedroom apartment, didn't mean we'd be stopping our grand tradition of house guests. Last week, Rachel came to an Anthropology conference and stayed with us for most of the week and on Saturday, her husband Brian drove from NC to pick her up and hang out with us for the weekend. We had so much fun! All my fears about being overcrowded were unfounded and it was really great to have some really good friends visit. We went to the new bar/bowling alley in our neighborhood, attended an open house at a way-too-fancy hair salon and got free drinks and hair stuff, ate pie at Kramer's Books, walked through a flood of Andre Boticelli fans in the metro, ate sushi, went to Eastern Market, toured the Museum of the American Indian...etc. It was a great week and weekend.

2005-11-30T21:13:00.000-05:00

Who are you people?

Ok. So normally I get about 15-20 hits on my blog a day, over the last couple of weeks I have noticed that I'm getting hundreds of hits a day and they are all starting on the page from the April archives where I have pictures from my trip to Italy. One of them, which I have removed, was of a painting in the entry of a house that showed a man without clothes. It was a little more graphic than I can explain here because I am not interested in hundreds of people going to this page daily any time soon.

Anyways, the people viewing my pictures from Italy were from all over the world (Egypt, Serbia, France, Italy, Russia, Denmark, Sweden, Finland etc.) All I can imagine is that my blog is the subject of someone's e-mail forward? In any case, while I am all for blog traffic, it's a little creepy that so many people I do not know have been browsing my vacation photos. The other thought that crossed my mind was, "What if they are all making fun of me?" (I think this question mainly came up because I am paranoid and a little narcissistic.) Whatever the case, that many people going to a page buried in the archives cannot be good. I'm hoping the removal of the photo will make them all go away so that my family and friends and occasional random strangers are the only ones frequenting this blog.

Ten Years!

Yesterday I found someone I hadn't talked to in almost ten years. I had been wondering about him on and off and had looked online a few times, but nobody I knew knew where he was or what happened to him. Yesterday, I got an e-mail from him and I was elated. I had no idea that reconnecting with him would make me so happy. My whole life I have had this need to keep my friends close. I like to know where people are, what they're up to, how to call them if I want to chat and I hate losing people. So finding Patrick was a really wonderful thing and knowing a little bit about what he's been up to all this time makes me feel a tad more complete.

Multitasking

My friend Rachel and I just decided that the word "multitasking" is really a way of saying "getting absolutely nothing done."

Packed

In the spirit of being exciting city people, we have a packed weekend coming up. Rachel and Brian are visiting. Tomorrow night we're going to the new bar/bowling alley that is opening down the street. Friday is the formal Northwestern alumni holiday party, Saturday is hang out with Rachel and Brian day. I'm really looking forward to all the fun.

2005-11-28T15:38:00.000-05:00

Adventure Test

My friend Britten sent me the following quote today and it confirms that moving to D.C. was, in fact, an adventure. I had been saying it was all along, but now it's official:

"The test of an adventure is that when you're in the middle of it, you say to yourself, 'Oh, now I've got myself into an awful mess; I wish I were sitting quietly at home.' And the sign that something's wrong with you is when you sit quietly at home wishing you were out having lots of adventure."

--Thornton Wilder

I am happy to say, that I have not yet returned to my apartment after work and thought about how I wish I was out having adventures. Every day is still an adventure. Now the problem is (and I think this is what Mr. Wilder was getting at)that eventually what's adventurous right now will become something ordinary and I will long for adventure again. And once I come up with a new way to have an adventure, I will, at some point along the way, wish to be back in my cozy apartment in D.C. But this is just the nature of change, really. We resist change just as we crave it. I suppose the challenge is finding ways to continually create adventures for ourselves.

2005-11-28T09:43:00.000-05:00

Aahhh

There's nothing like a four-day weekend to make going back to work on Monday dreadful. In spite of the pain of waking before the sun was fully up this morning, I really enjoyed the Thanksgiving vacation. We went to our friends Ben and Robyn's apartment for Thanksgiving dinner and it was delicious and fun. Also, it was much better than making some Thanksgiving sides at home and just having Neil and myself to eat them... that was the alternate plan until we got invited to Ben and Robyn's.

Earlier that day we got to spend time with our friends Topher and Lotus who were in town visiting Topher's dad. It was great to see them, even if it was a brief visit.

The Friday after Thanksgiving was the best day ever. I say this because my husband actually suggested we got to the mall where I got a much needed new coat, and then willingly went to two movies in a row. I can't think of many better activities than attending two movies in a row and I hadn't done it since college because Neil isn't a movie freak like me. Also, normally, trips to the mall are not Neil's idea, but mine and then I feel like I'm torturing him the entire time. In any case, Friday was perfect.

Saturday was also a lot of fun. We had lunch at the Native American Museum because they have authentic Native American Cuisine including Navajo Tacos (although they call them Indian Tacos) with green chile! I am a big fan of Navajo tacos which basically consist of fry bread covered in beans, tomato, lettuce, cheese, onions and green chile. At the museum, however, they have a buffalo chili on top which includes beans and then the rest of the ingredients. I was wary of the chili since I don't eat much red meat and especially not buffalo, but it was really good and I felt like I was at home (almost). After lunch, we walked to the Washington Monument to find out about going to the top, then we walked around the White House (or the large perimeter that surrounds the White House) When were at the closest point, the police cleared everyone out and closed the street. We waited for a while to see what was going on but the only clue we got was that one officer asked the crowd of gawkers if anyone had left a CVS shopping bag behind. So maybe it was a suspicious shopping bag? It was strange, there were at least three men with long photo lenses in the crowd taking pictures, but who knows what they were of. Neil and I got too cold so we left. It was curious to say the least.

After that we went to the zoo where we saw both adult pandas, but not the baby. We also saw a hippo up close (a first for me) and some other animals, but Neil was freezing so we left the zoo and went home.

On Sunday, we went to the top of the Washington Monument (cool, but not amazing), locked ourselves out of our apartment (thank goodness the front desk guy has a key), and took a four-hour nap (nope, I am not kidding).

All in all, it was a great weekend and it helped us to feel a little more like DC is home.

2005-11-21T16:09:00.000-05:00

Observations upon being in DC for approximately three weeks

1. On F street near Chinatown, there is a green official-looking street sign right below the F Street NW sign that says Fun Street in a fun font. Neil and I sometimes skip while crossing Fun Street in order to induce fun.

2. On one of the longest escalators ever coming up from the Dupont Circle metro, a sign says "Hold Handrail on Escalator" or something like that. So I put my hand on the rail and stood on the escalator only to notice my hand moving forward faster than the rest of me. I though I was imagining it until I was almost touching the butt of the woman in front of me.

3. Every morning, I have a 15-20 minute walk from the metro stop in Maryland to the building where I work. I get to walk by generic suburban strip malls and then through a giant parking lot. It's not a glamorous route. To make matters worse, every morning I walk by a Starbucks that I can't actually get to because along the sidewalk is an iron fence. The fence is low and if I were wearing jeans and sneakers, I could surely hop it, but in work clothes, I'd be crazy to try. To walk around the fence takes an extra 7 minutes because it wraps along the sidewalk and then curves with the driveway. I would plan ahead and leave home early if it guaranteed coffee, only, once I get to Starbucks and around the fence, there's often a line so long that I have to leave without getting any coffee. Of course, the glass on the doors is always in a glare when I'm on the outside of the fence trying to determine if I should make an attempt. Most mornings, I take a big sniff of the caffeinated air outside the Starbucks and walk along the fence drafting letters in my head to the fence owners about putting in a gate.

2005-11-15T20:14:00.000-05:00

Moving in, Moving on

We arrived at our new apartment building in the morning on a Friday. I had scheduled the move in at least a month prior, and yet, they didn't have us scheduled. So, we had to beg them to let us into the loading dock. Eventually they did and our movers showed up and took all of our things out of the truck, up the elevator and into our apartment. Overall, it was really smooth. A hamper handle got broken along with something else, but I don't even remember what. None of our things were dirty or otherwise damaged. So, perhaps, driving our stuff across the country in a Penske truck (like turtles, our whole house on our back) paid off.

Unfortunately, our landlord had not cleaned the apartment prior to our arrival as promised and it was gross, but within two days, we had a cleaning crew come in and clean and the landlord paid. We went to Ikea with the truck and bought small furniture to facilitate storage. We built the furniture (two bar stools, one wooden chair, one desk, one cabinet for the bathroom, one glass cabinet for art, one wooden shelf unit for a closet and one metal shelf unit for the pantry) and unpacked everything by Sunday evening. If we didn't know already, this experience was proof that both Neil and I are very anal. All of the other people we talked to about the move looked at us like we were insane when we said we'd broken down the final box on Sunday afternoon. But regardless of possible insanity, we felt great once we were all moved in. (I mean even the art was hung on the walls...)

Our apartment, even if it's half the size of our house in Albuquerque, is awesome. We somehow have enough space and it doesn't even feel crowded. Add to that the fact that we get lots of natural light and the dogs seem to like it a lot. Also, we have a great gym and a roof deck with pool, and a party room with a pool table and a movie theatre and so on. We really like where we live. The neighborhood, Chinatown/Penn Quarter, is awesome. We're about five blocks from Ford's Theatre and the house where Lincoln died (I am a big Lincoln fan) We're blocks from the Smithsonians and even closer to the National Archives where we can visit the Constitution and Declaration of Independence whenever we feel like it. We have a big multiplex theatre nearby as well as several live theatres. There's an Ann Taylor Loft and an Urban Outfitters (two chains that do not yet exist in NM)just down the street. It's really exciting.

We're still exploring the neighborhood and making new discoveries. Last night we ate at Wok 'N Roll, a Chinese and Japanese restaurant in the historic Mary Surratt boarding house where John Wilkes Booth and his co-conspirators are said to have hatched the plan to assassinate Lincoln. Our building adjoins to another condo complex called the Clara Barton because it's built above the original house where Clara Barton set up her office for missing soldiers. They're restoring it right now and soon it'll be a museum. Being surrounded by so much history is really fascinating.

At home, in New Mexico, the history was different. I was immersed in different stories. Pueblo revolts, conquistadors, the Apache trail of tears. Growing up, I thought of the New Mexico history as my own. But, I also thought of U.S. history as my own. In 5th grade, I made my parents take me to D.C. so I could see everything -- the Star Spangled Banner, Ford's Theatre, Mount Vernon, the Constitution...And now I live here, a new place with its own history -- a history that I identify with, too.

2005-11-11T13:51:00.000-05:00

New Life

I am back and I have a new life!

First of all, the gala dinner at my old job on my second to last day of work was awesome. I still don't know the totals for what we raised, but I think it was at least $26,000 if not a little more. People showed up all dressed up and the food was awesome and the entertainment was great. Before I left the next day, my boss told her that one of the long-time credit union movement people told her it was the best credit union event in the history of the state, which made me feel really great. In addition, I am just thrilled to have raised so much money for the hospital.

So after the great event, I had one more day of work. I actually cried when I left the office for the last time. It was surprising to me... I knew I was sad, but I didn't realize how sad. Apparently I set all the women off crying too, and it continued on well after I left. Ugh. That night, we had invited friends to meet us at Q Bar (a cool bar popular with the political crowd and the media) between 9 and 11 to say goodbye. We got there at 9 and nobody was there so we felt like losers, but shortly thereafter, a ton of people showed up. Everyone from our city council member friend and his wife to a state legislator, to people from Neil's work and our personal friends. It was really nice to see everyone one last time and it felt good that they all took the time to show up. I did a bad job of inviting people from my work (i.e. forgot to send a mass e-mail) and felt dumb about that, but at least I had the opportunity to say goodbye to all of them the previous week.

The weekend was spent packing and saying goodbye to my family. We went to The Melting Pot for my early birthday that Sunday night, which was a lot of fun and one of the first times we were all together in a long time when we've laughed and felt comfortable. I am grateful for that for sure.

The next morning, the movers were an hour and a half late, but then did an awesome job loading or 16-foot truck. It was almost completely full and our house was empty and we locked the doors, loaded the dogs into the cab and drove away.

The first night we stayed in Oklahoma City with Sophia, a friend we met thought Neil's work in El Paso who is working at a TV station in OKC. It was great to see her and she was sooo nice and let me take a bath in her big tub. Our dogs were the worst behaved that night and barked on and off throughout the night which made me feel soooooo guilty. Sophia was really nice about it, I still have a feeling we should send some flowers.

The next night we stayed in Memphis with our friend Mary from college who we hadn't seen in five years. On the way there, once we were officially in "the South" I actually saw a confederate flag hanging on the side of the freeway. That was a completely weird experience. We also saw the Clinton Library in Little Rock (but didn't go in). Mary lives in a really nice house in Memphis and we got to go to dinner with her and her boyfriend, Michael, who was really nice. Then we stayed in her guest room and the dogs were quiet and the bed was so comfortable. I wished we could have spent more time catching up, but we had to leave early for our longest day of driving the next morning.

Our final night was spent in Chapel Hill, NC where Rachel and Brian live. We were overdue to visit them and check out their new home and meet their new dog, so it was great to be there. The following day, we hung out for the morning and got to see some of Rachel's favorite places and take a tour of the UNC campus. I was struck by how beautiful North Carolina is and what a cool community there seems to be in Chapel Hill. Also, Rachel took me to the coolest art store that sells toys that are art. They all look like Japanamation characters, but come from all over the world. (I did a terrible job describing that)

That day we drove to D.C. and stayed in a hotel and got ready to move in the following morning. Overall, we drove about 2,200 miles in four days. It was a good road trip, but there wasn't enough time to see what we were driving past. In spite of enjoying our time on the road, I'm glad I don't have to drive back anytime soon.

Stay tuned for -- The Move In...

2005-10-19T11:39:00.000-04:00

It's been a while...

I'm back. Maybe only briefly, but here I am. Sorry for the silence lately. Here I am with only 2.5 days left of work, a whole house to finish packing and a new life waiting for me on the other side of the country. It's been possibly the most stressful few months of my life, but I am hoping it all pays off soon.

We start our cross-country drive (in a moving truck) on Monday and are due to arrive at our new apartment at 9:30 a.m. Friday. On the way, we're staying with friends in Oklahoma City, Memphis and Chapel Hill. It should be fun. I actually think that as soon as we get our belongings packed into the truck and drive away from our house, I will be able to take a deep breath and begin to enjoy myself.

Right now, however, I'm thinking about the gala dinner taking place tomorrow that I'm the co-chair of. We're set to raise about $26,000 for the local children's hospital in one night which feels pretty good. I just hope everything goes well tomorrow night. It is scary being responsible for such a big event. Plus, all the attendees paid quite a bit to attend so they need to enjoy themselves. Needless to say, I am nervous.

Anyways, I promise there will be more inspiring blog posts soon.... hang in there...don't give up on me yet

2005-10-06T17:25:00.000-04:00

Clean Carpet

Right now a man is in my house cleaning my carpet. He has already removed a giant stain that has been there for a month or so and came from my overzealous use of stain remover. (how ironic, I know) He has also made the room considerably less smelly. It got smelly this weekend when the dogs got sick and couldn't get to their dog door and went to the bathroom all over the living room. This event is the reason I had to call the carpet cleaning people and will be paying them $150 in a little while once they're done extracting all the urine from the carpet. Lovely.

Cleaning the carpet was the last thing I really wanted to do right now. I planed to do it when we were moved out -- you know, to leave it in good condition for whoever we sell or rent it to. But, I suppose you don't really get to plan these things.

We're in the middle of two weekends of house guests which is fun, but exhausting. Oh, and that whole thing about how we're MOVING IN TWO WEEKS!!!! But at least we'll have clean carpet...

2005-09-30T14:11:00.000-04:00

Losing It?

I think it is entirely possible that I am losing my mind. It's a slow process.. but it's happening. I am trying to do so many things at once and tie up so many loose ends that my mind is becoming a loose end. I have been typing things I don't mean to type (for example, I wrote "let me know" instead of "I'll let you know") I've been forgetting to do things, spacing out mid-sentence and am basically a frazzled basket case.

Sleep has been pretty much impossible this week. So I am sure that's not helping matters at all. There's nothing like the combo of stress and lack of sleep to make one feel a bit dumber than usual.