. . . . . entries for 28.8.09 . . . . .
Which reminds me - and maybe this will help me remember, when I look back, what I was thinking of at this moment that I can't actually write down - that, for all the absolute screwiness of the Watchmen movie, I pretty much agreed with the characterization of John (except for his voice - too effeminate). Kelsey was surprised at how sorrowful and distant he always seemed, but I had always understood that about him. I always "got" that his brand of pre- and post-cognition did not amount to omniscience and that he certainly was not omnipotent; I felt the powerlessness in this immensely powerful being.
And I felt, too, the love and creativity and curiosity he possessed, still clinging tight from his human self. Love was always his motivation. It was love that made it a thermodynamic "miracle," not merely an occurrence, one possibility actualized.
I am an ends-focused person, in many ways. If the end is love, or beloved, what does it matter how bizarre, surprising, or "miraculous" the means may be? Even the means may dismiss itself, through time or unconsciousness or even spoken words. Even the means has sometimes nodded, or shrugged, teetering: "it would be the best thing for my ends for me to die."
- but then, this entire moment is just a very complex thermodynamic miracle. That one part of it - or several parts, several pairs, several persons - should be surprising should surprise no one.
My parents seem very unlikely to me at times.
. . . . . entries for 26.8.09 . . . . .
During freshman pre-orientation, we painted different shaped boxes and filled them with notes we'd written for the boxes' owners - admiring their talents, cracking inside jokes, and sometimes gently criticizing them. I read my notes, from time to time, in their green triangular prism box with a trinity knot on its lid. They remember to me who I was before Princeton "got me down," or whatever it did. I impressed and inspired people; I was proud of my dorkiness.
Those things aren't gone, but they're faded. I think I am not as inspiring a presence anymore, but maybe I'm just not among the right people, bursting into spontaneous discussions in the right way. I doubt too much.
Fuck doubt. I hereby shove doubt to the back burner and pull out a teapot for earl green, a big stew pot for audacity and hope, and fire for my eyes. So much of speaking is in that spark. I will cease to back down, to defer, to assume others know what they're talking about.
If so many questions are questions of faith, then . . . there is a time, in the heart if not the mind, for the ouroboros to stop eating itself and be full.
Well, that personal crisis seems mostly done with. Good.
Today (yesterday, by now) was a very beautiful day. Frank and I took a walk on the bikepath and sat around becoming marginally less white by the river for a while before soldiering off to the town hall meeting with Mama O, who had read and marked up the entire bill in the preceding days.
I was pretty surprised by the turnout, though I guess I shouldn't have been. There were a lot of loud antis, but also a lot of loud pros - and probably more pros than antis, all in all. Lydia Kulbida was there to moderate and try to keep order, and for the most part, it was orderly, if often murmuring and sometimes shouty. There were occasional walls of simultaneous raucous applause and deep booing that were . . . quite something, in their effect.
The news has covered the questions of a group of orchestrated conservatives regarding Congress's constitutional power to pass this bill. Apparently they have decided on this latest gambit - "but regulation of commerce can't cover everything! and this bill isn't even regulation! you're violating our rights!" - quite contrary to common sense, pragmatic governance, and good economics, although it is unsurprising that a constructionist argument would emerge from this set.
Be aware that media coverage has gravitated toward that question because it was asked multiple times by people who were clearly in communication with one another. I think it probably missed the fact that some antis responded to the stories of the uninsured and suffering with boos. And of course it missed the diverse, more or less spontaneous questions of many liberals present. It did not cover, for instance, Mama O's question on rationed health care, or her comments on the accessibility of the bill.
It did not cover my question, either, on whether or not providing public services to correct externalities could be considered Marxist. I asked because some very clever folks were wearing Groucho Marx glasses because they were "grouchy about Marxism." It was funny, kind of, but also odd, and frankly an eerie sight: a political reversal of Anonymous masks at an anti-scientology protest. I thought at first these people were hiding, afraid to reveal themselves. It turns out they were just being cute. And wrong.
So I asked Tonko, and he gave me quite an enthusiastic, charismatic response, touching on how much Americans pay relative to citizens of other countries for health insurance - and how little we get in return - as well as the simple, central ethic of pragmatic, progressive governance - "yes, we can," more or less - that I was really getting at with my question. I'm glad of that. He focused a lot on minutiae, which is good, in a way, and which suits him; nevertheless, he needed a chance to add a flourish.
No one really booed me very much, although one of the grouchy anti-Marxists screamed "is that a crime!?" when I told Tonko that folks were wearing the glasses, and Mama O tells me someone sneered when I said I'd taken a couple of economics classes. The lack of booing surprised me, but then, I didn't really preface my question with a ton of liberal vitriol. I didn't namedrop my school or flaunt my academic background (unlike an 18-year-old senior at SUNY Albany, whose doctors told him not to become a medical professional because government would be in control of health care by the time he graduated), or the Nobel laureate economist who professes there, though I was sorely tempted. I didn't really explain the idea of an externality, either, or name other examples of necessary government interventions to correct market failures. I should have, I think, but I also wanted to keep things brief.
I didn't tell my mother's story. There were enough stories in the air; I figured one more wasn't necessary. But it would have been something to hear.
There was another woman there talking economics . . . sort of. She told Mama O in line, and everyone else during her spiel, that she was a Ph.D in econ, although she didn't actually say anything substantial to confirm that claim. She did not ask a question, but rather demanded of Tonko - as an afterthought, really, following her statement - that he refrain from splitting up the bill and passing it as multiple parts. In her statement itself, she denounced the bill's provisions as inadequate, ineffective ways of solving "inefficiencies" in health care, and claimed she could think of better solutions. I can only think of one thing to say to a person like that, and if I recall correctly, it was Keith Olbermann who first said it to John McCain:
If you know where Bin Laden is, TELL US.
All right, well, I could probably ramble on some more, but I'll close with this: my favorite sign read "NO INSURANCE IS YOUR 'DEATH PANEL.'" I kinda wanted to go over and shake the guy's hand, but I didn't.
. . . . . entries for 25.8.09 . . . . .
Remind me, if I survive until the end of first semester this year, to be immensely proud of myself, no matter what's happened to my GPA. If I have my health by then, it will be enough.
I must be a very fragile person, to feel that "all this" is "too much." But this little world raised me fragile, in some ways, before launching me into a wider world full of hard edges and unfamiliar people.
And now, caught between a hard-edged rock and a soft, warm, familiar place, I don't know how to get out - not out of being there, necessarily, but out of feeling battered or torn or terrible. It is not my surroundings that do that to me. It's only I who does that to me - and circumstance, circumstance that I wish I were wise enough to rise above.
Whatever decisions or indecisions may come, I have a horrible weight in my chest and throat and head and I think things have changed. I wish they had not. I wish I had not.
Maybe my uncle was right - maybe high-powered schools break promising people, maybe I should have gone to a little pond and preserved my pride and strength, blown bubbles. But I will have to take solace in the fact that, about many things these days, my uncle is quite wrong. Given that classic question - "would you go back to high school if you could?" - I have long answered: but I can't. I'm not that person. I sorely, deeply miss that person, but I am not she. Life has broken or bent me into my present shape.
I wish not to break myself further.
. . . . . entries for 17.8.09 . . . . .
I wonder if I shouldn't have been some sort of breeder, in this life.
. . . okay, that sounds really affected. I don't think Guernsey is that affected, so I'm not sure where I pulled it from, but anyway.
It just seems like breeding games - my stupid dragons, chocobos on FFVII, maybe others I'm forgetting - really grab me, keep me, almost against my will. I wish they didn't, but I wish lots of things about myself that I can't quite wish into truth.
For example, I wish I were more extroverted, less depressive, decisive and confident rather than agonized and doubtful. I wish I were a public policy major. I wish I were less squishy and more muscular. I wish I knew how to navigate my relationships rationally, to find new people, to be kind without patronizing. I wish I had just a smidgen of clairvoyance or precognition, enough to know what to do next.
. . . . . entries for 16.8.09 . . . . .
Today - by now yesterday, my mother's birthday - was A Day, let me tell you. A day for sunburns from time spent on the bikepath, time that took longer than usual to elapse. A day for fury at mosquitoes. A day for many much more complicated angers and sadnesses and confusions.
But. I finished reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. I am quite pleased with it, and very sad that its primary author passed away before it was published.
I am sorely tempted to find some site on which to construct a "which man in Guernsey should you marry?" quiz, but that would be probably more ridiculous than I can deal with. I think I know who my top choices would be.
Next on my reading list is, I think, Dreams from My Father.
. . . . . entries for 15.8.09 . . . . .
Hey, I found another silly Internet t-shirt I want. I never did get ones I was coveting for my birthday though.
. . . . . entries for 14.8.09 . . . . .
"Oh for God's sake. Do you want me to drive you down to Weymouth?"
"Will you promise not to lecture me?"
"No lectures. However, all other forms of persuasion will be employed."
"Can't scare me. What can you possibly do while driving?"
"You'd be surprised. See you tomorrow."
I think you should all read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.
. . . . . entries for 12.8.09 . . . . .
As I read stuff with which my first junior paper advisor has been involved, including his political activities, I realize: WWS made a grave mistake. Fresh off my internship this summer, there is little doubt I would make a better policy major than psychology major. I want to engage with the stuff my advisor does on the Hill, not the stuff he's written on in the lab.
I wonder what his attitude will be toward such things. I guess we'll find out.
I haven't yet looked into the research of my other, later advisors yet. Time to start poking around.
. . . . . entries for 11.8.09 . . . . .
Life update!
I'm home, and will be totally done with the internship today after I submit my paper. My mom and I are going through it, I think a little bit for her edification but also to make sure I didn't botch anything too horribly.
I have a mental list of things to do that I should probably actually write down (hm) and a list of people to see - Olga, Colin, Shannon, and Linda among them - before I flee into my one week of Frank-clinging.
Not much else is news, I guess. It's August recess, so legislative stuff isn't going down in the public eye so much, but when stuff gears up again, do yourself (and me) an enormous service by keeping track of climate legislation in addition to health care reform. Man cannot live on health care reform alone.
Schooly things: I'm EIC of Science in Society this year, in addition to webmaster for Nasslit and cover designer for PPN. I guess this makes me Involved in the Campus Community. Har har.
Also, I need a job this year, for real this time.
. . . . . entries for 9.8.09 . . . . .
| What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Social Nerd You're interested in things such as politics, psychology, child care, and peace. I wouldn't go so far as to call you a hippie, but some of you may be tree-huggers. You're the type of people who are interested in bettering the world. You're possible the least nerdy of them all; unless you participate in other activies that paled your nerdiness compared to your involvement in social activities. Whatever the case, we could still use more of you around. ^_^ | |
| Gamer/Computer Nerd | |
| Literature Nerd | |
| Science/Math Nerd | |
| Artistic Nerd | |
| Musician | |
| Drama Nerd | |
| Anime Nerd | |
| What Be Your Nerd Type? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz | |
. . . . . entries for 7.8.09 . . . . .
I need to tell you guys something. This report I've read part of for my own report is on the indirect emissions related to petroleum products - kind of a weird topic, and certainly selfishly motivated by the folks who commissioned it, but I digress. The title is "Assessment of Direct and Indirect GHG Emissions Associated with Petroleum Fuels" - perfectly respectable - but someone thought it'd be a good idea to shorten "petroleum" to just "p" in the file name.
The result is that there is an excellent, new-to-me portmanteau in the world.
Pimpact.
Oh goodness. I wrote something other than my report tonight, and saw Schindler's List for the first time. What is wrong with me? Tomorrow will be impossible.
. . . . . entries for 6.8.09 . . . . .
I don't feel great today, which is an unpleasant contrast to the beginning of the week, during which I felt basically fine, which itself was quite a pleasant contrast to the usual.
Elsewhere, I have written on events yesterday - or rather noted the events of yesterday, and written on just one. It led me to believe, more than I had, that this summer has been one heck of a washout for me.
I never meant to be the kind of person who feels maladapted most places she goes.
Well. Time to switch into Dean's Date mode, or something.
Seen today:
-A man with blue hair - not BLUE, but blue like blue bucks were blue, uneven silvers and grays turning blue - sitting in front of me on the metro. His shirt was sort of the color of cooked salmon - Alaskan, wild-caught, properly pink but a bit washed out with the heat - which was a bit pinker and paler than his skin. He had creases on the back of his neck in the shape of an X, and very beautiful, young-looking hands for a man his age. He held the Washington Post delicately, as though afraid of getting ink on those hands.
-A boy sitting next to the blue-haired, pink-shirted man, perhaps 8 or 10 years old, I think traveling with his family, sitting across the aisle. He had a sort-of mohawk - his other hair, formerly buzzed, was growing back in, and the mohawk ended at the back of the crown of his head. It was sort of like a little kid's drawing of a mohawk, incomplete, missing dimensions.
I felt observant for observing those people.
Now, though, I feel melancholy. It has been that kind of day, in trickles.
Do you know the feeling you get when you have forgotten a thought? Just a moment ago you were thinking it, and now it is utterly gone - you felt it leave you and you know you will not get it back. Of course, at any given moment, the thing you forgot was the most important thing you could have thought, even if it actually wasn't. I have felt that quite a lot, and unusually acutely, lately. I should look into some sort of herby thing for memory loss. I'm too young for this balderdash.
What I meant to say was, I meant to write something else, too. I meant to write it so I wouldn't forget.
. . . . . entries for 5.8.09 . . . . .
Look out for an enviroblog post on the head of World Bank's environment department.
I never really seriously considered journalism, but I don't know. I might like it.
. . . . . entries for 4.8.09 . . . . .
This happens at the conclusion of almost everything: the writer in me, the spellcaster in me, comes out. "Like a signature."
Oh boy, I have a lot to do in these next four days. Do I ever. Do I ever.
My conclusion may be waxing ranty, I am afraid. I am writing it before I write some other stuff, which is quite uncharacteristic of me, but the conclusion is one of the things I feel strongly about and have "researched" comfortably much - although the extent to which such a thing, a thought experiment thing, can be researched is pretty limited.
I can't decide if I feel alert or spacey at the moment, but I do feel a wee bit derailed. Maybe I should stop scarfing raisins and go eat something more strongly resembling actual food.
Nah. Conclude the conclusion first. Then, whatever.
. . . . . entries for 3.8.09 . . . . .
If Kirsten Gillibrand ends up being a Blue Dog, she will have to answer to us. I don't think she will - I hope she won't - but if she does . . . if she does.
I think I should visit some ag people - academics, policy wonks, farmers and ranchers both conventional and organic, large and small and (perhaps even!) medium-sized - and see what there is to see about how they're doing in this economy, what they feel about climate legislation, their needs and thoughts and beliefs. I have never really talked to a farmer, but it seems too much like everyone only believes the facts (and/or fictions, half-truths, and veritable exotic cocktails of the fallacious and the factual) that, when held true, benefit them materially. I've listened a lot to the side that says It Will Only Hurt A Little And If You Don't It Will Hurt More re. climate legislation's effect on ag, and while I truly despise those who are moderate and opinion-less because they harbor the impression that it makes them look intelligent and cool-headed, I think I need for a moment to step into their shoes, and further, into actually finding out what makes "the other side" tick.
Maybe over winter break? . . .
come home?
.:people:.
{ting}
she looks like the real thing
{mari}
out and about
[kelsey]
THIS IS AMERICA
{yianni}
stop being depressed
{alisa}
other
[shannon]
close and far
{frank}
islands where no islands should go
[cassie]
eating knowledge
{colin}
my dm
[emily]
shoulder to the wheel
[brian]
nostalgic for fantasy
[nicole]
industry insider
{elle}
angry enviro
[matt]
never heard of miyazaki
[pirate dan]
are you reading this?
[olga]
distracted
[messiah dan]
messiah/believer
{max}
approach focus
[natalie]
wait a minute
[susan]
solitude
{greg}
manbeargreg
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.:skin:.
turtles! turtles! by araglas
(heavily modified by yours truly)