: : how to disappear completely : :

after much consideration, i've moved my blog-thing to wordpress. i'm still linked to all my lj pals, but i just like the things wordpress can do better than the things livejournal can do. i plan on keeping the other site much more regularly updated than i've kept this one, so please visit when you can!

how to disappear completely, part II

I’m getting ready for a soccer game: shin guards, socks over shin guards, cleats, tape on socks—just like I used to do. But in my dreams, I am never ready when the ref blows the whistle for kick-off. Sometimes, I’m on the sidelines, the coach looking at me exasperated. Last night, I was right in the middle of the field with my high school team in their starting position, and I (a striker) was sitting just inside the kick-off circle still with two pairs of socks to put on—one black and one white, and I think the black was supposed to go over the white one. And my cleats. I’m struggling, but oddly unpanicked. Ashley Collums, a former teammate, looks down at me and says something like, “What the hell are you doing?” Goals are scored. I see three kick-offs while I’m on the ground getting ready. I’m searching for my other white sock, and one is nearby but it’s not the right one. The ball comes near me, and I kick it from the ground to a teammate. The ref calls a dangerous play, and I argue with him, saying no one was near me, so it couldn’t be a dangerous play. But he is unmoved. So I call him a “fucking idiot” to his face, and he cards me. I receive a yellow card while on the ground with only half my gear on.

Last night’s dream is unusual, though, because I finally get dressed (though I’ve put on my socks wrong with one black and one white) and start playing. The moment that happens, we’re on a breakaway and I score. Then the alarm goes off.

Always, it’s gametime and I’m not dressed. What’s that mean?

if you don't want to read a sara survey,

(inspired from yesterday's staff retreat at which i double-dutched and wrote an infomercial for an egg.)

1. i once camped out on a tiny, uninhabited island 40 miles off the coast of belize where i ate lobster and conch caught before my eyes under the surface of the carribean.

2. a few years ago i was invited to try out for the Connecticut Sun, when the WNBA first came to the state and was conducting open try-outs. while i was quick enough and i was on fire from the outside, i was ultimately deemed too short.

3. i grew up in the great state of wyoming.

It's sunny outside, and suddenly i'm a Sox fan. How'd that happen? I'm from Wyoming.

I think it's living on baseball's Mason-Dixie line--gotta take a side or be hated by all. And what's there to like about the Yankees? (Have you ever noticed that every car that cuts you off or doesn't use his turn signal has a Yankees sticker on its back window? Coincidence?) I know 87 year-old women who will miss their great-grandchild's christening if there's a Sox game on. Do you know what it feels like to hear a tiny, white-haired grandma say "Big Papi"?

I get home and NESN calls. The remote walks the tv to channel 28. I don't even actually watch it--I just glance up when I hear cheers. (Though i will admit that the extra innings had my attention last night. Way to blow it, Papelbon.)

I don't even like baseball. But i like Jason Varitek. And there's a game on just about everyday, like mom welcoming you home after school. (My mom actually worked until the early evening while i was growing up, but that's not really the point.) Their logos are straight out of the Depression era--no sharp lines or angry amine mascots, just a simple capital B straight off the typewriter ball. The whole set-up is just so...comforting.

Manny we gonna get that A.M. dial just right
I'll hold that hanger up as long as the Sox put up a fight

And a State Radio fan? What's happening to me?

(meaning all answers are song titles from Bright Eyes.)

1). Name one word to describe your mood: 
Puddle Stomper

2). What is your new favorite thing to do? 
A Line Allows Progress, A Circle Does Not

3). Do you plan on voting in the next presidential election? 
The Movement of a Hand

4).  Last time you were drunk? 
The Calendar Hung Itself

5).  What did you do last night? 
The awful sweetness of escaping sweat

6).  Blue or black pens? 
True Blue

7).  Do you have a crush on anyone other than the obvious? 
No Lies, Just Love

8).  What is your biggest dream right now? 
The Joy in Forgetting/ The Joy in Acceptance

9).  Who are you talking to now? 
Untitled

10).  Last time you laughed so hard you peed?       
Let's Not Shit Ourselves

11).  Last person you kissed? 
Road to Joy

12).  What is your moms name? 
I watched you taking off

13).  What do you do for a living?      
An Attempt to Tip the Scales

14)  What are you doing at this very minute? 
A Song to Pass the Time

15).  Tell us your biggest secret?
All of the Truth

for those of you who actually look at my blog (not through your friends page, thus through the glass of your styles), please don't worry. this design earthquake will eventually pass.

let's just say i played with CSS, and i got burned.

“I was never alone, because I was breathing.”

you know you live in a pretty cool state when its clergy backs everyone's right to marry.

inspired from kaanlejnger who in turn was inspired by someone else. that's how these things work, right?
 
 

All news outlets, even NPR, were completely consumed with Imus reports this morning, and they're all toeing this issue, but not willing to completely delve in, so I ask you guys:

Women, especially African-American women, became so offended when the now-so-famous-it-need-not-be-uttered-again phrase came out of Imus's mouth. Even as a little white girl, I was offended. But I'm willing to bet several of these women, even the caucasian ones and those who play on the Rutgers basketball team, participate in the culture that proliferates such speech.

Why is this sort of speech so much less offensive to us when it comes from Kid Rock or 50 Cent?

Imus's repugnant comments are products of a culture of hate that we've quietly let become "cool." And while I don't think the answer is regulating all speech that offends us, I do think that the Sharptons and Today Shows of the world need to concentrate their efforts not only on the white men who perpetuate such hate but also on the popular culture that created it.

(Inspired from this comment from mthrtongue's journal.)

So I googled the term "Sara is" (with quotes), and these were the first ten:

- Sara is extremely shy.

- Sara is neither pro or anti state.

- Sara is one of my favourite songs of hers (after Rhiannon and Storm).

- By default, the behavior of SARA is controlled by a configuration file (config/sara.cf).

- More so Sara is not simply Elizabeth's reincarnation but, in Elizabeth's words Sara IS her, hence any relationship would be incestuous.

- Sara is a Space Security Agent, the sister of Bret Vyon, another agent who is aiding the Doctor in trying to defeat the Daleks.

- Sara is a staunch supporter of struggles for human dignity and ecological sustainability.

- Today it was confirmed from a reliable source that Sara is pregnant.

- Sara is right.

- Set in Mexico, a nun called Sara is rescued from three cowboys by Hogan, who is on his way to do some reconnaissance, for a future mission to capture a French fort.

(my office roommate and i put together a word of the day everyday for all our inquisitive coworkers. i just really liked today's.)

Gestalt

Definition:
Shape or pattern; most often used to describe a theory or approach which aims to see something as a whole rather than breaking it into pieces.

Sentence:
The gestalt of Columbus House is the spontaneous act of kindness.

My amazing, compassionate non-profit employer bought this crappy, canned template for their new website. It’s A-W-F-U-L. Seriously, it’s a Register.com design straight out of 1991. It’s paid for. One of our board members who clearly has no background in web or graphic design is putting it together at reduced cost. And you can tell. Tons of columns of text, photos floating into nowhere, links confined only to those ugly-ass buttons to the left.

My bosses just didn’t know any better. With their imminent worries of funding cut-offs and clients on-the-edge, website design was not at the top of their priority list. Working on the Development side, though, I see this as a very large problem.

I have this sinking feeling that since we purchased this template, we cannot change our minds. Am I wrong?

I don’t know anything about web design beyond some simple html stuff to customize my own blogs (though I’m sure even I could design something better than what we’ve purchased), so I’m not sure what options we have. I need guidance. Is there a way to drop the template so I can put together something better? If so, how? What software do I need to create a website? Is there somewhere I can find a good template that is infinitely customizable?

Please help. I don’t want this place stuck with a ghetto website that could dent this wonderful organization’s image.

"It means it's organized," a boy named Henry said. An older gentleman who was carrying a tub of Quaker Oats paused to listen. "You wonder why people are dying of heart attacks every day," he said. "The corporations are running America and poisoning Americans, and the people don't realize it. The politicians are paid off to let them kill people."

Overheard from Susan Gregory Thomas's class of kindergartners on a field trip to Key Food in Park Slope, Brooklyn.  From the article "Smart Cookies" in The New Yorker this week.

my local neighborhood has priced me out.

wait--i haven't had a local neighborhood in years. not since the ghetto dorm days of bodine hall have i really had a home. and i'm not talking glazed cinder blocks. my home was built on public shower intercourse and mst2k, on karaoke-ing indians (read: not native americans) busting out "born in the u.s.a." accompanied by at least a couple (plastic) bottles of vodka, on falling asleep to the melodies of neverending car alarms on broad street.

i couldn't wait to get back every fall.

i have not stayed in one place for over a year since then. from the pseudo-studio on chapel street to west 29th avenue in the south hills to somebody else's house on the north fork, home has become what can fit in the boxes that can fit into my civic.

and the only neighborhood that could ever accommodate that home...

- my goofy hermana who always knows what shade my face is about to turn. she's down the street about 2,000 miles.

- j who, when i call after a nine-month silence, is listening to the same song as i am. he lives next door to the other ocean.

- m whom i wished well and who silently accepted without leaving a forwarding address, so i just save the letters.

11H is finally providing some warmth, some confidence to fill the blank spots on the walls. when i first arrived, lauren pushed all the furniture to the middle of the room and took everything down, and we started over. so i painted my own signposts. the hum of route 40 a lullabye, the norfolk pine a tribute to adaptability. the slower exhales when lauren's gone to sleep, and that place between her shoulder blades where i follow her.

my bike can't handle the old neighborhood, which is fine. i'll visit when i can. i think i like where i am.

i'm reading a condensed history of World War II, the first war of mass propaganda and unsportsmanlike conduct on a hemispheric scale. it has only reasserted my belief that the only truths that exist are those we create for ourselves, within our own individual spheres of reach. i have to remind myself over and over again that the only real, effective activism (politically, socially, culturally, whatever) is living my own life according to my truth and acknowledging that other, different truths exist for other, different people. no mid-city protest, op-ed piece, or bomb will ever change that.

"Again and again he makes the point that the minds of the masses are soggy, sodden, absolutely incapable of prolonged retention, like a bog surrendering a footprint almost as quickly as it receives it. Thus, skilled propaganda must confine itself to a few points, beating them into the mass-man's brain--again and again, repeat and repeat--with the relentless rhythm of a metronome."

Robert Leckie describing Hitler's Mein Kampf, from Delivered from Evil, the Saga of World War II

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Be a workaholic as you build a beautiful life for yourself and those you care about most. Love as hard as you work; be a loveaholic. In fact, be doggedly devoted to becoming the best you can be in every way--not just in your career but also in your marriage and in your roles as friend, parent, community member, and all-around ethical person. Be stubborn in your insistence that we humans are capable of more and better, and prod others into being their best and most beautiful selves. If they refuse, end your relationship with them, but keep wishing them well.