Hilarious

I had already heard of the blog "Stuff White People Like," but hadn't visited it until I read a fellow blogger's article on EcoMetro. Her reference included things like "farmers markets," "organic food," and "Priuses." I just visited the blog myself, and here are some choice paragraphs, which I have ripped off for your enjoyment in a most unethical manner:

Being a truly advanced white person means being able to speak with authority about pretty much any field of conversation- especially politics. In order for white people to streamline the process of knowing everything, all human beings can be neatly filed into one of two categories: People I Agree With, and People Who are Just Like Adolf Hitler.
...
It’s also critical that you avoid the fatal mistake of getting creative and comparing people you don’t like to other evil dictators, such as Joseph Stalin or Fidel Castro. With few exceptions, white people are actually fond of almost any dictator not named Hitler, and your remark that “this is just like something Mao Zedong would do” will be met with blank stares and possible social alienation. This is because, with the exception of Hitler, oppressive dictators share a passion for many of the things white people love- such as universal health care, conspiracy theories, caring about poor people while being filthy rich, and cool hats. Stick to the script and compare things you don’t like to Hitler, and Hitler alone.

Things I don't believe in

I have recently gotten several e-mails from the same person, and have over the years received many with the same disturbing messages.

Here is one thing that stumps me: since when do loving Jesus and the military have anything in common? I don't understand. No matter what your views on the military in general, how can you make a case for it being somehow religious? Nowhere in the Bible, and especially not in the New Testament, can you find some sort of implication that Christ's followers should be especially supportive of their local government's military or war in general. Now don't get me wrong: I am not like the Vietnam-era protesters who held the poor veterans responsible for the war. Those enlisted in the military are not responsible for today's war; they have no control over it, and I respect them for wanting to protect us. However, America is not God, and the military is not his warriors. The United States to the Christian is like Rome was to the Jews in Jesus's time, or like Babylon was to the Israelites of old. We are meant to live here, to love people and do God's work, but not to give our hearts or allegiance to the geographic or political terrain. We are meant to follow the laws and pay our taxes as long as that does not interfere with following the much more important laws of God.

Here's another thing: how can someone I see as loving, as being a "good person" completely demonize an entire group of people based on their religion? I have received e-mails comparing Muslims to the Nazis, and I end up feeling the senders are much more akin to that particular evil. Are there Muslim religious extremists, willing to kill themselves just to kill off other human beings for the sake of their religion? Yes. Is this true of Christianity as well? Yes (forgive us, Lord)! I wish it were not so, but there have been crazies throughout the ages of every race and religion who were willing to kill for what they believed in. That does not mean that your average-Joe Muslim in his place of worship is a Nazi. If you are going to be a bigot, you need to examine yourself and your heart. Obviously I do not think Islam is the "right" path; I follow Jesus with all my heart. I also don't think certain groups of people are envoys of Satan as much as that he tries to work in all of us. I am just as capable of intensely evil action as any terrorist may be, and if I fear that within me, I just may try to judge others and make it seem that there are specific groups of people who are evil--thus making me innocent if I am not one of them.

Anyway, forgive the rant, but my religious beliefs lead me to be a pacifist who loves all people equally. It seems to me that Jesus was just that, and if I aspire to be like him, I must follow his example. I may not be "patriotic"--should I want to be? I may be judged. I don't particularly care.

Discouraging

Something about job-hunting has the ability to make me feel like a total loser. I think it is set up that way, to break you so you will finally accept whatever Baskin Robbins job comes along and be grateful...

A year ago, the company I worked as editor for started having a difficult time; last October I was finally officially laid off. That was hard to process, because I had thought it was the beginning of a really enjoyable career, and then it ended after just a year.

I started freelancing, which scared the crud out of me because it required being okay with instability, okay with not having all of the control all of the time. I began to think that God wanted me in that spot, however, because things started falling into place: I kept getting encouragement, work, and affirmations such as Vinnie wanting me to work as a subcontracting editor for Declaration Editing.

However, working at home is not exactly chicken soup for the soul. I am so lonely! I don't feel like I can have people come over or talk on the phone (not that I EVER really wanted to talk on the phone anyway), because I can't exactly bill clients for time I have spent socializing. So I spend all day all by myself, feeling bored. It is a little better when I get out and have work dates with fellow freelancers or friends, but it really doesn't solve the problem--I crave regular interaction, a routine.

I have finally thought, okay, it's time to get an outside-the-home job. Especially since I have also kind of had it with the financial instability. I have been blessed with a few good months, but I am starting to see some gaping gaps in my pipeline--in fact, I don't quite know what I will do tomorrow! Or next week! To add to the financial pressure, our tenant has announced that he is moving out. In an ideal world, we wouldn't have to rent out the basement again--our toddler-equipped family could use the space and the relaxation of not worrying about Selah making lots of noise, etc.

It turns out that jobs are even more few and far-between than I thought! I don't feel that picky; while I want a publishing job again, those are pretty scarce, and I would be more than happy doing slightly less interesting work in a more exhilarating atmosphere (read: any atmosphere). I have already had high hopes for a couple and then not gotten them, which is discouraging. I have my masters, 3 years of editing and writing experience, and yet I feel like I am trying to get an engineer's job with a junior-high diploma or something. Now that I actually have a field, I don't feel I should just cop out and get a really stupid job like I would have five years ago, last time I was in complete misery over a job-hunt.

I don't know if this is supposed to be some kind of sign, or if it's just that life is not easy. It doesn't help that Selah's been nastier than anything (I think she's sick), and that this blasted rain will not stop! It makes me kind of want to be a kid again, looking forward to summer vacation and Mom's reassurances that everything would be fine...

Kitty

So I survived Jeremy's two-week trip to Minneapolis, as did Selah (I didn't kill her) and Emily (she didn't die). But now it looks like it might be the end of the road for Emily.

She has looked worse and worse through the past several months, as those of you visiting our house have noticed, but even just these past few days, her tumor has gotten, well, out of control. She was even able to wobble around okay last week, but now she has peed right by where she sleeps a few times, because it's too hard for her to go very far. Yesterday, when she did get out of "bed" (the log holder, in which we put a blanket), she kept lying down on the floor, because she was too tired to cross the tiny room to go back. One time when she lay down, she kind of flipped over, because the tumor was too heavy.

So we have a vet "consultation" appointment on Wednesday.

Two Weeks...

Jeremy has to go to Minneapolis for almost two weeks, starting this Sunday. I don't know if we've ever been apart for that long at a stretch (except for when the jerk broke up with me :) so it would be tough anyway, but of course the addition of Selah will make my life tougher and his lonelier. I guess it won't help that the weather there sounds like it will be terrible.

Things you can pray for us about: that I don't go nuts, that Jeremy has a good time, that his travels go smoothly, that Emily doesn't die while he is away, that Selah recovers from her current cold and is therefore nice to me...well, the list goes on.

I think I have been focusing on how difficult it will be to take care of Selah all by myself so I don't have to think about what will really be harder: missing him. I am trying to see this as an opportunity to get all of the alone time I need, but that doesn't really work, because by the time Selah goes to bed, I kind of want to just veg out, rather than whatever it is one theoretically does with special alone time! I am going to get to see Jeremy's sister in Bend, and my sister and nephew are coming up to see us for two days, so that will certainly help cheer me up!

Jeremy gets back on the evening of the 17th, so in the meantime, if you see me throw a suitcase in my car and drive away, check on Selah to make sure I at least turned on Sesame Street before I left for Mexico.

Word Humor

Warning: this may be last year's, as I seem to recall many of these, but hey, it's still hilarious!


Here is the Washington Post's Mensa Invitational, which once again asked

readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are the winners:

1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject

financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

2. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

3. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you

realize it was your money to start with.

4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

5. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright

ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of

breaking down in the near future.

6. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting

laid

7. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high

8. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who

doesn't get it.

9. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really

bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious

bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The gruelling event of getting through the day consuming

only things that are good for you

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they

come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've

accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your

bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the

fruit you're eating.

The Washington Post has also published the winning submissions to its yearly

contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common

words. And the winners are:

1. coffee, n. the person upon whom one coughs.

2. flabbergasted, adj. appalled by discovering how much weight one has

gained.

3. abdicate, v. to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4. esplanade, v. to attempt an explanation while drunk.

5. willy-nilly, adj. impotent.

6. negligent, adj. absentmindedly answering the door when wearing only a

nightgown.

7. lymph, v. to walk with a lisp.

8. gargoyle, n. olive-flavored mouthwash.

9. flatulence, n. emergency vehicle that picks up someone who has been run

over by a steamroller.

10. balderdash, n. a rapidly-receding hairline.

11. testicle, n. a humorous question on an exam.

12. rectitude, n. the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.

13. pokemon, n. a Rastafarian proctologist.

14. oyster, n. a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.

15. Frisbeetarianism, n. the belief that, after death, the soul flies up onto

the roof and gets stuck there.

16. circumvent, n. an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

Update on the Terminal Patient

Today it was brought to my attention that I talked all about Emily on my blog, and then didn't bring it up again, therefore implying that...she died. But she hasn't yet! Though she wasn't supposed to make it through October, she is still going, though not necessarily going strong.

Her tumor is enormous; our friend called her "Quasimodo." She seems to just sleep more and more these days, and I halfway keep hoping she'll just kind of peacefully go. I can't imagine putting her to sleep, so hope that doesn't end up having to be the decision.

Anyway, even though some of you may not be cat lovers out there, I appreciate that you love me, and therefore care that I am sad about my kitty-cat. And that may even include those of you whom she has bitten. Thanks for caring about us!

What Has Happened to Us?

Was there a time when we had more dignity? I found myself asking, as I looked across the dinner table at my friend. He was trying to get to the bottom (no pun intended) of why his two-year-old's pants were wet after she used the bathroom.

I can't quite tell you what we talked about in the course of our dinner, as it was frequently interrupted by frustrating or funny behavior from the two toddler girls and the school-age boy we collectively had. At one point, Briana was supposed to apologize to and hug Selah, and Selah threw a book at her, shouting, "No!" When Briana was leaving and I asked her to say bye-bye to the stuffed animal she was attempting to make off with, she turned to Selah (who was being restrained, screaming, on the couch) and said, "Bye-bye, Walrus," to her, waved, and tried to escape, still holding the animal.

Back in December, I took Selah with me to a monthly social for WiPP, a publishing-networking group I belong to. I loaded my bag with toys, let Selah run around near our table, and found myself regaling two childless women with tales of how Selah had peed on the floor at Costco. One of them smiled politely; the other simply looked horrified. My fellow patrons at Costco dealt with it fairly well, however. In the meantime, Selah had a blow-out. And if you have kids, you know just the kind I mean. I tried to deal with it in the bathroom, and then not let on when I returned.

The other day, Selah, complete with ear infection, decided to throw herself on the ground in the Safeway parking lot as I tried to push my cart through the rain to the car. I attempted to heave her up under one arm and push the heavy cart with the other. A young and I would guess single man walked by us, clearly amused. I found myself in one of those low points where I threatened to become unhinged, and was tempted to lurch toward him, snarling, "I'm glad you are so amused by us!" After all, shouldn't he have gallantly tried to help with my cart or something? But he, alas, was just me, pre-Selah. Why don't those parents just take their child home? Why isn't that mother disciplining those children? Why would that guy even bring his child here?

Sometimes I wish people would just say those stupid things aloud, so I could throw myself on their mercy, asking, "What about this makes it seem I am not trying my best?" I have done well this week. In the face of Selah's five-in-five-months ear infections, I have not hit or verbally abused her. I calmly say, "I think it's time for a time-out" in the aisles of Target, instead of shrieking, "Shut up! Stop it! Stop!" like I want to. I buckle her into her car seat every time we drive anywhere. I stir pureed vegetables into her cereal and pasta so she will eat them. I tell her I am sorry whenever I do yell at her, even though I'd rather be "right."

Parents of the world, hang in there. I repent of my judgments, and so will all of the people who are currently judging you! I have joined the club of those who are mostly just relieved isn't currently their child who is hitting someone/peeing on Costco/shouting, "NOOOOOOO!" when the parents try to fasten them into a high chair/spilling juice onto someone else's rug.

I no longer discuss politics and religious ideals at dinner parties with fellow parents. Instead, we just apologize to each other, look at one another and laugh, and think, Well, at least I'm not the only one!

Misty and Chris, we love ya. :) Tell Briana, "Good-night Walrus," from me.

Happy Birthday Sarah

Today is my sister's birthday. For some reason, as I sit here, I can't remember many of her birthdays growing up (of course I haven't had my coffee yet). I do remember we always all felt a little caught by surprise by her birthday, as it is soon after Christmas, and the stores are generally empty of merchandise. Sarah, I will admit here in writing: we probably always did kind of gyp you on your birthday.

These are things I do remember, however:

• crying in your room, or crying together in your room
• always knowing what was happening to you without being told, and vice-versa
• watching you hurl a sandwich bag of cookie dough onto the kitchen floor with fear and awe
• sneaking into your bedroom to try on all your 1980s clubbing dresses
• the coolness of getting to visit you in AZ or Sac, all by myself
• the presents you always bought me when I was little (and still sometimes do)
• in the parking lot of Nob Hill, you saying Oprah Winfrey was gay, and mom not wanting to tell me what that meant
• your Toyota MR2
• being a cool first-grader at San Benancio, getting waved to by junior-highers
  
• having someone who knew what I was going through: knowing at what age people would separate into cliques; protecting me from friends, parents, and yes, our brother; telling me everything you knew about periods, boys, and sex
• you used to read aloud to me--Pride and Prejudice, Lorna Doone, Stuart Little--no wonder I'm smart
• feeling like I had someone who would always love me, no matter what, and would defend me to the death

Through good and bad, hurled game boards and garbage cans, I have always been glad you are my sister. You are one of the few reasons I ever think about having another child--somehow I want Selah to have what I have. Happy Birthday!