(Update: Support fixed it. Yippee, skippeeeeee).
Anyone else having problems with being able to post comments to Blogger sites or update their blogs? I'm getting the maintenance message from yesterday.
Down for Maintenance
Blogger is temporarily unavailable due to planned maintenance.
This downtime will last 1 hour from 4:30pm - 5:30pm (PST).
I'm having to use the MS Word add-on to post this. Is it just me? Or is this happening with everyone?
~CA~
Friday, September 30, 2005
Sunday, September 25, 2005
"No, Thank You."
Poet Sharon Olds declined the First Lady's invitiation to speak at the National Book Festival and the accompanying banquet. Her letter sending her regrets was published in The Nation today. I urge you to read this amazing, elequently direct letter that speaks the feelings we've had for so long.
Today is also the day that 100,000 people have gathered in Washington, D.C. in the largest single anti-war rally since the start of the Iraq war. The 100,000 were met by a few hundred Bush supporters.
It occurs to me that pressing for the war, for this president, for these values, may very well be becoming less and less appealing, less and less something people want to do in public. I seem to recall that a time came -- I think it was in 1970, '71, maybe -- when a similar thing happened in the war in Viet Nam. Maybe it was just a pop culture thing -- it wasn't fashionable to support an illegal war as it had been in the late 60's. Maybe it was just that people who had bought into the initial lies ran out of rationalizations and arguments defending it. Maybe it just becomes eventually impossible to publicly stand up and say that lying is okay, the waste of young lives to support that lie is good and brave, the ends justifies the means.
Maybe that's what's happening now. We can only hope.
~CA~
Today is also the day that 100,000 people have gathered in Washington, D.C. in the largest single anti-war rally since the start of the Iraq war. The 100,000 were met by a few hundred Bush supporters.
It occurs to me that pressing for the war, for this president, for these values, may very well be becoming less and less appealing, less and less something people want to do in public. I seem to recall that a time came -- I think it was in 1970, '71, maybe -- when a similar thing happened in the war in Viet Nam. Maybe it was just a pop culture thing -- it wasn't fashionable to support an illegal war as it had been in the late 60's. Maybe it was just that people who had bought into the initial lies ran out of rationalizations and arguments defending it. Maybe it just becomes eventually impossible to publicly stand up and say that lying is okay, the waste of young lives to support that lie is good and brave, the ends justifies the means.
Maybe that's what's happening now. We can only hope.
~CA~
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Multi-tasking
The fools...
Don't they realize?
We're so talented that we can point fingers, lay blame and rebuild New Orleans at the same time. And after that... we're going after their tax credits.... And we're not touching the estate tax. And we're gonna institute a special new tax -- it's call the Racist, Arrogant, Rich, White Butthead Tax.
We'll have New Orleans back on its feet in no time.
~CA~
Monday, September 19, 2005
Art Therapy
I've been playing (now that I have some time and can) with some arty stuff, so I've updated "When Math and Art Collide." I've posted three fractals I've been playing with.
~CA~
~CA~
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
The One Paper I'll Post
Because all of my papers this quarter were still works-in-progress by the end of the quarter (one very long short story, and one book), I only have one paper to post for your amusement. This is a five-page paper from my How to Write About Music seminar. We had to find a way to use descriptive language to successfully evoke the feeling of a piece of music (I chose Copeland's Appalachian Spring").
It's called 'Til We Come Round Right.
"When you speak of this... and you will... be kind.... "
~CA~
It's called 'Til We Come Round Right.
"When you speak of this... and you will... be kind.... "
~CA~
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
The Hand that Rocked the Cradle
I used to wonder how George W. Bush could have turned out the way he did. I never liked his father, but I never felt his father was inately useless and evil. I'm beginning to realize that Bush, the Son's failing is not in his last name, but in his mitochondria (the specific DNA which is passed from mother to child). Barbara Bush visited Katrina refugees who'd been stationed in the Astrodome, and pronounced that, since they were underprivileged anyway, "this is working very well for them."
Let's review, shall we? On August 28, 2005, after managing to survive a Category 5 hurricane, the citizens -- especially the poorer ones -- of New Orleans were rudely awakened by water streaming into their homes from the broken levee that the Army Corps of Engineers had warned for the past three years was on its last legs. Those who survived (and plenty did not) managed to get themselves to some dry, relatively safe place, and then spent several days waiting to be rescued. And waiting... and waiting... and waiting....
While FEMA director-and-Bush-toady Michael Brown insisted that FEMA was not designed as a "first response agency", (FEMA's own website disputes this, incidentally, particularly in cases where local and state agencies are clearly overwhelmed and where there exists the possibility of threats to public health -- like, I don't know, say, e. coli and decomposing dead bodies floating in water for several days on end), and further stated that he never heard anything about people camping out in teh Superdome under horrific conditions, with no food, blankets, clean drinking water, and medical attention, and under the extreme threat of physical violence (though Ted Koppel thoughtfully pointed out to him that major news outlets had been reporting on the story for nearly five days), the survivors struggled to come to terms with lost loved ones, lost jobs, lost property, lost baby pictures, lost mementos....
And when its all said and done, and a handful of refugees have found some small comfort in the safety of the Astrodome in Texas, the mother of the President of the United States is sure that, because they didn't have much to begin with, this whole Katrina thing is "working out well" for them. She did express alarm that all the refugees now camped out in the Astrodome were so overwhelmed by Texans' hospitality that they might want to stay in Texas. (GASP!)
I have a feeling... just a feeling, mind you... no concrete proof.... but a strong, intuitive feeling that Barbara Bush may well be the personification of human evil. She is the poster child for a party whose majority leader declared within a day of the New Orleans tragedy that Congress' single most important priority upon returning after summer break is abolishing the estate tax. Fortunately, they were shamed into agreeing that perhaps thousands dead and an American city submerged in water might rate some attention before we handed rich people an early Christmas gift.
~C~
Let's review, shall we? On August 28, 2005, after managing to survive a Category 5 hurricane, the citizens -- especially the poorer ones -- of New Orleans were rudely awakened by water streaming into their homes from the broken levee that the Army Corps of Engineers had warned for the past three years was on its last legs. Those who survived (and plenty did not) managed to get themselves to some dry, relatively safe place, and then spent several days waiting to be rescued. And waiting... and waiting... and waiting....
While FEMA director-and-Bush-toady Michael Brown insisted that FEMA was not designed as a "first response agency", (FEMA's own website disputes this, incidentally, particularly in cases where local and state agencies are clearly overwhelmed and where there exists the possibility of threats to public health -- like, I don't know, say, e. coli and decomposing dead bodies floating in water for several days on end), and further stated that he never heard anything about people camping out in teh Superdome under horrific conditions, with no food, blankets, clean drinking water, and medical attention, and under the extreme threat of physical violence (though Ted Koppel thoughtfully pointed out to him that major news outlets had been reporting on the story for nearly five days), the survivors struggled to come to terms with lost loved ones, lost jobs, lost property, lost baby pictures, lost mementos....
And when its all said and done, and a handful of refugees have found some small comfort in the safety of the Astrodome in Texas, the mother of the President of the United States is sure that, because they didn't have much to begin with, this whole Katrina thing is "working out well" for them. She did express alarm that all the refugees now camped out in the Astrodome were so overwhelmed by Texans' hospitality that they might want to stay in Texas. (GASP!)
I have a feeling... just a feeling, mind you... no concrete proof.... but a strong, intuitive feeling that Barbara Bush may well be the personification of human evil. She is the poster child for a party whose majority leader declared within a day of the New Orleans tragedy that Congress' single most important priority upon returning after summer break is abolishing the estate tax. Fortunately, they were shamed into agreeing that perhaps thousands dead and an American city submerged in water might rate some attention before we handed rich people an early Christmas gift.
~C~
Monday, September 05, 2005
The End of the World as We Know It
Katrina. The death of Rehnquist. The appointment of John Roberts (who hasn't even been confirmed as a justice yet) as Chief Justice.
And here we are, left to ponder what it all means. I don't know about you, but I'm thoroughly on edge over the whole thing. Now that clean-up efforts have seemingly started in earnest, and bodies are starting to be pulled from the debris in New Orleans, it gives people a perfect opportunity to do what most Americans have done since 2000 -- pretend that nothing is wrong, we're all fine, nothing to see here, move along, move along.... They were only poor black people after all. Oh, and... we didn't really need that implied right to privacy, did we? I mean, that was fine, back in the day before terrorists were determining 99% of our national security policy and God was washing away entire cities because of homosexuality in the Armed Services... or our support of Israel... or the practice of Santaria in Louisiana... or the state's ten whole abortion clinics.... (the religious hate-mongerers are having a dickens of a time settling on just one thing these days).
No, no... now it's not just a whole new ballgame. It's a whole new sport. We have moved from wiffleball to the majors overnight. I had a feeling on November 2, 2004, when half of America decided that they were more afraid of Arab terrorists and a woman's right to determine whether she reproduced or not, then they were over the suspension of our Constitutional rights under the guise of "homeland security" that all things "American" had changed. Speaking of "homeland security," with the gutting of FEMA for the purposes of supporting an illegal war in Iraq, what exactly did D.C. think they would do, in the (un)likely event that a hurricane hit the Gulf of Mexico, or wild fires ignited in Wyoming or Montana, or a massive earthquake in Los Angeles? How did they expect -- with nearly 60% of all National Guard forces serving overseas -- that they would be able to deploy enough people in the (un)likely event of any of the above catastrophes to actually save human lives? Or did it even matter?
What is it that bothers me most here? There are so many things, I'm not sure I can refine it to a single thought. As a writer, I should be able to do just that. I should already know what upsets me about all this, and what I expect to do about it.
But I don't. I don't know what I want to do. Do I want to move to another country, before this Administration starts a forced draft of my teenaged daughter (because, God knows, we can't let the Bush twins fight in Iraq, little braintrusts that they are)? Do I want to stick it out here, while disgruntled white Christian men, nostalgic for the good old days when they were in charge, and their wives were shackled into marriage by unplanned pregnancy, fight like hell to retake their prerogative to determine, by their own sexual urges, when and how a woman conceives and gives birth? Do I want to live in that country, the one that lurks in the darkest recesses of my "worst-case scenario" brain?
I'm tired. I haven't been taking my bupropion with any regularity. Perhaps that is coloring my temperament. I'm sick and I'm sad -- for the people in New Orleans who have to listen while the head of FEMA pulls the old "Gee, are you guys in trouble? Well, why didn't you speak up and say something, for gosh sakes?" routine. I'm sick for my daughter who, between the threat of a forced draft, and the threat to her reproductive self-determination, is at risk of losing the America her parents were reared in. I'm especially sick that, after profiting so blatantly from the war in Iraq, Halliburton is now headed into hurricane-ravaged Louisiana to see what resources it can suck dry there.
I'm trying to stay zen. I make plans to picnic at the Hollywood Bowl once more this year before the season ends. I work on my portfolios for school. I move through work with a kind of leaden non-efficiency that is totally out of character for me. My friend Shannon says that, sometimes, our job is just to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving through it until we get to the other side. Maybe that's where we live now. We may just need to play out this hand that's being dealt -- not only to us, but by us, as well. These are, after all, our elected officials. They work for us. We may not have voted for them, but they are ours nonetheless. I like to think of myself in the midst of this White House administration as middle management, saddled through nepotism to oversee the incompetent, disingenuous, occasionally dangerous son of the disreputable chairman of the board. As those who voted for other presidents, and other governors, and other representatives, the problem may not be of our creation, but it is no less our problem.
How will we cope? What will we do to keep the ship on course, while the mutinous and evil ship's crew attempts to steer us aground for their own benefit?
One foot in front of the other. Until we get to the other side. Maybe we'll never make it. We might have to abandon the trip entirely and go to points north, or destinations across the Atlantic, in order to ensure the safety and ultimate freedom of our children. But for now, we move on, the best we can, holding on to our ideals and our senses of self, until compassion, sanity, common sense and beneficence return to save us from the pirates.
~C~
And here we are, left to ponder what it all means. I don't know about you, but I'm thoroughly on edge over the whole thing. Now that clean-up efforts have seemingly started in earnest, and bodies are starting to be pulled from the debris in New Orleans, it gives people a perfect opportunity to do what most Americans have done since 2000 -- pretend that nothing is wrong, we're all fine, nothing to see here, move along, move along.... They were only poor black people after all. Oh, and... we didn't really need that implied right to privacy, did we? I mean, that was fine, back in the day before terrorists were determining 99% of our national security policy and God was washing away entire cities because of homosexuality in the Armed Services... or our support of Israel... or the practice of Santaria in Louisiana... or the state's ten whole abortion clinics.... (the religious hate-mongerers are having a dickens of a time settling on just one thing these days).
No, no... now it's not just a whole new ballgame. It's a whole new sport. We have moved from wiffleball to the majors overnight. I had a feeling on November 2, 2004, when half of America decided that they were more afraid of Arab terrorists and a woman's right to determine whether she reproduced or not, then they were over the suspension of our Constitutional rights under the guise of "homeland security" that all things "American" had changed. Speaking of "homeland security," with the gutting of FEMA for the purposes of supporting an illegal war in Iraq, what exactly did D.C. think they would do, in the (un)likely event that a hurricane hit the Gulf of Mexico, or wild fires ignited in Wyoming or Montana, or a massive earthquake in Los Angeles? How did they expect -- with nearly 60% of all National Guard forces serving overseas -- that they would be able to deploy enough people in the (un)likely event of any of the above catastrophes to actually save human lives? Or did it even matter?
What is it that bothers me most here? There are so many things, I'm not sure I can refine it to a single thought. As a writer, I should be able to do just that. I should already know what upsets me about all this, and what I expect to do about it.
But I don't. I don't know what I want to do. Do I want to move to another country, before this Administration starts a forced draft of my teenaged daughter (because, God knows, we can't let the Bush twins fight in Iraq, little braintrusts that they are)? Do I want to stick it out here, while disgruntled white Christian men, nostalgic for the good old days when they were in charge, and their wives were shackled into marriage by unplanned pregnancy, fight like hell to retake their prerogative to determine, by their own sexual urges, when and how a woman conceives and gives birth? Do I want to live in that country, the one that lurks in the darkest recesses of my "worst-case scenario" brain?
I'm tired. I haven't been taking my bupropion with any regularity. Perhaps that is coloring my temperament. I'm sick and I'm sad -- for the people in New Orleans who have to listen while the head of FEMA pulls the old "Gee, are you guys in trouble? Well, why didn't you speak up and say something, for gosh sakes?" routine. I'm sick for my daughter who, between the threat of a forced draft, and the threat to her reproductive self-determination, is at risk of losing the America her parents were reared in. I'm especially sick that, after profiting so blatantly from the war in Iraq, Halliburton is now headed into hurricane-ravaged Louisiana to see what resources it can suck dry there.
I'm trying to stay zen. I make plans to picnic at the Hollywood Bowl once more this year before the season ends. I work on my portfolios for school. I move through work with a kind of leaden non-efficiency that is totally out of character for me. My friend Shannon says that, sometimes, our job is just to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving through it until we get to the other side. Maybe that's where we live now. We may just need to play out this hand that's being dealt -- not only to us, but by us, as well. These are, after all, our elected officials. They work for us. We may not have voted for them, but they are ours nonetheless. I like to think of myself in the midst of this White House administration as middle management, saddled through nepotism to oversee the incompetent, disingenuous, occasionally dangerous son of the disreputable chairman of the board. As those who voted for other presidents, and other governors, and other representatives, the problem may not be of our creation, but it is no less our problem.
How will we cope? What will we do to keep the ship on course, while the mutinous and evil ship's crew attempts to steer us aground for their own benefit?
One foot in front of the other. Until we get to the other side. Maybe we'll never make it. We might have to abandon the trip entirely and go to points north, or destinations across the Atlantic, in order to ensure the safety and ultimate freedom of our children. But for now, we move on, the best we can, holding on to our ideals and our senses of self, until compassion, sanity, common sense and beneficence return to save us from the pirates.
~C~
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